Marcus’s lodgings were comfortable but cluttered.
Books were stacked on every surface. Maps were pinned to the walls.
It looked like the headquarters of a very disorganized conspiracy.
Damien walked around the room. He examined the charts.
"This is impressive," Damien noted. "Manic, but impressive."
"I was trying to optimize the romance," Marcus said. He poured two glasses of deep red wine.
He handed one to Damien.
They clinked glasses.
"To Earth," Damien said.
"To reliable public transportation," Marcus replied.
They drank. The wine was excellent.
"Okay," Damien said. He sat down in a leather armchair. "Let’s compare notes."
"You said you skimmed the novel?" Damien asked.
"Yeah," Marcus admitted. He sat on the sofa. "First few Chapters. Some of the middle. The ending."
"I read it all," Damien said. "Twice."
"Twice?"
"I hate-read it," Damien explained. "The writing was terrible. The plot holes were big enough to drive a truck through."
He swirled his wine.
"But I remember the details."
"Okay," Marcus leaned forward. "So, the harem. It’s supposed to happen, right?"
"Yes," Damien nodded. "But there’s a problem."
"What?"
"The age ratings."
Marcus froze. He remembered his conversation with Seraphina.
"Seraphina said it was illegal," Marcus said. "She said she wouldn’t date a student."
"In the web novel," Damien said, "everyone was aged up."
"What?"
"For the... explicit scenes," Damien clarified. He coughed awkwardly. "The author made Theo twenty-one. Seraphina was twenty-five."
"Catarina was twenty-two. They compressed the age gaps to make it... palatable."
Marcus put his glass down on the table. Hard.
"But here," Marcus said slowly, "Theo is seventeen."
"And Seraphina is twenty-eight," Damien confirmed. "And Vivienne is thirty-eight."
"So the original plot..."
"Was technically a crime in this reality," Damien finished.
Marcus put his face in his hands.
"I was trying to facilitate a felony," he mumbled. "Multiple felonies."
"You didn’t know," Damien said. "You were working off bad intel."
"No wonder she looked at me like I was insane," Marcus said. "I was pushing a teenager on her."
"It explains why the routes aren’t triggering," Damien noted. "The women here are real people. They have standards."
"Real standards," Marcus agreed.
"So," Damien pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. "Let’s map this out."
He opened to a blank page.
"Original Plot: Theo saves Seraphina from a magical overload. She falls in love."
"Did that happen?" Marcus asked.
"No," Damien said. "Because you fixed the academy’s mana regulators last month."
"I did?" Marcus blinked. "I just filed a maintenance request. The pipes were rattling."
"Exactly," Damien pointed his pen at him. "You did paperwork. You prevented the disaster. No disaster, no rescue, no romance."
"Oh."
"Next," Damien continued. "Catarina. Theo was supposed to save her sister from bandits."
"Liliana?" Marcus asked. "She’s safe. I hired extra guards for her carriage because the roads looked unsafe."
Damien laughed. He threw his head back.
"You see?" Damien said. "You’re too competent, Marcus!"
"Competent?"
"You’re solving the problems before they become plot points! You’re robbing Theo of his hero moments by being a responsible adult!"
Marcus stared at him.
"I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt," Marcus said.
"And that," Damien said, "is why they like you."
"The women?"
"Yes. In the book, they were damsels. They needed saving."
Damien leaned forward.
"But here? They’re strong. They don’t need a hero to punch a dragon. They need someone to fix the mana pipes."
"They need a consultant," Marcus realized.
"They need an equal," Damien corrected. "Or in your case, a therapist."
Marcus picked up his wine again. He took a large gulp.
"So I broke the story by doing my job," Marcus summarized.
"Pretty much."
"And now the Child of Destiny is single, and the Demon Lord is coming in three years."
"Two years and eight months," Damien corrected. "If the timeline holds."
"Does the timeline hold?"
"Who knows?" Damien shrugged. "We’re off the map, Marcus."
"Literally," Marcus added.
"Literally."
They sat in silence for a moment, digesting the mess they were in.
"We have to fix it," Marcus said.
"We can’t fix it back to the original," Damien said. "That ship has sailed. And sunk."
"Then we make a new plot," Marcus said.
"A new plot?"
"Yeah. One where we don’t rely on a teenager’s libido to save the world."
Damien smirked. "I like the sound of that."
✧✧✧
The bottle of wine was empty.
Marcus had opened a second one.
The atmosphere in the room had shifted. The panic was gone, replaced by a strange, giddy exhaustion.
"You’re playing a Dating Sim," Damien pointed out.
"And you?" Marcus asked. "What are you playing?"
"Me?" Damien looked at his empty glass. "I was playing a Survival Horror."
The laughter died down a bit.
"But now?" Marcus asked. "Now that you’re not alone?"
Damien looked at Marcus.
"Co-op," Damien said. "I think we’re playing Co-op mode."
Marcus smiled. "I like Co-op. Less pressure."
"We still have to deal with the harem," Damien reminded him.
"Don’t call it a harem," Marcus groaned. "It’s a... polyamorous political alliance."
"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Damien stood up. He swayed slightly, then steadied himself.
"I should go. Before curfew."
"You can crash on the couch," Marcus offered.
"Nah. I have to maintain appearances. ’Rival character sleeping at protagonist’s brother’s house’ might trigger a weird subplot."
"Fair point."
Marcus walked him to the door.
"Hey, Damien?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," Marcus said. "For asking. For pushing."
Damien adjusted his coat. He looked like the noble son he was pretending to be.
"Thanks for having good wine," Damien said.
He opened the door. The night air rushed in.
"Tomorrow," Damien said. "We start planning properly. No more guessing."
"Tomorrow," Marcus agreed.
Damien walked out and Marcus watched him go.
He closed the door. He locked it.
He leaned his back against the wood.
The room was quiet. But it wasn’t lonely.
He looked at the chart on the wall. The one with the stick figures and the arrows.
He walked over to it.
He picked up a quill.
Next to his own stick figure, he drew a second one.
He gave it spiky hair and a little sword.
He wrote "Damien (Player 2)" under it.
He stepped back.
The drawing looked ridiculous.
But for the first time since he woke up in this world, Marcus felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He felt safe.
"Okay," Marcus whispered to the empty room.
"New objective."
He crossed out "Get My Brother Laid."
He wrote in big letters:
OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE STUPID PLOT.
He capped the quill.
He went to bed.
And for the first time in weeks, he slept without dreaming of dialogue trees.