I Became the Narrow-Eyed Character in the Little Prince Game

Operation Vanity Annihilation.

Just before it truly began, I received a request.
And the person who made that request was none other than Emilia.
The girl who had volunteered to take the lead in the operation.

"Yuda."
She pronounced my name with care.
As if trying to hide even the smallest trace of her agitation.

"I have a favor to ask."
"Hm?"
"When we infiltrate the mansion and come face-to-face with my uncle... hand it over to me."

"…That doesn’t sound like a good idea. Deron Vanity isn’t someone to be taken lightly."
"I know. He’s one of the strongest cryomancers on the continent."
"You won’t be a match for him, Your Highness."

"Promise me."
The hand clutching my sleeve.
Though her shoulders were trembling, her gaze was calm.

Like the prayer of an old sailor before a tidal wave.
"Promise you won’t interfere."
"…"

"This is my duty. And at the same time, the last bit of pride I have left."
"You might get seriously hurt. Or even die."
"I don’t care."
There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in her reply.

Perhaps it was her final dignity.
"There’s something I have to know, and something I have to accomplish."
Her eyes were a deep, boundless blue.

In that still, watery shimmer, the present was captured in striking clarity.
A narrow-eyed boy staring vacantly down at her, and—
A starlight that had yet to fade in defiance.

I couldn’t turn away from the way she shone.
"So please, promise me."
She shone so brightly.

I felt as if I might be pulled in completely if I wasn’t careful.
"Even if I get hurt, even if I die… that you’ll respect me."
It was nobility.

A pride cloaked in the name of vanity.
That was why I couldn’t refuse her.
Because the resolve reflected on the surface of her eyes was still as beautiful as a winter bloom.

All I could do was nod with a faint smile.
As if I understood that sanctity.
"…If that’s your will, then gladly."

And at the same time, I prayed.
For this fragile girl of mine.
"Please."

Please.
May your pride become a promise to life.
May there be a purpose behind your vanity.

"May you never regret your duty."
I whispered.
***

"I’ve come to take it back. Your name."
A voice spilling into the hallway.
Under the moonlight pouring through the window, we stood before our target.

The winter wind fluttered the curtains.
"…Emilia?"
The man staring blankly this way.

Deron Vanity.
The air was cold.
Emilia stared at the nemesis of her life with icy eyes.

Her uncle—the one she had once longed for—was now the object of her hatred.
"…"
Was he assessing the situation?

Deron’s gaze swept the corridor thoroughly.
As if wary of other troops waiting nearby.
But there were no other presences.

"Hm…?"
That made sense.
Because the only ones who had come up to this corridor were the two of us.

Deron’s eyes, rolling slightly, lit up with realization.
As if embarrassed to have been so tense.
"Hah… I thought it might be, but really, just the two of you?"

The man laughed heartily.
As his breath scattered, frost crept across the floor at his feet.
His suddenly sharp blue eyes focused squarely on us.

"So then."
More accurately, on Emilia.
His niece, the card he’d long since discarded.

"What brings you here?"
"I thought I made that clear."
"A name, huh… Ah, so you’re angry about the Ruska matter."

"You tried to eliminate him. And me as well."
"Adults have their reasons, you know. Besides, the one who betrayed us first was Ruska."
"No… the one who turned traitor was you. Ever since my parents died."

"…Ha."
The man scoffed.
Then, covering his mouth, revealed a grotesquely twisted smirk.

The kind of gaze you’d give trash in the street.
Then he asked:
"So what, exactly, are you going to do about it?"

Brazenly.
The temperature in the hallway plummeted in an instant.
Our breath turned to mist as it spilled out in white clouds.

"What could someone like you possibly do?"
"…"
"A halfwit who couldn’t even protect her own station."

"I’m taking it back. Even now."
Sring—
The frost at her fingertips transformed into an icy blade.

Emilia pointed the glittering weapon forward.
At the same time, she glanced toward me.
‘She doesn’t want me to step in.’

I nodded.
We’d made a promise.
If it got too dangerous, I’d intervene, but for now, I wanted to watch.

To hear the venomous words of this girl.
Could she truly reach the end of this long night and season?
I took a step back.

"Fine, come then."
Deron remained composed.
He, too, deployed his mana, wreathing his palm in magic.

Emilia spoke a single line to her uncle.
It wasn’t a long question.
"Just one thing… I want to ask."

"And now you want to talk?"
"Was the accident that killed my parents… were you involved?"
That suspicious incident.

The sudden deaths of the previous Duke and Duchess of Vanity.
At the time—and even now—the truth had never come to light.
It was simply recorded as a stroke of misfortune.

—The Duke and ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) Duchess have passed away.
—Cause of death remains unknown, though a carriage accident is suspected…
No one could say for sure.

Except the one who served as temporary head of the family back then.
And that person answered:
"So what if I was?"

"…Then there’s nothing left to say."
Emilia took her stance.
In those blue eyes of hers, a fierce, venomous glint flickered.

"Looks like it's really just the two of you... You seem to be underestimating your dear uncle far too much."
"You were never worth more than this. You couldn't even reach the tips of my father's toes."
"Unless you’ve brought the Imperial Knights with you, you’ll never be able to capture me."

"You won’t know that until we try."
"Just like your father, you really are a fool."
The two pointed their spells at each other.

Blue hair fluttered in the air, and in the blink of an eye—it vanished.
Tak—!
Her feet kicked off the floor.

And in the next instant—
Chaeeng—!
With a bursting clash, shards of ice exploded outward.

Betrayal, pride, and Vanity… all of it collided at last.
The two vanity-stricken ones swung blades colder than the frost.
***

Deron Vanity.
One of the most powerful cryomancers in the Empire, and acting head of House Vanity.
After the previous Duke and Duchess passed away, he seized control of everything in just a few years.

He was quick-witted enough to match his rise.
And this situation was no exception.
‘So far… the hallway looks clear.’

No presence could be felt in the corridor.
Even with mana deployed, the stillness in every direction meant the area was secure.
At least on this floor, there didn’t appear to be any variables.

Deron’s thoughts raced.
‘There’s no way it’s just the two of them.’
He’d acted relaxed, but that had only been to bait them into lowering their guard.

Even if they were just a couple of brats who hadn’t even undergone their coming-of-age ceremonies—
There was no way they would recklessly storm a duke’s estate alone.
Whether they were waiting outside or had already infiltrated, it was far more reasonable to assume there were other forces at play.

The question was—whose forces?
‘It’s too fast for the Imperial Family to have moved.’
At minimum, it would take two days.

The cultists had assured him of that.
If so, the only other likely scenario would be…
‘…The Academy, perhaps.’

Yes.
If Galimar Academy had mobilized in retaliation for the previous attack, it would make sense.
The most prestigious academic institution on the continent—Galimar.

Normally, they wouldn’t get involved in such affairs, but this time, they were the ones who had suffered the most.
Some faculty members had even died.
They had the justification.

‘It could be a third-party faction, but…’
That hardly mattered now.
Deron scanned his surroundings.

Things were getting complicated—he needed to escape.
There was a secret passage hidden within the Duke’s study. That would be his way out.
Once he was beyond the estate, he could reconnect with the cultists.

Then he would disappear, waiting for the promised day.
‘When that day comes… I’ll reign as the emperor of the new world.’
His ambition dripped with venomous heat.

While chewing on those thoughts, a figure suddenly came into view.
A battered blue-haired girl barely standing upright.
None other than his niece, Emilia.

"Haa… haa…"
Her breathing was ragged.
She was in tatters.

The hair that once swayed so gracefully had come undone, her limbs were riddled with cuts.
Her thigh, pierced with fragments, trembled faintly.
No matter how much willpower she had, her frailty was impossible to hide.

Emilia could only cry out through clenched teeth.
"Ugh… ngh…"
Thump—

She braced herself with her spear, gasping between groans.
Her stance wavered repeatedly.
Had she lost in terms of firepower?

Though both wielded cryomancy, she clearly struggled to withstand the cold.
Snowflakes fluttered across her pale complexion.
Still, Emilia did not yield.

"Don’t… step in."
She muttered, almost inaudibly.
Toward the golden snake standing at her side.

"This is… my story. Vanity’s story…"
It seemed like a meaningless act of defiance.
Watching her, Deron clicked his tongue in boredom.

He’d thought her clever, but now she was showing this pitiful display.
That hopeless stubbornness reminded him far too much of someone else.
He furrowed his brow.

‘Time to finish this.’
Deron gathered mana at his fingertips.
Time was short—he would end it swiftly.

Emilia. And the blond boy standing beside her.
‘Snakeus, was it?’
He’d heard the rumors.

A prodigy who’d overwhelmed teachers despite his age.
A successor to the Crimson Sword Saint, bearing an unparalleled gift.
A mysterious boy.

‘Well… some of that’s probably exaggerated.’
As with all rumors, distortions were bound to happen.
Genius, talent, mystery—humans loved that sort of thing.

The energy he sensed from the boy wasn’t particularly strong.
Granted, considering his age, he was clearly a rare gem.
But still—he wasn’t anywhere near the level of the Crimson Sword Saint.

‘Ridiculous.’
Deron had fought in the [Great War].
The things he’d seen on the battlefield—no human tongue could properly describe them.

‘This should be easy.’
Deron sneered.
Even if the boy jumped in now, he was confident he could overpower them.

Though that didn’t mean he intended to be careless.
The fewer variables, the better.
"Then let’s end this."

Fwoooosh—
Cold air spiraled around his clenched fist.
A white frost settled over the long corridor.

The final strike.
He intended to settle everything here and now.
His damned brother’s offspring, the meddling snake that had slithered in from nowhere—

The tightly packed mana was forming into a compressed storm.
"Cough, ngh…"
"What a shame. If you happen to meet my brother on the other side, do send him my regards."

Mockery to the very end.
He smiled.
And just as he raised his fist to shatter the space around him—

He caught the corner of Emilia’s lips.
"Hah… haha…"
Even crushed by fatigue, she let out a breath of laughter.

That senseless reaction made Deron hesitate.
Had she lost her mind?
On the verge of death, and instead of begging—she laughed?

The unease furrowed his brow.
"…There’s no way this is all."
Ptuh—

The girl spat out bloody phlegm and steadied herself again.
Her blue eyes still gleamed.
As if nothing had even started yet.

‘What is this…?’
Despite her wrecked condition, her expression overflowed with confidence.
Even in this hopeless situation, she hadn’t lost her composure.

That uncanny sense was enough to rouse Deron’s caution.
Their eyes met.
"Pride to the living. Frost to the turncoats."

"…?!"
Crack—
With a familiar incantation echoing behind her, Emilia’s spear shattered.

Its fragments whirled violently around her.
Her blue hair whipped in the windstorm.
‘That chant… no way. It can’t be…’

But as if to confirm that "no way"—
From the girl’s hands, light burst forth in a brilliant blaze.
Her crimson lips murmured:

"I told you."
The vain girl raised her hand.
Shadows draped behind her like a robe, black snowflakes danced through the corridor.

The venomous glare in her blue eyes had not dimmed.
She stood there—like a season in human form.
"I’ve come to take back that name."

Draped in night and winter.
Emilia stood with a completely transformed presence.