IPMPBB 3

Chapter 3

Elia’s end was as miserable as readers had hoped.

Disgraced and forced to step down from her position as Knight Commander by the faction supporting Carlos, she was compelled to marry a man she didn’t want to—just to preserve the dwindling honor of her family.

That man turned out to be the second son of the Melason Count family, which was later revealed to be involved in the crown prince’s conspiracy to overthrow the empire.

As a result, the entire family was executed.

Elia, too, died—at the hands of the male protagonist, Carlos.

“You… You don’t recognize me?”

That infamous scene where Elia, abused by her husband and now a disheveled alcoholic, tries to bluff one last time in front of Carlos was unforgettable.

So unforgettable, in fact, that even readers who had wanted her miserable end recoiled and said:

“Author… This is a bit too much.”

And now, I am that Elia.

“And I’ve already stacked up a good amount of bad karma!”

If Carlos had already become Vice Commander, then his support base must have already been solid.

Which meant, if I did nothing, I’d definitely be kicked out of the Commander position within three months.

Not much was revealed about Elia’s family, the Marquisate of Elvington, in the original novel—but considering they didn’t even show up when their daughter was executed, it was clearly a loveless household.

“I can’t go back to a place like that and be forced to marry a villain.”

“I can’t die again.”

That loud blaring of the motorcycle horn.

The immense pain.

And the wave of sorrow and despair I’d felt just moments before losing consciousness.

As I vividly remembered what was, to me, just a few minutes ago, something inside me stirred violently.

“What must Elia do to survive?”

My brain started working at an incredible speed—just like when I used to study at maximum efficiency.

And within a few dozen seconds, I had my answer.

Elia’s execution was triggered by her marriage.

If she’d never gotten involved with Melason, she wouldn’t have become Carlos’s enemy, and she wouldn’t have died at his hands.

Three goals:

1. Don’t get removed from the Commander position.
2. Even if removed, absolutely do not get married.
3. Be careful not to derail the original plot too much.

So, how do I avoid being removed as Commander?

That was the easy part.

“Don’t cause trouble. Don’t get on Carlos’s bad side. Join forces with his supporters.”

With my thoughts in order, I returned to the present and looked around.

“Woohoo, Elia! Say it—say he’s a mongrel mutt!”

“Mongrel mutt! Mongrel mutt! Mongrel mutt!”

The drunkards were still shouting obnoxiously.

And there he was, that silver-haired pretty boy, watching me with eerily shining eyes.

He was the one who started the whole “mongrel mutt” chant against Carlos.

Thunk.

I stepped off the table.

As my boot hit the ground, a clear click echoed through the room.

“…Elia?”

The rowdy laughter died down.

They still wore smiles, but now with awkward expressions full of confusion.

Without hesitation, I walked toward the silver-haired man.

And then, I poured a bomb shot right over his head.

“……!”

Silence blanketed the tavern.

Drip. Drip.

The murky cocktail trickled down his silver hair.

He stared at me, mouth slightly open—more surprised than angry.

I took a deep breath, and then said loudly, for everyone to hear:

“Do not insult my subordinate.”

Once again, all eyes turned to me.

Carlos’s gaze, too.

I felt his stare burn into my cheek, but I purposefully didn’t look his way.

If I showed any sign that I cared about Carlos’s opinion now, it would ruin the effect of my bold move.

I had changed.

“Who cares about plausibility? I’ve got a head to keep!”

Just like a delinquent doesn’t need a reason to be a delinquent, I didn’t need a reason to suddenly get my act together.

I’d retire peacefully after preserving my position and avoiding doom.

“Sir Ivach is a fine knight,”
“Far better than drunkards like you, who do nothing but ridicule others.”

I delivered the final blow and slammed my beer mug down on the table.

With a loud bang, the crowd finally snapped out of their trance.

“Elia…?”

But even then, they couldn’t fully grasp the situation.

You know how people sometimes deny reality when something truly shocking happens?

“Haha, Elia must be really drunk. She did drink a lot tonight!”

They figured I must’ve acted out because I was plastered.

So they didn’t stop me as I walked away from the table—they just resumed drinking amongst themselves.

Walking away brought me closer to Carlos.

That fiery-haired beauty stared at me with the same sharp gaze.

But now, there was a new emotion in those eyes—confusion.

I debated saying something, but decided against it.

First priority was getting the hell out of this cursed tavern.

I walked right past Carlos.

As our shoulders brushed, my heart nearly exploded, but I managed to keep a straight face.

Carlos stood frozen for a while, then began walking after me.

Apparently, taking me with him had been his only objective all along.

I took a deep breath so he wouldn’t hear it.

If he followed me, we’d have to talk—so what should I say?

“Commander.”

The voice was unfamiliar, but I instantly knew it was Carlos.

Damn it, who else in this world could have such a beautiful voice?

I stiffly turned my head toward him.

I should ask what he wants—but my lips wouldn’t move.

Because now, the confusion in his eyes was gone.

All that remained were hatred and contempt.

‘Is he going to ask what I’m plotting?’

Then I’ll say I’ve come to my senses. Maybe even show him some goodwill.

Or is he going to scold me for making a scene?

‘Then I’ll need to defend myself and announce I’ve reformed.’

As I mentally prepared hundreds of replies to hundreds of scenarios—

“What about the bill?”

Carlos hit me with something completely unexpected.

“H-Huh?”

The bill?

That felt so absurdly out of place, I could only let out a dumb noise.

For a moment, something flickered in Carlos’s eyes.

Was that a sigh of disappointment? Or am I imagining things?

“Your ‘friends’ probably won’t pay their tab. That means the knights will get billed again. I won’t allow that kind of expense anymore.”

Wait… Had Elia been charging all the tavern bills—hers and her friends’—to the knight order’s funds?

“You little degenerate!”

I barely swallowed the insult that rose to my throat.

Clutching my aching forehead, I searched all of Elia’s pockets.

A noble of the Elvington house and a Knight Commander should carry at least a gold or silver coin, right?

But then the worst happened.

She was flat broke.

Not even a copper coin in her pocket!

“Do you not have any money?”

Carlos’s question made my head spin.

And maybe that guy earlier was right—maybe Elia had drunk too much, because I could feel the nausea rising now.

“No, I must fix this. I must pay for the drinks.”

If I let the knight order foot the bill again, that’s another karma point stacked.

Elia’s scale was already tipping too far—any more, and it’d be straight to hell.

That’s when a flash of inspiration hit me.

“Elia is rich.”

Rich people don’t panic just because they don’t have cash on them.

“No need to drain the knight order’s funds.”

For the first time, I spoke directly to Carlos.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

His voice was like a gust of cold wind.

“Innkeeper.”

I beckoned to the middle-aged man who’d earlier greeted Carlos warmly.

He approached with a face full of dread.

“Oh, Lady Elvington, please, just this once… Please pay properly…”

“I will pay.”

“…Pardon?”

“The bill. I’ll pay it. For everything already drunk, and everything those bastards will drink tonight.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened.

So did Carlos’s.