ECPK 01🤴

The Ending Conditions of the Princess and the Knight🤴

CHAPTER 01

“Is the princess of Izaris really here?!”

“Oh, heavens above—Sonetine!”

“Sonetine, show yourself!”

Terry, who had cautiously parted the curtain to peek outside, quickly ducked back when a rock flew straight toward the window. Her spine went cold at the chill of the wall behind her.

‘This isn’t a dream, is it?’

Her wide, confused eyes darted around.

She was currently standing in a large room where the bedroom and sitting area were connected. The walls were covered in vintage wallpaper, and the room was filled with ornate furniture more suited to an old castle. A chandelier lit by mana stones swung gently above her head.

And the most out-of-place thing in that elegant space… was her.

Wearing a pajama dress with a giant teddy bear on the front, the seams torn and never fixed, coffee stains still visible from late nights at the computer.

Then her eyes landed on the silver teapot sitting on the tea table. Engraved on its polished surface was the unmistakable logo: Hotel Izaris.

Her head spun.

‘Wait… am I actually inside the game?’

She wanted to chalk it up to sleep deprivation or a hallucination, but the shouting of protesters calling for the princess hadn’t ceased. The noise was so loud it echoed even through the walls.

And if her memory served her right, the people who had brought her here had called her “Princess” as well—tearfully, no less.

Princess, Princess. Our beloved Princess…

‘All I did was click a button…’

She had been playing a game last night. The Dark Forest of Izaris—a notoriously difficult RPG infamous among players.

It had started as a distraction. A way to let out her frustration.

It always hit her hard around the anniversary of her mother’s death. But that day had been especially rough—grief and anger had churned in her chest. Doing nothing only made the tears come faster. So she’d turned on her computer and started playing, her hands moving almost on their own.

She’d figured if she powered through the night, she could at least reach the ending.

Maybe that foolish determination was the reason. Even after seeing the dreaded YOU DIED screen dozens of times with only the final boss—the dragon—left, she just couldn’t bring herself to quit.

She resurrected her character. Fought, died, and resurrected again. Over and over. It got to the point where even she was sick of it, but she couldn’t stop.

And then, suddenly, a strange system prompt popped up on her monitor:

Would you like to change the Hero’s class from Knight to Mage?

Changing the protagonist’s class? That had never been a feature.

The main character was supposed to be fixed—Claude the Knight. Always.

If you agree, press YES.
YES.
YES.
YES.
YES.

She’d assumed it was a bug or some glitched code… but in that moment, what popped into her mind was an odd, inexplicable hope:

‘Can I really change it?’

YES.
YES.
YES…

Click.

‘That’s all I did—just clicked once.’

Terry sat on the floor, staring down at her hands, the memory of that soft click still echoing in her ears.

It felt like she could see the strange energy coursing through her body—like magic pulsing just beneath her skin.

Compelled by instinct, she reached out toward the hand mirror on the table and thought, Come here.

The mirror rattled, trembled in place—then, as if obeying her command, flew into her palm and landed there with a soft smack.

“…No way.”

The clatter of the mirror hitting the floor was just as jarring as last night’s click.

And reflected in the mirror… was a completely different woman.

Ash-blond hair with a grayish tint. Unusual, bright orange eyes. Her features were all different—shape, structure, everything.

Only then did she begin to understand what that system message had really meant.

Would you like to change the Hero’s class from Knight to Mage?
YES. No.

She had chosen YES.

And now… she wasn’t just in the game.
She was the Mage.

No doubt about it.

✦✦✦

“The princess has returned?”

“Yes. From the look of things, there was quite the commotion in the forest on her way back. Five swamp ants, three jackals, four goblins, and a cave giant. She even wiped out an entire ogre tribe. Brutally, from what we gathered. The trail of destruction runs from the ruins all the way to the outskirts of the abandoned castle.”

This happened just before dawn. On the very day Claude was off duty from patrol. Lucky—or unlucky—depending on how you looked at it.

“That’s a lot. Are you sure she did all that alone?”

As they walked toward the hotel, Claude pressed for more details.

“There was a handprint at the scene, left in blood. A bit large—for a woman, anyway.”

“But the princess entered alone, without any companions.”

That covered the general situation. Claude would’ve preferred to keep walking, but his steps slowed when the crowd in front of the hotel came into view. He frowned.

They were almost there, but the entrance was swarming with people.

“Show yourself, Princess!”

“Sonetine, have you no shame?!”

Word of her return had spread, and the mob had arrived early to protest. One of the rocks thrown from the crowd narrowly missed the second-floor window where the curtain had fluttered earlier.

Such tireless, useless effort.

Claude pushed forward, unbothered, until he came face-to-face with the loudest man in the group—a warrior who had even raised his glaive and demanded the princess be dragged out.

“Who gave you permission to do this here?”

“O-oh, Governor…”

“I distinctly remember warning you not to disturb the peace.”

“Did you? Ha… I must’ve forgotten—”

“I hear that excuse a lot. ‘I forgot,’ ‘I didn’t know,’ ‘I can’t remember.’ So I’ve come to a conclusion: if you don’t remember, you’re automatically guilty.”

“W-What?!”

“You’re guilty. Tie this one to the well. All the rest—hang them too.”

At Claude’s command, the knights swiftly apprehended the man. The rest of the rabble were rounded up just as quickly, their pleas growing desperate.

“Mercy, O wielder of the holy sword…!”

But Claude, in his gleaming white uniform and billowing blue cloak, ignored them all. Mercy was not on offer today.

Only after confirming the front of the hotel was cleared did he ascend the steps with a calm, unhurried pace.

✦✦✦

“Welcome, Governor.”

The hotel manager greeted Claude before he’d even opened the door.

A middle-aged woman whose exact age was hard to pinpoint. Polite and pleasant—but her perfectly folded hands gave off the sense that she could draw a dagger from her sleeve at a moment’s notice.

“I’m Ansie, the manager.”

“I know who you are. Illusionist.”

His words were tinged with a smile, but they struck like a jab. The manager didn’t even flinch.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Dining room.”

“Right this way.”

As they crossed the marble-floored lobby, Claude calmly observed the surroundings.

In the old district, buildings this luxurious were rare. The hotel was immaculate—well-maintained, nothing out of place.

Except for one thing: every staff member was a mage.

Claude sat down in the middle of the nearly empty dining hall and gestured for a menu.

“You actually plan to eat?”

The manager asked again, clearly skeptical. Claude turned his gaze away from her and met eyes with the cleaner dusting near the wall clock—and the chef carrying dishes too slowly on purpose. Both quickly looked away.

‘So that’s how it is.’

He knew what this was: suspicion. Wariness.

He wasn’t welcome here. He’d expected it—but not this blatantly.

‘Well, at least I’m in the right place.’

He handed the unopened menu back.

“I heard this hotel’s food barely rates one star. Just bring me whatever won’t kill me.”

“You’re quite the picky eater. That may be hard to accommodate here, sir.”

Such barbed words, delivered with such a sweet smile.

Claude didn’t bother hiding his dry laugh.

“No need to be so obvious about wanting me dead. Still, I should order something—can’t freeload, now can I?”

“In that case, how about wyvern wing bone stew—”

“But I want two servings.”

“…Pardon?”

The manager visibly faltered for the first time. Claude didn’t let up.

“One for me. One for my guest.”

Let’s see if they’d serve that same dish to her.

“You’re expecting someone?”

“I’d like an audience with a certain guest staying here.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Under a sweep of dark hair, his sharp eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Go and let her know: the Governor would like to meet the Princess. Tell her I’ll be back tomorrow if she refuses—but I’d prefer to see her today.”

“…”

“Bring her to me. Or I’ll go to her.”

He gave the order plainly, and the manager’s throat visibly tightened with tension and resentment.

“Not going? I’m getting hungry.”

Eventually, the manager gave in first.

“I’ll deliver your message.”

“A wise choice.”

“And I’ll put in your order as well.”

“Please do.”

“Governor.”

“Yes?”

“Even if your guest refuses the invitation, you’ll still have to pay for both meals. Don’t forget that.”

A petty power play, no doubt. Claude simply smiled and handed over a generous sum.

“If it means I get to see the Princess, it’s worth every coin.”

✦✦✦

“Here’s your juice.”

She’d ordered something simple to eat, but what arrived was a cocktail glass garnished with a lemon slice and a paper umbrella.

Is this a joke? she wondered.

Then the woman who brought the drinks did something even bolder—she plopped right down in the seat across from Claude.

She wasn’t the manager or one of the staff. She wore a strangely patterned dress that showed her ankles—and had wrapped herself in a shawl, as if trying to hide her odd outfit.

“I don’t have anything proper to wear yet,” she said, noticing his gaze. “They said they’d bring something soon.”

Only then did Claude realize how long he’d been staring—at her attire, and more embarrassingly, at her upper half.

“My apologies. That was rude of me.”

He’d expected a sharp retort. But instead, the woman just shrugged it off and let out a small yawn, rubbing her eyes.

And that’s when he noticed them—her eyes.

Bright orange, like constellations in the night sky.