Chapter 4 : The Ice-Cold Heiress Can’t Possibly Be a Violent Noble Lady!

“The window? When did I open the window?” Schiller walked towards the window with a puzzled look.
Outside, the twilight was deep, and a gentle breeze brushed against his cheek.

The mere thought of starting Sheryl’s romance route tomorrow made his stomach churn uncontrollably.

“I hope everything goes smoothly!”

In the game, Sheryl always had the image of an ice-cold noble lady. When faced with others’ ridicule, she would often gaze at them with those silver eyes that seemed to have been quenched in ice, then, with a faint curve on her lips, use her proudly venomous tongue to crush her opponent.

That is to say, there was absolutely no possibility of the girl using violence against him. In fact, being able to hear Sheryl’s venomous tongue without a screen in between was a gain.

Just as Schiller was leisurely contemplating his wonderful life, a fair arm suddenly reached out from outside the window, then flipped its entire body inside.

‘Wait, this is the fifth floor!’

“! Woah!” Startled by the sudden turn of events, Schiller lost his balance and fell to the ground.

‘Careless, I was too careless.’

He hadn’t expected an assassin to come on the very first day of his transmigration.

At this moment, he was checking the distance between himself and the door while looking up from those hands.

Her face, as if carved from the purest first snow, was so clean it was untainted by a speck of dust. Her cold expression was like flowing moonlight, and her silvery-white eyebrows framed grayish-white pupils, conveying a sense of detachment from the mortal world.

Sheryl. She was undoubtedly Sheryl. Although she was much younger than her on-screen version, there was no way Schiller could mistake her.

Compared to the pixel art, the real her was far more captivating.

The future Ice Witch, the Grand Magus of the Empire, Sheryl Hohenzollern.

Also, the person who would kill him with her own hands.

For a moment, Schiller even forgot to breathe.

For a moment, a mix of fear, sorrow, and perhaps even affection flooded his chest.

‘But, what’s going on? Wasn’t Sheryl supposed to arrive tomorrow?’ Schiller’s brain was rapidly processing the information.

Just as he was thinking at full speed, Sheryl patted the dust off her clothes and glanced at Schiller on the floor, then gracefully walked to his side.

“Who did you say you were going to romance, Young Master Schiller?” She deliberately dragged out the pronunciation of “Young Master.”

Schiller’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly stood up and bowed to Sheryl with a smile.

“I, I didn’t say anything just now. Lady Sheryl must have misheard.”

Schiller nonchalantly wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.

‘I’m doomed. Is my affection going to drop before I even start the romance route?!’

“But,” Sheryl gently moved behind Schiller. She glanced around while continuing to speak.

“How come I heard the words ‘insidious plot’? And something about ‘everything going smoothly’?”
She was looking at Schiller with a contemptuous gaze.

Schiller couldn’t help but imagine such a scene in his mind:
“You lecher, prepare to die!”
“Gah!”
Schiller looked at Sheryl again. She was biting her lip, seeming to be holding something back.

Sheryl glared fiercely at Schiller. Upon closer inspection, her hands were also trembling slightly, a flush of red clashing with her snow-white skin.

‘Apologize. Apologize right now!’

“!”
That bone-chilling pain once again surged from the depths of his eyes, and this time, what he “saw” was even clearer.

It was the feeling of being entangled by countless white roses and thorns.

Above Sheryl’s head, twelve snow-white roses were entwined with thorns. At this moment, not a single rose had bloomed.

“Sheryl…”
Schiller seemed to have unconsciously taken the girl’s hand and stood there, stunned.

“…!”
A faint gasp, almost suppressed in the depths of her throat, was heard. The girl snatched her hand back as if she had been electrocuted.

Sheryl had long heard of this lecherous viscount’s character. It was said that he often stayed out all night carousing in brothels and would even make moves on commoner girls.

In Sheryl’s mind, Schiller was an out-and-out scoundrel.

And now, he was trying to make a move on her?!

“!!”
Sheryl bit her lower lip so hard that blood almost seeped out. She was looking at him with literal ice-cold eyes, her gaze devoid of any warmth.

‘Not good. If this goes on, I’m really going to be killed as a lecher!’

“You…! You…!” The girl kept clenching her small fists. “You actually!”
Her face flushed, whether from shyness or anger.

The next second, the girl, disregarding her image as a duke’s daughter, kicked off the ground with her exquisite lambskin boots and rushed straight at Schiller.

Schiller awkwardly sidestepped the whistling punch, his nose even catching the faint floral scent unique to her.

‘Holy! Wait, this isn’t how the plot is supposed to go!’

‘Isn’t Sheryl supposed to be an ice-cold young lady! How could this be!’

He screamed internally: ‘Insult me! Step on me with your noble feet! Aren’t you the duke’s daughter who’s so particular about etiquette that even your pinky has to be raised at a specific angle when you drink tea?’

Schiller dodged, his mind in chaos.

‘Right, somewhere in the game, there was indeed a line like this.’

“Sheryl was once a genius swordsman, but she gave up the sword due to a certain event.”
‘No way…’

He had imagined ten thousand ways Sheryl might treat him, but he had never thought she would resort to physical violence directly.

‘At least I hoped she’d use her mouth.’

“You lecher, accept your punishment!”
“I’m not a lecher, and I can’t accept punishment!”
‘This isn’t a beautiful girl game, it’s an action game!’

She unhesitatingly spun around, her long leg aiming straight for Schiller’s face.

In a panic, Schiller grabbed a tray from the dining table to block his face, but he overlooked the cream puff on it.

“Bang!” The cream puff burst apart under the immense force—
At this moment, her flawless skin was splattered with white cream.

The milky, sticky firework hit her delicate collarbone, and a few drops even splashed onto the corner of her tightly pursed lips.

Schiller couldn’t help but swallow.

‘This is really…’

Sheryl clumsily wiped her face. Her snow-white skin was now so red it looked like it could bleed.

“You, you, and you still say you’re not!!”
Sheryl was now completely blinded by rage. She looked down at her cream-splattered dress, her body trembling slightly.

‘Is this shyness?’

‘No, this is definitely from anger.’

“Yikes, can we still reconcile now?”
“How about, how about we stop fighting?”
“This young lady must mete out divine punishment on you today!”
‘How is she a noble at all!’

“I, I surrender!”
“This young lady hasn’t given you permission to surrender yet!”
Sheryl was panting as she stood on Schiller, increasing the pressure of her foot as she spoke.

Her shoes had been tossed aside during the fight, and her bare foot was now pressed firmly on Schiller’s chest as she looked down at him.

‘No, in the end, didn’t I still end up being stepped on?’

Schiller wore a look of wanting to cry but having no tears.

‘My resistance… what was the point!’

‘No, I didn’t push a boulder up a mountain, I willingly lay at the feet of a beautiful girl, just so you know.’

“Lecher, have you given up on making a move on me?”
Sheryl increased the pressure of her foot on Schiller’s chest.

‘An opening!’

Schiller instantly exerted force, attacking her—waist dimples.

Waist dimples are a weak point for most humans.

Sheryl seemed to have her funny bone tickled instantly. Her ice-sculpture-like face contorted, her forcefully maintained dignified expression completely collapsed, and a short, completely out-of-control laugh escaped her lips.

Her entire body jolted as if electrocuted, and her cheeks flushed red again.

“De… despicable!”
Schiller quickly stood up, preparing to enter a second round of grappling with Sheryl.

‘I really wish it wasn’t on the floor but on the bed.’

‘No, the floor might not be so bad either…’

“Knock, knock.”
A knock suddenly came from the door, followed by a creak as Celia entered the room.

“Young Master, Lady Sheryl’s room has been prepared.”
“Celia, you’ve come at just the right time. Lady Sheryl, please go rest.”
“You!…” Sheryl glared at Schiller fiercely, but perhaps because of the maid’s presence, she had no choice but to nod. “Yes, let’s get along well tomorrow, Mr. Lecher?”

She smiled at Schiller playfully, then followed Celia out of the dining room.

‘Wait, what did she just say?’

Schiller inexplicably felt concerned about a certain part of that.