Later that night…
Jacinta sat at her desk, the only light coming from the small lamp and the fireplace. The shadows cast a warm glow around her, but she paid them no mind. Her focus was on the blank paper in front of her.
The war in the Western regions had already begun. The plot was in motion. But even if her family's involvement wouldn't start until Joaquin's coming-of-age ceremony six months from now, that didn't mean she couldn't do something.
She tapped her pen lightly against the table.
Goal: Live past the plot with my siblings to the point we meet our grandchildren.
Jacinta let out a soft laugh. "That's a pretty ridiculous goal. Death can come anytime, plot or no plot. But hey, it's not a bad dream to chase."
She smiled when Judith and Judea's words rang to her mind. "Of course, of course, that time we will see it together."
With a fresh piece of paper in front of her, she began scribbling. One of the perks of being royalty was the endless supply of paper, not that she was complaining.
"Okay, Jacinta. Think S.M.A.R.T."
Specific. Measurable. Attainable. Relevant. Time-bound.
Her studies in Psychology had covered four key fields: Clinical Psychology, Guidance and Counseling, Human Resources, and Special Education. If she wanted to ensure their survival, her knowledge of Human Resources would be crucial. She needed two main resources right now — men and money.
For the men, she set a clear goal. Within one month, she would secure her most trusted allies. Her siblings and Edina were the obvious choices.
Before this was her dilemma: Should she tell her siblings the truth about their looming fate? Or let them live in blissful ignorance while she silently worked to change their destiny?
Jacinta sighed.
No man is an island.
An old phrase, but true nonetheless. Humans were interdependent. It was part of the hierarchy of needs in love and belonging — they were essential.
"I can't change our fate on my own." Her gaze lifted to the hovering book above her, its aged leather cover reflecting the flickering light.
"It would be easier to protect people who knew they were in danger."
Jacinta's fingers traced the delicate curve of her bracelet, its cold touch grounding her. "One month to prepare, and then..." She let out a bitter laugh. "Nothing will ever be the same."
Shaking her head, she squared her shoulders. "No time for second thoughts." She held her head.
"After years of studying college, this is what it all comes down to. Hah."
"Now, onto the second step — money. I need a lot of it, and I need it within four months." Jacinta's grin widened. "Since the emperor already thinks we're nothing but spoiled children, why not lean into it? The more I play the part, the more generous my allowance will be. Drying the palace storage will be a breeze."
She glanced at the stack of investment proposals Edina had brought. The kingdom's current era mirrored Earth's early Renaissance, though magic had taken the place of science. Progress here was measured in spells and enchantments rather than inventions and machines.
"I'm not Dr. Stone," Jacinta muttered with a wry chuckle. "I can't just build a civilization from scratch. All I've got are general ideas. Turning them into reality will be the real challenge."
Still, if her binge-watching of isekai and reincarnation stories had taught her anything, it was how to make quick money.
"Beauty products, food, health remedies, weapons… And, of course, treasure hunting of all the treasures, relics and weapons mentioned in the novel. Classic choices." She listed them off on her fingers, her grin never fading.
But then, with a groan, she threw her head back. "Ugh, Jacinta, calm down. You're overthinking again."
With renewed focus, she flipped through the papers until something caught her eye. Her grin sharpened.
"Hoh. Interesting," she murmured, leaning closer. "This… this is it. This is where I'll start raking in gold."
After scribbling down her thoughts, she moved on to the third step.
"Next, I need to keep an eye on the empress, the emperor, and my siblings." She tapped her quill against her desk. "Joaquin can deal with the empress easily enough. But the emperor and my siblings? That'll require patience."
She scanned her carefully crafted S.M.A.R.T table once more, double-checking each detail. Every goal was neatly outlined — clear, measurable, and precise. Perfect.
But she wasn't foolish enough to leave her plans lying around.
"Right now, we are ants caught in the web of the novel." With one final glance, Jacinta crumpled the papers and tossed them into the fireplace. "But if we gather other ants beyond the novel's reach, could they pull us free?"
The flames roared to life, greedily consuming her secrets. She watched the last fragment of parchment curl into ash, her gaze unwavering.
"I wonder."
***
Two days later...
April 12th, 1320, Wednesday
Soaring Heights Business Hall
East Division of Lemroz City
George Fletcher slumped over the wooden stall he had carefully arranged that morning. His hazel hair fell messily over his eyes as he stared blankly at the rows of bright orange balls stacked before him. The other merchants around him busied themselves — bargaining, boasting about their goods, or eagerly scanning the crowd for wealthy financiers. Meanwhile, George waited. And waited.
The Sharinga — a peculiar ball he'd sourced from the southern regions — sat untouched for a month. Not a single noble or merchant had shown the slightest interest. Out of sheer boredom, he grabbed one of the balls, squeezing its leathery skin. It was firm, its vibrant color a stark contrast to his gloomy mood.
"George Fletcher?"
His head shot up at the sound of his name. Standing before him was a woman with a calm, composed air. She wore a plain brown dress layered beneath a simple coat. Though her attire suggested she was a commoner, the way she carried herself said otherwise. Every movement was poised, every word deliberate.
"Yes, that's me. George Fletcher, owner of Fletcher Fields," he responded quickly, brushing imaginary dust from his tunic as he stood.
"Milady wishes to discuss your product. Would you accompany me outside? She awaits in her carriage."
A spark of hope flickered in George's chest. After weeks of rejection, could this finally be the break he'd been waiting for? A noble investor! He straightened his posture, plastering on his best merchant's smile.
"Of course, I'd be honored," he replied, his voice laced with barely concealed excitement.
The woman led him through the bustling market until they reached a modest carriage. It was far from the grand, gilded transports used by nobles, but George brushed the thought aside. Appearances could be deceiving, and many wealthy investors preferred to travel discreetly.
"Milady awaits at the Flordelutz. I'll escort you there," the woman said, pulling open the carriage door.
George stepped forward, but something tugged at his instincts. A month of failure had taught him to be cautious, and something about this situation gnawed at the back of his mind.
"Ah… may I know the name of your ladyship?" he asked hesitantly, attempting to mask his unease.
The woman said nothing. Instead, without warning, she drew a small pouch from her coat and blew a fine powder into his face.
George stumbled, the world tilting as a strange numbness swept through his limbs. His knees buckled, and the fruit slipped from his grasp, rolling forgotten onto the dirt.
'Damn it. I got too excited.'
Before he could even curse his own foolishness, darkness claimed him.