----

Curveball: a slang term for something which is unexpected, surprising, or disruptive.

----

After returning home, Novarra sighed, collapsing onto her bed. Just as she was about to close her eyes to surrender herself to blissful sleep, her vision fizzled like a black-and-white pixelated television screen. The pixels then swirled into a rainbow vortex like a light from a prism, which slowly settled down into what seemed like an abyss-like space.

A familiar one. The very space she had been in before being transported into her body. Unlike Evan, she hadn't heard the voice of the System that brought him here. After being plunged into darkness, Novarra had just followed a tunnel of light and woke up in the Queen's body.

The System's contacting me?

Looking confused, Novarra looked around. She could only see endless darkness in every direction, almost like she was a semblance in a dream.

{Cross-player [Novarra Kiye Ultra] had been transported due to a System error. For that, this System apologizes}

A cold, mechanical voice, like the one described in "REBUILD."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Novarra scoffed. She had known that for the second she had been transmigrated against her will.

It had later been revealed that Evan's transmigration had been caused by his intense desire to reunite with Kiara, or Rara, which had caught the attention of the System that regulated worlds. Since Novarra had no such desire, obviously, she had been a mistake.

Cross-player obviously is a term for the players that "play" across other worlds...smart.

"I accept your apology," Novarra said curtly. "Are you here to transport me back?"

The System paused. Could Systems even hesitate?

{This System cannot interfere anymore in this world, unless part of a programmed Response}

Novarra raised an eyebrow coldly. "Then why are you here then?"

Useless.

{This System is here to inform you that System Response, 'The Butterfly Effect' has occurred}

"So something has been changed due to my arrival?"

{This System says that the player's deductions are correct. This System also says that, since cross-player [Player Novarra Kiye Ultra]'s arrival, a vital part of the world has been changed}

"I'm guessing, since you haven't told me, I'm not allowed to know what exactly has been changed?" Varra sighed.

{This System sincerely apologizes again}

"Tch. Fine, fine, then." She waved the darkness off. "If you don't have anything useful to tell me, why tell me at all? I need to sleep now. Please don't disturb my sleep in the future." Novarra paused. "And also, if Evan was given an ability due to his arrival - and I know his arrival was planned - why don't I have one?"

{This System states [Player Novarra Kiye Ultra] has been given a gift since the start of this world}

{This System suggests that perhaps [Novarra Kiye Ultra] has not noticed?}

Aii....

Novarra closed her eyes. "I can't deal with this shit right now, genuinely."

She paused.

"If you have nothing else to say, I'm going back to sleep."

{Good Night}

Just then, two floating buttons appeared, above a glowing question.

{Would you like to return to the world ?}

[Yes] [No]

{[Player Novarra Kiye Ultra] has chosen option [Yes]}

{This System bids [Player Novarra Ultra] a restful sleep}

All of a sudden, the darkness convulsed, and Novarra slowly blinked herself back to reality.

Ah, what a mess.

----

Novarra disliked politicians.

Treshna, they called them here. Every resident of the Anisa continent, according to past memories, disliked politicians, nobles, even some merchants - in short, they disliked people who spun webs with their words. Liars, were called tresne in Common.

Perhaps it was hypocritical of her, when she was one of that very sort.

But either way, what she hated more were idiots who refused to see what was right in front of them.

“You’re seducing my father!” screeched the red-haired Aria Carrion. “You-”

“Miss Aria, I am not seducing your father nor do I have the intention to do so.” Novarra was casual but firm. “To be honest, I just want my fucking pork ribs.”

It was true.

Even if this world didn’t have barbeque sauce, Novarra just wanted her ribs. The elfe, a slang term for the people of Elevyar, had a more vegetable-based diet, and thus it was rare to find a good butcher like Mavis.

Meat is good.

Novarra had liked eating pork ribs, to some of the Ultras' disdain.

Common food, they called it. They all ignored the fact the Novara ate practically everything in sight, including the filet mignon and caviar that they so frequently splurged on.

Using Navven's money, she might add.

The butcher Mavis Carrion massaged his forehead, pulling Aria back with one hand. “I’m so sorry for this, Ingrid.” He looked at Novarra apologetically.

“It’s no problem, Mavis.” Varra smiled, but it was distant. “But it appears I am not welcome here. This is the fifth time. I might be visiting another butcher’s next time, apologies.”

Mavis made a pained expression, but he didn’t stop her. “It’s alright, I’ll wrap up the ribs.”

It had been more than a month since Novarra Ultra had settled in Rook and had gotten the administrator position as Ingrid Signia. To the citizens of Rook, Novarra was well-liked, and held one of the higher positions in town, equal to almost the tresne Lavers’. Alessia had been very generous in giving her power. Novarra handled the logistics of Rook’s system from behind the scenes, and Alessia would use her competence as a stepping stone.

But Varra had made friends with a lot of people.

For a person like Novarra, Mavis was a nice friend who occasionally gave her discounts on pork ribs on the rare chances that she visited his shop, over the town marketplace that also held a wide variety of food.

But his daughter was another story.

Aria Carrion was pretty enough. But due to Mavis’ first failed marriage, she quickly became known for being overly protective of Mavis, to the point where she would immediately turn into a harpy to any person who dared to approach her father.

Did father-cons even exist?

Novarra was tempted to get rid of her. If it was before, she would've asked her security guards to evacuate her.

But even she had a heart. Right?

Ring-ring.

The bell at the butcher’s front door rang, and Novarra quickly turned around, narrowly avoiding a hanging string of sausages. She squinted at the entrance, which now held a familiar face.

Belluse’s flaming red hair was seen as she entered the butcher’s, with an urgent look.

Belluse?

“Lucia?” Novarra asked, confused.

“Administrator Signia.” Belluse was seen heaving, as if she had rushed here. “It’s important.”

Belluse rarely panics…

Novarra turned to the dark-haired Mavis, and smiled apologetically.

“I’ll have to trouble you to save the pork ribs for a bit. I’ll pick them up later.”

After recieving an understanding nod, Varra stepped to Belluse’s side.

The faithful maid-turned-assistant lowered her voice.

“The Delacartes are planning to visit.”

---

Rook was scenic enough.

It was almost like the small towns in animation movies that Novarra liked to occasionally watch.

If she were travelling via helicopter, she assumed she would likely have seen a patchwork of colorful tiled roofs and cobblestone streets, along with the occasional farming fields. It even had good weather. Rook was far from magic, action, and Durendal. An almost perfect location, really. The only difficult people that Varra had to deal with were the mayor, the merchants, and the odd flea, like Aria Carrion.

But today, the streaks of cloud against the cornflower sky now resembled pieces of shit.

“I was having a good day,” Novarra grumbled, “why those people have to come today, of all days? Tch.”

What a shitty day.

Novarra might’ve seemed hard-working to outsiders, but that was just her projected character. In reality, she didn’t like to do much work. Her laziness had followed her across worlds.

The logistics of the town were really quite easy to manage, once she got the hang of it. At the beginning, she made a couple mistakes, but she adapted to her new job quite nicely. She just had to attend and arrange a couple local meetings, participate in a few pitfights, and in short be Alessia's guard dog.

She was living an easy life, with a good enough monthly salary. If the salary didn’t help, the yield of her investments in several businesses were enough too. A respected public figure.

A good result after a month.

Now, the visit of a viscounty to an extremely minor town?

Belluse sighed. “It was an unexpected visit, Your Majesty. That lady was surprised, too. There was no prior communication.”

The sight of the usually calm new administrator fuming was evidently a surprise to most citizens of Rook. The pair attracted many eyes and whispers, but Novarra didn’t care.

She was tempted to grab Orion Delacartes by the collar, smack him to Earth, and lock him in a room with her father.

Orion would definitely go crazy with all the nagging.

She tsked again, waving Belluse off. “Now that they’re here, we have to prepare. Nobles are nobles.”

Novarra’s accent, which she usually kept in check, appeared again, stumbling over the rough yet delicate syllables of Common.

Belluse hesitated. “Do you think they’ll discover our identities?”

Varra breathed, calming herself. “Only nobles with the rank of count and above are usually sent on diplomatic envoys. It’s unlikely members of a viscounty will know my face, but we’ll have to be careful. We don’t know for sure if anyone associated with Rella will come along.”

It had only been a month. Why now?

She wasn’t the OP lead who picked up new skills and harem members every time she breathed. So why did life have to keep throwing only her curveballs? What power did she have?

She looked up at the shit-resembling clouds.

Tch.

What a bad day.