Duke Warren Tenneris raised his hands, which he had been soaking in cold water, and examined them meticulously. Having scrubbed vigorously with soap multiple times, his pale hands were now flushed red.

'Isn't this clean enough?'

Despite his rational mind's mutterings, he moved his hands closer to the lamp and repeatedly checked his skin.

Drip, drip—

The sound of water droplets falling from the faucet echoed with unusual clarity.

"Huu."

After his lengthy inspection, he finally let out a sigh of relief and reached toward the pure white towel.

'Disgusting. What is this?'

The voice he heard at his ear made his arm freeze mid-air.

It was such a vivid voice that he couldn't help but look around.

But this was the most secure bathroom in his ducal residence. As usual, not even an ant, let alone a single leg, had ventured near.

'First hallucinations, now auditory ones.'

He smiled wryly and shook his head.

If the factions that found him troublesome knew about this, they would welcome it with open arms, saying, 'Duke Warren Tenneris has finally lost his mind completely.'

'It's the social season, so stress is unavoidable.'

No matter how much he disliked people, as the head of a ducal house, he couldn't skip all social events.

He looked back down at his pale palms.

Even knowing the voice had been a hallucination, his anxiety began creeping up again.

Like a single drop of ink falling into clear water, dyeing the entire body of water black.

'Microscopic bacteria that can't be seen with the naked eye might be clinging to them.'

And those dirty germs might enter his body.

'Let me wash just one more time.'

His inner voice urged him, and though he had succumbed many times before, he couldn't resist this time either.

He filled the basin with water again and turned his eyes toward the soap.

"Ah."

It should have been a newly opened bar of soap, but it had already vanished without a trace.

He frowned briefly, then asked toward the shadow on the floor.

"You didn't eat my soap, did you, Noah?"

A dark shape that had been dissolved in the shadow raised its head, thumped its tail against the floor as if to protest its innocence, and made a grumble sound.

A mass of black, smoky substance formed into a dog-like shape—an unidentified beast that emitted a purplish glow from its black eyes.

An ordinary person would have flinched and exclaimed, "An evil spirit!" at such a eerie appearance, but the duke facing it was completely unfazed.

"I know, I was just teasing you."

"Grrrm."

Noah, who had let out a dissatisfied cry, suddenly perked up its ears and looked toward the door. Its tail, which had been wagging gently, stiffened.

"Judging by your reaction, it's an uninvited guest."

"Woof!"

True to Noah's warning, someone soon knocked on the door.

"My lord, I apologize for disturbing you while you're washing. An important guest has arrived..."

The valley between his dark eyebrows deepened.

Rule number one of House Tenneris was 'Never disturb Duke Tenneris while he's in the bathroom.'

The butler, who had served him for a long time, couldn't possibly be unaware of this.

"How important could this guest be?"

Sensing the displeasure evident in Warren's voice, the butler wiped the sweat from his brow and answered.

"It's Princess Cynthia Astley."

"The princess?"

Warren's hand, which had been tearing open a new bar of soap, stopped. This was a visitor he hadn't expected at all.

"What business does the princess have here?"

"I asked as well, but she said she needed to speak with you directly, my lord."

The butler's voice was also filled with bewilderment.

Since the other party was a princess, he couldn't very well turn her away at the door. Though the next monarch was almost certainly her younger brother, Prince Phil, rather than the princess herself, she was still royalty and couldn't be carelessly dismissed.

Moreover, if something were to happen to the prince, either the princess or her offspring could become the next monarch.

Warren weighed Princess Cynthia's importance against his schedule for the day, deliberating. He could probably spare about fifteen minutes.

"Tell her to come in."

"Yes, my lord."

The butler answered with palpable relief. He had been worried the principled duke might turn her away as usual, saying, 'I cannot see guests who haven't made prior arrangements.'

Unfortunately, that relief was premature.

"Instead, make sure the 'entry procedure' is strictly followed."

"P-pardon? That procedure?"

Ignoring the butler's trembling voice, Warren began lathering the new soap.

Even if it were royalty—no, even if it were the king or prince—he could not compromise on this.

This was Tenneris Ducal Residence. It must operate according to his rules.

"If she refuses..."

"No exceptions. If she refuses, arrange another appointment to meet at a different location later."

"Understood."

Would the princess actually agree to follow the Tenneris residence's 'procedure'? The butler grew worried.

It was a procedure that even other guests had expressed reluctance about. Proud nobles would fly into a rage, asking if he considered them unclean. Naturally, none of them ever visited again.

'Since no one comes, it's more convenient and pleasant, isn't it? They're reducing my work, so why are they complaining?'

Recalling the duke's calm reaction, the butler made a bitter face.

'The duke is one thing, but the princess's temperament isn't exactly easy either.'

He was already worried about how angry she might get.

But the bathroom door was already firmly closed, and the sound of splashing water trickled through the gap.

In any case, his master was Duke Warren Tenneris, so he had no choice but to do as he was told.

Hunching his shoulders slightly, the butler walked slowly down the corridor. Following his shadow, a smoky black shape moved stealthily.

"So this is the 'procedure'?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

The butler bowed deeply toward the woman who was much smaller than him, with the force of someone about to smash his head into the ground.

Today's uninvited guest, Cynthia Astley—called 'Cia' by those around her—folded her arms in front of her chest and held back a rising sigh.

'Maybe I should have tried to find a more natural opportunity to meet him.'

But she simply couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to meet him as soon as possible and get a grasp on the situation she was in.

<SYSTEM: The real-time destruction probability of the First World is 98.4%.>

She waved her hand as if shooing away a bug, trying to erase the floating letters before her eyes. But as with all her previous attempts, the translucent 'status window' refused to budge.

'How terribly annoying.'

This notification window, visible only to her, had been stubbornly occupying a corner of her vision ever since she'd returned to this 'First World.' Like an ad pop-up with no close button, in a peculiarly irritating position.

"Y-your Highness. How about we just go back today...? You can see the Duke another time, right?"

Her timid maid, Janet, who was standing behind her, tugged at her dress and whispered. Her voice was trembling with fear.

"The Duke hardly appears at social events, and even when you ask to meet him, he'll avoid you saying he's busy. This way, coming to him directly is easier to get a face-to-face meeting, don't you think?"

Cynthia was the type of person who became more motivated when someone opposed her. She promptly discarded her earlier thought of 'maybe I shouldn't have come' and cracked her neck from side to side.

At the end of her sharp gaze stood a special facility installed at the entrance of Tenneris Ducal Residence.

"I've seen something like this somewhere before..."

"Wh-where?"

Janet asked, her voice trembling openly.

"Perhaps in a book about torture devices? Or is it one of the forbidden magics?"

"No, it's not that..."

Ah—an automatic car wash. It was an exact replica of the car washes she'd seen in the Second World. Though smaller in size and made with magical engineering instead.

"It doesn't look that dangerous, does it?"

"You're not lying, are you?"

"I'm... pretty sure about this one."

Born without any magical power, she'd briefly taken an interest in 'magical engineering'—technology that even non-mages could use.

She'd quickly lost interest upon learning that with the current level of magical engineering, only rudimentary magic could be performed.

"Pretty sure? Not absolutely sure?"

"Come on, if it were a dangerous facility related to dark magic, they wouldn't have installed it so openly at the entrance of the ducal residence, would they?"

Cia moved behind Janet and placed both hands on her back.

"Besides, we'll know for sure if we go in and see for ourselves."

"E-excuse me?! Go in? Me? First?"

"Then should I go in first?"

Janet's innocent brown eyes trembled like a frightened rabbit.

"What if I go in there defenseless and it sucks out my soul with dark magic? Duke Tenneris is... infamous... no, famous... for dark magic!"

Her fear wasn't unreasonable.

Warren Tenneris was the kingdom's most powerful mage. Even more, he was a dark mage specializing in magic related to death, souls, and curses.

And he was also the one who, with that immense magical power, had devastated the Astley Kingdom and the entire world in Cia's first life.

Of course, at this point in time, Cia was the only one who knew that.

"Well, that's true..."

Just as she was considering whether visiting him alone might be too dangerous, the number written in the status window changed.

<SYSTEM: The real-time destruction probability of the First World is 98.5%.>

"Oh, come on."

The probability that had finally gone down a bit went right back up after just a moment's hesitation. So meeting the Duke really was the key to reducing the destruction probability, then.

"It'll be fine. What's worse than dying anyway?"

"E-excuse me? Wait a minute!"

"I'm sure you're covered by workers' compensation... probably."

"How about the two of us go in together holding hands—Kyaaa!"

Pushed by Cia, Janet made a strange sound as she was sucked into the device. Cia stepped back and made a gesture of wiping a tear.

"I won't forget your sacrifice, Janet."

Unfortunately, she couldn't back down now. Cia had a mission: to prevent this world's destruction.

'Though I have absolutely no idea how to do that.'

This time, she didn't hold back and let out a deep sigh.

<SYSTEM: The real-time destruction probability of the First World is 98.5%.>

The status window flickered with an unpleasant glow toward her. As if warning her not to forget it.