I Can Extract the Plot ( As a Trash Side-Character) Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Graveyard Grind

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Vivienne Vance did not blink often. Caelen noticed that immediately. Most people blinked during conversations. Tiny pauses. Natural interruptions. Human hesitation. Vivienne simply… stared. Like a blade waiting for the exact angle needed to cut. The silence in the archive stretched dangerously thin. "You expect me to believe," she said at last, "that a drunk failure suddenly uncovered a conspiracy capable of threatening House Vance?" "Not House Vance," Caelen corrected calmly. "Just you." A mistake. Probably. Vivienne's eyes narrowed by half a fraction. Which, for her, was practically emotional outrage. Caelen leaned back in the chair, forcing himself to remain relaxed even as every survival instinct screamed at him to shut up. This was the problem with highly intelligent characters. You couldn't overpower them. You couldn't out-authority them. You had to feed them exactly enough truth to keep them interested without giving them the knife to slit your throat. And unfortunately for Caelen Vivienne was one of the smartest people in the entire setting. Top five easily. Maybe top three if you excluded immortal horrors and divine entities. "You have one minute," she said. "Convince me not to kill you tonight." Efficient. Cold. Reasonable, honestly. Caelen exhaled slowly. "The western branch family recently increased their church donations." No reaction. "Their private knights have tripled patrol rotations." Still nothing. "And three months from now, during the Winter Accord, someone will poison your ceremonial wine using Frostroot Distillate." A pause. Tiny. Barely visible. But there. Got you. "Frostroot," Vivienne repeated softly. Ah. Interesting. So the poison route hadn't been public knowledge even internally. Good. That meant his information had value. Caelen nodded toward her glove. "You're already investigating internal betrayal, aren't you?" This time she went completely still. Bingo. Players only learned this through hidden lore entries, but Vivienne had always suspected her political isolation inside the family. She simply lacked proof. Caelen, meanwhile, had accidentally spent three consecutive weekends hunting obscure achievement routes because he hated sunlight and valued poor life decisions. Useful hobby apparently. Vivienne studied him in absolute silence. Then: "Who told you?" "Nobody." "Impossible." "You'd be surprised what people hear when servants assume they're too worthless to notice." Not entirely convincing. But not entirely false either. The best lies always wore truth like perfume. Vivienne stepped closer. Moonlight caught the silver strands of her hair, giving her an almost unreal appearance. Beautiful. In the same way avalanches were beautiful. "You are hiding something," she said quietly. "Yes." No point denying it. That seemed to surprise her more than the answer itself. "You admit it?" "Of course." Caelen shrugged. "Everyone in this house hides something. Mine are just less boring." For a second, the corner of her mouth twitched upward. Then vanished instantly. "Careful, Caelen," she murmured. "Competence makes people noticeable." There it was. The real warning. Not don't threaten me. Not don't lie to me. Don't become important. Because important people in this world attracted fate. And fate here was carnivorous. Caelen smiled faintly. "Trust me. I hate attention." Vivienne stared at him another moment before finally turning away. The pressure suffocating the room eased slightly. "Interesting," she said. That was all. No promises. No trust. No mercy. Just interest. And somehow that felt infinitely more dangerous. She moved toward the door. Then stopped. Without looking back, she said: "If you are lying, I will personally remove your tongue before the Gala." "Fair." "And if you are telling the truth…" Her voice became softer. "Then I may permit you to continue existing." How generous. The door opened. Cold hallway light spilled inward. "One more thing," Vivienne said. Caelen sighed internally. Of course