Became the Villainess’s Guardian

The maximum number of futures Freugne could peer into without overtaxing herself was four times daily.

To be candid, she preferred not glimpsing the future at all.
The dizzy, disorienting sensation never grew familiar no matter how much time elapsed, compounded by the gradual accumulation of unpleasant fatigue and drowsiness.

Hence, during her orphanage days, she seldom peered into the future.
At most, she might indulge once every two days – sometimes skipping even that infrequent occurrence, for she saw little incentive to strain her already wearied psyche from factory labor.

Confirming her survival a month in advance was sufficient assurance of her well-being, rendering any further exertion unnecessary.

“Mr. Carno?”

“Yes.”

“It seems a significant incident will soon occur in Antrim.”

“Shall I mobilize the police? Deploying the military within the city would be difficult, even for me.”

“The police should suffice for now. I shall provide you with the precise timing later, so I’m counting on you.”

“Understood. Then I shall increase patrols in the slums. Anything else you require?”

“Not immediately.”

But circumstances had changed.
While her pronouncements would inevitably face innumerable objections, with a touch of hyperbole – she could dissolve the council and establish a new dynasty if she so desired. Her words now carried a gravity incomparable to a decade prior.

Even Carno, whom she frequently conversed with in Antrim, ranked among the capital’s preeminent figures.
In such a context, even her most trivial actions or utterances could trigger unforeseen ripple effects.

Freugne had once read a magazine article where renowned Londinium magicians had offered their predictions for the world a century hence.

Some had envisioned domesticated whales serving as submersible vessels, while others foresaw flying automobiles.
And Edan had jokingly predicted that humanity would create highly advanced computational devices to make celebrities sing and dance, ultimately venerating them as deities within a cult – drawing ridicule.

If such disparities existed among the learned, Freugne could hardly claim infallible foresight.
Hence her compulsive, almost cheating, glimpses into the future – a consequence of the so-called ‘butterfly effect.’

“Uncle.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Could you let me hold your hand for a moment?”

“Again today?”

“Yes. Quickly, please.”

Extending her arm, Edan reflexively grasped her hand. And she peered inward.

The second stage constituted a gratuitous indulgence, unnecessary for employing her abilities. But on days she would meet Carno, expecting a late return, she needed to preemptively replenish her ‘Edan-energy’ reserves.

For that reason, Freugne devoted one of her allocated glimpses to confirming their safe return to Londinium – a future at least two months distant, precluding detailed insights into any intervening incidents, but verifying their immediate well-being.

Another glimpse scrutinized the following day, lest any of her actions triggered a butterfly effect culminating in unforeseen circumstances – a minimal safeguard she had instituted.

The remaining two glimpses surveyed random future junctures akin to playing the lottery:
Fortuitous if worthwhile futures manifested, inconsequential if not. Since she could not control the outcomes, all she could do was hope for the best.

But the situation had changed. With Antrim potentially imperiled, she could hardly indulge in leisurely visions of intimate bedroom activities with Edan.
Instead, Freugne exhaustively combed through the period spanning the Demonic Tribe’s planned harm against Edan until their scheduled departure.

And at last:

‘I’ve found it.’

Occasionally depleting her full five allocated glimpses until collapsing from sheer exhaustion, her efforts had borne fruitful revelations.

So… the timing spanned a period approximately one month from the present.
Her vision blurred as the surrounding timestream appeared to slow. Simultaneously, her consciousness traversed that temporal expanse, reopening her eyes to find herself somewhere within Antrim.

The first sound to reach her was someone’s urgent shout,
or rather, a voice resonating broadly throughout the room:

“The Demonic Tribe has appeared within the city! This is not a drill or prank. It is an actual situation, so citizens, please remain indoors until suppression efforts are complete-”

-Zzzzzzip, BANG!!

“Aaaargghhhh!!”

“Police! Over here, over here! There’s a suspicious individual who appears to be a Demonic Tribe member!”

A scene reminiscent of her previous experiences in Londinium.
The sole difference lay in the identities prowling the streets – not humans, but Demonic Tribe members.

“Halt! Surrender peacefully, and we shall spare your lives.”

“Using humans as mind-controlled shields…?! Such vile tactics!”

“Yes, if you wish to apprehend me, you must first overcome these humans!”
Outnumbered, some Demonic Tribe members had taken humans hostage.
A reckless, unrestrained ferocity heedless of consequences – a symptom not uncommon among the Demonic Tribe under the Dark Lord’s dominion.

And amidst this pandemonium, what was Edan, the central figure of this prospective future, doing?

“Mr. Edan, are you alright? No, wait, what is all this?!”

“I’m quite alright, as you can see. This seems… to be the work of a Demonic Tribe faction causing an uproar outside.”

Edan nonchalantly brushed away some breadcrumbs clinging to his lips, allowing Freugne to roughly discern the unfolding situation.

So he had emerged unscathed.
Hence, they could eventually return to Londinium together.

Freugne let out an inward sigh of relief.
The future only revealed that singular moment. Unless the accompanying dialogue directly pertained to the revealed events, she could glean no further context.

But now she knew.
Accompanied by a subtle, floating sensation, her consciousness had returned to their Antrim hotel room.

Instead of the disheveled, panting Edan from that future glimpse, the well-groomed present Edan stood before her.

“Well, I should get going now……”

“Ah.”

Freugne realized she had been grasping Edan’s hand for an inordinately long time.
But ending it there seemed too abrupt. As if savoring the lingering aftertaste, an idea struck her.

“Then I’ll be off-”

“One moment, please.”

This tranquil morning might not grace them again for some time.
Freugne grasped Edan’s waist to steady herself, rising on her tiptoes to elevate her face to his shoulder level.

In retrospect, it seemed peculiar that despite their daily dinner rituals in Londinium, their shared slumbers, their casual handholding, they had never ventured beyond such platonic intimacy.

So, eyes tightly shut, Freugne took the plunge.
Perhaps her fatigue from the future glimpses had addled her senses, or an urgency to initiate this progression had overwhelmed her inhibitions.

The rationale hardly mattered now.

As she softly murmured, Edan, presuming she intended to disclose a secret, leaned closer.

The moment Freugne had been subconsciously awaiting.

-Chuu

“…Hm?”

“Heh.”

A mere fleeting brush of their lips, yet her first kiss had been exquisitely tender.
Though unable to discern any distinct taste, the atmosphere seemed imbued with a lingering sweetness.

After a momentary, fluttering breathlessness punctuated by a euphoric giggle, Freugne gently pushed the stunned Edan’s back, remarking:

“Just…have a safe trip.”

Today, Freugne had greeted me with a novel form of sendoff.
While we had grown accustomed to casual physical intimacy, she had never expressed affection through kissing, leading me to assume she harbored no such interests.

Typically, such displays occurred during childhood – the tendency being to eschew them once a child matured, preferring independence and privacy.
Hence, I had presumed I would never again witness such endearments from Freugne.

“Still, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience.”

No, it had evoked a reassuring sense of being cherished.
Professor Magni had often lamented how, as his daughter grew, her adorable tendencies had vanished, leaving a distinct void.

This overflowing affection surely exemplified an ideal family dynamic.
Though we shared no blood ties, perhaps that very distinction had transcended any residual boundaries, imbuing our bond with profound meaning.

Bolstered by Freugne’s encouragement, I promptly departed for Carno’s institute to commence work.

Unsurprisingly, the demonstration did not conclude after a single iteration.
It seemed every notable figure in Antrim had attended at least once, prompting a protracted schedule akin to a prolonged encore performance.

Naturally, Carno and I continually modified and refined the armaments and defensive gear based on the accumulated data.
Presumably, the higher Belfast authorities favored witnessing this iterative process – by the tenth demonstration, approximately a month after my arrival, their verdict had been reached.

General Andre, who had briefly departed for consultations, returned with a satisfied expression to address me:

“After careful deliberation involving military and government personnel, we have concluded that your armaments are presently the most suitable option, Magician Edan.”

“Ah, so they have been officially adopted, then?”

“Administrative procedures are still pending to maintain confidentiality, but essentially, yes. In that case, I ought to apprise you of our strategic plans.”

“I’m listening, certainly.”

“During the previous war, our forces nearly failed to defend the capital.”

While it had briefly fallen under occupation, I prudently remained silent.

“However, alongside the hero, we reclaimed the capital and gradually regained our former territories. In doing so, we realized what we, who had been merely desperately clinging to defense like cowards, truly required!”

“The lessons of war, you mean? And what might those be?”

“Precisely – the paramount importance of an intense, burning spirit emanating from our yearning for life itself.”

“Ah, I confess my strategic expertise is limited. Could you elaborate further?”

“Relentless offensive momentum, coupled with the resolve to actualize it, lies at the core. And I have no doubts that these armaments will serve as the vanguard embodying that very spirit.”

So if I had understood correctly, it entailed a potent offensive coupled with a dose of spiritualistic rhetoric.
Against the very Demonic Tribe who could rend humans asunder, no less.
Goodness gracious.