Being a late-stage First Tier warrior didn’t give Muen the slightest sense of security. Just like with that assassin—aside from being able to dash in fast enough to take a hit for Celicia, it had been utterly useless.

“The protagonist’s warrior-level strength is probably also just late First Tier right now.”

“But she can use magic! She’s got divine blessings! And a whole arsenal of tools!”

“Someone like her, even against a pure mage or pure warrior two tiers above her, could probably still win without breaking a sweat!”

The more Muen thought about it, the more he realized just how wide the gap between him and the protagonist, Ariel, really was.

—In the original novel, Muen Campbell had been able to throw his weight around for twenty chapters only because of how high-ranking his noble status was!

...

Thinking on it, Muen added one more line to the final item on his list—Get Stronger.

→ Able to protect myself against Ariel.

“That’ll be my ultimate goal, for now.”

Muen wasn’t delusional enough to think he could surpass Ariel. So he took a step back: if their conflict couldn’t be resolved for the time being, then at the very least, he had to reach the point where he wouldn’t die from her revenge.

Even that, though, was a massive hurdle.

Because having read the original, he knew exactly what kind of cheat-code monster Ariel was.

She had to be absurdly overpowered—how else could a female "Chuuni Overlord" protagonist be "overlord-y"?

“Ordinary methods won’t cut it. I need something else!”

...

...

Muen pulled the Black Book back out again.

Because the only thing he had that even resembled a cheat code... was this weird book. The one that did nothing most of the time except write his diary by itself or throw him into cryptic dream prophecies.

And yet, he’d begun to notice something strange about it.

“That assassin’s infernal flame... Even if that ceremonial suit was a powerful defensive artifact, it shouldn’t have held up! You must’ve done something!”

Muen stroked the mysterious book, muttering lowly to himself.

“And back then, I did feel something from you...”

“If you have any other abilities, now’s the time to show them!”

He flipped it open again.

The Black Book was no longer the wordless tome it had been when he first got it. Now, its pages were packed tight with detailed records of Muen’s actions.

From the moment he received it to now—nothing was left out. Even that moment with Celicia... was written down in disturbingly vivid detail.

“Damn it, what is this? Feels like I’m reading a porn book where I’m the main character.”

Muen cursed, skipping that whole scene with a grimace.

And then—finally—he noticed something different.

“These letters... they’re red.”

The entire Black Book was written in black ink. But when it came to the section covering the assassin who’d attacked Celicia, the word “Assassin” was bright blood-red.

“Why? What’s different about this entry?”

Puzzled, Muen reflexively reached out and placed his finger on the two crimson characters.

Suddenly, those red letters exerted an immense force—as if trying to drag his soul out of his body.

Muen didn’t even have time to scream before everything went black.

...

“What the hell? Where am I?”

Muen stood up from the ground, dazed and disoriented.

A moment ago, he’d still been in his room. But now... he was somewhere entirely unfamiliar.

Everything was pitch black. He couldn’t see anything.

“No, not black.”

He looked down at his own hands.

He could see himself—so it wasn’t darkness.

The illusion of darkness came from the environment itself: black walls, black floors, black ceiling.

Everything was pitch black. Even the boundaries between surfaces were hard to distinguish—like standing in a fog of shadows.

“...Is this... inside the Black Book?”

“What would even be the point? Is this some kind of storage room?”

As he puzzled over it, he heard something.

Clack.

It sounded just like the click of a maid’s leather shoes on marble floors—like the ones from the ducal estate.

Muen looked up.

His eyes °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° widened involuntarily, face draining of color.

Someone was walking toward him.

Dressed as a maid.

It was unmistakably the ducal maid uniform he knew so well—even the sound of the shoes was identical.

But the face...

It was that assassin.

“What...? You’re dead! How are you here?!”

And more importantly—why was she here?

The assassin didn’t answer.

She just lifted her face, revealing those cold, mechanical eyes.

A shiver ran through Muen’s entire body.

And before he could even move—

The assassin vanished.

And reappeared.

Just like when she attacked Celicia—she covered the distance between them in a single, unnatural blink.

Then—cold steel flashed.

Muen felt a chill graze across his neck.

The world spun.

The last thing he saw was the assassin’s bloodstained dagger—and a headless corpse.

...

...

“WHAT THE HELL!”

Muen shot up from the desk, jolted awake.

His sudden motion knocked the chair over, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

But he didn’t care about the pain at all. He was frantically patting around his neck with both hands.

“Thank God, thank God. My head’s still there.”

He let out a shaky sigh of relief.

For a second, he’d genuinely thought he’d died again.

“...Was that... another dream?”

No. No, it wasn’t.

He could still feel the phantom sensation of death lingering across the skin of his neck. No dream could be that real. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

He stood up and turned back to look at the Black Book.

It still sat exactly where he’d left it. And on the page—those red characters for “Assassin” were glowing faintly, as if calling to him.

“Could it be...”

A wild idea suddenly occurred to him.

But to confirm it... he’d need to test it.

He reached out again, this time slowly.

His fingers trembled.

Even if the last death had been quick and painless, dying wasn’t something you could just shrug off.

“Fuck it. I’ve already died once or twice—what’s there to be afraid of now?”

Muen suddenly grit his teeth, forced the shaking to stop, and slammed his hand down onto the red text.

...

The black room again. Same as before.

And across from him—the assassin in maid uniform, standing perfectly still.

Appearance, movements, aura—everything matched his memory precisely.

But her eyes remained cold, expression lifeless. Not like a living human.

“So it’s true... She’s not the real assassin. She’s a record—just like the Black Book’s other entries.”

“This entry... it’s more detailed. More lifelike. It’s like... like the real thing.”

Staring at her, something clicked in Muen’s mind.

A strange, manic glint sparked in his eyes.

“I think I finally understand what the Black Book is really for.”