Three days passed like a strategic countdown.
Damien spent them productively – gathering intelligence on the ceremony's attendees, reviewing his notes on crowd psychology, and planning his approach with the precision of a military campaign.
The worn psychology texts from his previous life had been his salvation during endless hours of trashy webnovel consumption. Cialdini, Carnegie, Greene – he'd absorbed them all when the alternative was another isekai protagonist stumbling into accidental harems.
Now that knowledge was paying dividends.
He sat in his study on the morning of the ceremony, reviewing his strategy one final time.
[QUEST AVAILABLE: Public Performance]
[Objective: Re-establish connection with Elara during welcoming ceremony]
[Bonus Objective: Create positive contrast against Church restrictions]
[Warning: Hero Aldric Brightblade will be present. Avoid direct confrontation.]
"Noted," Damien murmured, dismissing the notification with a thought. The System was useful, but it had a tendency to state the obvious. He'd already planned around the hero's presence.
The key was understanding the environment. Elara would be on display – literally, given how these ceremonies worked. The Church would parade her as their symbol of purity while nobility pretended to care about divine blessings. She'd be trapped in her role, every word and gesture scrutinized.
Which meant any genuine human interaction would stand out dramatically.
Contrast Principle in action. Make the baseline sufficiently miserable, and even small kindnesses became memorable. He'd used it during their dinner, making simple conversation feel revolutionary against the backdrop of her isolated existence.
Today he'd deploy it again, but subtly. Too obvious and she'd see the manipulation. Too subtle and the moment would be lost in the chaos of the ceremony.
The balance was everything.
"Young master?" A servant appeared at the door. "The carriage is ready."
"Thank you." Damien stood, checking his reflection. He'd dressed carefully – noble enough to belong, but not so ostentatious as to draw attention. Today wasn't about him. It was about making Elara remember why their evening together had mattered.
The ride to the ceremonial plaza took twenty minutes. Damien used the time to center himself, pushing aside any inconvenient emotions.
Two nights ago, Margaret's observation about him caring had been... troubling. Not because it was wrong, but because it was irrelevant.
Yes, he'd enjoyed their evening. Yes, Elara was remarkable – intelligent, brave, more complex than the novel's flat characterization suggested. But those facts didn't change his objective.
He needed to survive. She was the key to that survival.
Everything else was noise.
He needed it to be.
The plaza was already crowded when he arrived. Merchants hoping for divine blessings on their ventures. Nobles performing their required religious observance. Common folk genuinely devoted to the Goddess. And at the center, a raised dais where Church officials were arranging themselves with theatrical precision.
Damien positioned himself carefully – not front and center where his presence would be obvious, only enough to be noticed if someone looked.
Mid-crowd, slightly to the right, near a marble column that provided cover if needed.
Then he waited.
The ceremony began with the tedious predictability of all religious pageantry. High Priest Aldous delivered a sermon about faith and devotion that managed to be both lengthy and empty of content. Junior clergy sang hymns. Incense burned in elaborate braziers, creating theatrical atmosphere.
And then Elara appeared.
She wore full ceremonial robes – white and gold, elaborate embroidery, a headdress that probably weighed five pounds. Her face was composed in serene blessing, hands folded, every inch the perfect Saintess.
But Damien had seen her laugh while dancing. He'd watched her admit doubts by firelight. He knew what existed beneath the ceremonial mask.
And more importantly, she knew he knew.
Their eyes met across the crowd for half a second. She didn't react visibly, but he saw the fractional pause in her blessing gesture. Recognition. Memory. The contrast between this moment and their private evening hitting her exactly as planned.
[CORRUPTION PROGRESS: Public Contrast Established]
[Subject aware of performance vs. reality gap]
[Intimacy +3]
Damien allowed himself a small smile, then turned his attention to the rest of the ceremony as if her presence were merely interesting, not important.
Feigned indifference. Another classic technique. People want what seems unbothered by their absence.
The ceremony continued. Elara blessed the crowd with practiced gestures, her divine magic creating gentle golden light that made everyone sigh with religious fervor. She spoke prescribed words about the Goddess's love and the importance of faith.
She was perfect, pristine, exactly what the Church wanted her to be.
And yet...
She looked absolutely miserable.
Not obviously – her mask was too well-maintained for that. But Damien had learned to read the micro-expressions, the tiny tells that revealed truth beneath performance.
The way her smile was never really full. The mechanical precision of her movements. The careful distance she maintained from everyone, even the clergy supposedly supporting her.
She was a bird in a golden cage, performing for an audience that saw only the cage's beauty, not the bird's captivity.
And she knew he saw the difference.
The ceremony was nearing its conclusion when disruption arrived in the form of a young man with golden hair and an earnest expression pushing through the crowd.
Ah. Right on schedule.
"Saintess," The young man's voice carried across the plaza. "Saintess Elara."
Guards moved to intercept, but Aldous raised a hand, stopping them. The High Priest's expression was calculating – turning away a devoted follower would look bad for Church PR.
"Approach, young man," Aldous called. "But show proper respect."
The golden-haired man – definitely Aldric Brightblade, the hero, right down to his protagonist-quality jawline – climbed the dais steps with athletic grace.
He knelt before Elara with textbook perfect form.
"Saintess, I heard of the attack three days ago. I came to the capital immediately, hoping to offer my service as protection." His voice rang with sincerity so pure it was almost nauseating. "If you'll permit me, I'll ensure no harm ever comes to you again."
Damien could feel his body cringe at the scene, but his reaction wasn't the one that mattered.
Damien watched Elara's face carefully. This was the moment from the novel – the hero's first meeting with the Pure Saintess heroine. Aldric would pledge his protection - not because of Damien's orchestrated bandit attack - but some other plot convenient reason, she'd be moved by his devotion, and the seeds of their destined love would be planted.
Except Elara looked... uncomfortable.