Although they were the same person, Greg did not actually possess the full memories of Greg Sass. Regarding his past with Vivian, all he had were a few fragments.
Eight years old, a summer afternoon.
Sunlight filtered through the lush wisteria trellis, casting flecks of gold.
The air smelled of a blend of green grass and sweet pastries, the scene in his memory suffused with a soft, warm hue.
That was their first official meeting, arranged intentionally by both sets of parents.
The Vivian of that time already showed the early outlines of the exquisite, ice-carved look she would possess in the future. Her blue hair fell like a waterfall, and her ice-blue eyes were clear, yet lacked the warmth typical of a child.
She sat quietly by a round table covered with a snowy white tablecloth, taking small sips of juice. She showed little interest in the meticulously arranged pastries and toys around her, resembling a porcelain doll placed in the center of a bustling banquet.
Aloof, yet not entirely cold.
Breaking through this transparent barrier was the Greg Sass of that era—a boy who still retained the pride and vitality befitting the legitimate son of House of Sass.
The blonde boy darted over like a little whirlwind and unceremoniously sat down across from her. His eyes bright and sparkling, he offered her a piece of strawberry cake he deemed the most beautiful.
"Here, this one's the best! I already tried it!" His tone was filled with childish certainty.
The little girl raised her ice-blue eyes, glanced at him, and then looked at the cake adorned with bright red strawberries. She said nothing, but she did not refuse either.
Afterward, sitting on another chair, Greg babbled on to himself about whether a Desert Golem or a magic puppet was stronger, while Vivian listened as she nibbled on the cake.
Later on, the two children gradually grew familiar with one another.
They began chasing a beetle that glinted with golden light through the garden. Greg ran ahead, his laughter bright and clear. Whenever he turned back, he could see that tiny blue-haired figure.
Though her face remained expressionless, she lifted her skirt and followed quietly behind him, her ice-blue eyes reflecting the flickering speckles of summer light.
The memories over the three or four years following that grew hazy, like an old recording stone with a poor signal.
Many details had faded away, yet Greg could clearly feel that during that period, the main theme overflowing in his heart was fear.
A deep fear that had no clear source.
It wasn't directed at any specific person or event, but felt more like a thick, cold atmosphere hovering over the entire residence of the Sass family.
The young Greg didn't know where this fear originated. Was it his parents' deepening arguments?
Was it the increasingly forced smiles on the faces of family members?
Or was it those guests who suddenly appeared in their home carrying an unsettling aura after the family's faith quietly shifted?
Greg surmised that this pervasive fear was likely closely tied to the dark turning point when the Sass family secretly converted to the Demon King Cult.
A child might not understand conspiracy and betrayal, but could instinctively sense that home was becoming strange and dangerous, as though the ground beneath their feet was quietly caving in.
It was precisely in this soil of fear that the once-bright sunshine began to warp.
Greg Sass soon began to change along with it.
In the memory fragments, the blonde boy who once took the initiative to hand over cake and pull his playmate along under the sun gradually developed a haze in his eyes.
He began to grow arrogant, irritable, and short-tempered.
Outwardly, he squandered money recklessly, spoke harshly, and acted ostentatiously, rapidly becoming the notorious prodigal son of noble social circles.
Inwardly, he seemed to be clumsily using this wild, obnoxious shell to hide the growing anxiety and fear inside him.
His relationship with Vivian inevitably slid toward estrangement.
Around the age of twelve, the trajectory of this change became clearly visible.
Greg started making various excuses to shirk the homework they had agreed to finish together—tracing ancient runes borrowed from the Royal Library—until it eventually fizzled into nothing.
The little magic secrets and fantasies they used to share in secret were never brought up again.
He no longer excitedly shared a newly learned trick with her like before, nor did he drag her along to test out some whimsical magic combination.
And when the results of his own talent test came out, it proved to be the final straw.
Upon being told that his magic talent was mediocre, what little pride remained in Greg Sass as a legitimate noble son was thoroughly crushed.
He gave up completely. He no longer diligently studied magic theory as he had in the past, nor did he try to make up for it with hard work like Vivian. Instead, he indulged in pleasure and provocation, where a sense of achievement was far easier to obtain.
Throughout this process, Vivian had not been indifferent either.
In those memory fragments, Greg could see her clumsy attempts to reach out.
After he was scolded over his studies, she would quietly place an ancient tome that could improve his knowledge in a corner of the study room he occasionally visited.
When he intentionally skipped an important court banquet, she would, during their next meeting, casually mention in a calm tone that the banquet had been quite awful—as though making an excuse for his absence.
In her own way, she was trying to hold on to the boy who had once given her a sliver of warmth.
Her approach was clumsy, even awkward, but the effort itself was plainly visible.
Yet every time, what she received in return was Greg Sass pushing her away even more harshly.
"Stay out of my business!"
"Put away that high-and-mighty act of yours, Princess Vivian!"
"It's so boring being around you! It's nothing but magic and rules!"
"Go away! Stop annoying me!"
Harsh words, impatient glances, deliberately turning to talk to others—each instance of coldness was more complete than the last.
Facing all of this, the Vivian in his memory went from mild confusion at first to silent acceptance later on. Those ice-blue eyes were like a lake freezing over bit by bit, gradually losing their warmth until only a hard layer of ice remained.
Fifteen years old.
As for that decisive conflict, the memory fragments contained only vague scenes, yet the emotions and outcomes it produced were crystal clear.
It seemed to have occurred at a gathering of young nobles, though the exact reason was no longer traceable.
All he remembered was a heavily intoxicated Greg Sass who, egged on and mocked by the crowd both overtly and covertly, directed his aggression at Vivian sitting quietly to the side, publicly dismissing all of her hard work.
In that moment within the memory fragment, the color drained from Vivian's face, turning it abnormally pale.
Her ice-blue eyes were no longer a frozen lake, but ice crystals instantly shattering—filled with unbelievable shock, deep pain, and a coldness that pierced to the bone.
She didn't cry out, nor did she argue. She simply remained silent, as was her custom.
Under the astonished or amused gazes of everyone in the room, she gave Greg Sass one last deep look through eyes that had shattered and then swiftly frozen into even thicker ice.
That look was like a final farewell.
Then, she turned and left.
Not long after, an official royal announcement was issued: at the personal request of Her Highness Princess Vivian Kahn, His Majesty the King granted the dissolution of the betrothal between her and Greg Sass, the legitimate son of the Sass family.
From those memory fragments and the obscure letters scattered throughout the original game, Greg could piece together the truth of their relationship:
The responsibility for the end of this relationship lay entirely with Greg Sass.
Driven by fear and self-abandonment, he had personally pushed away the girl who wasn't good with words, yet never stopped trying to draw close.
Vivian had done everything she could, in her clumsy and stubborn way, trying to preserve that friendship formed in childhood.
Only, she had failed.
If Greg's initial urge to save Vivian stemmed mostly from sympathy for her character role in the game and a reluctance to see her meet her tragic fate...
...then now, after reviewing these fragmented yet heavy memories, that feeling had quietly changed.
He truly began to understand that beneath that icy facade was a soul that had once possessed warmth and had tried to reach out, only to end up battered and bruised.
He began to strongly desire to do something for this girl, to mend the wounds caused by 'his' own hands.
And that was how the current situation had come to be.
Late at night.
A secluded tree-lined path at Glory Cael Magic Academy.
The night breeze blew cool, rustling softly through the leaves and accentuating the quiet surrounding them.
A figure stood quietly in the shadows by the roadside. Her blue hair shimmered with a cool luster under the occasional shaft of moonlight, painting a serene and solitary scene in the dead of night.
Vivian raised her wrist to check her delicate watch.
The luminescent hands on the dial pointed precisely to the appointed time.
Yet the path remained empty, save for her own shadow stretched long by the moonlight.
"...Did he not come?"
Deep within her ice-blue eyes, a faint ripple passed through, like a gentle breeze disturbing a calm lake before settling back into silence once more.
She prepared to turn and leave.
Right at that moment—
Rustle... Swish!
A nearby dense ornamental bush shook violently as leaves and branches rubbed together, making quite a racket.
Vivian paused in her tracks and turned vigilantly toward the source of the noise.
Immediately after, under Vivian's slightly astonished gaze, a figure awkwardly scrambled out of the bushes.
A few leaves clung to his blonde hair, the shoulder of his expensive academy uniform jacket seemed to have been snagged by something, leaving a small tear, and a smattering of dust streaked his cheek.
It was Greg.
He glanced left and right, confirming no one else was around, before speaking to Vivian:
"Alright, no spies, we're good to trade!"
Vivian: "...?"
A massive question mark practically reflected in her ice-blue eyes, and a minuscule crack appeared in the perfect, cold expression on her face.
Greg didn't seem to find anything odd about it. He naturally raised his hand and brushed off the dust clinging to him from getting dragged into an unexpected mess, then turned toward the direction behind the bushes, waving to the still-dazed Vivian:
"Stop spacing out, hurry up and follow me. You wouldn't want anyone seeing you with me at this hour, right?"
He said this with total conviction, as if he wasn't the one acting like a secret agent making a clandestine rendezvous.
Vivian looked at him silently.
She didn't actually care much about being seen by others.
But seeing his urgent demeanor, along with the leaf-strewn blonde hair and that comical smudge of dust on his face...
...deep within Vivian's ice-blue eyes, a barely perceptible flicker passed by fleetingly.
In the end, she didn't object. She simply stepped forward and quietly followed him, just as she had in the past.
Treading over soft soil and fallen leaves, she walked slightly behind Greg's side, the night wind fluttering her blue hair and skirt.
"Where exactly are you taking me at this hour?"
She finally spoke, her voice clear and cold as a spring in the quiet night.
Walking ahead, Greg stopped in his tracks upon hearing her, turning back around.
Moonlight happened to slip through the gaps in the branches, settling on his handsome face, which still showed traces of dust.
He grinned, showing her a smile filled with a youth's signature cunning and unmistakable excitement, his bright white teeth seeming to flash in the light.
"Isn't it obvious? To get stronger, of course! So I'm taking you to clear a dungeon!"
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