[s1.name] shared tea with Maggie in your garden. Your wife was courteous, treating [s1.name] as though [s1.gender(he,she)] were a close friend of her husband’s.

“My lady, I have a question for you,” [s1.name] ventured. “It may be... improper. I’m unsure if ladies appreciate such inquiries.”

“A friend of my husband’s is a friend of mine. You won’t offend me—ask your question,” Maggie replied with a smile. “And believe me, I am not easily offended.”

“What are your thoughts on killing? Particularly when nobles slaughter commoners?”

“It is wrong. No one should take another’s life so lightly—noble, royal, slave, or commoner.” Maggie bowed her lovely head slightly, as if weighed down by a sudden sorrow. “Yet our laws foolishly grant the right of slaughter to those without restraint... Oh, not you, my dear, but certain other nobles—they need no encouragement to revel in bloodshed. May they rot a thousand years in the censers of the Purist.”

Having made her stance clear, Maggie nodded to you and [s1.name], then excused herself to discuss meat prices with a merchant.

“She is as she appears,” [s1.name] remarked calmly, watching her go. “What I see with mortal eyes is precisely what I see in her mirror. That is rare.”

Then [s1.name] left too.

Conditions:

• Slot #2 Has Tag (Wife) = 1

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Charisma) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Counter (7000707): Add 1

You found [s2.name] in a sellsword’s tavern. Through those bleary, drunken eyes, [s1.name] glimpsed a gilded yet fleeting past—countless hours squandered.

“You honed your blade, slew cowards and thieves without honor, cut down nobles with coin and influence, even dispatched foolish paramours… Tell me, what did you gain from all this killing?” [s1.name] fixed the swordsman with a stare.

“Gain?” The wandering blade tilted his head, clutching his wine jar, and burst into laughter. “Hah! I gained coins for wine!” He raised the jar with relish, pouring the crimson liquid down his throat, exhaling in satisfaction. “Enough? It’s enough. What more does a man need to live? This is plenty.”

Unsatisfied, [s1.name] pressed further: “Don’t humans fester in hatred? Why not slay your own enemies? Too strong for you? Beyond your reach?”

But the swordsman was nearly lost to the drink. He chuckled faintly. “Aye, like you said—what’s there to gain from revenge, besides more corpses and broken families?” Slumping onto the table, his voice faded to a murmur. “…The old days are gone.”

Conditions:

• Slot #2 Has Card = Roaming Swordsman

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Survival) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Counter (7000706): Add 1

You found Nayla lounging upon a mound of silken cushions, surrounded by bare-chested men—some combing her long hair with their fingers, others massaging scented oils into her skin, one holding out a tray of gleaming golden jewelry for her to choose from.

[s1.name] sat directly across from her, locking eyes with her languid gaze. “My lady, what are your thoughts on killing? Particularly when nobles slaughter commoners?”

Nayla lifted a lazy eyelid, almost annoyed. “What are you talking about? It’s their privilege to please me!” She hooked an arm around one man’s neck and kissed him. “Darling, would you die for me?”

And so, before your eyes, without a word, he drove a silver dagger through his own throat. The crimson blood delighted Nayla so! She dabbed blood on her lips like rouge, giddy as a child given a long-awaited toy. [s1.name] only gave her a sharp look and said nothing—for the Mirror had already glimpsed, through those attractive eyes, the many deaths she had treated as lightly as this man’s.

Conditions:

• Slot #2 Has Card = Nayla

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Magic) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Counter (7000707): Add 1

At first, Qais seemed utterly bewildered—how could he not remember a close friend like [xiaochou.name]? But soon, his expression grew distant... and then, he was chatting eagerly with [xiaochou.name], as if they were long-lost companions.

After a few more drinks, [s1.name] posed the carefully prepared question: "What are your thoughts on killing? Especially when nobles slaughter commoners?"

"I've thought about this," Qais said gravely. "The Empire handles countless disputes between nobles, but between nobles and commoners? None. Because everyone assumes that, in such cases, the noble can never be at fault. Their lofty status blinds people to their crimes! How terrifying is that?"

Qais went on at length, citing case after case, before concluding: "We need fairer laws to protect the weak. And in investigations, we require sharp, discerning eyes—to spot the irregularities, to uncover truth and justice... In this, [player.name] has done remarkably well." He showered you with praise until, under [s1.name]'s knowing gaze, you found yourself rubbing your nose, unsure if you'd truly accomplished anything so extraordinary.

Conditions:

• Slot #2 Has Card = Qais

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Sociability) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Counter (7000706): Add 1

You settled onto the cushions, sharing wine and idle talk, weaving through trivial matters. Soon, [s1.name] posed the prepared question: "What are your thoughts on killing? Especially when nobles slaughter commoners?"

Faraj paused, then shook his head. "If you ask me... unless [player.name] commands it, I hope never to raise a blade in my life. But—is that enough? My noble title, my lands, my learning—all rest upon the backs of countless others. I’ve killed no one, yet how many have died for what I possess? I don’t know. I only know I’m grateful for every scrap I have. So I cannot stand here, pious and shameless, to debate this with you. If you seek judgment, perhaps the answer lies not with those who benefit, but with those who bear the weight."

The words left [s1.name] deep in thought.

Conditions:

• Slot #2 Has Tag (falajie) = 1

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Wisdom) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Counter (7000706): Add 2

At dawn, a thunderous crash jolted you awake. A servant, frantic, informed you that the great silver mirror of your ancestors had toppled in the hallway.

You pushed through the bewildered crowd and studied the mirror. It was intact—your own shadowy reflection peered back at you, scrutinizing the version of you outside the mirror. But it was heavy, its edges too delicate; the servants could not lift it back into place.

Then, inexplicably, something stirred within you. You stepped forward, gripped the frame, and—with a single heave—raised the massive mirror effortlessly.

Amid the servants’ cheers, you hung it where it belonged. Stepping back to admire your reflection, you suddenly realized: the you in the mirror was grinning slyly at you.

Only then did you notice the sting on your fingertip—a bead of blood welling from a tiny cut. You understood. This was likely a small jest from the warrior who dwelled in the mirror. In this way, [s1.gender] had tasted a drop of your blood.

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Physique) of Slot #1: Add 1

Action:

• Enable Event: The second question for small-scale startup warriors.