The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 57: Princess Maker

Isabel’s talent was by no means weak.It was now mid-November. Avalon would fall the following autumn. In the original story, as fellow members of the protagonist’s party, both she and Aiwass had reached roughly the same level by then.

Which meant: in the span of ten months, without feeling much pressure, both had advanced steadily to around level thirty. That was already fourth tier—the elite even within the kingdom.

But this world had no player characters. No “adventurer squads” cobbled together by matchmaking, blessed with absurd luck. Aiwass would have to form his own party.

And thanks to the fragments of setting lore his friend had once babbled about, Aiwass knew more than most—personalities, talents, hidden growth paths. In this world, secrets were power.

Yet he could not hoard them all for himself.

The lone hero was a fool’s road. With enough resources, allies mattered more than solitary strength. The wrong people—slackers, traitors, ingrates—would only drag him down.

Only those reliable and trustworthy were worth sharing his hard-won knowledge with.

Isabel was one of them.

The future “Flower Queen” was someone he had marked long ago as a teammate.

So even without Yanis pressing him, he would have intervened in Isabel’s development anyway. Helping her was helping himself.

Though by her teacher’s request he could technically wait until the third promotion—around level 29 to 30—Aiwass felt no need to delay.

The “Fox” persona had been designed to come into the light. If he kept it hidden too long, the whole point would be lost.

The only reason he hadn’t revealed himself tonight was because Isabel was still untempered, lacking confidence.

Yanis, by her own path, believed in the forge of hardship: that true growth came when a soul overcame suffering by its own will. So she poured Isabel’s days full of —study, skill, breadth of knowledge—but rarely soothed her fears.

In the original timeline, that had worked. After losing everything, Isabel had steadied herself and grown swiftly into a capable queen.

But in this altered path? Aiwass would not stand aside to let her life shatter again just to force her growth.

That would be pointless cruelty.

No—he had already laid his groundwork back in his first advancement ritual. Tonight, with Yanis herself suggesting they pair up, was the perfect moment to bring out the plan.

At the banquet, Aiwass dined and conversed warmly with Isabel.

At first she was timid, speaking little, listening more—her teacher’s presence a weight at her back.

But after a few glasses of white wine, the atmosphere grew lively.

Music, poetry, philosophy, hidden lore—they talked much as they had in the dream within that abandoned factory. Only this time, Yanis herself joined, her vast learning raising the level of the discussion even higher.

Aiwass avoided repeating topics. Yet his voice, his manner, his erudition—all bore uncanny resemblance to “Mr. Fox.”

That was deliberate.

He wanted Isabel to , to , that Aiwass and Fox were the same. Not proven, not declared—but possible.

For the “mystery” of Fox cut both ways. Mystery lured curiosity, but too much mystery bred unease. And Isabel was especially prone to unease.

If Fox forever stayed shadowed, she would wonder if his hidden identity was shameful, unpresentable, unfit to be shared with her family. That would taint their bond with secrecy and shame.

But Aiwass?

The Moriarty family was one of the twenty founding houses. Even as an adopted son, his position was impeccable. Should Professor Moriarty will the inheritance to him, no one could deny it.

In short: Aiwass was respectable, his future bright. A safe friend.

So if Fox and Aiwass were one and the same, then all Isabel’s gnawing fears vanished at once.

And when a shy, skittish girl longed for something to be true, and found it harmless, she would .

It had to come from within her. Advice from others—even her beloved teacher—she might resist. But the hope born of her own heart, confirmed gently, could cure her.

Hope was the gentlest medicine against fear.

Isabel lacked confidence, and true confidence could never be given—only grown, when one’s own choice bore fruit.

That was why Aiwass could not wait too long.

A self-reveal was a jest; being caught in a lie was betrayal. One healed; the other poisoned.

From tonight on, guiding Isabel would be like raising a girl in .

No, they weren’t father and daughter. Yet compared to her absent, powerless father, who did nothing to shield her—wasn’t Aiwass, who talked with her in dreams, nurtured her mind, built her courage, healed her fears, and guarded her from harm…

—Wasn’t he perhaps the closer thing to a true parent?