Cherion had, in a very loose sense, tried to murder Philia.
Ok, that… wasn't ideal.
Not him, of course. But the OG Cherion.
His mind was a frantic mess, fingers flipping through the mental archives of the novel. This wasn't just a "missed" plot point, it was the Post-Subjugation Party. In the paperback version of this life, the "OG Cherion" had been a hollowed-out shell of a man, driven into a corner by Yerel's coldness and Philia's blinding, sun-drenched "purity." At that party, the OG had finally snapped. He'd staged a horrific "accident", an elegant tragedy that ended with Philia bearing a permanent scar across his chest. A blemish the protagonist had been forced to cover for the rest of his life.
Cherion suppressed a violent shudder. He wasn't that person. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and he certainly didn't have the stomach for blood. But as he stared at the drink in his hand, the realization finally hit him.
Right now, the plot was basically empty.
