I'm Not Here to Play Around
Flash!
Right at the climactic moment on screen—when Aaron was sweating buckets under Rosalyn's relentless offensive, his pupils trembling in sheer panic—the broadcast of Imperial Men and Women cruelly cut to black. In its place, a light, stylish background melody filled the air.
What appeared on the massive display was a commercial for a new product from the Golden Crest Merchant Troupe, the powerhouse sponsor that had shelled out an astronomical sum of gold to secure the prime-time slot. Though rushed together in merely a month to coincide with the network's launch, the production quality was remarkably polished—the inevitable result of one of the Empire's wealthiest merchant syndicates pouring endless funds into the project. Naturally, it also helped that the broadcast talents I had personally trained had assisted on a freelance basis.
To the viewers, however, it was absolute, unadulterated torment.
The real-time bulletin board on the Forest of the Empire erupted into utter pandemonium.
It was an entirely understandable reaction. Even back on Earth, being hit with a masterclass cliffhanger made people want to hurl their remotes through the wall. How much worse must the outrage be for fantasy denizens deeply obsessed with reality television for the very first time in their lives?
Yet what followed was rather fascinating.
Unlike Earth, the audience's reception to the advertisement was far from negative. In fact, it was wildly enthusiastic. To Earthlings, commercials were nothing more than infuriating interruptions, but in an empire experiencing video media for the first time, even a flashy sixty-second commercial was consumed as fresh, entertaining content in its own right.
I bet there's already an endless line of nobles stretching out in front of the Golden Crest headquarters right now just to buy that magic heater, I thought, resting my chin on my hand with a quiet chuckle at the bizarre spectacle.
"Director... is this really all right...?" Sylvia muttered, wiping beads of cold sweat from her brow in mild horror.
"Why? What's wrong with it? They're cursing our names, but not a single one of them can tear their eyes away from the screen. I bet the head of the Golden Crest syndicate is cheering at the top of his lungs right about now. When a sponsor hands over a mountain of gold, you have to deliver proper results."
The brief advertisement was drawing to a close.
"All right, the viewers' nerves have simmered enough. Stand by for the main broadcast the instant the Golden Crest logo fades."
"Yes, Director!"
After sixty seconds that felt like an eternity, the logo of Imperial Men and Women flashed across the screen accompanied by a heart-pounding orchestral crescendo. The collective gaze of the imperial citizens, simmering with fiery frustration and rabid anticipation, was sucked back into the magical displays.
The broadcast resumed precisely where it had left off: a tight close-up of Aaron, sweating profusely as his eyes darted in helpless distress.
Resting her chin on her hand, Rosalyn fixed him with a direct, piercing stare from her large, striking eyes, driving the point home once more.
"I'm still waiting for an answer, you know?"
In the IBS Studio, the panelists cried out in dismay.
"Ah... that's going to backfire. She's being far too coercive."
"Indeed. That's bound to work against her, isn't it?"
"Male 1 isn't even obligated to answer that."
I knew what was going on inside Aaron's head. Normally, his reflexive answer would have been: Because that is the duty of a knight. But forbidden from revealing his true identity, his brain had completely short-circuited. Even I leaned forward, curious to see what would tumble out of his mouth.
After agonizing seconds of shifting his gaze and fidgeting, Aaron took a deep breath as if steeling himself for battle, and parted his lips.
"J-Just because...?"
"..."
The collective energy evaporated from the studio panelists in an instant.
"Well. 'Just because,' he says."
"Right. 'Just because.'"
"Aha. So it's 'just because.'"
On screen, Rosalyn gave a dry, bewildered nod.
"Ah... yes... I see..."
"Pfft!"
I burst into laughter. Anyone who truly knew Aaron would have been rolling on the floor. It was an answer that would never, under any circumstances, cross the lips of the Northern Margrave. To think that the man who constantly barked at his subordinate knights that nothing in the North is ever 'just because' had been driven to utter that very word.
Romance was truly terrifying.
Yet Rosalyn handled the awkward deflection with seasoned poise.
"Well, then that means you aren't completely uninterested in me, right?"
"T-That is correct. I still don't know what kind of person you are, after all..."
"Then let's take our time getting to know each other."
"Whoa! Look at that confidence from Female 1! She must really fancy Male 1!"
"That is the power of a woman taking the initiative! Isn't she magnificent?!"
"Magnificent indeed! Go, Female 1!"
Against all odds, public sentiment toward Rosalyn began soaring vertically. The continent had been ravaged by a century of war, and in the process of rebuilding from its scars, the social standing of women in this fantasy world had undergone a dramatic shift. Rather than the docile, passive maidens of the past, bold and proactive women had become the toast of the era.
Rosalyn was embodying the very pinnacle of modern imperial allure.
Damn, locking down her character archetype in just a single episode. That's Rosalyn for you.
The screen transitioned into Rosalyn's solo interview segment. It was the standard format commonly seen in Earth's dating shows, displaying the question via caption while the interviewee answered alone in a private room.
Shown in a solo shot wearing comfortable casual attire, Rosalyn answered without hesitation.
"Of course. Naturally. I'm not the type to sit around and wait."
"His earnestness? His gaze? His general aura? Well, that was all I had to go on, so that was what I focused on. Ah, and visually, he's totally my type."
"I'm not here to play around, am I? I came here to find a partner. So of course I have to make a move."
I was genuinely impressed. Rosalyn had already grasped her broadcast persona and was tailoring her answers to perfection.
"She's definitely something else. Is it because she's from an Archducal house? Even though it's her first time on camera, her instincts are incredible."
"Once people find out she's an archducal lady, they'll all go, 'Of course she is!'" Sylvia remarked.
"Yeah. The comments are already speculating she's high nobility."
"Meanwhile, most of the chatter about Lord Aaron insists he's a handsome country bumpkin of a farmer."
"Really?"
"Yes. They're saying his hands, rugged muscles, and sun-tanned skin are unmistakably those of a rustic laborer."
"Haha! Well, when you think about it, a knight and a farmer aren't so different. They both spend all day gripping something and swinging it around."
Sylvia and I turned our attention back to the monitor.
The most intriguing dynamic was currently unfolding near the kitchen. Male 4, Drexler, had apparently taken a massive liking to Marie right from the first-impression vote; every time she carried dishes back and forth, he tagged along like an eager puppy, chatting without pause.
"This potato dish is genuinely delicious. Do you cook often in your daily life?"
"Well, just whenever. I do enjoy it," she replied with a modest smile.
Since quite a few noble daughters practiced culinary arts as a genteel hobby, her answer was diplomatically ambiguous.
"It's honestly the best food I've eaten in my entire life. I mean that from the bottom of my heart."
"Hehe, flattery won't get you extra servings, you know~"
Every time Marie flashed a radiant smile, Drexler's cheekbones soared so high they threatened to burst.
Yet, trapped across the dining table by Rosalyn, Aaron was burning holes into the pair with his gaze. While mechanically answering Rosalyn's prompts, his eyes were glued entirely to Marie and Drexler.
At that sight, the studio panelists squealed with excitement.
"Aaaah! Male 1's eyes are locked onto Female 6!"
"Well, he's certainly not glaring at Male 4 out of brotherly affection."
"Female 1 has zero intention of letting him go, though! You can see her burning determination to recover from the humiliation of zero votes through Male 1!"
"In times like this, a woman needs to be decisive. Or perhaps heading out for a stroll would do the trick."
As Damon stomped his feet in sympathetic agony, Madame Verna's eyes gleamed behind her folding fan.
"Oh my? A stroll, you say?"
"Ah! Allow me to remind our viewers of an essential rule of Imperial Men and Women!" Aedus chimed in with impeccable showmanship. "Aside from official production missions and instructions, taking private one-on-one walks throughout the estate and gardens is entirely up to the contestants' discretion! In other words, if someone grabs another person's hand and heads out into the night right now, nobody is going to stop them!"
Madame Verna covered her mouth with an exaggerated gasp.
"My word! On the very first night?!"
"Hahaha! That is the scorching charm unique to Imperial Men and Women!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than an entirely unexpected figure stood up from his seat.
It was Male 2—Derickan, the undercover ruler of the capital's underworld.
With relaxed, unhurried strides, he approached the dining table and came to a halt beside Rosalyn, who was still engaged in conversation with Aaron.
"Female 1? Would you care to join me for a short walk and a chat?"
His voice was low, resonant, and steady.
Though his features were sharp, perhaps due to the hardened poise of a man who had clawed his way to the top of an empire, Derickan radiated the commanding aura of a martial noble bred for command.
Under ordinary circumstances, an archducal scion like Rosalyn wouldn't have spared a commoner a second glance. But stinging from the humiliation of zero votes, she seemed secretly delighted by this man's bold, direct approach.
Widening her eyes in feigned surprise, Rosalyn glanced briefly at Aaron before offering a coy, elegant nod.
"Of course. The air in here was getting rather stuffy anyway."
The camera zoomed in on the retreating silhouettes of Female 1 and Male 2 as they walked side by side toward the moonlit terrace.
The studio exploded once more.
"Ahhh! What is happening?! Male 2 has made a complete pivot! Madame Verna, who was Male 2's first-impression pick again?!"
"It was definitely Female 2, Seria! Look at her right now—the camera caught her in the corner of the frame, and her expression has turned ice-cold!"
Damon clutched his head with theatrical flair.
"Is this what reality is like?! Can someone's feelings genuinely flip on a dime after just a few hours?! Why did we even have a first-impression vote if it changes this fast?!"
"Because the human heart refuses to obey logic—that is precisely what makes it so thrilling. Fufufu."
The screen transitioned once more to Rosalyn's solo interview.
Rosalyn let out a coy chuckle, flicking her long black hair over one shoulder.
"Well, what woman dislikes a man who shows interest in her? Hehe."
And with that single line, the comment boards completely lost their minds.