Something's... Missing...

A dazed gasp slipped from someone's lips.

Even transformed into black hair and black eyes, her beauty could not be hidden. If anything, that stark contrast of black against white only made her shine more dazzlingly—an overwhelming, radiant kind of pretty. A core of steel, forged by years of hauling heavy trays, had been transmuted into a ramrod-straight and elegant gait, so much so that it summoned the illusion of a direct imperial princess descending upon the earth.

It wasn't just the men. The female contestants, too—and especially Rosalyne, an actual duke's daughter—began watching Marie with tightly wound, wary eyes. The flutter of Rosalyne's fan picked up speed in a way you couldn't miss.

In the midst of that visual shockwave, Male Contestant #6, Julius, crossed the courtyard with an easy stride.

"Hello there. Let me take that for you."

Julius offered his hand with a warm, smiling gaze. A voice of perfect pitch, the kind that could sway any woman's heart. Everyone gathered in the courtyard held their breath. This was the moment they expected the woman who looked every inch a highborn noble lady to gracefully extend her fingertips and surrender her luggage.

But Marie just broke into a bright, clear laugh and gripped one handle of her bag tight.

"Oh? Thank you! It's pretty heavy, though, so let's carry it together!"

They'd taken her for an icy, haughty princess—and instead got a burst of sunshine: eager, unpretentious, and warm. Julius's eyes widened slightly, as if that extreme reversal of charm had caught him completely off guard. Then a genuine smile, nothing calculated about it, spread across his face as he took the other handle.

"Well then. The honor is all mine."

The two of them walking side by side, sharing the luggage between them, looked like something out of a painting. Back in the living room, watching that heartwarming two-shot and the sheer presence Marie commanded, the gazes of the others grew even more taut with rivalry than before.

I didn't miss Aaron's eyes locking onto Marie's smiling face.

Heh. So you're a man after all, Aaron. Good for you.

"Heh heh. How's my eye ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for talent?"

Watching the monitors in the studio, I asked the question with no small amount of smugness. Sylvia and Aaedos nodded as if spellbound.

"Perfect. Female Contestant #6 looks like... yes... like someone from the imperial family."

I smiled, satisfied.

"Right? The imperial family are all a few screws short, so mistaking Marie for one of them isn't that much of a stretch."

Sylvia exploded at that.

"A f-few screws short?!"

"I mean it in a good way. The late emperor, Theus—they're all a bit off in some oddly endearing way. Not exactly what you'd picture as royalty, you know?"

"Even so... wouldn't Sir Aaron or Lady Rosalyne recognize a member of the imperial family?"

"Eh, I doubt it. Do you?"

"No."

"See? Even people like us, who work right next to them, don't really know the imperial family's faces. You think they would? Aaron and Rosalyne have only ever heard each other's family names. This is probably the first time they've actually seen each other."

That was the truth. The reason nobles threw banquet after banquet, ball after ball, endlessly meeting in person, was networking, pure and simple. But now, with the scars of war still fresh, an imperial decree had gone out ordering the restraint of lavish gatherings, and the Empire had more nobles who didn't know each other's faces than at any time in its history. The younger they were, the worse it got.

"Ohh!!! A scene that overwhelms the entire room with a mere entrance!! A verse of song comes to mind! Yes... if I were to capture this moment in song..."

True to his bardic nature, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Aaedos was already composing. Well, if it turned out well, maybe we'd use it as the theme music for Imperial Men and Women.

And so, all twelve men and women finished moving in.

A suffocating awkwardness filled the living room of Signal House. Twelve men and women sitting side by side on a long sofa—the scene itself was a strange, painterly tableau. Every last one of them had jet-black hair and black eyes, as if by some unspoken agreement, but the temperament and atmosphere each of them radiated couldn't be hidden. Someone fidgeted with their nails. Someone coughed for no reason at all. Whenever eyes met, they startled and hurriedly looked away.

Watching it all from the studio, I propped my chin on my hand and let the corner of my mouth curl up.

"Heh heh heh. Awkward, isn't it. Of course it is."

"But look at that fluttering! Ahh—! How beautiful, these raw emotions of young men and women in the bloom of youth!!"

Aaedos chimed in, even sighing with feeling.

Then it happened. A mechanical chime rang out from the magitech speakers mounted on the living room walls.

All twelve pairs of eyes snapped toward the empty air at the sound of the speaker. From the floor, a hidden magical display stand rose smoothly above the marble table in the center of the living room. Atop it sat six dewy, vivid red roses.

The moment the announcement ended, the air in the living room pulled taut.

"Wh-what!?"

"N-no!! How are we supposed to do that when we just met!?"

"I-I-I can't...!"

"G-good heavens...!!"

Each of them clutched their startled hearts, delivering reactions far more committed than I'd even hoped for.

Sure, this was a fantasy world where magitech had advanced enough to close the technological gap with modern Earth through magic. But politically, it was still an extremely conservative feudal system stacked on top of a rigid class hierarchy. Relations between men and women? Conservative didn't even begin to cover it.

And they wanted them to express interest at first meeting? This wasn't just unprecedented—it was chaos itself.

Yes. This was exactly what I'd wanted to see.

The first impression selection, in earnest. The most primal, the most cruel, and simultaneously the most dopamine-exploding flower of dating reality TV.

The female contestants' expressions started to crack, their composure rapidly turning awkward. All except one: Female Contestant #1, Rosalyne Argent.

Rosalyne elegantly adjusted her hands, folded demurely on her knees, and straightened her back even further. Tucking her now-black hair lightly behind her ear, a leisurely smile played on her lips.

I looked at her and said,

"Look at Rosalyne. That's the face of someone thinking, 'Obviously they'll all come to me. Unless their taste has completely rotted away.'"

Sylvia nodded.

"...Are you a mind reader? That's exactly how it looks..."

But the men didn't move easily. At times like this, you needed to give them a little push...

And then.

"Well then. Shall I go first?"

The one who broke the silence was Male Contestant #6, Julius.

"Huh? That's not right, they're supposed to go in order...!"

Sylvia, flustered, was about to contact the on-site filming crew when I stopped her.

"Leave it. It's getting interesting, isn't it?"

With his characteristic easy stride, he approached the table and picked up a rose. His gentle gaze swept over the female contestants one by one. Rosalyne lowered her eyes slightly toward Julius, offering a captivating smile.

But Julius's footsteps didn't head toward Rosalyne. He walked right past her and stopped in front of Female Contestant #6, Marie, who sat there shyly.

"Oh my? Thank you."

Julius bent his knee slightly as he offered the rose, and Marie accepted it with a bright, clear smile. Then the filming director's voice came through.

"We're supposed to go in order starting from Male Contestant #1, but Contestant #6 jumped the line. Well, that's fine. We'll proceed as is."

But Julius wasn't flustered in the slightest.

"Ah... I wanted to give you the rose so badly that I... made a little mistake."

I laughed watching that.

"Puhahaha!! Smooth-talking bastard. That guy definitely seduced some noble's wife for sponsorship money. I'm sure of it. He reeks of con artist."

"...He's far too slick. Not even a hint of panic. 'Ushering in the spring'? How does someone even come up with a line like that? Ugh, it gives me the creeps."

"You're the one who brought him in. You did great."

"I didn't know he was that kind of character..."

"Marie looks pretty happy about it, though?"

"Haa. I would have been disgusted."

I whispered under my breath.

"That's why you're an old maid..."

"What did you just say?"

I quickly changed the subject.

"Ah, it was nothing? Oh, look, my nephew's getting up!"

Next to stand was Male Contestant #1, Aaron. He hadn't looked that tall when I'd seen him up north, but blood told—Aaron was the tallest of the bunch, and he picked up a rose with a long, striding gait.

Rosalyne's eyes sparkled again.

"The world isn't that easy, Rosalyne. Just because he carried your bags once doesn't make him your man."

Aaron walked over, his face flushed red. And then Aaron, too, walked right past Rosalyne once more.

"Th-that... ahem, ahem... your smile is truly beautiful."

Aaron, his face so red it looked ready to burst, thrust the rose out. Once again, it was in front of Marie.

"You're giving this to me? Thank you, Number One!"

Marie's eyes went round as she accepted her second rose. Aaron, completely at a loss before her smile, backed up all the way to his seat.

"The line was corny, but for Aaron, that was pretty well done. Heh heh."

I kept my eyes on Rosalyne, who remained the best entertainment on screen. Her pupils began to shake violently, as if an earthquake had hit. Her ramrod-straight posture wavered, just slightly. Beneath the table, the knuckles of the hand gripping her fan had gone white.

The selections continued. Drexler, heir to the great merchant guild, also offered his rose to Marie after some deliberation, and in an instant Marie found herself cradling three roses.

The remaining men scattered according to their own tastes. Derikkan, the underworld boss, gave his rose to the mercenary Seria with a sly grin. Lucas, the fallen noble, predictably and materialistically presented his flower to Vivian, who was dripping in the most expensive-looking, lavish jewelry. Geeky Edgar shuffled up to Chloe the mage, who had her head bowed, and awkwardly handed over his rose.

Looks like they all felt a strong pull toward their own kind.

Joy and sorrow split among the female contestants. Some wore bashful smiles. Some let out sighs of relief.

And in one corner of the screen, Rosalyne's lap was empty. Not a single rose. Not even a petal. A perfect zero.

Rosalyne stared into empty air like someone whose soul had left her body. It was the crushing humiliation of the Empire's greatest beauty, who in her entire life had never once gone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unchosen.

The studio erupted.

"Good heavens! The Empire's greatest beauty, a complete shutout! That high-and-mighty duke's daughter didn't receive a single vote!"

"Kwahahaha! I knew it! Rosalyne! Well done! I'm so proud of you!!"

Aaedos tilted his head at my words.

"Wait, why are you proud of her? She didn't get a single vote?"

"Because this is how the ratings explode!! Kwahahahaha!!"

"That's also true!! Hahahaha!!"

"Cecilia didn't get a vote either, but she's taking it like a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠champ."

"That kind of attitude can actually come across as even more charming."

"Right, right!"

Aaedos and I clutched our stomachs, cackling.

"Ah, to think we're the only ones who get to share something this entertaining..."

Something's... missing...

I felt unsatisfied. When it comes to watching content, it's always so much more fun to do it with someone else. That's why, back in Korea, the moment something got even a little popular, a community would spring up around it. A community where you could dump the urge to share the same feelings while watching a broadcast.

The whole reason I'd gone out of my way to connect the entire Empire into a single magitech communications network was for this. People were still just leaving comments on the news—the only regularly scheduled broadcast—or on the Emperor's monthly sermon.

"This won't do. Let's make a community first."

There's only one broadcasting station on this continent: ours. Who needs a separate advertisement? Make a community, post a program trailer there, and that is the advertisement.

"Sylvia, let's cut a trailer from what we've filmed so far."

"What? Already? All we've done is the first impression selection?"

"It's stimulating enough. You're supposed to make multiple trailers anyway."

"There's still filming left today. You're not going to watch until the end?"

"That's enough. I'm the Chancellor. I've got work to do. Tell the on-site director to stick faithfully to the storyboard and the script. We'll have to re-edit it ourselves later anyway."

"Understood."

"Ah! And! The most important thing! Tell the filming crew that if they get caught spoiling, it's hanging. Make that crystal clear."

Sylvia's brow furrowed.

"...Hanging, of all things...?"

"What, you got a problem with that? Then you be Chancellor."

Spoilers are a serious crime, you know.

Of course I wouldn't actually have anyone executed, but you had to go this far or they'd run their mouths wherever they went.

"Keep a tight lid on the contestants' families and anyone connected to them, too."

"Yeees..."