War of Words
As I stood there debating whether I should introduce myself in answer to her question or simply fire back with some foolish counter-question of my own—
"Ah… I've been terribly rude, meeting you for the first time like this."
Fortunately the Grand Duchess withdrew the question and offered a polite gesture inviting me to sit.
Hmm. So she actually came in person just to stop a regret-route runaway.
With the plot already diverging from the original, she must have made a different decision as well.
Gelwood's oddly ambiguous reaction had made me wonder if Grand Duke Logan himself had paid a visit…
Never expected the Grand Duchess.
In the original story Logan Winterfell never learned of the humiliation his daughter suffered at the Royal Academy.
Not even the half-dragon Gelwood knew.
Lumiang had hidden every last detail with absolute thoroughness.
At least through the free chapters, no one except her personal maid Marien had realized that the four regret-route candidates had become the final contenders.
That was why I had assumed that even if they weren't thrilled by the withdrawal of the most unremarkable candidate among them—Elden Raphelion—they wouldn't go so far as to reject it outright.
Yet it seemed His Grace the Grand Duke had entrusted every decision to his daughter.
Plan B is looking razor-sharp already.
A man ought to prepare for the worst.
Plan A was the best-case scenario in which the withdrawal was approved.
Plan B would only activate if the withdrawal was rejected—the absolute worst case.
Lumiang Winterfell.
True to her role as the heroine of a female-oriented romance fantasy, she possessed a nature both gentle and ice-cold.
After graduating from the Academy she had chosen magical research and alchemical experiments over revenge, and her mental fortitude was so vast she could dismiss three years of pure hell as a mere passing cloud.
If I handled this properly, no harm would come to me.
I already knew what she wanted from the four regret-route candidates, after all.
"It's quite all right. I simply failed to grasp the context and couldn't give you an answer."
With that I took the seat opposite Lumiang.
I knew private meetings between candidates and the Grand Duchess were forbidden until the final evaluation began.
I also knew the rule existed to prevent favoritism and bias.
So I spoke while silently praying that word of this private audience would never reach the ears of the other three regret-route candidates.
"You've come because of the withdrawal declaration, I take it."
Even behind a mask, the eyes were visible.
Those blue pupils submerged in shadow.
The world might speculate that she was ugly, yet she was the exact opposite; I had seen how her face was described in the original and which illustrations had been posted in the notices.
It was only natural that I could picture the face beneath the mask with perfect clarity.
"Yes. Precisely because of that. I was curious."
"Curious about what, if I may ask?"
"Your reason for withdrawing. Just one will do."
"…I already explained my reasons thoroughly to Aide Gelwood. Did you perhaps not hear them?"
"I heard them."
"Then…?"
"On what basis did you decide that you lack the qualifications? Are you claiming there is some error in the Grand Ducal House's analysis and decision?"
"Haha. Hardly. I've merely come to realize that the error lay in my analysis and my decision."
"What do you mean?"
"The analysis that someone like me would be a suitable match for the Third Grand Duchess, and the decision to enter the Grand Ducal House's betrothal tournament."
"……"
The eyes behind the mask began to probe me.
Lumiang, too, possessed formidable insight.
It could not compare to Gelwood's, yet this obsessive seeker and unyielding researcher was now determined to uncover the true reason for my withdrawal.
Observation and interpretation were both her daily life and her specialty; she was trying to dig straight into my core.
I did not look away.
There was no reason to refuse the search.
Elden Raphelion might have been expected to, but Lee Junuw actually ought to have found such scrutiny unpleasant.
Anyone who tries to peer over another person's wall without permission deserves exactly that response; it is only natural self-defense.
Of course I fully understood Lumiang's position as well.
She would be curious about the reason for the change of heart, and using her specialties of inquiry and observation to uncover it was a perfectly natural act.
So I did not express any displeasure.
I simply regarded it as the karmic price of having been transmigrated into the villainous character known as Elden Raphelion.
Displaying irritation toward the victim would have been an unjustifiable act.
A moment later Lumiang delivered the results of her first probe.
"I never realized you were such an eloquent speaker."
"You flatter me."
"So that is your reason for withdrawing?"
"Yes. Because I am a villain."
"Are you serious?"
One hundred percent.
"I am serious."
The final candidate named Elden Raphelion was neither a husband worthy of her, nor a man qualified to join the Grand Ducal House, nor a vessel fit to lead even a single family. He was nothing more than a madman.
One who could never be loved by anyone.
Lumiang began lightly tapping the armrest of the sofa with the index finger of the right hand she had been resting there so comfortably.
…Hmm.
An old habit frequently described in the original.
Something she did unconsciously whenever she found an interesting research subject or when an experiment yielded good results.
Since the present situation had nothing to do with the latter, the former was far more likely.
Her interest in me was something I would rather avoid, yet it had been inevitable from the moment I cast my withdrawal vote—and especially from the moment I found myself alone with her.
In her eyes I was the worst trash in history, a villain worse than any Demon King.
I could not possibly act out trashy deeds I had never performed, play the thug I had never been, or become the villain I had no desire to be; even a clumsy imitation would only breed suspicion rather than interest.
More importantly, she was the daughter of a Grand Ducal House—kings among the nobility in the hierarchy of rank.
Better to maintain my present demeanor than risk severe reprimand by acting carelessly.
In the end,
I'm simply showing her who I am.
It was also a foundation for preparing Plan B.
"To call yourself a villain so readily… you must have committed a great many wicked deeds."
"Yes."
"……"
Ugh.
Was that a little too brazen?
"…Ah, well. Doesn't everyone make mistakes as they live?"
"Even so, an ordinary person would not flee from the perfect opportunity to rebuild their house."
"Please regard it not as fleeing, but as returning to my proper place."
"……"
Silence settled once more.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The finger that had been drumming the wooden armrest of the sofa came to a stop.
The silence broke immediately afterward.
"So you're saying that, merely because of past mistakes, you're giving up the chance to rebuild your house?"
…Had she chosen all-out war?
A researcher who explores every possible path to obtain the desired result would naturally do so; I answered without the slightest reserve.
"Yes."
"A lie."
The reply that came back was closer to a rebuke.
"Pardon?"
"I don't believe you would abandon this opportunity for such a trivial reason."
"I feel as though this is the first time we've met, yet you seem to know me rather well."
Lumiang hesitated briefly, then crossed her legs and began lightly rocking the tip of her foot.
I knew that habit well too.
It was what she did whenever an experiment or research failed to go as planned.
And Lumiang, that obsessive researcher, never abandoned a difficult problem.
She dug into it relentlessly until it was solved.
Soon a fierce war of words began.
"…At the very least, you don't look like someone who would withdraw so helplessly."
"What one sees is not everything."
"But what one sees is important, isn't it?"
"I believe what one cannot see is more important."
"How can one know something that cannot be seen?"
"I merely think that, precisely because it cannot be seen, one must be careful."
"Are you lecturing me to be careful right now?"
"Haha. Would I dare lecture a wise Grand Duchess such as yourself?"
"Then how does Young Master Elden, meeting me for the first time, conclude that I am wise?"
"Please regard it as the flattery of a lowly man."
"Why is someone who declared withdrawal from the betrothal tournament flattering me? Or was the withdrawal itself another strategy?"
"Absolutely not. It is simply because you are the young lady of the great Grand Ducal House."
"Oh? So you actually know how to flatter?"
"It is an excellent survival method by which the weak may endure in a world of the strong."
"Not the coquetry of a cunning man?"
"If that is how you see it, then I offer my apologies."
"No. I didn't come all this way just to receive an apolo—!"
The war of words that had been steadily escalating, the voice that had been growing more and more heated, cut off abruptly.
Lumiang had finally realized she was being pulled along by the flow of conversation and had severed it.
High insight does not make one omnipotent.
It simply means one is skilled at piercing through to the essence and at observing; the ability to control the flow and seize the upper hand in a relationship is something else entirely.
The other three regret-route candidates might have been led around by the nose while offering her "sincere" flattery, but for me—who only wanted to escape the Hupijip—it was irrelevant.
Moreover she had grown up in an isolated environment that made it difficult to cultivate initiative or the skill of seizing the initiative.
She had never experienced a variety of settings or people, and she had lived a life completely different from that of other noble young ladies.
Having grown accustomed to revealing her inner thoughts rather than concealing them, it was only natural that she would be drawn into the current of the conversation.
Of course there was nothing to be gained by provoking the heroine, yet I had never intended to provoke her or to seize control of the flow in the first place.
And even if that had sparked her interest, it no longer mattered.
Plan B for avoiding a tearful Hupijip allowed for exactly that.
Thud.
The tip of Lumiang's foot, which had been rocking, came to a stop.
Then she rose from her seat.
And,
"Quite interesting."
She left that brief evaluation of our first meeting and made to leave the reception room.
Had my question not followed her.
I stood as well and asked,
"Will you approve the withdrawal declaration?"
Hoho.
A low laugh drifted out from behind the mask as Lumiang exited the reception room.
"We shall meet again, Young Master Elden Raphelion."
Leaving not a clear answer but an ambiguous farewell.
…Hmm.
The reason that laugh sounded so chilling, the reason I felt as though I had become an interesting research subject—surely that was just my imagination, right?