Beware the Terrace at the Banquet
"If you're going to the banquet, you have to be careful of the terrace."
"Young master. Raise your arms."
Estelle's cold voice brushed past my ear. I did as I was told and lifted my arms. A hand in white gloves began deftly buttoning up my shirt.
—Click, click. Smooth, precise movements. No matter how much I'd thrashed about, there was a reason things had come to this.
Chloe.
The name of my little sister floated into my head, and I let out an involuntary sigh. In this world, there were a few beings who were truly terrifying. The first name that came to mind was the crown prince. Then there was the wicked lady from some duke's family and the assassin guild. And right after that... my little sister, Chloe.
The crown prince? Sure, he was the empire's strongest madman with the seeds of a tyrant inside him—he was scary by default. But if you asked why my sister made the list...
Chloe's gunning for the head of the family.
She's capable, calculating, and ice-cold. There were even interpretations that she'd driven the extra, Ian Ashy, off the rails. To me, she was a pretty directly frightening existence.
Of course.
I planned to use Chloe to my advantage. She had talent? If she just quietly handed over the family head position, she'd be the perfect person to run the house automatically! Keeping things good with Chloe was the smart move for my comfy future.
I get why she's pissed this time.
Last time, when she'd covered my urgent debt repayment, I'd made some promises. Don't ask where the money came from. Don't worry about me. And don't complain about the tab I'd run up for materials.
...I kinda ran up a huge tab.
While making the maid doujinshi, I'd used about four times the promised amount on credit. But I had a solution. Money was coming in soon.
Just get through this banquet.
The academy enrollment thing? I could hash it out with Chloe again. Swing by the merchant guild on the way home, pick up the cash, and quietly hand it over to her. Problem solved. Simple.
"Tilt your head forward a bit more."
Estelle's calm voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I reflexively leaned my head forward. Her fingers expertly adjusted the knot of my cravat. She was really good. I'd never seen Estelle fail at anything. Cleaning, cooking, finances—even wielding a silver tray as a weapon. This must be what an all-purpose maid meant.
I dazedly looked down at her... and our eyes met perfectly.
"……."
The awkward silence didn't last. Estelle immediately averted her gaze in a fluster. Then, as if nothing had happened, she smoothly straightened the front of my coat.
Huh?
That wasn't like Estelle. Normally, those eyes held contempt or cold indifference—one or the other. But just now, there was some strange glint mixed in. Was I seeing things?
"Estelle."
"Yes."
"Something wrong?"
"… As if there couldn't be... No. It's nothing."
She brushed lint off my shoulder with her gloved hand, keeping her eyes downcast.
"You should head out soon. If you're late, Miss Chloe won't let it slide."
I shut my mouth and started walking.
The opening banquet.
Those two words hit with brutal force the moment I stepped out of the carriage. Golden chandelier light draped over the front of the academy's main building. Noble kids in formal attire were entering in pairs or trios. The swish of dress hems sweeping the floor. The air thick with noble perfumes.
This banquet was the scene in the original Golden Chains where the crown prince and the saintess made their first official appearance together. After this, the main story kicked off in earnest.
Not a place for an extra like me.
"Don't get involved with anyone."
That was today's goal. I left Estelle at the hall entrance and sauntered into the banquet proper.
...The moment I did, sidelong glances stabbed at me.
"Isn't that Ian Ashy from the Ashy Barony over there?"
"Oh, yeah. The one who caused a scandal and took a leave."
"He came back? I heard his family was totally broke."
"Shh, quiet. He'll hear you."
Yeah. I'm hearing every word loud and clear. Especially you with the fake consideration from a distance that's obviously audible—you're the worst offender.
Okay, I see what kind of rep Ian Ashy had.
Total social outcast treatment.
Actually works in my favor.
I chuckled inwardly. Stay quiet like a dead rat, and no one pays attention. Perfect.
But there was a more pressing issue.
"...This smell. No way, meat?"
I followed the aroma, and there it was—a mountain of meat. Ahh. How long had it been since the Ashy Barony's forced wellness diet...? Seeing it made coming to this banquet totally worth it.
Chomp, chomp.
"Oh my, do they not feed you at home?"
"No money, so of course."
"Eww. So unrefined."
Yeah, yeah. Talk all you want. You bourgeois types get the pain of us commoners? A commoner would rather be a full pig than a hungry philosopher!
Pigs rule!
As I massacred the pork and beef at the banquet hall...
A murmur rose from the inner hall. I glanced over while stuffing my face.
Oh.
A crowd slowly gathering at the entrance. Probably the leads arriving. I got up from my seat right away. Sharing space with the mains meant getting tangled somehow. And I had zero interest in spectating from a corner.
"Time to relocate."
The corner of the banquet hall led to a terrace.
"A breath of fresh air would be perfect."
So I promptly turned my steps elsewhere. Why not the terrace? It's cool and calming? Don't make me laugh. That was a trap flag for sure.
According to my rom-fantasy big data (slim as it was), step out there and boom—the hero and heroine show up for a lovers' spat. Then I end up consoling one of them, and romance bait gets sprinkled. No thanks.
Phew, dodged that, nice move.
Admiring my main-story evasion play, I walked along the hall's side wall, spotted a door at the end of a slightly indented corridor, and peeked in. A small lounge. A couple sofas, low table, potted plants neatly lined by the window. Empty inside.
Nice.
I shut the door, headed to the sofa by the window, and...
—Flop.
Just sprawled out behind it. The mattress was plush enough to crash on.
Ride out the banquet here till the end.
Estelle would've freaked, but whatever. She wasn't nobility—couldn't enter the hall anyway, and no nagging from outside.
I cackled like a maniac, and faint music leaked in from the banquet.
Good.
I half-closed my eyes. Time to brainstorm the next ero manga setup. Childhood friend trope, maybe...?
—Click!
The door opened. I reflexively flattened behind the sofa, using cushions for cover and holding my breath.
Two people entered, by the sound.
"For real? That Extra artist dude?"
Unfamiliar guy's voice.
"Haha, insane. Gotta see it. Maid tits are nuts. Made me wanna drag my house maid home and strip her right after."
"You're a total psycho."
My ears perked up. Talking about my comic? Out barely a week and already read?
I peeked ever so slightly from behind the sofa, staying hidden. Two guys, noble kids my age. One stood out: bright golden hair, lively eyes, broad shoulders, sturdy build—radiating shine all over.
That guy.
Memory flashed. Son of the southern admiral. Name-dropped a few times in original Golden Chains. The Golden Sun sub-male lead who ramped up tension between the saintess Arina and the crown prince. The kind of guy who could snag any woman, making him that hate-to-love villain who kept readers hooked.
And that playboy read my manga? Felt like pro validation—not bad.
<Ero Manga Endorsed by Golden Sun>—solid ad copy.
...Wait. Something off?
This dazzling guy who could monopolize noble ladies' gazes...
"Hey, but is it really that good with girls?"
"Huh? Oh... yeah. Duh, it's good."
"Can you make girls squirt like in those drawings?"
"Wha—hey, asshole. Of course. They can't even move."
Seeing these two sneak out of the banquet into a quiet lounge to geek out over ero manga...
Virgins, huh?
Sweating bullets to act experienced sealed it. Southern admiral's Golden Sun—a virgin. Shocking.
Come to think of it, this is a super wholesome rom-fantasy world.
Was I overthinking it ero-manga style?
As I processed the shock...
—Click.
"Who the hell opens a door without knocking...!"
The two guys' voices cut off.
What?
I slowly raised my eyes over the sofa. The lounge door was open. Standing there—a handsome guy straight out of a picture, hair like woven gold threads, deep-glowing red eyes...
"Oh? How come Crown Prince Leonhardt Bell is in this dump?"
Golden Sun snarked. I could only chant inwardly.
Fuck.
I instantly hid fully under the sofa back. Why're you here?
"Just wanted some air."
The crown prince's voice was slow and low. And it clearly carried the unspoken pressure to get out.
Why's this psycho airing out in a lounge?
"Does Your Highness take air in lounges? Skirt breeze, maybe?"
Nice one, Golden Sun! I'm rooting for you today. Knew it, virgin Golden Sun!
I cheered desperately from behind the sofa.
"Got a problem?"
"Of course not. Rest well."
And out they went.
What? That's Golden Sun?
No wonder he's a virgin.
Spineless punk! Fine. Just hold out till the crown prince leaves.
—But no sooner had I resolved that than...
Creeeak—
The door opened again.
At this point, I was past caring. The soft swish of a dress hem screamed high-ranking noble lady.
"Your Highness."
Female voice, as expected. Too late to bail.
Just stay put. Be quiet. I'm not here. I'm air. Air!
"What is it, Duchess."
Duchess? One of the three duke houses in this world. And one was the absolute worst—the villainess archetype.
Please not her.
As I prayed, their conversation escalated fast.
"Your Highness. I know. That your marriage to the saintess is political."
Suddenly riding the rom-fantasy main storyline.
"She doesn't love you. She's just there for your power. But I'm different. I want you."
"And?"
The crown prince sounded indifferent.
"Ditch the saintess and marry me."
And just like that, eavesdropping on a life-ruining confession began.
Ah, why!