Triumphant Return and Ball Preparations
The sun was dipping low, painting the massive iron gates of the Astrea Ducal Residence in crimson hues as evening fell. With a heavy creeeak—! the gates swung open, revealing the familiar Astrea family crest emblazoned on a carriage and several wagons.
It had only been a few days since departure. Even accounting just for the round trip, this was an absurdly early return—they'd barely dipped a toe into the Northern Gorge before turning right back around. The servants rushing out to greet them wore faces full of thick suspicion.
The expedition party looked much the same as when they'd left, reaching the mansion entrance without much fanfare. The only noticeable difference was the elite knights escorting the carriage; their faces were noticeably gaunt and haggard.
They're back already? Did they forget something on the way and turn around?
Did they abandon the subjugation midway?
The servants tilted their heads in confusion but bustled about, preparing to receive the party.
"G-Good work, everyone… gasp?!"
The butler, reaching for the carriage door, glanced toward the wagons and froze, sucking in a sharp breath in shock. From the gaps in the bulging tent covers—swollen to bursting—poked an enormous pile of spoils, still dripping fresh blood, radiating a savage menace.
Hundreds of premium dire wolf pelts that the capital's noble ladies went mad for, and shimmering A-rank frost troll mana cores, piled up like mountains. The overwhelming volume, scarred with traces of slaughter and reeking of metallic blood, left the servants gaping in horror.
But in this mansion, there was exactly one person utterly uninterested in that brutal heap of trophies.
"Reina! My precious daughter! Heavens, why on earth did you take so long to come back?!"
It was the head of the family, Duke Astrea—the empire's pinnacle of power. Long since having tossed aside his title as a majestic beast of dignity, he barreled out of the mansion entrance in mismatched slippers, one foot clad in an indoor pair.
"Are you hurt anywhere?! No scratches on your cheeks, right? What if you caught a cold in that harsh, freezing north?! Call the physician at once!"
The duke grabbed the shoulders of Reina, who hopped lightly from the carriage, and began fussing with teary eyes.
Cold germs would be shredded to death by her killing intent before they even got close, you overzealous parent… er, Your Grace.
I clicked my tongue inwardly at the sheer absurdity. The empire's greatest sword, who turned tens of thousands of monsters into paste in a single minute, fretting over a cold? Even the title of world's strongest meant nothing before a doting father's blind love.
I cleared my throat once and addressed the stunned servants, the helicopter parent, and the daughter-obsessed duke with casual composure.
"The northern field trip… er, subjugation is complete without incident, and we've returned. Those wagons hold the spoils we thriftily collected during the mission. Figured they'd help offset the family's financial losses from this op. We'll settle accounts cleanly today and report to the ducal treasury office."
Like slipping a local souvenir onto the principal's desk after a school trip, I reported the haul with cool detachment.
The duke alternated stares between me and the pile, then swallowed hard.
A short while later, in the duke's study.
A lavish Imperial Capital Grand Ball Invitation from the palace lay alone on the premium oak desk.
"Those palace snakes are finally dragging our Reina into high society, huh."
The duke pinched his brow, exhaling a deep sigh laced with fury.
"The fools who thought that idiotic trap would work must've learned their lesson the hard way. That brute force can't touch a single hair on Reina's head. So they've switched tactics. Lure the child into the glittering heart of high society, where force is off-limits, and chip away at her with etiquette and mind games until she's socially buried."
His worries were valid. For a yandere like Reina, obsessed solely with me since childhood and utterly devoid of social graces, high society was a poisoned chalice.
But I set my teacup down silently and leaned forward from the edge of the sofa, upper body inclined. Instinct of a 10-year veteran teacher.
The basics of parent-teacher conferences: show you're fully listening with your body language, building trust.
"No need to worry. I'll handle her mental care and etiquette training flawlessly… er, without a single gap."
"But Cadel, the capital nobles' serpentine tongues are more cunning and sharp than any monster's claws. If she can't stomach the insults and draws her sword at the ball…!"
"That won't happen."
I straightened my back and met the duke's gaze head-on.
"This ball isn't just some dance party. It's the perfect stage to compete against those smug capital nobles from other schools… er, houses, and broadcast the overwhelming excellence of the 'Lady Astrea' far and wide."
I curled my lips into a sly grin.
Let those arrogant nobles and palace geezer fossils try picking a fight or pulling dirty tricks on our Reina. As her homeroom teacher, I'll chew them up one by one, no exceptions.
"She won't draw her sword without my permission, and she won't suffer any unjust insults."
A firm, weighty declaration from a true master teacher. The duke's aged eyes trembled faintly at my perfect control and confident gaze.
"Uh, y-yeah… right. With the Evans family's infamous education methods passed down… I-I'll trust you alone."
The empire's top power figure stammered oddly before a mere baron's bloodline, breaking into a cold sweat.
Three days later, in the Astrea Ducal Residence's exclusive fitting room, ahead of the ball.
"M-Miss, please just lift your arm a little… eek!"
"Don't touch me. How am I supposed to move in this frilly rag? Get it off before I slice it to shreds."
Reina growled, radiating killing intent, sending the ducal golden-handed tailors cowering in the corner like trembling aspens, sniffling.
To her, the layered dresses were mere restraints hindering movement.
"Reina."
I parted the changing room curtain and tossed out a single word. The beast on the verge of decapitating a tailor froze, then softened her eyes like a puppy tucking tail.
"Arms up. Put it on nicely."
"……Okay."
The world's most magical tranquilizer. At my firm command, Reina pouted but obediently spread her arms like a doll, accepting the tailors' hands.
Moments later, the fitting room curtain swept open.
"Holy…."
An involuntary gasp escaped me.
She always looked beautiful in dresses, but in this deep purple off-shoulder gown tailored for the palace, Reina was a breathtaking vision—the empire's ultimate beauty, enough to stop hearts. Her cascading silver hair, porcelain shoulders, and violet eyes harmonized perfectly with the dress's hue, bordering on visual assault.
Reina's eyes widened at me in the mirror. Using past-life memories, I'd ordered a deep navy three-piece suit tailored to perfection. Honestly, my reflection looked damn good. Beneath the refined, youthful face of a 17-year-old noble scion stretched my 182cm frame, broad-shouldered from disciplined workouts ingrained from my PE teacher days, forming ideal harmony.
No capital noble kid could match this overwhelming physique. Visuals wouldn't fail me in high society.
"Cadel…."
Enchanted, she approached, slipping right under my chin. A cool, sweet lavender scent hit my nose.
Her slender hands rose to my chest, fiddling playfully with my untied necktie.
"You look so hot in a suit…. I want you all to myself."
Languid, sticky voice. She tugged the tie lightly, exposing her bare white collarbone and shoulders defenselessly in my view. Our bodies pressed flawlessly, her feverish heat seeping through the dress.
"But this is too stuffy. Should I just rip it off? Hm?"
Reina furrowed her brow slightly, whining as she tugged my tie. Blind affection aimed solely at me, ignoring the shivering tailors.
Dangerous. Pure provocation, a lethal visual strike.
Thump, thump, thump! My 17-year-old hormonal teen heart blared warnings, pounding my ribs. Electric tingles raced my spine; breath caught.
Damn these hormones! Hold it together—I'm a 10-year vet teacher! She's just a big beagle of a student!
I crushed my rampaging body desperately, erecting the iron wall of the world's strictest, pickiest teacher.
"Cut the nonsense."
I lightly smacked her gloved hand off the tie and stepped back, sharply correcting her posture.
"Halve your stride so you don't step on the hem, back straight. Eyes forward. Remember: stick tight to my side at tomorrow's ball. No drawing your holy sword without permission or causing trouble—or it's 100 laps around the training grounds next morning. Got it?"
Shattering the world's most romantic fitting room vibe with cold-blooded PE teacher discipline.
But Reina, far from hurt, flushed at being under my control, beaming happily. She reached out her rejected hand and locked arms with mine tightly.
"Yeah, got it. I'll stick right by Cadel's side! Not even a second apart."
The soft sensation on my arm nearly snapped my reason again, but I nodded with a stern face.
Alright then, time to parade our class ace and check out the rival schools' hotshots.
Tomorrow's Imperial Capital Grand Ball. Whatever cheap tricks those fools tried, I'd pulverize their mentals with a decade of teacher politicking and fact-smashing.