The Banquet's Uninvited Guest
“Why the hell are you here…?” The worst-case scenario flashing through my mind made my brows knit together on their own. “Even so, already?” Tap, tap. I drummed my index finger lightly on the table, sinking into thought. If my suspicions were correct, this wasn’t something that could be brushed off simply by siding with Beatrice and playing my cards right.
Let me digress for a moment. Any transmigrator inevitably feels a certain stifling unease. No matter how well you adapt, you remain an outsider—alienation, longing for home, anxiety over the original plot—too many things that can’t be solved by sheer willpower. Yet instead of wallowing in some kind of mental breakdown, I’ve come to regard this world as a new home and accepted my new life with humility. The reason isn’t complicated. It’s simply… livable.
Ambiguous talent. Unlike my previous life, where mediocre talent and mediocre achievements meant nothing ever went smoothly, my current life shines brilliantly. Why hide it? I have no intention of pretending otherwise when I already possess everything. Golden hair and golden eyes, a face like a sculpture, tall stature, a body packed with solid muscle, genius-level talent in swordsmanship, and the heir to a promising count’s house—Damian von Abraxas. To anyone’s eyes, I was simply an outstanding man. Add to that the luck of transmigrating at just the right moment—before the original story began, yet still able to use its knowledge—and I had become something of a notable figure even within this empire.
Of course, this wasn’t because my soul was particularly exceptional. At least, I don’t think so. If I couldn’t manage this much after receiving such an overpowered hand, what would that make me? An orangutan, plain and simple. Anyway, the more you have, the more reluctant you become to lose it. That’s human nature. So instead of basking in the success handed to me on a silver platter, I’ve lived by blocking every possible negative variable within my reach. The gains from doing so far outweighed the losses of twisting the original plot.
Beatrice, who had been glancing at me sideways while pretending otherwise, was one of the fruits of that effort. She must have interpreted my serious expression and tightly closed mouth in her own way.
“……”
“I’m not angry, so you don’t have to keep reading my face. Since when did you start caring so much about what others think?”
“Ha? Who’s reading your face? How ridiculous.”
Long violet hair like the dawn sky, crimson eyes, a face so dazzlingly beautiful it looked almost vicious. Beatrice, acting like a stray cat whose paw had been stepped on, was none other than the original story’s main villainess, the one known as the “Black Witch.” A personality-disordered individual who felt genuine joy from tormenting others and believed it was only natural for everyone to grovel beneath her. With the background of a princess and superior talent layered on top, she had become an unstoppable runaway train in the original novel, committing every kind of atrocity. A textbook romance-fantasy villainess.
I had approached her while she was still in the “precious child” stage, just before she fully evolved into that villainess, and through all sorts of bootlicking and flattery, I had somehow succeeded in reforming her. “At this rate, with the way you’re acting after getting a bit of hero worship from the frontier, you’ll be trying to talk back to me soon?”
…Probably. If she could end things with just a few sharp words instead of unleashing her natural temper and turning everything to ash, then she had been reformed quite a bit. Compared to how she used to be, this level was nothing more than a cute hiss from a kitten. If I could control the original story’s main villainess by playing the roles of political aide, childhood friend, emotional trash can, attachment doll, and twisted-desire outlet, then honestly, it was a bargain. I had already risked my life swinging a sword to stop the variable up north; Beatrice was practically an angel by comparison.
Anyway, back to the main point. What mattered was that, regardless of the process, most of the major variables had remained under my control until now. However, there was one variable I could never do anything about—the “original protagonist.” If the other variables were mere side branches, the protagonist was the very root of this world’s setting. The core of my life plan had been to intervene in the major variables as much as possible, but to avoid getting involved with the protagonist before the original story began. Because Damian von Abraxas was also one of the original story’s sub-male leads. Just as in male-oriented harem stories, any female character with a pretty face who doesn’t cause too much irritation gets treated as a potential heroine, the same logic applied to female-oriented stories. Any male character who was handsome and treated the heroine well became a potential male-lead candidate. The original Damian was no exception; he was inevitably entangled with the heroine. After suffering through the typical romance-fantasy harem management, he had ended up as nothing more than a convenient, good-looking sword to be used until the ending.
No matter how ambiguous his treatment was, Damian was clearly someone connected to the original heroine. If I recklessly tried to tame or recruit her early on, the uncontrollable variables that would arise would far exceed any benefits. So, at the very least, I maintained the stance of acknowledging the protagonist’s existence while avoiding entanglement as much as possible—until the main story of the original novel began, anyway. Until this point, I had believed my plan was proceeding reasonably well.
“Tricksi.”
“What, you think lowering your voice and calling my name like that will make me let everything slide? Your insolent attitude comes before my hopeless brother—”
It made no sense by any normal standard. Not until a truly “romance-fantasy-like” event occurred. Of course, with only vague circumstantial evidence and no solid proof, I might be jumping to conclusions. But this body’s instincts—especially the “falling-into-the-abyss detection sensor” that activated before things went wrong—had never been wrong. If my actions so far had already rolled the snowball to the point where the world could no longer handle the distortion, and the twisted original story had begun earlier than scheduled…
‘I need to change strategies.’
The heroine was beginning to exert influence. The Second Prince might already be infected with the romance-fantasy virus, his brain melted beyond recovery. The original story had already raised its curtain in a distorted form. For now, I would proceed under that assumption. When judgment was uncertain, it was better to prepare for the worst and act accordingly.
After organizing my thoughts, I slowly interlaced my fingers and opened my mouth. “If possible, I believe I need to assess the situation personally. Since my position is currently vacant, please arrange a suitable post for me in Schtuka.”
Beatrice, who had been snapping at me to hide her embarrassment, quickly became docile. “…Right. Now you’re finally acting in a way I like.”
She lightly tidied her hair as if she had never been irritated and let out a pleased hum. With her, it was better to catch what she truly wanted one step ahead and act on it rather than dragging out the conversation and handing over the initiative. It felt like offering churu to a hissing cat and watching it immediately start purring. The moment I expressed my willingness to help her directly, Beatrice shrugged and picked up a macaron. Asking for a position meant I was openly declaring I would move as her piece.
—Chew, chew.
“As expected, I can’t do without you. A sharp sword needs a master to wield it, after all. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, as you say.”
“I’ll make as many positions as you need. First, I’ll give you the chance to escort me at the banquet in three days. Your victory commemoration banquet is under my supervision, after all.”
Aside from her insufferable personality, Beatrice was a decent partner to work with. At least, she never made things tedious or frustrating. From the moment she decided to use me as her card in this incident, everything had probably already been decided—my standing in high society and politics, what needed to be done at the critical moment, and the rewards that would follow. I would simply become Beatrice’s sword, protecting her or cutting down enemies as the situation demanded. I would have to decide whether to personally eliminate the Second Prince or politically drive him to suicide before he caused a bigger incident, but if the bloody wind was already blowing, it was better to dance with the blade than to be swept up in it. If the Third Princess handled the already-irredeemable traitor, Beatrice might earn the Emperor’s trust, and my life as her close aide might become a little more peaceful.
“I’ve specially prepared outfits that suit you well since your fashion sense is lacking. Just pick whichever one you like. You’re pretty good at being a clothes hanger, after all.”
“I’m more comfortable in uniform.”
“Are you spouting nonsense? You don’t seriously plan to wander around in that gloomy uniform next to me, do you?”
Of course, I didn’t suggest to Beatrice that we personally eliminate the Second Prince from our side. No matter how much villainess potential she had, she wouldn’t willingly step forward in an incident of this scale—she would simply keep her head down. This was an idea only a transmigrator like me could come up with. Even with a reliable ally, seeing her excitedly worrying about what to wear to a banquet while a rebellion was underway made it clear that Beatrice still couldn’t escape the typical romance-fantasy character mindset.
Meanwhile—
—Tap, tap!
“Damian, between this one and the one you wore earlier, which do you prefer?”
“Weren’t you just criticizing my lack of fashion sense a moment ago?”
“Sometimes you need lowbrow taste to capture the eyes of the unrefined masses.”
“In my opinion, the previous outfit looked better. Overly flashy designs can seem rather vulgar.”
Even after all business was concluded, I had to remain an audience member for Beatrice’s fashion show, which utilized her clothing-change magic, for quite some time. “What about this one?” Beatrice said, spinning in front of me.
“Is that even clothing? You might as well call it underwear.”
“Tsk, you don’t know the latest trends. How old-fashioned.”
What kind of ridiculous dress that plunged down to the navel was the latest trend? And why were both sides of the thighs slit open? At that point, the underwear straps should be visible—don’t tell me she wasn’t wearing any at all? It was a catastrophic design where taking even one step would expose everything. Had some shadowy campaign to boost the empire’s birth rate been underway in the capital while I was in the north? Honestly, it suited her lethally well, but even so, I couldn’t imagine Beatrice walking around in front of others wearing something like that. Even in a romance-fantasy world, chastity wasn’t completely nonexistent. What if this ruined her marriage prospects?
“Haa.”
“What? Why are you sighing so unpleasantly?”
Every time I saw her acting so deranged, I worried about who would ever take this difficult woman off my hands. Unable to find anywhere safe to rest my eyes, I was about to turn my head when—
“Pfft.”
A rather unpleasant laugh reached my ears. As expected, Beatrice was covering her mouth and giggling while looking at me. “Tricksi, why exactly are you laughing?”
“Did you seriously think that scrap of cloth would actually become a trend?”
Wait, what? “Then why did you show it to me?”
“Because I thought your expression would be hilarious if I wore it. And it turned out exactly as I expected. Pfft…!”
“……”
“Ahaha! Look at your eyes rolling around, it’s so funny. Well, you’re a man too, I guess? A little exposed skin and you look ready to pounce?”
Goddamn it. This crazy woman, seriously.
* * *
After being dragged into the Second Prince’s insane rebellion scheme and left with the unsettling feeling that the original story might have already begun, my schedule became so packed that returning home or doing anything else was awkward. I ended up staying at Beatrice’s detached palace for three days. Not that the accommodations were bad. In fact, they were excellent. As the residence of a princess who loved luxury, the opulent detached palace was the perfect place to recover from the fatigue accumulated in the north. In a way, it was like the empire’s finest resort stay.
“Your luck’s pretty good, huh?”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
The only fatal flaw was that the hotel owner was Beatrice. “I need to go out, so lend me some guards.”
“Don’t you already have enough guards?”
“My brother is plotting treason. What if he sends a Swordmaster to assassinate me?”
Unable to stand the sight of me resting comfortably—
“Do you even know how many Swordmasters there are in the empire?”
“Why would I know that? But there happens to be one right in front of me. And he’s completely free.”
“……”
She forced me into her schedule with absurd excuses, or—
—Snore…
“Wake up, Damian. What time do you think it is and you’re still sleeping?”
“It’s… six in the morning, isn’t it? Even conscripted soldiers are still sound asleep unless they’re on guard duty.”
“Shut up. I woke up. It’s my day off and I’m annoyed because I woke up early, so just get up too.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever…”
“What kind of Swordmaster is this lazy? A body that doesn’t even need sleep. You don’t have anything to do right now anyway, so come take a walk with me.”
She picked pointless fights with 100% purity for no reason. Those minor harassments existed, but compared to military life, it was still a decent rest. The food was delicious, the bed was soft, and there was even a large private bathroom in the room. If only the owner were normal, I might have wanted to live here forever. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.
Before I knew it, the day of my victory banquet had arrived. Technically, I had just finished my mission and been discharged, but I had certainly achieved noteworthy results, and these things were all about how you packaged them. That was how noble society worked. Just as the atmosphere in the banquet hall was ripening and I, the guest of honor, was about to enter—
—Swish.
“The decoration is crooked. Honestly.”
Beatrice reached out and adjusted my necktie. It wasn’t an ordinary necktie but something with an extremely complicated design, so I had entrusted the entire process to the attendants from the start. There must have been a mistake. “Hmm, hmm…”
Beatrice, who had been scrutinizing my neck and collarbone with strange eyes while fixing the tie, finally nodded in satisfaction after considerable effort. “Hmm. You really do wear clothes well.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Well, it’s not bad.”
Honestly, I couldn’t tell what was different from a moment ago, but such details were probably better left to women. After putting as much care into my necktie as she did, Beatrice checked her own appearance in the mirror and then held out her hand to me with a prim expression. “All done. Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice wore a black dress that revealed a considerable amount of skin yet somehow conveyed dignity rather than vulgarity—a dress that probably only one person in this empire could pull off. Looking at her, the trouble from a few days ago came to mind and I hesitated for a moment. This time, Beatrice linked her arm with mine first. “Stay closer. We need to show off our intimacy here.”
“Understood.”
—Soft.
Unlike a few days ago, both our outfits were thinner, so the soft sensation was transmitted directly through my arm. Since physical contact was unavoidable given the size difference, neither of us bothered to mind it.
“Sir Damian von Abraxas, the hero of the north and Swordmaster, is entering!”
—Clap, clap, clap, clap!
When I entered the banquet hall with Beatrice, every gaze in the crowd converged on a single point. Scanning the faces quickly, I saw many familiar ones and many unfamiliar ones. Amid the various emotions and countless gazes mixing truth and falsehood, one thing was certain: all of them were influential figures in the empire. These noble-blooded individuals had all gathered to honor my achievements. And among all the partners accompanying the nobles here, my partner was the most noble and beautiful. Realizing that fact sent a thrilling pleasure up my spine.
‘This is the feeling.’
The satisfaction of having one’s instinctive desire for recognition fulfilled. It was the best.
“Sir Damian, I’ve heard much about your exploits in the north. Truly impressive.”
“Sir! It is truly an honor to meet you in person. I am—”
“Hey! Have some manners. Let’s keep the order!”
The moment I stepped into the center of the banquet hall, the crowd surged toward me. “I merely did what had to be done. I can only feel ashamed to receive such excessive honor.”
I left my involuntarily curling lips as they were and offered insincere humility when—
‘That’s…’
—Peeking.
At that very moment, a pink-haired girl who absolutely should not have been here stood on tiptoe, struggling to look in my direction, and caught my eye.