Chapter 9: Step onto the Battlefield, Young Man!
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 9: Step onto the Battlefield, Young Man!
"Even that earned me her dislike?"
Muen scratched his head in confusion, feeling utterly baffled.
He believed he had expressed the most sincere goodwill possible. His actions and speech had been impeccable, without the slightest hint of offense.
It seemed, however, that Ariel, the protagonist, simply wasn't buying it.
"Sigh, it looks like the conflict between the protagonist and me really is irreconcilable."
Muttering to himself, Muen quickly pushed the unpleasantness to the back of his mind.
No matter how deep the friction between him and Ariel was, after tonight, their fates would become two parallel lines that would never intersect.
"From now on, you go be the savior of the world, and I’ll go be a working man. We both have bright futures ahead of us!"
After throwing a mock punch at Ariel’s retreating back, Muen refocused his attention on the task at hand.
There were still many guests waiting for him to receive them.
*
"Princess Celicia..."
"Ariel, the protagonist..."
"And Liya, the future Saintess of the Life Church..."
"It seems those are all the key people I need to watch out for today."
The evening lights were beginning to glow.
Muen had stood at the entrance of the banquet hall for two full hours. Only now, as he watched the last distinguished guest on his list enter the hall, was his reception duty finally complete.
"Phew, I’m exhausted."
Muen rubbed his aching lower back. If the original host hadn't possessed at least a basic foundation in cultivation, he probably would have collapsed under the weight of this formal suit, which weighed a solid twenty kilograms.
"Good work."
The Duke, his beard as thick and bushy as a lion’s mane—Muen’s "convenient" father—appeared beside him at some point. He held out a plate of pastries toward Muen.
"Hungry? Have some."
"I am a bit hungry."
Muen grabbed a pastry and stuffed it into his mouth. This was the only time he could afford to ignore noble etiquette.
"How do you feel?"
"I’m alright."
"Did you memorize all those noble lords?"
"How could I?" Muen said with a wry smile. "There were so many of them. It took everything I had just to distinguish who was who."
"Haha, no rush. Take your time," Duke Campbell said appreciatively. "You’ve already done much better than I expected."
"Ha, thanks," Muen replied with a polite smile. "It’s what I should do."
"However, you won't have to work so hard for the rest of the night."
Duke Campbell patted Muen on the shoulder. "Rest for a bit before you head inside."
With that, the Lion of the Empire, still in his prime, straightened his back. Like an old general marching onto a battlefield, he slowly strode into the banquet hall.
Muen watched his towering silhouette and couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion.
"He’s a good father."
In truth, as the star of this coming-of-age ceremony, Muen shouldn't have had to act as a greeter.
But he had done so because of Duke Campbell’s specific arrangement.
As the Duke’s son, Muen would undoubtedly be "ambushed" by those hyena-like nobles during the banquet. They would try to snatch a piece of meat from his hands or simply carve a chunk out of him directly.
Since the coming-of-age ceremony was meant to showcase Muen to the public, he would have no choice but to face those "ambushes" head-on.
One could only imagine how difficult that would be.
Thus, Duke Campbell had arranged for him to greet the guests at the door. By "paying his respects" to those hyenas in advance, the banquet scavengers would have no excuse to bypass the Lion and target the "cub" who hadn't yet fully grown.
Though it was called a coming-of-age ceremony, it seemed that in Duke Campbell’s eyes, Muen was still far from being an adult.
"A pity. I’m going to fail your expectations tonight."
In the original novel, Duke Campbell’s ultimate fate was never described.
However, given how much he doted on Muen, he surely would have been heartbroken to see the future Muen Campbell turn into such a wreck while he remained powerless to stop it.
"But this time, things will be different."
"I will live a good life."
"Even if it’s just as an ordinary person."
The last pastry vanished down his throat.
The satisfaction of a full stomach gave Muen a second wind. Even the twenty-kilogram suit didn't feel quite as burdensome anymore.
"Now then, it’s time for my own battle to begin."
*
The night deepened.
Inside the banquet hall, the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation never ceased; it was a scene of vibrant celebration.
Celicia, however, stood alone by the balcony, taking in the night view of the Duke’s estate.
In truth, in an era without electric lights, even the most beautiful scenery was shrouded in pitch-black darkness at night. There wasn't much to see.
Yet Celicia continued to gaze into the night, showing no sign of boredom.
It seemed that to her, the void-like purity of the night was far more appealing than the noisy banquet behind her.
"To leave such a distinguished Princess without company... it seems I have been quite a discourteous host."
Celicia raised her cold eyes, meeting a pair of eyes filled with a gentle smile.
Muen Campbell was as dashing and refined as ever. He stood at a distance that was neither offensive nor overly distant. Placing a hand over his chest, he offered Celicia an elegant invitation:
"Then, my beautiful Princess, might I have the honor of inviting you to a dance?"
"You are inviting me to dance?"
"Of course." Muen smiled slightly. "Was my invitation not clear enough?"
"..."
A flicker of doubt flashed through Celicia’s eyes.
After a moment of silence, she gently placed her small hand, encased in a white silk glove, into Muen’s palm.
"Tonight is your coming-of-age ceremony. Naturally, I have no reason to refuse."
"...Thank you."
For some reason, Muen’s expression stiffened for a split second, but he quickly returned to normal. He led Celicia to the very center of the banquet hall, the focal point of every gaze in the room.
The music began—soft, graceful, and slow.
Muen held Celicia’s hand and lightly supported her slender, willow-like waist. They moved to the beat of the music like a pair of butterflies fluttering together.
"Your footwork is quite good."
"Thank you for the compliment. Though, I’d say it’s merely passable."
Muen gave a modest smile, projecting the reserved humility of a master.
In reality...
He was incredibly nervous.
Muen hadn't expected that the original host—that good-for-nothing, pampered fool—would actually be quite skilled at noble dancing.
He had been anxious for quite a while after Celicia accepted his invitation.
What puzzled Muen slightly was that, according to the plot of the original novel, Celicia was supposed to have rejected Muen’s invitation to dance. Why had she agreed this time?
"You really have changed a bit, Muen Campbell," Celicia said suddenly.
Muen’s heart skipped a beat.
Could it be that the secret of him being a transmigrator—something even the Duke and his wife hadn't noticed—had been discovered by Celicia?
"In Your Highness’s eyes, do my actions no longer resemble those of a noble?"
"No, the change I’m referring to isn't that kind of change."
"Then it is..."
"It is the way you invite people."