It’s Old Bob

After touching and checking my body, Kefir came to a conclusion: I had no warrior’s battle energy, only the basic magical power of an ordinary person.

In simpler terms—I was an outsider.

Then why the hell were you all over me?

Didn’t I already say I only had “prophecy” as a skill!?

When asked about this, Kefir blushed, stayed silent, and played dumb—refusing to answer.

Thanks to that, Mr. Pony slowed the carriage down.

And so, I ended up spending another night “sharing a bed” with Miss Kefir—the true protagonist—and Nilu, the girl who could stab me at any moment without it being strange.

The next morning, at sunrise, our Mr. Pony carried us smoothly through the Great Ying Empire’s capital, known as “Yinggelan,” without any issue—thanks to his unique, recognizable appearance.

Soon, we entered the estate grounds of Kefir’s family, located right next to the royal capital of London.

Compared to the rural Longtao Town, this was the real deal—an international-class big city.

Of course…

As soon as I woke up, I saw that Euclid’s (my) colorful death scripts were sprouting like bamboo shoots after the rain.

Clearly, we’d entered the “main storyline” now.

Just look at the layers of tight security…

The heavy defenses of Kefir’s noble family estate…

And the overly suspicious passersby!

“Oh? It’s the young lady. Please come in. But who is this man with you? He looks kinda like a wanted criminal.”

I swear, even just walking down a path here, I could die in five different creative ways!

“He’s my attendant. Don’t ask questions.”

With the power of her protagonist aura, we safely passed the final inspection checkpoint.

Then, in front of me appeared a ridiculously large and luxurious mansion that stretched farther than the eye could see.

Several servants saw the carriage approaching and quickly blew whistles.

More extras rushed over, and before the carriage even stopped, they rolled out a red carpet all the way to our feet.

Kefir, who had been reserved and awkward the whole way here, suddenly changed like a new person—radiating spirit.

“We’ve arrived. Get off.”

“Euclid, don’t overthink it. Honestly, I don’t like my family either.”

“I feel you!”

My eyes were full of firm sincerity.

Kidding aside, if a villain ever talks back to the protagonist, they’re just begging to get cooked alive.

Plus, I’ve read the script—I probably understand Kefir better than her own parents.

“…Cough! Let’s go.”

Suddenly a little shaken, Kefir rubbed her face in front of me and then put back on her usual cold ice-queen attitude as she led the way off the carriage.

That’s when I truly felt just how much of a “true protagonist” Kefir was.

Even the smart-mouthed AI horse tipped the servants off.

But the moment Kefir stepped off the carriage—it was game over.

The butler who had been watering the rainbow-colored flower beds immediately set down the watering can and bowed his head.

Dozens of maids in uniforms matching Nilu’s lined up on both sides, ready to welcome her.

Their only flaw? Compared to Nilu, they were still lacking in… key assets.

Finally, with a signal from someone, everyone spoke in unison:

“Welcome back, young lady!”

Their voices were so loud I thought they were reciting ancient poetry.

See? This is the kind of treatment a true protagonist gets as Heaven’s favorite child!

Although… Kefir didn’t seem too fond of it.

“Dismiss.”

With a cold expression, she waved off all the welcoming servants.

Then, as I stepped down after her and received the “terrified” gazes of nearly every servant—

Kefir subtly moved closer to me.

“Our family already knows about our journey.”

“Charlatan, don’t leave my side from now on.”

Yes yes yes!

Honestly, even if you kicked me away, I’d still crawl back to cling to your thigh!

Looking up, a stream of death flags flashed in my mind.

[Servant A stabs Euclid because he didn’t like his face.]

[Servant B stabs Euclid because he sneezed.]

[Maid A stabs Euclid because he started walking with his left foot.]

…

No doubt about it—every one of them was trying to kill me off.

Thanks to Kefir sticking close to me, my tiny life was barely hanging on.

But just as I was mentally flipping through all these stylish death scripts—

A new one popped up, totally different from all the servant and maid versions!

Huh? Someone important showed up?

Not just a background character?

Thinking this, I instinctively looked up.

At Kefir’s command, the servants all left—

But one woman appeared, dazzling and radiant.

She wore a long dress that looked exhausting even to glance at.

Her bright curls were styled way too carefully.

She had a hat and gloves adorned with countless accessories.

Every possible spot on her outfit was covered with expensive-looking jewelry.

Basically, she was a walking treasure shelf.

Also, just like Kefir, she wore a sword at her waist.

Now, carrying a sword is fine.

Dressing like a high-fashion boutique is fine too.

But all this, plus a sword? That’s protagonist-only stuff!

If a background character tried this, she’d probably trip and fall mid-entrance!

The girl walked confidently toward us.

Not only was she unafraid of Kefir’s status—

She actually radiated hostility toward her…

And a weird sense of smug confidence.

Her gaze swept past me.

She gave a scornful smile.

Then stared straight at Kefir.

“Isn’t this Kefir? Ran away from home for so many days and finally came back?”

“Do you know how worried Uncle and Auntie were these past few days?”

Sigh…

She let out a totally fake sigh.

Even without reading the script, I could tell: she was pretending to care, but her tone was pure passive-aggressive.

“The once-great genius… reduced to this mess.”

“My actions don’t need anyone’s approval.”

Kefir wasn’t stupid—she instantly understood the veiled sarcasm.

Her voice turned cold in response.

At the same time, she quietly used our contract to send me a mental message.

[She’s my royal cousin… a collateral member of the Queen’s family. Their names are ranked by order of status.]

[So she…]

[Is 213th in line. Her name is Louis Twenty-Three. Don’t call her ‘2.b’, Euclid.]

I turned my head.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one fighting laughter.

Even Kefir’s icy poker face was cracking a little.

Kefir! I didn’t expect you to drop that joke so casually.

Why are you so good at passive-aggression!?