A cigarette afterward, better than a living god

After giving Kefir a serious warning, the uncle never mentioned the matter of the “quota” again.

Looking a bit anxious, he quickly and silently finished breakfast, then came up with a bunch of random excuses to take Kefir out of the residence.

As the protagonist, having some “social engagements” is normal.

Plus, I didn’t find any “fancy death” endings for myself in the script that follows, so I confidently let Kefir leave without chasing after her and clinging to her leg.

What concerned me more right now was the next part of the “script.”

What Kefir’s father said wasn’t a lie.

In my script, after we scolded Louis XXIII, she really did run back and start spouting nonsense in front of Queen Louis IV of the British Empire, and then…

[Queen Louis IV will visit with Louis XXIII over the matter of the quota.]

That’s how the script develops.

A drug-addicted woman who leveled up from a background character to a villainess courting death in front of Kefir, the protagonist—I can’t even be bothered to imagine her ending.

But the person she brings along, “Queen Louis IV,” is a different story.

Queen Louis IV of the British Empire inherited her throne by lineage.

She’s the fourth queen of the British Empire where I live.

Both she and Louis XXIII share the name “Louis,” but their ranks, if you go by the numbers, are worlds apart.

[Louis IV: The fourth queen, approachable and cheerful, holds real power, and is deeply loved and supported by the people of the British Empire. PS: Still single.]

That last line was unnecessary.

The script’s description of Louis IV is already that detailed, so clearly the queen I once sneaked into the palace to deliver an anonymous report to is no disposable character.

Which means…

Sure enough, the next moment, the script gave the answer.

[Louis IV will kill Euclid.]

I have a death flag with Louis IV too.

And I can’t figure out why—what reason would the approachable queen have to kill me?

It can’t be just because I once sneaked into her bedchamber, right?

While I was racking my brains to save my own life, the day slowly slipped by.

Because I kept flipping through the script non-stop, I barely even noticed when Miss Nilu said she was going to report back to the head maid and left.

When I came back to my senses, the sky was already dark.

It was the faint knock on the door that startled me out of my thoughts.

“Coming!”

I answered as I opened the door—only to find that it wasn’t Kefir returning from her “social engagement” looking all composed.

It was…

“Nilu~”

Kefir, drunk version.

She was completely drunk!

Before I could even respond, Kefir instinctively lunged at me.

She clung to me naturally, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shimmering, her entire body radiating the allure of a seductress I had never seen before.

Even her blinking eyes and murmured words carried the soft, coquettish tone unique to tipsy girls.

“What the… oh, it’s you, the fraud.”

Yes, that’s me.

Sorry, but the one you’re hugging isn’t Nilu. No oranges for you.

This leading lady—she didn’t drink fake liquor, did she?

But no, I didn’t smell a hint of alcohol on her, just a faint sweet scent unique to girls.

As I sobered up, I realized just how serious this situation was.

Fortunately, Kefir still had a bit of reason left and didn’t go straight for the “strong-arm approach” on poor little me, the leg-hugging side character.

After staggering inside, Kefir sat primly on the sofa.

Her good manners kept her looking dignified, even though she seemed “tipsy.”

Then…

[Pat pat]

She patted the spot next to her.

“Come here.”

Nilu had been called away by the head maid earlier, so I was the only one here.

It was obvious who Kefir was calling over.

I had already realized: in this situation, at this time, with Kefir in this state, the destructive power on a healthy male was… catastrophic.

But…

“I said, come here! Euclid!”

I… I had no choice.

I carefully sat next to Kefir, only to see her face suddenly lean in, as if she were about to swallow me whole, her eyes sweeping me up and down with a serious look.

Putting aside the “protagonist” factor, Kefir was a breathtaking beauty.

It’s not that I’m “weak-willed,” but as a villain, making a move on the protagonist usually means you won’t live past a few thousand words in the script.

Knowing the script as I do, I didn’t dare entertain any stray thoughts.

I tried to inch away from Kefir’s claws while laughing awkwardly.

“W-what’s wrong with you?”

“Father and Mother called me over for dinner, then kept making me drink weird stuff.”

Uncle, Auntie… are you that desperate to marry your daughter off?

“Hey, fraud, so… will you marry me?”

Cough cough cough cough!

Kefir suddenly, and very seriously, asked the question—making me choke violently.

I want to!

But as a villain, if I push the protagonist down, eat her up, and the next morning sit there smoking while pondering life… I’m a dead man!

“Calm down, Kefir. You’re Heaven’s chosen, a future saint, with a bright future ahead of you.

I became your priest not to marry you.”

“Because I’m not as big as Nilu?”

“No!”

B-b-big as Nilu? Hahaha, I don’t know! Never checked!

If this goes on, Kefir’s comments will only get more dangerous.

I was ready to run when…

“I don’t believe you. Prove it.”

Kefir suddenly grabbed my arm.

A sixth-tier powerhouse’s strength—her grip was like iron pincers.

“W-what?”

“Prove you don’t like big ones! Touch me!

Or we’re getting married!”

I’m not, I didn’t…

Fine, I give in!

I still want to live, you know.

That night, I ultimately extended my wicked hand.

—

The next day, sunlight streamed in, birds sang, and Kefir woke up on the wide sofa that wasn’t much worse than a bed.

After a soft groan, she rubbed her forehead and slowly opened her eyes.

Then she jolted awake!

The first thing she did was check her clothes, which were only slightly rumpled from sleeping.

Then, with an arrow-like gaze mixed with shyness, she looked at me.

“Euclid! Did I… do anything yesterday? Uh… what happened to you?”

“Nothing…”

Just pondering life—and mourning my lost innocence.

To deal with Kefir’s “strong-arm” attempt last night, I had no choice… but to touch.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem to remember what she said last night.

Great, let’s pretend nothing happened.

Listlessly, I hummed, “Little white rabbit, white as snow…”

While the atmosphere in the room turned awkward, Kefir stared at me in confusion—when suddenly Miss Nilu burst in, looking anxious.

“Young Lady! Mr. Euclid! The master wants you both immediately!”

Nilu panted heavily, her chest heaving.

“Her Majesty… Her Majesty the Queen is here!”

—

Updated Queen Louis IV’s illustration in Volume One—old readers, refresh the page.

Also updated part of Kefir’s body pillow artwork—also in Volume One.