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This was not Celicia’s first encounter with Ewan Campbell. In fact, before this grand ceremony, the story’s stage had been set for a full academic year at the prestigious Saint Marika Academy.
During that time, though they were in different schools and grades, whispers of Ewan Campbell’s exploits had a way of reaching her.
Naturally, all of those exploits were villainous.
She had also had the displeasure of interacting with him personally on several occasions. Her conclusion had always been a perfect match for the rumors: he was a man of deplorable character, insufferably arrogant, and an academic vacuum. Even when addressing her, a princess of the realm, his nose was so high in the air it was a wonder he didn’t drown in the rain. He was, in every sense of the word, a true, unadulterated scoundrel.
But the man before her today… seemed different.
Is it just because he’s managed to string a polite sentence together?
After a moment of idle consideration, Celicia swiftly dismissed the thought. The only reason Ewan Campbell occupied even a sliver of her attention was due to his unfortunate status as her fiancé. Beyond that, he possessed not a single quality worthy of a second of her time.
“Princess Celicia, you seem weary from your journey. Perhaps you would like to rest inside? The banquet won’t officially begin for some time.”
Just as Celicia was mentally drafting an escape plan, Ewan offered the suggestion with an elegance that was, frankly, shocking.
She paused, her cool gaze involuntarily sweeping over his handsome, yet somehow altered, face once more.
Since when did this man learn basic consideration?
She vividly remembered him pestering her relentlessly at the academy, grating on her nerves to no end. She had come tonight fully prepared for another exhausting siege.
“Very well. Thank you for your trouble.”
Celicia gave a curt nod and, with a sense of relief, followed a maid Ewan had summoned to a specially prepared VIP suite.
“Hoooooly crap. She’s gone. That was legitimately terrifying.”
Watching Celicia’s retreating back, Ewan finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His own back was slick with nervous sweat. “As expected of the novel’s primary heroine. That aura is no joke.” Just standing near her was like being stranded on a glacier, a bone-deep chill seeping up from the floor.
If it’s this cold just standing next to her, I wonder if my family jewels would freeze and shatter if we ever had a… ‘deeper exchange,’ Ewan thought with a wicked grin. Ah, well. Not my problem anymore. I can look, but I can’t touch. I just hope my hands don’t start shaking when it’s time to spike her drink tonight.
As Ewan was lost in his lecherous-yet-cowardly reverie, a new commotion rippled through the crowd. A fresh wave of hushed, scandalized whispers swept through the hall.
“That illegitimate daughter actually dared to show her face…”
“Isn’t that the woman who dueled her own former fiancé?”
“I heard Count Bourgard just named her as his heir.”
“What! An illegitimate child, and a woman no less, inheriting a noble title? Is that even allowed?”
“Honestly, what could the Count be thinking?”
“Shh! The Count is right over there. Keep your voice down.”
The deliberately suppressed whispers sent Ewan’s internal alarms screaming. His palms began to sweat again, his heart hammering even harder than it had for the ice princess.
He knew, with a sinking feeling of dread, that only one person could cause such a stir.
His gaze snapped toward the new eye of the storm.
At an event where everyone glittered like a treasure chest, she wore a simple, almost plain dress. Her long black hair was unbound, cascading freely down her back. Though the air around her was thick with gossip, her eyes shone with an unshakeable confidence, and a smirk of pure disdain was etched on her lips. Her features weren’t as flawlessly, divinely perfect as Celicia’s, but she possessed a raw, captivating charm. Aside from a chest as flat as an ironing board, she was a genuine beauty.
But one should not be fooled by her simple appearance among the crowd of garish ladies.
Because she was…
“Ariel Bourgard.”
The true protagonist of the novel. The ultimate, overpowered Mary Sue who was only interested in women.
Just recently, she had publicly defeated her former fiancé in a duel—the very man who had humiliatingly broken off their engagement years ago. With that single act, she had leaped from a despised illegitimate daughter to the official heir of a count, metaphorically slapping the faces of countless family elders and leaving a trail of shattered monocles in her wake. From her origins to her personality, she was a textbook “protagonist” down to the last letter.
“Well, well, Lord Ewan. Fancy meeting you here. Been keeping well?”
A rebellious smirk playing on her lips, Ariel strolled right up to him. Though she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, they held none of the typical deference or fear. She didn’t even bother to curtsy, greeting him as if they were old drinking buddies.
Ewan knew, however, that their relationship was far from “good.” She spoke to him this way because she genuinely, truly did not give a single damn about his status as a duke’s son.
“You insolent whelp! How dare you address Lord Ewan with such—”
Right on cue, a sycophantic lackey materialized, ready to play his part in the grand theater of the protagonist’s triumph. A young nobleman at Ewan’s side, eager to curry favor, puffed out his chest to teach this upstart a lesson.
But Ewan simply put a firm hand on the man’s chest and shoved him back into the crowd. Was he joking? The last thing he needed was another idiot racking up his animosity score with the main character.
“I have been quite well, Lady Ariel Bourgard,” Ewan said, his charming smile still cranked up to a perfect ten as he executed an impeccable, textbook-perfect noble’s bow. “It is kind of you to ask.”
“Ah… you.”
Ariel stared at him as if he had just sprouted a second head. What in the seven hells? Since when did this arrogant bastard who insults me on sight learn basic manners?
And he didn’t call me a lowly mutt. He used my full name!
My. Full. Name!
His brain, which I was fairly certain is the size of a walnut, actually remembered my full name!
“Did he finally grow up… or is this some kind of elaborate trap?” Ariel stroked her pale chin, her eyes darting around cautiously, half-expecting him to smash a goblet on the floor as a signal for two hundred hidden assassins to leap out and chop her into fine mince.
Ewan, however, blissfully ignored her suspicious glare. His attention had already shifted to the rather inconspicuous young woman who had arrived with her.
Large. Very, very large.
Like a majestic, twin-peaked mountain range.
That was the first, and only, thought that blasted through Ewan’s mind. The girl was the dimensional opposite of Ariel. The fabric of her gown was stretched so taut across her chest that he couldn’t help but worry about catastrophic structural failure. It was so profoundly distracting that it took him a full second to even register her pure, lovely, and adorably cute face.
“Good evening, Lady Lilia,” Ewan said with his most gentle smile.
“Eh? Lord Ewan, how do you know my name?” the girl named Lilia asked, blinking her large, innocent eyes in surprise.
“Hehe, how could I possibly not know the name of one of tonight’s most honored guests?” Ewan’s etiquette remained flawless, leaving the girl slightly flustered.
Of course, his politeness had a purpose. It was all about her identity.
Lilia Angel. The protagonist’s childhood friend. On the surface, just the daughter of a minor baron. But in reality, she was a candidate for the position of Saintess of the Church of Life, currently undergoing a “mortal trial.” That was why she was hiding her status and tagging along with Ariel. And since she was a key member of the protagonist’s party, it was a forgone conclusion that she would become the actual Saintess—a position of power that would one day dwarf that of a simple duke’s son.
“Ewan Campbell. What do you think you’re playing at?” Ariel snapped, stepping protectively in front of Lilia. Her sharp, almond eyes narrowed. “I’m warning you. Don’t you dare get any funny ideas about Lilia!”
“How could I? I was simply saying hello.”
“And who in their right mind would believe that!”
“Well, if you refuse to believe me, there’s nothing more I can say.” Ewan shrugged helplessly, once again playing the part of the perfect, considerate host. “In that case, you two should head inside. It’s getting chilly out here, and it would be a terrible shame if two such beautiful ladies were to catch a cold.”
“You—”
Ariel’s eyes went wide. She stared at him, hard, for a long moment. Finally, she let out an involuntary shiver, grabbed Lilia’s hand, and stormed inside. “So phony,” she spat as she went, loud enough for him to hear. “It’s disgusting.”
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