Chapter 9: Step onto the Battlefield, Young Man!

“She dislikes me for that?”

Ewan scratched his head, completely and utterly baffled. He was certain he had projected the most sincere, Grade-A, premium-quality goodwill. His every word and action had been flawless, with zero possibility of causing offense.

But Ariel, being the protagonist, was apparently on a different wavelength entirely.

“Sigh. I guess the chasm between me and the main character really is unbridgeable,” he muttered, before resolutely shaking the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter. After tonight, their destinies would become two separate, non-intersecting parallel lines, forever veering away from each other.

“From this day forward, you go off and save the world, and I’ll go off and become a happy little wage s*ave. We both have bright futures ahead of us!”

After giving Ariel’s retreating back a motivational fist pump, Ewan forced his attention back to the present. He still had a legion of nobles to greet.

…

“Princess Celicia…”

“The protagonist, Ariel…”

“And the future Saintess of the Church of Life, Lilia…”

“That should be everyone on my ‘danger-watch’ list for the night.”

As the grand lanterns were lit, casting a warm, golden glow over the estate, Ewan finally watched the last distinguished guest on the list step into the hall. His two-hour shift as a glorified, twenty-kilogram doorman was finally over.

“Hooo, I’m beat.”

Ewan groaned, rubbing his weary lower back. If it weren’t for the fact that his body’s original owner had at least a baseline of magical stamina, he was fairly certain the suit would have claimed him as its first victim.

“You’ve worked hard.”

His supposed father, the magnificent lion of a Duke, materialized at his side, holding a small platter of delicate pastries. “Hungry?”

“A little, yeah,” Ewan admitted, gratefully snatching a pastry and devouring it in two bites, momentarily forgetting the rigid rules of noble etiquette.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Have you memorized all the lords and ladies?”

“You must be joking,” Ewan laughed bitterly. “I exhausted all my mental energy just figuring out who was who.”

“Haha, no need to rush. It will come with time,” Duke Campbell said, his voice thick with a fatherly pride that made Ewan feel a pang of guilt. “You’ve already done far better than I ever expected.”

“Ha. Thanks,” Ewan replied with a sheepish smile. “Just doing my part.”

“Well, you can relax now. Your part of the battle is over.” The Duke clapped a heavy hand on Ewan’s shoulder. “Rest for a moment before you head in.”

With that, the lion of the empire, still very much in his prime, straightened his back to its full, imposing height and marched into the grand hall like a general striding onto the battlefield.

Ewan watched his father’s powerful silhouette, a lump forming in his throat. “He really is a good father.”

In truth, as the guest of honor, Ewan wasn’t required to stand at the door at all. His father had arranged it specifically as a shield. He knew that inside, Ewan would be “besieged” by a pack of hyena-like nobles, all trying to tear a piece of flesh from his mouth, or even his own body. But the ceremony was meant to showcase him. He would have no choice but to face their onslaught. So, the Duke had him greet the hyenas here first. By “paying respects” to them at the door, they would have no excuse to bypass the old lion and attack the not-yet-fully-grown “cub.” Even though it was his coming-of-age, in his father’s eyes, Ewan was still a long way from being a man.

“It’s a shame. Tonight, I am going to fail you.”

The novel never detailed the Duke’s final fate. But Ewan knew. Seeing his beloved son become a broken outcast, with him powerless to help, would surely have shattered his heart.

But this time, it’ll be different.

I’m going to live, and live well.

Even if it’s as an ordinary man.

He swallowed the last pastry. The satisfying fullness in his stomach restored some of his flagging spirit. The twenty-kilogram suit even felt a little less like a suit of armor.

“And now,” he murmured, squaring his shoulders, “it’s time for my battle.”

…

As the night deepened, the banquet hall was a whirlwind of clinking glasses and lively chatter.

Celicia, however, stood alone on a quiet balcony, gazing at the estate’s night view. In an age without electricity, the “view” was little more than an expanse of darkness, but she stared into it without a hint of boredom. To her, it seemed, the pure, silent void of the night was infinitely more beautiful than the noisy, glittering affair behind her.

“To leave such an esteemed princess unattended… it appears I have been a most discourteous host.”

Celicia lifted her cool gaze and found herself caught in a pair of warm, smiling eyes.

Ewan Campbell, exuding a flawless, gentlemanly charm, stood at a distance that was neither offensively close nor pointedly distant. He placed a hand over his heart and offered an elegant bow. “My dear, beautiful princess, might I be so bold as to have the honor of this dance?”

“You are asking me to dance?”

“Of course.” His smile was unwavering. “Was my invitation unclear?”

“…” A shadow of doubt flickered in Celicia’s eyes.

After a silent moment that stretched for an eternity, she placed her small, white-gloved hand into Ewan’s waiting palm. “Tonight is your ceremony. It would be improper for me to refuse.”

“…My thanks.”

For a split second, Ewan’s expression tightened, but he smoothed it over instantly, leading her to the very center of the ballroom, into the focal point of every single gaze in the room.

The orchestra began to play, a gentle, flowing waltz that filled the air.

Ewan took Celicia’s small hand in his, his other resting lightly on her slender waist. They moved as one with the music, like two butterflies gliding on a summer breeze.

“Your footwork is impressive,” she commented, her voice even.

“You praise me too highly. It is merely passable,” Ewan replied with the humble smile of a seasoned master.

In reality… he was screaming internally. He had no idea the original good-for-nothing Ewan was actually a decent dancer. He’d suffered a minor heart attack when Celicia had first accepted, certain he was about to make a fool of himself.

What truly puzzled him, however, was that in the original novel, Celicia had flatly refused his invitation. Why had she said yes this time?

“You really have changed, Ewan Campbell,” Celicia said suddenly, her voice quiet amidst the music.

Ewan’s heart slammed against his ribs. She knows. She figured it out. The one secret my own parents couldn’t see, she saw right through me.

“In Your Highness’s eyes,” he asked, his voice steady despite his panic, “do my actions no longer befit a nobleman?”

“No,” she replied, her gaze piercing. “That is not the change I speak of.”

“Then…”

“It was the way you asked.”