༺ Declaration ༻
Thud, thud.
Five hours had passed since I declared my forfeiture, and it was late afternoon, nearing sunset, as I followed Rendler down the corridor.
The purpose was dinner, and the destination was the Great Hall.
I would have preferred to have my meal brought to my room, but unfortunately, the dinner before the cohabitation wasn’t a regular occasion.
It was the first gathering of the final candidates.
Before entering cohabitation with the Third Northern Duchess tomorrow, it was a chance for the final candidates to familiarize themselves with each other.
Being an ‘official’ event, it was hard to excuse myself for personal reasons.
After all, I was still ‘officially’ a final candidate.
I grumbled as I followed Rendler, sighing deeply.
“Why can’t I just say I’m feeling ill?”
It sounded like the whining of a petulant boy, but that’s how uncomfortable I was with meeting the other final candidates.
Sitting cozily with those I wished to avoid, how could I possibly swallow a single bite?
“Why so? Is dining with the other candidates uncomfortable for you?”
“Something like that.”
“Heh, that’s strange.”
“What is?”
“You have a unique connection with the other candidates, do you not? I thought you’d be glad for the reunion. It’s been quite some time.”
Tch, it’s precisely because of that ‘unique connection’ that I’m in this situation. Complaining to someone who couldn’t understand my inner thoughts would only tire my mouth.
If I said, “I’m a man from South Korea, this is a world inside a novel, and I’m possessed by the person you’re serving,” I’d likely be dismissed as having finally lost my mind after too much drinking.
“Glad?”
“…Hmm.”
Suddenly, Rendler stopped and turned to look at me.
“Why?”
“It’s truly odd, sir.”
“What is?”
“I’ve been serving you for nearly 26 years, but today, of all days, I feel as if I’m serving a completely different person.”
Clearly, the old butler was sharp.
Maybe he could understand the secret of a modern person possessing his master’s body.
As long as he didn’t collapse from shock.
I snorted as if to dismiss his seemingly absurd statement and walked past Rendler.
“Hmph, seems our old butler knows how to talk nonsense, too.”
I was aware of the deep bond between Rendler and Elden Rapellion from the free chapters and brief past arc near the end.
A presence like a father, sometimes like a mother.
He was by Elden’s side, offering advice during the tearful selections.
Perhaps that’s why.
I hesitated to look directly into his aged eyes.
‘…As if I’ve stolen his child.’
It wasn’t my fault for being forcefully possessed, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt.
To alleviate that, I’d have to faithfully carry out the project of reforming the scoundrel, Elden Rapellion.
“Aren’t you coming?”
I glanced back and spoke, and Rendler approached with his usual gentle smile, hastening his steps.
“Hehe. Coming, my lord.”
Soon, we were able to enter the Great Hall.
**
‘Impressive.’
The Great Hall of the Northern Duke’s castle was indeed majestic, resembling a grand temple.
The floor was made of exquisite marble, and there was a fountain in the center that you wouldn’t believe was indoors, along with giant chandeliers made of crystal.
It was a space meant for grand events, not just for dining.
“Here we are, my lord. I will be over here if you need assistance.”
“I need your help now.”
“Speak, sir.”
“Sit there for me.”
Pointing to a well-set round table covered with a fancy tablecloth, Rendler looked at me, perplexed.
Dismissing it as a silly joke, I patted Rendler’s shoulder as he chuckled and walked past him, leaving him behind with a look of disbelief.
‘The lord… laughed…?!’
As I moved away from Rendler’s gaze, I approached the round table where the three regrettable characters were sitting, illuminated by a large candle in the center.
Around them stood a middle-aged woman with sharp-pointed glasses and an elderly man who suited a tuxedo well, each holding a document and a pen.
They were there to record individual evaluations following the candidates’ general meeting and the duchess’s gathering.
Essentially, the final evaluations were starting now.
Well, it’s none of my business.
“Good evening.”
I greeted simply and took my seat.
It was strangely pleasing to meet these regrettable characters from the novel in person.
Deron Kelid, the highest-ranking among the regrettable characters as the second son of a duke, received my greeting with visible displeasure.
“You’re late.”
Hearing his voice in person, it was a deep, resonant baritone, quite charismatic for such a character.
Unfortunately, his looks did little to complement that charm.
‘You guys arrived 10 minutes early.’
Not wanting to engage in a verbal spar with them, I simply smiled in response.
To my left was Deron, to my right was Kyle, the eldest son of a count, and opposite me sat Blund, the second son of a marquis.
True to the potential love interests of a novel, their hair colors varied, creating a veritable garden of men.
Blonde Deron.
Blue-haired Kyle.
Red-haired Blund.
And me, with black hair.
Isn’t it said, “Up close, it’s a tragedy, but from afar, it’s a comedy”? It seemed quite entertaining.
“Let’s have the meal brought in.”
Although there was some camaraderie, the atmosphere was cautious since this was a formal evaluation period.
Everyone was likely trying to hide their cunning intentions.
Unlike the preliminary and main selections, which tested martial and scholarly skills, the final evaluation focused on personal character.
Of course, based on the flow up to the free chapters, it seemed unlikely any of the four would emerge victorious.
‘It’s quite awkward.’
During the selection phases, candidates had no interaction. The individual assessments and martial tests were conducted with the duke’s knights, so there was no opportunity to meet.
This was the first face-to-face meeting since the competition began, and there had been no interaction since graduating from the academy.
Not a fan of awkwardness, I idly played with my spoon while waiting, and soon, the luxurious table was set, and all dishes were served.
The well-suited middle-aged man opened his documents and signaled the start.
“As mentioned, everything from now on is for evaluation.”
Even a simple meal was subject to scrutiny, and the candidates adjusted their posture accordingly.
Well.
‘It looks delicious.’
Not concerned with the proceedings, I grabbed what looked to be the most delicious rib and took a big bite.
Ribs, after all, are best when torn apart.
Immediately, the evaluators’ pens moved quickly.
And when I uttered sincere praise for the chef, their pen movements sped up even more.
“Wow, this is really good.”
Shh, shh, shh!
**
‘Eating like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.’
Final evaluation… might not be too bad after all?
With that silly thought, I reached for my wine glass, and one of the waiting pages poured wine for me.
Gulping down a sip of wine, I swirled it around my mouth.
As if gargling.
‘Ah, nothing beats soju for a palate cleanser.’
I wished I could signal for soju with a raised index finger, but such distilled liquor wouldn’t exist in this medieval era.
Settling for wine to cleanse my palate, I unfolded the napkin tucked into my pocket and wiped my lips.
Shake, shake.
Of course, I didn’t forget to shake the napkin as if shaking out laundry.
As I did, the evaluators’ pens continued their ceaseless dance.
‘You’re working hard.’
I silently sent my regards to those making an unnecessary effort, wrapping up my meal. Deron, who had been rigidly cutting his steak, snorted and commented.
“You seem to have developed quite the appetite, not even pausing to breathe between bites.”
“Ha-ha. Indeed, Lord Deron. Lord Elden ate so deliciously, it made me salivate.”
Duke, marquis, count.
Though they had stripped off their ranks for the final evaluation, the pre-established social dynamics among those who had previous interactions were inevitable.
Being alongside Elden Rapellion at the bottom of this social order, it was natural for Kyle to join in Deron’s mockery, and for Marquis’s son Blund to follow suit.
Elden was the only one from a declining noble family and had been the errand boy during their academy days.
“From what I recall, Lord Elden wasn’t particularly fond of food during our academy days. Seems my memory was distorted. Elden, were you always such a hearty eater? Ha-ha-ha.”
The three regrettable characters, true to their noble birth, pressed down on their counterpart with cunning rhetoric.
Such verbal skills were more likely to earn points than deductions in noble society.
But, sorry to say.
Collective bullying only works if the target is seriously participating in the contest.
I, who had neither interest nor investment in this contest, found their taunts to be nothing more than chirping to the blind.
They lived as they had been; what could I do about it?
Choosing silence over response, Kyle wiped his mouth with a napkin, then rounded on the group.
“Anyway, isn’t it fascinating, Lord Deron, Lord Blund? Out of so many participants, to think that we four, classmates from the Royal Academy, became the final candidates.”
“Indeed.”
Blund looked at Deron, eyes full of flattery.
Hoping for crumbs from the table if the most likely victor, Deron, won.
“It’s quite remarkable. Four classmates from the Royal Academy standing side by side as final candidates. This will certainly stir rumors. Ha-ha.”
Satisfied by the blatant sycophancy, Deron merely nodded with a content smile after taking a bite of his steak.
It was about time to let them know that exerting unnecessary energy here was futile.
Whether I forfeited or was disqualified, I had no intention of getting involved in this petty squabble.
It was best for all parties if boundaries were drawn now.
I addressed Blund.
“Um, Lord Blund? Sorry to correct you, but I think it’s more accurate to say ‘three classmates became final candidates.'”
“…What? Correct?”
Their curiosity piqued by my intriguing statement, all three turned their gazes to me.
If anyone wished to know the details or even the reason behind my forfeiture, I would gladly explain.
It was the least I could do as a possessor who had attempted to escape, knowing the ins and outs.
And since the three regrettable characters hadn’t wronged me,
I smiled wryly and calmly continued.
“Actually, this morning, I declared my forfeiture as a final candidate.”
Shh, shh, shh!
The pens of the evaluators moved even faster.
