“…It really was a festival, this Engagement War.”
Always spending my days in the silence of the library, I hadn’t realized that the Engagement War was the greatest festival in the Northern Command.
Other than the white noise needed for reading, my ears had been closed off to anything else.
It was only after I broadened my focus from my books and opened my ears that I truly felt the fervor of the Engagement War. And Ariel found herself amidst that fervor.
“People everywhere.”
She was now amidst the crowds at the northern plaza of the Grand Duchy Castle, where the carriages of the final candidates who had completed the second evaluation round were arriving.
Servants with a day off or those who had managed to take a break had gathered, creating a sea of people.
They had gathered to see their favorite final candidates, and Ariel found herself among them, although it was odd for her, who should have been deep in study at the library.
It was as if she had lost her memory for a moment, so unexpected was her presence here.
It felt like she was a leaf caught in the rapids, swept to the northern plaza, yet unsure what she was to do here.
“Deron Kellid’s blond hair shines brighter than a ripe wheat field!”
“Pfft, so what? Prince Blund is the most handsome!”
“Squeal- To see him from this close, I’ve been counting the days!”
“Prince Kail’s dark eyes are so deep, you could get lost in them!”
Among the crowd, about 90% were female servants, naturally filled with idol-like worship and admiration for their favorites.
This was not an unfamiliar scene for Ariel, who mingled easily with the maids at her lodging, who were also fervently supportive of their chosen candidates.
Regrettably, none of them were talking about…
“…Elden.”
She understood why.
Even the maids at her lodging never mentioned Elden. Unlike other candidates who either had a good reputation or were simply dry personalities, Elden’s reputation was so poor it was subterranean.
Ariel also knew of Elden’s nicknames like [Scoundrel, Drunkard, Brawler].
When Elden introduced himself in the freshman class, his classmates whispered about him.
“That’s him, that guy. The infamous Count’s son from Trimerion.”
“No, he’s not just infamous; he’s a complete scoundrel.”
“No, no. He’s a madman.”
At that time, she just thought,
“So it is.”
Assuming she’d have nothing to do with someone so different.
She thought,
“He looks genuinely frightening.”
And dismissed it from her mind.
As expected, she hardly interacted with him during their school years.
She graduated from the academy without any significant connection to Elden, and his existence faded from her memory.
Not just Elden, but all stories from her academy days became blurry.
If she hadn’t bumped into Elden in the library, his being unmentioned would have seemed natural.
Because it was natural for him to be disparaged.
The problem was, years later she unexpectedly reunited with him, and the current Elden was nothing like the notorious figure he had once been.
Although she had not seen him for more than a few days, he had distanced himself from the drinking and brawling that were once his trademarks, and was collaborating with a commoner knight named Rachel.
Moreover, he now preferred reading and contemplation over pleasures and instincts, meticulously planning for the future rather than indulging in the present.
“You guys haven’t seen the Elden of now.”
Of course, before reuniting with Elden, she had shared the same attitude whenever there was a heated debate about whether the third Grand Duchess had peculiar tastes or had mistaken another candidate for him.
“What do I care.”
It was more useful for her to read another line of a book than to concern herself with someone else’s potential husband.
It was more beneficial for her to invest her energy and time in preparing for reading than wasting it on pointless matters.
However, now she felt slightly irritated by those disregarding Elden.
She thought it was truly despicable and funny.
How could she feel this petty irritation about someone she hadn’t been close to, just after a few days?
She was just a reading companion who shared pure literature with him.
Regardless.
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Well.
Since she was here, she might as well see Elden’s face before heading back.
But then,
“Wasn’t Prince Kail leading since he had the highest score in the second evaluation?”
Official information had not been transmitted, so there were varied opinions about the winner, but there was absolutely no news of Elden’s victory.
Erincia had said,
“If Prince Elden decides to, he will surely win.”
The second evaluation was said to test physical strength, and Ariel thought that if that was the case, it was the perfect exam for Elden.
It was a belief rooted in reason.
“Elden has always been first, hasn’t he?”
[Physical Education]
In courses testing physical capabilities, Elden had always scored overwhelmingly at the top. His reflexes, strength, and endurance were superior compared to his ‘classmates’, making it unlikely for any of them to match him.
That’s why Ariel was genuinely skeptical.
“Could Elden have actually won?”
While rumors of Prince Kail’s victory were most prevalent, mentions of Deron and Blund were also common, so she couldn’t discount the possibility of Elden’s success.
Perhaps, a part of her hastened here to verify that eager thought.
Just then, the atmosphere in the venue surged with noise.
A carriage had entered through the north gate into the Grand Duchy.
It was headed toward the plaza where the statue of Roctad, the Winter King and the founder of the Winterfell Grand Duchy, stood.
As the crowd rapidly clustered around the area, Ariel, swept along by the throng, moved toward the plaza too.
“Ugh.”
A small cry escaped her as she was jostled.
“Could it be Prince Deron?”
“No, it must be Prince Kail! The victor always leads the procession!”
“Don’t be silly—can’t you see that noble profile through the curtain? It’s definitely Prince Blund!”
Amid the giggles and guesses of the crowd about who was in the carriage, Ariel, now squeezed among the bystanders, hoped whoever it was would just appear soon. She felt like she was being turned into tortilla dough under the pressure of the crowd.
Click.
The carriage door opened, and the coachman reached for the handle.
All eyes were riveted on the unfolding scene.
Soon, the door swung open, and an awkward silence engulfed the area.
It was broken by a figure with jet-black hair, red eyes, and an indifferent expression munching on a piece of fruit.
And then,
“Elden—!”
In the midst of the silence, a lone woman’s shout echoed through the air.
“Medieval times are fine and all, but…”
The transportation was terribly inconvenient.
While the ride was bearable with plush cushions that absorbed most of the jolts, the journey made by the strength of three horses felt endlessly long and utterly dull.
Yet, one must adapt.
Compared to a national marathon or a culinary journey, this was minor.
Creak.
Fortunately, just before Rachel could make a teasing (?) proposition, the carriage stopped at the northern plaza of the Grand Duchy.
The area seemed bustling, but with the curtains drawn, the outside was invisible.
“We’ve arrived, Your Highness.”
“Thank you for your efforts.”
Shortly after, Elden peeked out as the coachman opened the door, and he saw what the fuss was all about.
The northern plaza was crowded with numerous women.
“Fans, perhaps.”
Naturally, no one would be eagerly waiting for a notorious prince like him.
It would be the fans of the following trio of heartthrobs, fittingly handsome for the heroes of a romantic fantasy.
Thus, he nonchalantly began to step down from the carriage when.
“Elden—!”
He heard someone calling his name.
Oh, did he have a fan after all!
Thinking quickly, he looked toward the source of the voice and saw a woman caught among the crowd, being pressed from all sides.
Ariel, with her golden bun hair and delicate frame, who should have been at the library, had somehow ended up here among the servants of the Grand Duchy.
Waving awkwardly at him, he waved back, and Ariel, who had been flattened by the crowd, began to make her way out.
“Just a moment.”
He and Rachel stepped down from the carriage and waited, and soon he was face-to-face with Ariel.
As other carriages arrived and attention dispersed, it was clear no one else had been waiting for him.
Except our dear Miss Bun-Hair.
“What brings you here?”
“Oh, how did the second evaluation go? Did you win?”
It seemed she had spared her precious time, possibly to confirm the morning’s ordeal.
With a sudden playful spirit, he smiled and responded.
“Thanks to someone cheering so hard, I won.”
He expected her to be delighted.
She had always seemed so cheerful when supporting him.
If she was happy, he planned to tease her by saying he actually lost.
A small revenge for the clear curse, so to speak.
But oddly, Ariel’s face took on a strange expression.
Her lips parted awkwardly, not quite smiling, her eyes trembling slightly.
An unusual response.
“…?”
“Did you… really win?”
The joke seemed to falter in face of her serious reaction.
He had to backpedal alone.
“Just kidding. I actually lost. Officially, Kail won.”
“What?”
At that adjustment, her suppressed spirits seemed to blossom again.
Her awkwardly parted lips now curved beautifully.
Her trembling eyes suddenly sparkled with relief.
The response was the opposite of what he had anticipated.
Ariel was unpredictable today.
Then, cautiously, she asked.
“…You lost? Really?”
“I never really wanted to win in the first place.”
His indifferent reply surprised Ariel.
“!”
He looked puzzled.
“?”
Then, Ariel fidgeted and asked.
“So, um… will you be at the library tomorrow morning?”
Regardless of any turmoil, he had no intention to alter his routine of rest and healing.
Even amidst storms, a deeply rooted tree does not sway.
As always, he planned to fulfill his duty through reading and training.
That was the life Lee Jun-woo wanted.
Nodding, he confirmed.
“Of course.”
Ariel beamed a bright smile and waved goodbye as she moved away.
“Alright then! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Uh.
Well.
Yes.
See you tomorrow.
Well well wll