* * *
Just as Eren was about to flee the hall, the Emperor’s voice rang out from across the room—loud and echoing off the walls.
“Count Eren Nependes! There you are!”
Every noble turned to look at him. Feeling the weight of their stares, Eren managed an awkward smile.
“Ha…ha…”
“Please, for the love of everything, shut up, Your Majesty.”
Dragged into the spotlight in front of everyone, Eren reluctantly made his way toward the center of the hall.
The envious stares directed his way nearly drove him mad.
‘If you’re so jealous, you can have him,’ he screamed internally, keeping a polite smile on the outside.
“You called for me, Your Majesty?”
“Hahaha! Why so formal between us?”
“Between us? What between us?”*
Pretending to be close, the Emperor’s words made Eren squint.
Had he been alone, he might’ve responded with exactly what he was thinking.
Swallowing his irritation, he gave no reply—just a smile that said, ‘Please stop talking to me.’
But the Emperor, possibly having downed all his social awareness with his drink, didn’t take the hint.
“…They’re going to show up any minute now.”
And just like that, the banquet hall doors opened.
The people everyone had been waiting for finally arrived. Everyone except Eren, that is.
Quickly scanning the room, Eren’s eyes lit up when he spotted Ashard near the Emperor.
He made a beeline for him.
“Please, Your Grace—just hide me for a minute.”
Melody tilted her head curiously as she watched Eren slip behind Ashard’s back.
“Is something the matter, Count?”
She sounded genuinely curious, but he had no excuse to offer.
“They’re going to devour me one by one, and today is the first day,”—there was no way he could say that.
Eren wore a troubled expression.
With the arrival of the three men, the banquet hall erupted in noise.
And no wonder—they looked every bit the part of main characters, with faces as dazzling as their reputations.
To make matters worse, judging by the whispers flying around, word had already spread that all three of them were unmarried.
As they entered, the three men looked around as if searching for someone.
Though they were obscured from view by Ashard, Carlyle instinctively knew Eren would be with him and headed in their direction.
*“Damn it, I’m seriously going to lose it.”
“Y-Your Grace. You haven’t forgotten our agreement, have you?”
“…I remember.”
Ashard’s low mutter wasn’t directed at Eren but at the three men.
His gaze was unreadable—whether it was suspicion or caution, it was hard to tell.
But Eren couldn’t see that.
“Wow… They’re honestly breathtaking…”
“Are all people from Epentel this handsome?”
“They may look decent, but they’re still from Epentel. What was His Majesty thinking, letting them keep their titles?”
‘Exactly! My thoughts exactly!! Wouldn’t it have been better to just strip them of their ranks and make them commoners?’
Eren knew it was a ridiculous thought, but he couldn’t help agreeing with the young lord’s complaint.
The more prestigious nobles there were, the more diluted the influence of traditional noble families—naturally a problem for the old guard.
But from the Emperor’s perspective, it was the opposite.
Those three weren’t just from Epentel—they were famous swordsmen known across the entire continent.
In Epentel, a land with little war, they’d always been at the front lines.
For an emperor obsessed with gathering talent, their arrival was like an unexpected gift.
But that wasn’t the issue right now…
The real problem was that those men kept moving closer to him.
Trying to escape, Eren subtly slipped into the crowd of young nobles behind him.
“They’re all single, so why don’t you go say hello? All three like people who take initiative.”
A lie. As if he knew who they liked.
But the gullible young nobles bought it, their eyes lighting up.
Somehow, bravery bloomed when shared—locking eyes, they gathered in a group and swarmed toward the trio.
Trapped in the sudden crowd, Carlyle and Julius looked momentarily caught off guard, and a smile crept across Eren’s lips.
“Time to make my escape.”
But there’s always a wildcard.
The two nobles, bound by etiquette, allowed themselves to be stopped out of courtesy.
But there was one exception.
Helid—common-born and never one to care about decorum even back in Epentel—brushed everyone aside and walked straight toward Eren.
‘I can’t deal with this.’
“Found you. Hiding back here like a rat?”
“…Watch your mouth.”
“What, can’t even speak freely now? If you want me to shut up, then shut me up—with your lips. Maybe then I’ll consider it.”
Luckily or unluckily, nearly everyone had flocked to Carlyle and Julius, leaving this side of the hall nearly empty.
Only Eren, Ashard, and Melody remained nearby.
Melody’s face twisted in shock—clearly she’d never heard such filthy words.
Eren had long known what kind of man Helid was, but for a noblewoman raised with such refinement, it was unthinkable.
Eren glanced at her briefly.
But Helid was just getting started.
“Or, if not your lips, maybe you could use that other—mmph?!”
“Why don’t you shut your mouth with this, General Helid Yulta.”
The voice belonged to Melody.
The fact that she used crude language was surprising enough—but what she did next shocked them all.
She shoved the thin stem of an empty wine glass into Helid’s mouth.
Like giving a dog a bone.
Ashard looked on at Melody with a satisfied expression, seemingly pleased with her bold move.
Eren, worried that Helid might retaliate with something vile, tried to intervene—but Ashard stopped him instead.
“Your Grace, you don’t know what kind of man he is…!”
“Just as you don’t know what kind of woman Melody is.”
Gesturing at her with a nod, Ashard grinned as if to say, watch and learn.
Far from stopping the situation, he was encouraging it.
Just as Eren was about to step forward in protest, a sharp sound rang out.
CRASH—!
The wine glass that Melody had jammed into Helid’s mouth shattered as it hit the floor.
A sliver of glass nicked her foot, and a small cut appeared on the top of her foot, a trickle of blood escaping.
Melody stared down at it without even blinking.
“And why, may I ask, is a noble brat like you interfering?”
Helid scoffed, coldly implying the fault wasn’t his.
But then, his smirk vanished.
When Helid made that face, it meant something serious—regardless of noble rank.
In Epentel, no one dared provoke him.
He was the one person even the now-dead emperor of Epentel never restrained, no matter what he did.
Something about letting the hunting dog follow its instincts.
The people of Trovien hadn’t yet learned just what kind of man Helid was—but given time, no one would dare challenge him.
At least, that’s what Eren had believed.
* * *
