Stomp, Stomp-.
Five hours had passed since I declared my withdrawal, and as the sun dipped below the horizon in the late afternoon, I found myself strolling down the hallway, following Rendler.
My goal? Dinner. My destination? The Great Hall.
Ideally, I would have loved to have my meal in my room, but unfortunately, tonight’s dinner was not an ordinary occasion.
It was the inaugural meeting of the final candidates.
This dinner served as the opportunity for the finalists to scope out each other before the cohabitation with the Third Duchess that would start tomorrow.
Since this was an ‘official’ gathering, it was difficult to excuse myself for personal reasons.
After all, I was still a final candidate.
As I trailed behind Rendler, I couldn’t help but grumble, mixed with a deep sigh.
“Haah, can’t I just say I’m feeling unwell?”
I sounded like a whiny child, but the truth was, the idea of meeting the other candidates made me uneasy.
How could I possibly enjoy a meal surrounded by people I didn’t want to connect with?
“Why so? Are you uncomfortable dining with the other candidates, My Lord?”
“Well, something like that.”
“Haha. That’s odd.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you particularly close with the other candidates? I thought you’d be glad to see them since it’s been quite some time since you last met.”
……Tsk. It was precisely because of this ‘closeness’ that I was in this predicament in the first place. Pleading to someone who wouldn’t understand would only be a exercise in futility.
If I confessed, ‘Actually, I’m Lee Jun-Woo from South Korea, somehow possessing this body, and by the way, the world you live in? It’s a lousy romance fantasy novel,’ people would just assume I’d lost my mind after too much drinking.
“Well, I am somewhat pleased.”
“…Hmm.”
Suddenly, Rendler stopped and turned to look at me.
“What?”
“Come to think of it, it’s puzzling.”
“What is?”
“I’ve been serving you for 26 years, My Lord. But today, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not quite the same person I’ve always known.”
……This butler is sharper than I expected.
Perhaps he could comprehend the sheer absurdity of a modern-day person taking over his master’s body.
As long as he doesn’t faint from shock.
With a snort at my own ridiculous thoughts, I walked past Rendler.
“Hah! It seems your age is making you talk nonsense.”
Thankfully, I was aware of the deep bond shared between Rendler and Elden, as it was briefly mentioned toward the end of the free chapters.
He was like a father to Elden, and, at times, like a mother figure as well.
He was there offering advice during the emotional turmoil of Elden’s life.
Could that be why?
I found it difficult to meet his weary eyes directly.
‘……It feels like I snatched away his child.’
Though it wasn’t my fault that I possessed this body, I still couldn’t help but feel guilty.
To relieve this feeling, I had no choice but to faithfully perform the role of Elden Raphelion, the wayward son.
“Aren’t you coming?”
As I glanced back at him, Rendler hurried toward me with his usual gentle smile.
“On my way, My Lord.”
Before long, we stepped into the Great Hall.
‘Impressive.’
The Great Hall of the Grand Duke’s castle indeed had a magnificent, temple-like feel.
The floor was made of luxurious marble, with an indoor fountain so elaborate it was hard to believe, not to mention the massive chandeliers made of crystal.
This wasn’t merely a place for dining; it felt like a venue for grand events.
“There it is, My Lord. I’ll be over here, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“I need your help right now.”
“Speak, My Lord.”
“Sit over there for me.”
Snap-.
I snapped my fingers and pointed to a round table adorned with an elegant tablecloth.
Rendler stared at me in disbelief.
It was just a harmless joke, so I chuckled and gave his shoulder a friendly pat before moving on.
Ignoring the astonished look on his face that clearly screamed ‘Did My Lord… just smile?!’
At the center of the round table, illuminated by a sizable candelabra, sat the Idiot Trio.
Surrounding them were a middle-aged woman wearing sharp glasses and an elderly man who fit snugly into his tuxedo, both holding a document and a pen.
They were tasked with assessing the candidates, recording evaluations during the meetings with the Duchess.
Essentially, the final evaluations were starting now.
But honestly, that wasn’t really my concern.
“Looks like everyone arrived early.”
I greeted them as I sat down.
There was something oddly nostalgic about encountering the characters from a novel in person.
Deron Caelid, the highest-ranking candidate and the Duke’s son, received my greeting with visible annoyance.
“You’re late.”
Hmm. Hearing his deep voice was quite pleasant.
But his smug, fox-like face was a bit of a minus in my book.
And yet…
‘You guys arrived ten minutes early.’
Since I had no inclination to engage in a war of nerves with them, I merely smiled back.
To my left sat Deron, to my right was Kyle, the eldest son of a Count, and across from me sat Blund, the second son of a Marquis.
As expected of the male leads from this romance fantasy, their hair colors were like a vibrant garden in bloom.
Deron with his golden hair.
Kyle with his blue.
Blund with his red.
And me? Let’s not forget my ordinary black hair.
It’s often said that something tragic up close appears comical from a distance, and my current situation was no exception.
“Now that all candidates are present, let’s serve the meal.”
Despite the acquaintanceship, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was tense since evaluations were about to start.
It was probably due to everyone wishing to conceal their true intentions.
Unlike the preliminaries that focused on martial skills and intelligence, the final evaluations would delve into the candidates’ characters.
Naturally, given the direction the free chapters were heading, I strongly doubted that anyone here was the ‘winner.’
‘Though, it sure is uncomfortable.’
During the preliminaries, the candidates weren’t allowed to interact with each other. It was all meant to be individual assessments, and the martial arts test had been conducted with the Commander of the Grand Duke’s Knight Order, meaning we didn’t have the opportunity to meet back then.
Consequently, this would be the first time we faced each other since the contest began.
There was barely any interaction amongst us since graduation from the Academy.
Ah, the mood is suffocating.
While I played with my spoon absentmindedly, the servants began laying out the lavish meal, and soon the entire course was presented.
The stout middle-aged man in the tuxedo opened his document, signaling the start.
“Then, let’s begin the meal.”
As stated, from this moment on, every action was being scrutinized.
Even the way the candidates held their spoons would be examined.
Well then…
‘This dish looks absolutely delicious.’
The fact that I was being graded didn’t bother me.
Chomp-.
I picked the biggest rib I could find and took a substantial bite.
Ribs were meant to be savored like this.
As soon as I sank my teeth into it, the pens of the two evaluators began moving furiously.
And when I praised the chef while still clutching the rib, their writing sped up even more.
“Wow! This is fucking delicious!”
Swoosh, swish, swish-.
‘Ah-. I wish I could eat like this every day.’
Maybe this competition… wasn’t so bad after all?
With that carefree notion in mind, I lifted my glass, and one of the servants promptly refilled it with wine.
Gulp, Gulp-. After taking a generous sip, I savored the wine in my mouth.
Gargle-.
‘As I thought, nothing beats soju as a palate cleanser.’
I would love to call out, “Ahjumma, a bottle of soju here, please,” while raising my finger, but alas, such a heavenly elixir like soju didn’t exist in this medieval setting.
So, I had to make do with the wine for cleansing my palate, all while taking a handkerchief from my coat pocket to wipe my lips.
Rustle-.
Of course, I couldn’t forget to shake out the handkerchief. It felt important to dry it out as if I was multitasking laundry.
Meanwhile, the evaluators’ pens continued to move vigorously.
‘You guys are working hard.’
Sending a mental salute to those enduring such strenuous work, I continued to eat when Deron Caelid, who’d been sternly cutting his steak, finally looked up and scoffed at me.
“You must be starving, judging by your relentless gluttony. It almost seems as if you’re not even taking a breath.”
“Hahaha-. Indeed, Lord Deron, the way Lord Elden devoured his food is making me a bit hungry too.”
Duke, Marquis, and then Count.
Even though rank was set aside during the evaluations, the social hierarchy stayed in place.
Kyle Beallon, who stood at the bottom alongside Elden Raphelion, quickly chimed in to join Deron’s jabs. Before long, Blund Rosfell, the second son of a Marquis, hopped on the bandwagon too.
After all, Elden’s family was declining, and during our Academy days, he had been their lackey, the perfect target for the trio to shove their menial tasks onto.
“As I recall, you didn’t show such appetite back at the Academy, Elden. Have you always eaten so enthusiastically? Perhaps I simply misremembered, hahaha-.”
The Idiot Trio, true to their noble arrogance, began their verbal assaults on the weakest member.
Such mean-spirited mockery served more as a scoring factor than a flaw.
That’s just how this aristocratic society rolled.
But honestly, I felt pity for these fools.
After all, a verbal beatdown only worked if the victim cared about their image.
Sadly for them, I cared not for my reputation, nor did I have any interest in this contest, so their provocations were akin to a letter to an illiterate person.
Utterly ineffective.
But what else could they do? It was how they’d lived their entire lives, after all.
Instead of responding, I chose silence. Meanwhile, Kyle wiped his mouth with a napkin, trying to gather their little group together.
“By the way, Lord Deron, Lord Blund, isn’t it curious?”
“What’s that?”
“That out of 100 participants, the four of us ended up as the final candidates?”
“Indeed, it is amusing.”
As Blund finished, he shot a glance at Deron.
His eyes sparkled with false charm.
He must’ve been plotting to snag some favor from Deron, betting on him for the victory.
“To think that we, classmates from the Royal Academy, along with the esteemed Lord Deron of Caelid Duchy, are the finalists… This might stir up some unnecessary rumors, hahaha-.”
Deron simply smiled at the painfully obvious attempt to win his favor while taking a bite of his steak.
At this point, I felt the need to enlighten these idiots that they didn’t need to overexert themselves trying to go against me.
Whether it meant my survival…
Whether my withdrawal was rejected…
I had no desire to engage in their petty squabbles.
So, it would be more convenient for all involved if I simply set the record straight.
With that in mind, I addressed Blund.
“Excuse me, Lord Blund? I feel compelled to correct your statement.”
“……What? Correct my statement?”
“Shouldn’t it be more accurate to say that the three of you have become the finalists?”
The Idiot Trio’s gazes snapped toward me, struggling to comprehend what I meant.
If anyone wished to pry into the reasoning behind my refusal, I’d gladly elaborate.
It was the duty of a wise person who knew how the story would unfold.
And since the Idiot Trio hadn’t wronged me, I continued with a sly grin.
“In fact, this morning, I formally withdrew from the final candidacy.”
Swoosh, swift swoosh!
The pens of the evaluators began moving at a pace that seemed almost humanly impossible.
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