The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent-Chapter 310

Even if they ever appeared again, it would be in side stories, one-off manga chapters, or maybe even an anime adaptation—but not as the characters I had played alongside for so long.

That thought wouldn’t leave me.

Eventually, though—

I got over it.

Because at the end of the day, it was just a game.

And feelings like that naturally fade with time.

Eventually, I could pick up the console without feeling that familiar pang of loss.

And then—

A new series began.

And I preordered every single one.

Because, after all—

Life isn’t a game.

No matter how much you love a story, you can’t spend your entire life clinging to it.

There were things I needed to do.

I had to work, to survive. I had to keep moving.

Even so—

Every now and then, when nostalgia hit, I could still take out that old console, long since discontinued.

Slide in the sun-faded game cartridge.

Wait for it to load.

And as I played through it from the very beginning, I would slowly remember—

Why I had loved it so much.

Why I had poured so many hours into it.

Why I had kept coming back to it.

And the memories would come flooding back.

I had no doubt that this series, too, would one day reach its final chapter.

Millennium Studios’ CEO had once mentioned wanting to end the saga properly before retiring.

That meant, at some point, there would be a definitive conclusion.

I didn’t know how others felt about it, but for me—

The day the final game released would feel like a festival.

No matter how much criticism the series got, no matter how many flaws people pointed out—

I would still wait for that last game.

And I would buy it the moment it came out.

Because what would it feel like to follow a series from its very beginning to its very end?

To chase after its story for over ten years, seeing it through to its final page?

I didn’t know.

But one thing was certain—

The emotions I would feel that day...

Would be far greater than anything I had experienced with the last series.

*

—Well, I suppose I won’t be seeing a “proper ending” anytime soon.

If the end of a person’s life is what truly marks the completion of their story, then where does the epilogue begin?

Where does the prologue end?

And at what point do we start calling it the main story?

Teenage years are too short to be the real thing.

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Half of that time is spent just figuring out who you are, and if we only call the remaining five years a person’s prime, then isn’t that too little?

If anything, these years feel more like a prologue than anything else.

But in that case—

What’s the main story?

Is it your twenties, when you’ve just barely figured out what you want to do?

That time goes by far too fast.

Most of the setups planted in that period don’t even pay off until much later.

Which means, realistically, it’s still too early to be the main story.

Your thirties?

By then, you’ve finally settled down, but you’re also too busy to cause any dramatic plot twists.

Honestly, a decade full of work stress and daily routines doesn’t make for a particularly exciting narrative.

And beyond that...

Well.

I wouldn’t know.

I never got to experience anything past that before ending up here.

From my perspective—

The main story has already ended.

The Emperor’s ambitions, the Goddess’s schemes, the Holy Nation’s delusions—

All of it has been dealt with.

And yet, here I am.

Still sixteen.

Even when tomorrow comes, I’ll still be sixteen.

(This world doesn’t count age the way my old one did.)

Honestly, calling this the epilogue feels unfair.

And if everything that happens after this is just some extended after-story, that feels even worse.

Especially when my room looks like an actual war zone after last night.

“...Adding alcohol to tea was a terrible idea...”

Alice groaned, her forehead planted against the table.

There was nothing remotely royal about her posture.

With her still youthful features, she could almost pass as an ordinary teenager—

But anyone looking at her now would assume she was a burnt-out office worker who drank too much at a company dinner and barely managed to drag herself to work the next morning.

They had promised not to give alcohol to us students—

But that had been easier said than done.

For one—

Charlotte was already immune to alcohol.

Belvur was the land of wine, after all. She had never seen drinking as something strange.

(Though she had only taken one sip of Jennifer’s cooking wine before refusing to drink any more.)

On the other hand—

She had thoroughly enjoyed the Eastern liquor brought by the Sword Saint.

Then there was Lena.

She didn’t like wine, she had said.

That meant, of course, that she had already tried other alcohols before.

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After all, the Empire wasn’t just inspired by England—

It had plenty of German influences, too.

There were regions where people practically worshipped beer.

And the Northern territories, including parts of the Empire, had adopted that culture completely.

Apparently, in some of the autonomous states, even children were allowed to drink beer.

Jake and Lottie had disappeared midway through the night.

I had heard they went to one of the guest rooms, but...

Well.

I hadn’t asked any more questions.

As long as they hadn’t crossed any lines, they could do whatever they wanted.

Jennifer, of course, had been drinking straight from the bottle from the very beginning.

The biggest surprise, however, had been Carolyn.

I had never imagined our homeroom teacher to be such a heavy drinker.

She wasn’t downing bottles like Jennifer, but she had been steadily pouring glass after glass for herself.

“Northwood is famous for its alcohol,” she had explained.

“More specifically,” Jennifer had added, “for its high-quality oak.”

Meaning—

Northwood was famous for aging rum in its premium oak barrels.

Jennifer’s crate of alcohol had emptied out in record time, only for an even finer rum to take its place.

Not just any rum—

An incredibly rare, high-grade liquor from the Imperial Palace.

I had no idea who had brought it in.

But considering the guest list, it was probably someone trying to match the drinks to the Crown Princess’s distinguished guests.

Even the Sword Saint, who had brought exotic Eastern liquor, had gone wide-eyed at the sight of it.

By that point, even Alice, who had been holding out, and I, who had at least some experience with drinking in my previous life, were getting... curious.

“...I don’t see why people drink alcohol...” Alice muttered weakly.

“Well,” I said, “you’re the one who got excited and started asking how to drink properly after a few glasses.”

Alice lifted her head just enough to glare at me.

“And you? How did you handle it?”

Thankfully—

I remembered everything up until Alice passed out.

Specifically, the moment when she had burst into tears in Mia’s arms.

“...I was relatively—”

“Oh! I took plenty of pictures, by the way!”

...What?

I turned toward the voice—

And there was Claire, holding her camera.

Attached to it was a large, spherical... light?

It looked like a lightbulb, but instead of a filament inside, I could see a small magic stone embedded within.

Apparently, it had been modified to produce a bright flash.

Considering that the glass had melted from overuse, I could only imagine how many pictures she had taken.

And I was definitely in some of them.

...Wait.

So when my vision had been flashing last night—

Was that because of Claire’s camera and not the alcohol?

“...If I ordered you as a princess to hand over that film, would you give it to me?”

Claire scoffed.

“Obviously not.”

And judging by how she was already preparing to run, she had no intention of getting caught.

“Leo,” I called, “grab her.”

“...I’m sorry, Sister.”

Claire smirked.

“I took a ton of your pictures too, Leo. And those? They’re already hidden somewhere safe.”

In other words—

Even if I took this film, it wouldn’t make a difference.

“One fight at a time, please,” Jennifer groaned.

She had just woken up, still sprawled across my bed.

“If you don’t get moving, you’re gonna be late. Cultural festival or not, you still have to attend today.”

“...Ah.”

Right.

Today wasn’t a holiday.

Normally, we should have been given the day off, but we still had plenty of make-up lessons left to attend.

“...Worst way to start the new year...” Alice mumbled into the table.

“...”

...Honestly?

After all that talk about epilogues and main stories—

I stopped caring.

Major events, dramatic conclusions—

They didn’t really matter.

Life would keep moving either way.

If today happened, then tomorrow would follow.

And we would just keep living like this.

Jumping from one event to the next.

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Every epilogue is just a prologue for something new.

“...You’re right, Professor.”

I chuckled to myself.

“Let’s get ready. We have things to do today.”

And as I stood up—

Claire grinned.

“Yeah, you might wanna really get ready, Sister. Your hair’s a mess—it looks like a lion’s mane.”

“...”