“Muen Campbell, don’t die in there.”

Veil’s voice came from outside the door, laced with half pity, half encouragement—yet nine-tenths gloating amusement. It instantly made Muen start doubting the reality of this world.

Getting drunk off a single chocolate liqueur was already absurd enough. What was even more absurd was how this mess had somehow escalated into a threat against the peace of the city and the survival of civilization.

...Well. That actually did sound possible.

Muen stole a glance at the ice-crystal longsword that had so casually pierced the warding formation beside him. His poor little heart couldn’t help but quiver in terror.

At the level of ferocity Celicia was displaying right now, if she really broke loose, Muen had no doubt she would flatten at least three whole blocks.

But...

“What good am I in here? I’m not her match! Open the damn door, let’s figure it out together!” Muen pounded on the door with tearful desperation.

“If I let the President out now, it’ll be even harder to control her. Don’t worry, she’s just drunk, not completely gone. You only need to hold her attention until the alcohol wears off. You should be able to last that long. Probably...”

“Damn it, you’re not even confident yourself! Open the door! Veil, this is murder, do you understand? Murder!”

“What murder? This is for the greater good—for the peace of the majority!”

“If it’s for the greater good, why don’t you come in here yourself!”

“Aiya, just in case, I’m going to reinforce the formation now. After this, no matter what sounds come out from inside, they won’t get through. Good luck, Muen Campbell—I’m rooting for you.”

With Veil’s deliberately clueless words, a dull hum rang out. The magic flowing over the great door instantly thickened.

Then the world went quiet.

So quiet that Muen could hear nothing but his own pounding heartbeat—and... another breath, heavier, rougher, more erratic.

“Muen... Muen Campbell, why won’t you turn around and look at me? Am I not pretty enough?”

The ice-crystal longsword scraped free of the door and wobbled dangerously. Under Muen’s terrified stare, it suddenly stabbed down again.

This time, it skimmed right past his kidney.

Muen’s broad back shuddered. Face twisted in a grimace, he slowly turned around—and in the same instant he faced the girl, he forced a smile onto his lips.

“How could that be? Celicia, you’re so beautiful I could stare at you forever.”

“Really? But why do I feel like you don’t mean it?”

Celicia suddenly leaned in closer.

She had already been right against him—after all, she had nearly run him through. Now, her movement left her body practically pressed against his.

But Muen was half a head taller. She tilted her head and stared up for a long time, only able to see his chin and Adam’s apple.

Celicia pouted. “You’re too tall. Let me cut you down a bit.”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t!”

One sentence from Celicia nearly made Muen’s soul fly out of his body. He hastily pressed down on her arm before she could lift the longsword and stammered, trembling,

“I’ll make myself shorter, I’ll do it myself...”

He bent his knees slowly, but didn’t dare bend too far. He ended up hovering in an awkward half-squat stance, just a little shorter than Celicia.

Seeing him shrink, Celicia nodded in satisfaction. Then she raised her free hand and slammed it against the wall beside Muen’s head with a sharp crack.

This was... a kabedon?

Darkness swept over Muen’s vision. A wave of humiliation surged up in his chest.

He was the son of a duke, a manly frame of seven feet, a warrior who had faced down Evil Gods without bowing—and he was being kabedon’d?

If anyone was going to do the kabedon, it should be him...

Hic. “This pose... you don’t like it?” Celicia gazed at him intently.

“I like it, I love it, I love it so much.”

Muen nodded furiously, grinning with all his strength.

Actually, there wasn’t anything wrong with the posture itself. If you thought about it, it was enough to make anyone’s heart race.

It was just that the little deer in his chest was about to die from all the crashing.

“Then... hic... say it again. Am I pretty?”

Celicia hiccupped delicately, repeating her earlier question.

Muen’s breath caught.

He raised his eyes and stared at the girl before him.

The special candles flickered, painting her skin with a soft glow.

The fireplace burned, making the room warm as spring. She wore only a thin robe, outlining perfect curves.

Her silver hair fell naturally, brushing against Muen’s cheek, carrying a faint fragrance, ticklish on his skin.

Through the strands, it was like peering through a dense forest until one discovered a steaming hot spring hidden deep within.

Those were her eyes.

The ice that had never melted for anyone was now, under the influence of wine, turned into rippling spring water. It shimmered with a girlish «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» innocence and unexpected allure, rocking Muen’s heart back and forth...

“Beautiful. Really, incredibly beautiful...” The words slipped out before he knew it.

“How beautiful?”

“So beautiful I can’t look away.”

“Really?”

The answer was nearly identical to the one before, yet it curved Celicia’s lips into a small smile.

Seeing her smile, Muen couldn’t help letting out a breath of relief.

But then, she asked,

“Then... among all the women you know, where do I rank in terms of beauty?”

“...”

Thunk.

His heart stopped.

“R-r-r-r-r-rank where?” His teeth chattered.

“What’s there to rank?”

“But I want to know.”

Celicia swayed her head, her tone girlishly coy. Yet her knee shifted ever so slightly upward—slamming into the magically reinforced door beneath Muen’s groin and leaving a massive dent.

“Answer me.”

“...”

Feeling the icy chill below, Muen nearly wept.

He didn’t dare even struggle, terrified that in her drunken, berserk state, one wrong move would have the human-shaped tyrannosaurus in front of him rip him apart alive.

This wasn’t bad alcohol tolerance—this was a complete personality swap.

“Of course you’d rank...”

Click.

Just as Muen was about to say whatever flattery would soothe her, a crisp sound cut him off.

His eyes flew wide, staring at the dainty voice-transmission stone in Celicia’s hand.

“C-Celicia... what are you doing?”

Hic. “O-of course... I’m recording what you say.”

“R-recording?”

Muen’s vision went black.

Playing it this spicy?

“This... this isn’t good. If these private words get out, it wouldn’t look good.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Mm, mm!”

Even with tears in his eyes, Muen nodded firmly.

“Then maybe that question was too hard. How about I change it to something easier?”

Though he couldn’t see how that was connected in any way, Muen nodded so hard it was a wonder his neck didn’t snap.

Anything was better than that cursed question!

“Easier, easier... let me think...”

Celicia swayed her head, her intelligence clearly in the negatives now, pondering what “easier” meant.

At last, her eyes lit up.

“I got it!”

Muen’s eyes lit up too. He looked at her with desperate anticipation.

“If it needs to be easier, then I won’t make the range so big.”

Celicia spoke:

Hic. “We’ll limit it to just three people.”

“Eh?”

Muen’s face froze.

“Me, Anna Kaplin, and that little maid from your house... Between the three of us, if you had to pick the prettiest...”

Celicia fiddled with the voice-transmission stone already glowing in recording mode. Lowering her head, she stared straight into his eyes:

“Muen Campbell, who would you choose?”