“Between me, Anna Kaplin, and that little maid from your house, pick the prettiest one......”

“Muen Campbell, who do you choose?”

Celicia’s voice was soft and gentle; in those eyes that were at times hazy, at times blank, brimming with rippling spring water, there was a touch of coquettishness that didn’t belong to her.

In the warm breath she gently exhaled, a faint mix of wine and orchid fragrance tugged at one’s heartstrings.

But.

Hearing what Celicia said just then, Muen couldn’t enjoy any of that beauty.

He was indignant.

He was in pain.

He was trembling.

He was in tears.

Why.

Pray tell, why!

Why do you all—one after another after another—love to ask this kind of soul-torturing multiple-choice question?

A question that does nothing but add fuel to conflict and serves no purpose at all—what’s the point of asking it?

Wouldn’t peace be nice?

Wouldn’t harmony be nice?

Wouldn’t amity be nice?

Why must we decide who’s above and who’s below?

Wouldn’t it be great if everyone could happily become my wings together?

I only want world peace, for everyone to find their own happiness—what’s wrong with that?

“Hurry... hurry up and answer.”

Celicia urged him, pinching the ice-crystal longsword in her hand again and casually waving it around. That weak, powerless look made it seem like she could fling the sword out of her grip at any moment.

Yet with those random swings, one clear sword mark after another began grazing past Muen, appearing in succession on the door, the wall, the floor—everywhere.

With each one, Muen could almost see the little goldfish he’d accidentally raised to death in his previous life, now waving cheerfully at him from the far bank of the Styx.

“I...”

“G-give you a heads-up: I won’t accept any ‘tied for first place’ option.” Celicia added.

So why do you suddenly get smart at times like this!

“Is that so?”

Muen forcibly swallowed down the nonsense he’d just prepared. He glanced at the voice-transmission stone recording in Celicia’s hand, drew a deep breath,

“Looks like I can only make a decision, huh?”

“Mm?”

Celicia lowered her head in anticipation.

“Say it f-fast.”

“I choose...”

Muen stared into Celicia’s eyes, a look of absolute resolve on his face.

Then he gave the answer.

“I choose—death!”

“Eh?”

As soon as he finished, while Celicia was still staring at him in confusion, Muen suddenly raised his hand and swung a fist...

At himself.

With that full-force punch, paired with a deliberate mental shock, Muen spun three and a half times midair, scraped past the doorframe, crashed into the wall on the other side, and then...

Passed out.

The room fell quiet again.

Staring at Muen, who had knocked himself out with one punch, Celicia’s cherry lips parted slightly. She blinked and blinked; her drunk-brained mind clearly couldn’t make sense of the situation, leaving her adorably dazed.

Unfortunately, Muen couldn’t see it.

......

......

In the darkness, a light flared.

A certain very familiar chief justice sat up high and slammed the gavel in his hand.

“I hereby declare: Muen Campbell, for the crimes of two-timing on multiple boats, honeyed lies, saying one thing and meaning another, defiling a princess, and being the ultimate scumbag—sentenced to the ultimate punishment!

“Carry out the sentence now!”

“Ultimate! Ultimate! Ultimate!”

The jurors pounded the tables and shouted. A certain lawyer surnamed Ai—someone Muen found extremely familiar—looked especially excited, banging the desk loud enough to shake the heavens,

“Kill him, kill him!”

“Wait!”

Muen scrambled to argue, “Listen to my explanation—I’m not a scumbag, I’m not!”

But it was already too late. The scene shifted in an instant; the chief justice and the jury vanished. In a daze, Muen realized he was already standing on an execution platform.

There was neither a guillotine nor a noose on the platform.

But three girls stepped slowly out of the darkness.

“Young Master, I’m so hurt... why didn’t you choose me?”

“Junior, were all the things you said before just lies?”

“Muen Campbell, are you not going to honor the engagement?”

The girls’ faces were sorrowful, and in their hands... each held a gleaming machete.

“Wait, listen to my explanation—listen to my explanation!”

Muen backed away in a panic, but there was nowhere to escape behind him.

The girls gripped the machetes and slowly closed in; on their blurry faces, it seemed like tears were falling.

“Since... since you won’t make a decision, then we can only compromise.”

“W-what compromise?”

“We’ve decided to fulfill your wish and get along peacefully......”

“That’s good—that’s a good thing!”

“Peacefully divide you up.”

Muen’s expression froze. Immediately after, he saw three bright machetes fall toward his head at the same time.

In the final instant, only one thought flashed through his mind.

When a machete chops into you—it’s damn cold!

......

......

“I’m not a scumbag, I’m not!”

Muen yelled in terror and snapped his eyes open.

Thankfully, there were no machetes in sight—only an unfamiliar ceiling.

“This is...”

He blinked, then sat up in excitement, “It’s morning? I don’t have to be tortured anymore?”

Hic. “What do you mean, ‘it’s morning’?” a familiar voice said.

Muen’s smile froze at once. He slowly turned his head, his neck so stiff he could almost hear his vertebrae grinding.

The familiar scene fell into his eyes again.

It was still that room, still those candle flames, still that drunken princess—like nothing had changed.

And he was sitting on the only bed in the room, silently locking eyes with Celicia, who was half-climbing up over the bed’s edge.

“H-how long was I out?”

“H-how long?”

Celicia tilted her head, extended a hand, and counted off her fingers one by one. Then she flashed three:

“You were out for five minutes, ya.”

“Five minutes?”

The corner of Muen’s mouth twitched.

That couldn’t be right. He’d controlled his strength to make sure he’d be out till morning!

If he couldn’t even manage that, all those nights getting brutalized inside the Black Book would’ve been for nothing.

“Did you... do something, Celicia?”

“I healed you, ya.”

Green light blossomed at Celicia’s fingertips, and in the next instant, that emerald glow turned ice-blue.

“And also gave you a wake-up call, ya.”

“......”

Muen’s mouth twitched hard at the sight. No wonder those machetes were so cold—so it was your doing.

“Huh, wait.”

Just then, Muen realized something was off.

Wasn’t Celicia’s face even redder?

And what was with that cute little sentence-ending “ya”?

Muen raised a trembling finger and asked,

“Celicia, how many is this?”

“This is......”

Celicia wobbled as she lifted her head, studied that finger of his for a long time, and answered with conviction:

“Three!”

Saying that, she looked back at Muen, pressed a finger to her cherry lips, and murmured in confusion:

“Huh? Muen... Muen Campbell, when did you... learn duplication magic, ya?”

It’s over. She’s even drunker.

But since when does drunkenness deepen as time passes?

Muen slowly lowered his head.

At that moment, as Celicia straightened up, he finally saw what had been pinned beneath ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) her all this time.

That gift box.

But now, inside that exquisite box, in the grid where the chocolates were stored, at least half of them...

Were already empty.

Muen’s vision went dark.

She’d been that terrifying after just one piece—now she’d eaten a dozen more...

I’m done for!