༺ Change (1) ༻
The eldest son of the Beallon County, Kyle Beallon.
The second son of the Caelid Duchy, Deron Caelid.
The second son of the Rosfell Marquisate, Blund Rosfell.
The sole child of the Raphelion County, Elden Raphelion.
Except for the declining Raphelion family, the candidates were descendants of powerful and well-established houses in the Winterfell Northern Region; such esteemed figures were all fighting for Lumia’s hand in marriage.
They were the finalists out of a hundred participants.
In terms of appearance, martial skill, intelligence, wealth, and personal accomplishments, they were unmatched compared to their peers, the best possible suitors for Lumia.
The only problem was…
‘……Why in the world did she choose these men?’
If one were to look beyond their superficial traits, they would realize that all of them were scum.
They reveled in trampling over the weak, knew no shame, would constantly drown themselves in their vices, and did not hesitate to commit evil deeds for the sake of personal glory – They were the embodiment of a snobbish noble cliché.
Therefore, when these individuals made it to the top ten, Gelwood, the Duke of Winterfell’s advisor, fervently prayed,
That Lady Lumia wouldn’t choose these four.
That his pleas would reach the young lady.
However, Lumia didn’t listen to his wisdom. Nor did anyone seem to listen to his prayers. She plucked his sincere concerns out of her ears like unwanted earwax, selecting the precise individuals Gelwood warned her about and leaving the poor advisor to drink from a cup of despair to drown his sorrows.
Given her nature and insight, her choice was incomprehensible, but as a mere advisor, he had no choice but to follow her wishes. As such, here he was, working diligently and reviewing the matters related to the cohabitation that would begin tomorrow. It was an attempt to conceal his worry.
Or at least that was the case until a minute ago,
“…Hahaha-. It seems Lord Elden has come not with a request but with a jest instead! Now…What would be the purpose of your visit?”
A jest, indeed.
That was what Gelwood believed.
He had no choice but to fervently believe it so.
Because if asked to pick out of the four finalists, Elden Raphelion would be his choice.
Not because he was better than the others. No. It was simply because this man was the lesser evil.
Gelwood’s reasoning was incredibly straightforward.
It was simply because Elden Raphelion was ‘less’ vile than the other three. At least the man in front of him was a creature that stayed true to his instincts and didn’t hide his filth with some saintly mask like the others.
So, upon hearing such nonsense about a withdrawal, Gelwood forced a smile back on to his face as he asked the man for some clarification.
But, the answer he was given thwarted his expectations.
“It is not a jest.”
The man’s eyes carried a stalwart conviction, and from his lips, a sincere tone rang out.
“……I see. You are serious about this. Why would you do such a thing?”
“Perhaps I realized that I was far too lacking to be Her Grace’s fiancé.”
“You passed both the preliminary and the main evaluations with outstanding scores. The Duchess handpicked you herself. How could you consider yourself lacking?”
“I have enjoyed an honor beyond my standing. When you’ve grasped something you cannot hold onto, you must let it go.”
“Do you understand that you’ll be rendering all your efforts worthless?”
Elden shrugged indifferently, his expression serene.
“I’m merely cutting away a wasted effort.”
“……You stand in a position hundreds of noblemen would kill for. Are you truly certain that you want this?”
“Yes.”
A curt and determined answer.
In such an atmosphere, Gelwood realized that no persuasion would move the man before him. As such, he pondered for a moment before saying.
“To this day, there’s never been a withdrawal in the history of a betrothal contest…I must report this to the Grand Duke. If you’d grant me a day, I shall bring you his answer.”
Elden sighed.
For him, even a day’s worth of wait was too long, eager as he was to leave this place as soon as possible.
However, considering the sudden withdrawal of a candidate might upset the Grand Duke of the North, he had no choice but to convey his request politely to Gelwood.
“Then, I trust you will convey my wishes to His Grace.”
Please just let me get out of here.
Unaware of the desperate plea hidden in his words, Gelwood smiled warmly.
“Do not worry. We always respect a candidate’s wishes.”
“I see.”
Elden bowed lightly to Gelwood.
Normally, a noble like Elden outranked Gelwood, but as the advisor to the ruling family of the Northern Territories, Gelwood held a higher prestige. Therefore, mutual respect, while not obligatory, was a matter of courtesy in such a case.
Of course, since this was the first time Gelwood ever received such courtesy from Elden, the advisor was quite perplexed.
It had been a fortnight since the betrothal contest began and they had encountered and spoken several times, but Elden Raphelion’s neck had always been stubbornly stiff.
No, it wasn’t just mere stiffness. He intentionally lifted his head higher, refusing to bow in whatever manner.
Moreover, the aura this young man carried, coupled with his menacing crimson eyes, gave the impression of staring into the gaze of a proud beast.
But for some reason…
‘……It’s different.’
To be more precise, the intense sense of wrongness that ate at Gelwood’s mind had been solidified with the bow he just received.
The young man’s eyes were as peaceful as a lake and the air around him was as comforting as a breeze.
Even his sharp mannerisms and arrogant behavior had become gentle and polite.
It was a subtle change and could even be dismissed as a figment of the imagination, but as a skillful advisor should, Gelwood recognized and responded to the shift in Elden’s behavior.
So, for now, Gelwood quickly returned the bow.
“Then, take care, Lord Elden.”
“I’ll leave you to your work.”
Click-.
As Elden left his office, Gelwood pondered about the young man’s change, as he immediately headed towards the Grand Duke’s study.
However, the most pressing issue wasn’t the young man’s change of behavior, but the unprecedented withdrawal from the betrothal competition.
**
“Tsk.”
After leaving the aide’s office, I couldn’t help but click my tongue. My escape had been delayed.
Moreover, I hadn’t even received a clear answer.
Things would certainly become troublesome should the Grand Duke invalidate my withdrawal.
Of course, it was unlikely that he would refuse the forfeit of a declining house’s scion.
Nonetheless, the only thing I could do was hope that His Grace, the Grand Duke of Winterfell, would approve of my wish without much fanfare.
“In any case, better start packing.”
Just in case someone would interfere, I sent away the Head Butler on an errand.
Despite this body’s upbringing, packing my belongings on my own was something I could easily do.
So, as I hurried back into my room, I gathered any visible items.
‘My baggage is lighter than I’d thought.’
Since the Duchy had supplied various commodities to the finalists, there wasn’t much for me to pack.
A few sets of clothes and shoes, some accessories, and a couple of bottles of good liquor were all I had.
The fact that I found empty bottles scattered around the room told me the original Elden enjoyed drinking while being here.
‘Heh-. I guess it’s true that Villains and Alcohol are inseparable.’
Just as I finished packing for a possible night escape, an elderly man entered the room with a knock.
It was Head Butler Rendler, whom I sent on the errand.
“My Lord, I’ve brought the items as requested.”
They didn’t have any purpose nor meaning.
So, I pointed towards the cabinet and said.
“Just put them over there.”
“……”
As I straightened my back after packing my belongings, the Head Butler kept staring at me as if he had seen something forbidden.
He looked around restlessly and spoke.
“Why are you just standing there? Go put my things over the cabinet.”
“……My Lord, can you perhaps explain to me what you are doing?”
“Ah, right, I forgot to mention. I declared my withdrawal from this contest to the aide. And I’m packing my stuff, so I can leave at any moment.”
“My Lord…What I mean is…What are you doing right now…?”
Hmm? Was it so difficult to understand?
It shouldn’t have been.
Perhaps the old butler harbored some vain hope that I would emerge victorious? Just because a wastrel of a declining house like me miraculously made it into the finals? If so, sorry to disappoint.
“Getting this far is a miracle in itself. It’s as if one is verified, just by being a finalist in the Duchess’ betrothal competition. As such, numerous noble households will pour forth marriage proposals and alliances. There’s no need to cling to a fight I have no chance of winning.”
“……”
I thought this would be enough of an explanation, but the glimmer in Randler’s eyes didn’t disappear as I hoped it would.
Just when I was about to feel sorry for giving the old butler a shock, he looked at my packed belongings and uttered a single sentence.
A sentence that showed just how vile of a character Elden Raphelion was.
“So…What you mean, My Lord, is that…You’ve ‘personally’ packed your… belongings? H-How can this be…?”
“……?”
So, the butler wasn’t shocked that I gave up on the contest, thus squashing our biggest chance to uplift the family’s name. Instead, he was astonished that I, Elden Raphelion, the prodigal son, packed my stuff with my own hands?
Didn’t this mean that Rendler hadn’t even held a single speck of hope that Elden Raphelion would win the contest?
……
……
Elden Raphelion.
Just what kind of life had you been living?
