Chapter 7: The Banquet Begins!

Muen lay sprawled on a bed so lavishly soft it could bring a grown man to tears, mentally running through tomorrow’s agenda in painstaking detail.

“First, grooming and appearance.”

As the son of a Duke, and with this being the one and only coming-of-age ceremony of his life, his debut absolutely had to be dazzling—striking enough that just standing there would draw every gaze in the room as if he were the eye of a storm.

Which is why, before the sun even dared to rise, more than ten veteran maids would descend upon him to style him head to toe—every strand of hair to be positioned precisely {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} where it belonged.

Truth be told, just this afternoon, when Muen caught sight of the ceremonial outfit—bedazzled with all manner of precious metals and flashy enough to practically blind him on the spot—he’d already felt the soul-crushing weight of tomorrow’s ordeal.

Honestly, his biggest threat tomorrow might not be Celicia, but that twenty-kilogram monster of a formal outfit.

“Then comes standing beside Father to welcome the guests.”

That’s the whole point of a coming-of-age ceremony, after all—to officially announce to the noble class that Muen Campbell had entered high society. He’d be recognized as the Duke’s heir, eligible to host and attend high-level functions, and even pursue an appropriately matched noble maiden for courtship and an eventual sacred marriage bond.

Of course, since Muen was already engaged to the Empire’s Third Princess, that last bit was conveniently ignored.

Still, tomorrow the entire capital’s nobility would don their most extravagant garments and bring along their most promising sons and daughters to attend this grand event.

This wasn’t just a party—it was a step on the ladder upward.

All the nobles would wield embroidered robes as shields and polite smiles as swords, hoping to climb even higher.

“Next is dealing with the nobles.”

That part, at least, wasn’t too worrying. The residual instincts of this body’s original owner should be enough to get him through.

All Muen needed to do was smile.

“And finally... that.”

His hand unconsciously reached beneath the pillow, brushing the two small vials hidden there.

This was the real highlight of tomorrow.

“First, I’ll need to earn Celicia’s trust and get her alone.”

That wouldn’t be too hard. No matter how much she wracked her brain, Celicia would never imagine Muen Campbell having the audacity to drug her.

And besides, with their engagement, inviting her for a private drink shouldn’t raise suspicion.

“Second, I have to spike her drink.”

That was the hardest part.

If he got caught ahead of time, all his effort would go down the drain.

“But it should be fine.”

After all, this was the path the original story was supposed to take. Surely the heavens themselves wanted him to succeed.

He just had to wait for her to let her guard down and slip the drug into her wine.

“And then... comes the ruin, right?”

Muen let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

“A transmigrator actively choosing the doomed route—I might be the first idiot in history.”

“I just hope... nothing goes wrong.”

The candlelight flickered out.

Outside the window, moonlight spilled through the trees, casting fractured shadows over Muen’s striking face—subtle and shifting, like fate itself.

A soft breeze stirred the branches, making the shadows tremble—as if even they were praying that all would go smoothly tomorrow.

****

The Next Day

After enduring three straight hours of maid-inflicted torment, Muen finally stood in front of the banquet hall, clad in that twenty-kilogram monstrosity of a ceremonial outfit, standing shoulder to shoulder with his lion-like, awe-inspiring father, greeting the incoming guests.

His golden hair had been styled to immaculate perfection. His lightly touched-up face had shed its boyishness in favor of a faint, refined maturity. Combined with the absurdly heavy yet indisputably elegant form-fitting formalwear, Muen looked every bit like a newly risen sun—radiating a brilliance that was blinding yet impossible to ignore.

Even he couldn’t help but be struck by his own reflection in the mirror this morning.

Too bad—no matter how ethereal his beauty, the noble girls who came up to greet him all kept their heads bowed and eyes averted, as if terrified of being noticed.

“Sigh... the original’s reputation really is beyond salvation.”

Muen sighed inwardly with helpless resignation.

To these noble girls, the name Muen Campbell was synonymous with phrases like “lecherous brute” and “walking breeding stud.”

The fact that his name alone could completely eclipse the golden title of Duke’s Son said everything about just how notoriously awful his reputation was.

“Hey, boy! Look over there!”

Just as Muen was mentally bemoaning his fate, the Duke of Campbell—his ever-convenient biological father—suddenly slapped him on the back hard enough to nearly send him into cardiac arrest.

“Look who’s arrived.”

No need for further direction—Muen’s gaze followed instinctively.

The nobles who’d gathered nearby to offer their greetings also turned to look. Even the noble girls who hadn’t dared meet his eyes all this time looked up as one.

It was as if a spotlight had suddenly cut through the dark.

And at the center of that light stood a girl.

She had moonlight-silver hair that flowed down like silk, a face so perfectly sculpted it might as well have been carved from divine ice. Her lashes, like frost-dusted threads, shimmered with the same silver-white hue. And beneath them—those eyes. Cold blue like a mountain lake, yet so deep it felt like they could swallow your soul whole.

Her dress was simple—white, understated—but it held a quiet majesty. In that instant, she became the new eye of the storm, effortlessly drawing all attention.

“That’s... Celicia.”

Third Princess of the Leopold Empire. The blessed child of the Ice Goddess. The Ice Witch—Celicia Leopold.

And the origin of Muen Campbell’s downfall.

She had finally arrived.

“As expected... no memory or written word could ever capture her beauty.”

Even with all his mental preparation, Muen was still unavoidably stunned the moment he saw her.

Back in his previous life, as a die-hard fan of Celicia, Muen had lurked across countless forums and fan spaces. He’d seen more than his fair share of Celicia fan art—some of which was good enough to make him slam the save button and spend the next three days licking his screen like a madman.

But now, seeing the real thing, he understood:

Even the best of those works hadn’t captured a tenth of her real beauty.

“It’s been a while, Lord Muen.”

While Muen was momentarily dazed, Celicia had already walked gracefully up to him.

“It has indeed, Your Highness Princess Celicia.”

Muen snapped back to reality and returned her greeting with impeccable gentlemanly flair.

“You are... especially radiant today.”

“Am I? You flatter me.”

Celicia lifted her skirt ever so slightly and returned the greeting with perfect elegance.

Her manners were flawless—so polished not even a single mistake could be found—but there was still a glacial distance in her every word and motion.

“But to hear such words from you, Lord Muen... now that is rare.”

“Haha, Your Highness is too kind. You make it sound as though I’m some kind of boorish lout who doesn’t even know how to behave.”

...Aren’t you?

A flicker of subtle doubt passed through Celicia’s clear, icy eyes.