Chapter 63

It went without saying at this point, but to Harold, Erika was his natural enemy. If he failed to maintain an abysmal impression—one strong enough to bottom out the scale—he risked deviating from the original story’s route, which would likely lead to the total annihilation of the protagonist’s party. If that happened, stopping Justus’s ultimate plan would become an impossible feat.

Furthermore, Erika’s older brother, Itsuki, was an equally troublesome variable. For some reason, despite the two not having met for quite some time, Harold felt as though Itsuki’s affection for him had somehow hit the level cap. He found it utterly baffling how it had risen so high; he would have been far more convinced if someone told him the man was just a brilliant actor.

In short, the Sumeragi siblings were formidable opponents on par with the final boss, Justus himself.

With that renewed realization, Harold sluggishly hauled himself out of bed. He felt as though he had been trapped in a nightmare, but upon further reflection, the events waiting for him today were far more nightmarish than anything his subconscious could conjure.

He didn't want to get up. Checking the clock on the wall, he saw it was already nearing noon. His inability to fall asleep the previous night had clearly taken its toll. As he prepared himself with slow, lethargic movements, a knock at the door announced a visitor.

It was the signal that the messenger sent to drag Harold into his nightmare had arrived.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"……"

As expected, Itsuki was standing there when he opened the door. He offered a nonchalant greeting, but Harold lacked even the energy to respond.

There was no escape now. If he had to face this, he wanted to empty his mind and finish it all before he could feel a thing.

"You look sleep-deprived. I take it you were so excited to see Erika that you couldn't rest?"

"I see your eyes are nothing but hollow pits."

To launch such a blatant taunt right out of the gate—Itsuki might have possessed world-class instigation skills. Harold noted that one had to be careful with such behavior; if you failed to read the room, it would escalate into a physical brawl in an instant.

However, there was no point in indulging in escapism by dwelling on such trivialities.

"Hurry up and lead the way."

"You’re putting up less of a fight than I expected."

"I make it a rule to settle troublesome matters quickly. If I just slaughter everyone at the venue, it’ll be over in no time."

"I see you’re in top form today as well."

They checked out of the hotel and stepped into the streets of Kablan. Since they had arrived under the cover of night, Harold hadn't been able to appreciate the cityscape, but the first thing that caught his eye now was the network of waterways. They were woven throughout the entire town, teeming with small boats passing back and forth.

"The waterways caught your eye, I see. Kablan is also known as the Spring Water Village. The name comes from the water that constantly gushes from the mountains—"

Suddenly, Itsuki’s lecture on Kablan began. To summarize: it was a town blessed with pristine water, the canals reached every corner of the city, and traveling by boat was more common than using a horse-drawn carriage. There was even a famous anecdote claiming that Kablan babies learned to steer a rudder before they learned to walk.

Indeed, the number of small boats far exceeded the carriages on the road.

Itsuki spoke of Kablan’s wonders with visible pride. Perhaps he wanted Harold to think highly of his future bride’s hometown.

Harold and Itsuki continued their walk toward their destination, exchanging useless banter along the way. When Itsuki suddenly turned serious and remarked, "Wait, am I having a date with Harold before I have one with Erika?" Harold nearly kicked him into the canal.

He felt he deserved a medal for exercising such restraint at the last possible second.

Ultimately, having missed the opportunity to ask the questions he actually cared about, they arrived at their destination twenty minutes later. This was the mansion where Itsuki’s fiancé lived. At that moment, Harold remembered a crucial detail.

"Hey. What’s the name of the woman you’re marrying?"

"Now that you mention it, I suppose I hadn't told you. It’s Sylvie Berlioz. The second daughter of House Berlioz."

Harold committed the bare minimum of personal data to memory. No matter how he looked at it, showing up without even knowing the guest of honor’s name would be disastrous. Then again, the most disastrous thing about him was his mouth.

He resolved to remain as silent as possible around anyone associated with House Berlioz. The ideal scenario was to give a brief introduction and then avoid all small talk. If he managed that, he might pass for someone who was merely taciturn and surly, but possessed a modicum of manners.

The celebration was set to last for three days. He just wanted to fake his way through that window.

"Well then, shall we, Lord?"

"Hmph."

Itsuki chuckled, putting extra emphasis on the name "Lord." To Itsuki, who was clearly enjoying himself, Harold offered nothing but a dismissive snort.

Inwardly, however, he was filled with anxiety about whether it was truly safe for him to enter.

Harold wasn't a wanted criminal, nor were there posters of his face circulating. While his name and ill repute were well-known, very few people actually knew what he looked like. Even if someone did recognize him, he wasn't a lawbreaker, so there was no reason for him to be arrested.

Despite that, the man himself passed through the gate with trepidation. This was the unfortunate byproduct of living a life where being hated was the daily norm.

Even if his outward attitude was forced into one of arrogance, his cowardly core remained unchanged. He instinctively felt like switching personas, but he held back, knowing that unleashing a storm of verbal abuse in this house would be dangerous.

While Harold was agonizing internally, the fact that he was walking alongside Itsuki—one of the guests of honor—meant the household staff had no reason to view him with hostility.

Every time they passed someone, the servants called out to Itsuki. Every one of them looked genuinely delighted and joyful. Even to an outsider, it was clear that Itsuki was beloved and that his marriage was being celebrated with sincere warmth.

Inevitably, the servants’ curiosity turned toward Harold, but Itsuki was quick to provide cover. "This is my friend, Lord Stroose. He looks intimidating and doesn't talk much, but he’s not a bad man." Thanks to this, Harold managed to survive by turning into a silent, nodding automaton.

They repeated this ritual several times as they moved through the mansion. Finally, Itsuki came to a halt in front of a specific door.

Apparently, Erika was inside. Despite his aversion to her, the fact that they hadn't seen each other in years caused his tension to spike.

Ignoring Harold's internal conflict, Itsuki knocked.

"It’s Itsuki. Are you there, Erika?"

"Brother? Please wait a mom—"

"Excuse me."

He had only asked to confirm she was there. Treating her actual answer as irrelevant, Itsuki swung the door open.

However, he did so while stepping aside to ensure Harold was the first thing she saw.

The door opened smoothly. Harold's vision cleared, revealing a figure standing at the back of the room.

She wore a pale pink kimono that brought cherry blossom petals to mind, and her glossy black hair had grown longer than he remembered. Having grown taller, her silhouette had matured from that of a girl into that of a woman.

Perhaps because the open door and the opposite window had created a draft, a sudden breeze swept through the room. Her black hair fluttered soundlessly in the wind.

What the breeze revealed was skin like white jade. Her complexion was as smooth and flawless as porcelain, and the exposed whiteness of her neck, shoulders, and shoulder blades was almost dazzling. There was an alluring elegance radiating from her—an enchanting sight that could lead any man astray.

It was only after the scene was firmly seared into his brain that Harold realized her kimono was in a state of disarray.

He didn't even have time to think, This is bad. Sensing the intrusion, Erika, who had been facing away, turned around.

"Honestly, I told you to wa—"

Erika’s words cut off again. Not because someone had stopped her, but because her eyes had locked with Harold’s.

The two of them froze like stone statues. After a heavy silence, Erika’s face—actually, everything from her neck up—flushed a deep crimson as she processed the situation.

The first person to snap out of the paralysis wasn't either of the two principals, but Erika’s attendant, Yuno.

"P-Please excuse us!"

Unusually for her, she didn't draw out her words. Yuno was likely just as rattled. Harold hadn't even noticed her because he had been so focused on Erika, but she had evidently been in the middle of helping Erika dress.

She scrambled to her feet to protect her mistress’s modesty. Unfortunately, her haste was her undoing. With her hands still caught in the kimono, her feet tangled, and she tumbled onto the nearby bed, taking Erika down with her.

"Kyaa!"

"I-I’m so sorry, Lady Erika~……"

The resulting tableau was Yuno pinned on top of Erika, whose kimono remained open in a precarious display. Both were undeniable beauties. Erika, now pinned down, was practically glowing with shame.

It was a scene of lilies blooming in full, chaotic profusion.

"……I couldn't care less about your private habits, but don't go into heat in front of guests, you bitches."

The follow-up he’d intended—"I think a relationship between two women is perfectly fine if you're both happy"—was naturally strangled by his curse, replaced by a harsh insult. Unable to endure the awkwardness, Harold slammed the door shut, only for Itsuki to tease him about his characteristic lack of mercy.

Harold found it impossible to accept such a critique from the very man who had engineered the entire disaster.

---

"I am truly sorry……"

At that moment, Itsuki was performing a full seiza-style apology on the floor before Harold. He was prostrating himself before both Harold and Erika.

His pathetic display made Harold wonder if this man was genuinely about to get married.

While Harold was too exasperated to speak, Erika remained silent out of pure rage. For context, before the apology, a fully-dressed Erika had delivered a stinging palm strike to Itsuki’s back. She had approached him expressionlessly and landed a blow that echoed through the room.

The fact that she had targeted his back instead of his face was likely because of the upcoming celebration. A groom with a bright red handprint on his cheek would be a laughingstock. While that would have been amusing, it was no laughing matter for Harold, who—if the original story held true—might be the next one to take a hit like that to the face.

"Um, I’ve reflected on my actions, so could I get a little healing magic for my back……?"

"Did you say something?"

Erika’s voice was ice. The look she directed at Itsuki was equally freezing.

She looked as if she were staring at a pile of garbage. Harold hadn't realized that Erika, the literal embodiment of compassion, was capable of such a gaze.

Harold wanted to chime in with something like, "You’re a beast lower than an insect," but fearing that Erika’s wrath might jump to him next, he decided to pivot.

"Enough of this. I hate wasting time."

"T-That’s right. I still have to introduce Harold…… I mean, Lord, to Sylvie and the others, don't I?"

A pathetic older brother pleading with his younger sister. It was a miserable sight.

Perhaps his wretchedness finally earned him some pity, as Erika’s anger finally began to recede.

"Please, never do such a thing again."

"I won't. I swear to God."

"Sigh, honestly…… Please stand up. You’ll ruin your formal wear."

"Ow, ow…… that was brutal."

"Do you know the phrase 'you reap what you sow'?"

"Never heard of it. I believe the phrase is 'a stroke of luck'?"

"They say even the Buddha loses his patience after the third time. I wonder how many times a mere human like me can manage, Brother?"

Though she was smiling, Erika’s eyes and voice remained devoid of warmth. This time, Itsuki’s face turned pale. Harold watched on, idly wondering if he would be the next one to change colors at this rate.

Despite the chaos, the time finally came to face the masters of the mansion: the Berlioz family.

Led by a stiff-moving Itsuki—presumably because his back still throbbed—they entered the Great Hall of the annex, which was connected to the main house by a corridor. This was the primary venue for the celebration, and where the Berlioz family was waiting.

Harold renewed his vow to remain absolutely silent. That resolve lasted exactly three seconds after he crossed the threshold.

"Got you!"

An ambush. Someone lunged from the shadow of the inward-swinging door with a sharp cry. In their hand was a weapon shaped like a sword. The attacker was already within range, and Harold was currently unarmed. A crisis had arrived without warning.

The lethal blade swung down toward Harold.

---

This was probably what a proper fanservice chapter was supposed to look like.

Better than a man stripping, at least.