It was the day of Wifey’s Enthronement Ceremony.
I woke up at four in the morning and headed to the Palace. The court ladies promptly stripped me bare and tossed me into a bath. It wasn’t because I was dirty; apparently, every detail of the ritual, down to the specific aromatic oils used, was strictly dictated by tradition.
After a massage with the oils, I was dressed in a kimono while incense was burned around me.
“Mumu, this is the scent of XX!”
…As if I knew enough about incense to actually recognize it. All I could tell was that it was a bit milder than the sticks burned at a temple. My hair was slicked back with more oil, giving me a style that made me feel like a sumo wrestler. Dosukoi!
Once my fingernails were trimmed, they applied a clear resin protectant. Then came the facial grooming and makeup. Well, at least I’d look presentable if I ended up getting beheaded today.
On my feet, I wore socks that resembled tabi. My outfit was a somber, traditional piece with a distinctly Japanese design. It wasn’t the “Chonmage Paradise” look, but the full “Maro” court noble style. There was no way I could have put this on by myself. If I had to wear this every day, I’d want to run away and become Tokuda Shinnosuke, too.
By dawn, the preparations were complete. The high-stakes ceremony was set to begin at eight o'clock. Since bathroom breaks were strictly forbidden, my breakfast consisted solely of a fiber-free jelly drink.
I was loaded into a palanquin with my face hidden. Apparently, people of high status aren't supposed to show their faces directly to the public. Come to think of it, I’d never seen the previous Emperor’s face until I actually met him either. Wifey, however, seemed intent on reforming those old ways; she was already aggressively pushing photos of our faces out into the world.
Speaking of which, I had expected to be scolded for that leaked amusement park video, but I actually received praise from all sides. Apparently, stopping a riotous mob—who probably deserved to be shot—with mere “half-killings” was considered a display of remarkable restraint. Amada got off with a single written apology. Apparently, those kinds of idiots just spawn infinitely. Since Wifey and I are popular, there will always be those who want to act out against the grain.
I was carried along in the palanquin—a human-powered vehicle—by several burly men with swords at their waists. I kept my eyes fixed forward; moving my head was forbidden. Slowly, we processed toward the Palace garden while traditional musicians played.
Wifey followed behind me in an even more luxurious palanquin. I reminded myself that I was just a mob character today; I had to make sure I didn't stand out.
At the venue, a massive bonfire was roaring. Something about the “Purification Flames of the fire god.” I had as little interest in this world’s religions as I did in my original one’s.
The ceremony began. The music started making me drowsy… No! Wake up! Hang in there, me! I focused my willpower and tried to become one with nothingness. I was tired, and the layers of clothing were sweltering.
When the performance ended, Wifey stepped out of her palanquin. She looked like she’d stepped out of a classic painting—reminiscent of Murasaki Shikibu or Ono no Komachi. I didn't have the expertise to recognize the specific style, but at least she wasn't “gaming” like that monk from before. She read a prayer for world peace and prosperity—which felt ironic considering we were currently at war with hostile organisms that didn't even understand the concept of peace.
The music resumed, and the first half concluded. Without even leaving the palanquin, I was whisked away for another wardrobe change. First, a much-needed toilet break. I was drenched in sweat, so I downed a sports drink. Then, another bath. I still wasn't used to being washed by women; it’s impossible to have lewd thoughts in a situation like this.
Next came Western-style skin creams, followed by boxer trunks, a dress shirt, and a tuxedo. I topped it off with a bow tie and polished shoes.
“Oh, Your Excellency the Grand Duke. You have such a broad chest; it suits you wonderfully,” one of the ladies said.
I wasn't exactly a supermodel, but all that training was paying off. A tuxedo that would normally look suspicious on me now looked like a tuxedo on a suspiciously lean-macho man… Wait, that wasn't an improvement at all! But the bow tie was actually my preference. And thus, the “Perfect Kamishilong” was born.
I was escorted to the Cabinet Ministers’ Lunch Meeting. The high-ranking military officers were all smiles—their usual “borderline yakuza” expressions replaced with sheer joy. In contrast, the neutral-faction Dukes who served as ministers looked pale, as if they’d rather be anywhere else. I could relate.
Eating lunch with old men isn't exactly a treat. I’d wondered why I needed a tuxedo in the middle of the day, but I guess this event was the reason. I’d heard the briefing, but I hadn't quite grasped the schedule. I still didn't!
Once everyone was gathered, a Chamberlain's voice announced, “Her Majesty the Empress is arriving!” and Wifey walked in wearing a Western-style dress. She looked incredibly cute. However, if I actually used the word “cute,” she’d get grumpy because of her Larval Fixation. As she sat beside me, I whispered, “You’re the finest woman in the galaxy again today.”
She smiled happily and replied, “Of course I am.”
The multi-course meal was served. I couldn't really taste much, but I knew I had to get used to this. The military leaders were beaming; to them, Wifey was like a granddaughter, and she was an Emperor favorable to their faction. I understood their feelings.
“Your Excellency the Grand Duke,” a somber-faced man addressed me. I turned to him with a polite smile.
“Yes?”
“…Is a peace treaty truly impossible?”
“It is. Communication cannot be established. We confirmed the existence of a presence controlling the female-type Zorks, but when I attempted to reach out via ESP, the connection was severed immediately.”
“ESP… such a power exists?”
Wifey stood up. “I intend to disclose a secret to everyone present—one that only a fraction of the military is currently aware of.”
“Y-Your Majesty! A secret?”
“It concerns Imperial Princess Luna, whose imperial status has been restored.”
“Why speak of a royal relative from centuries ago now?”
“Because Imperial Princess Luna is that very Esper. The original core of the Mother AI you all know is, in fact, the princess herself.”
“What?!”
“Despite being betrayed by the Empire, she has protected it for hundreds of years. That is the true Imperial Princess Luna! Right, Luna?”
“Indeed,” a voice replied.
A hologram appeared, showing a “fairy” who was blatantly lying about her age. The AI had clearly been used to enhance her—making her look more mature and… well, endowed. I kept my face entirely blank.
“Greetings, my descendants,” she said.
“Agagagagagaga!”
The Minister of Education foamed at the mouth and collapsed. He was out! And so began the hellish event known as “The Don't-Faint Lunch Meeting.” Hey, don't look at me—I wasn't part of this conspiracy!