Tonight, at his third birthday party, was his first time meeting a significant number of non-relatives. His true high-society debut would come when he would turn sixteen, and he would be considered an adult (and allowed to drink) at eighteen. He only knew this because the First Prince, who would turn sixteen this year, had come with the First Queen to discuss the matter with his father. The king calmly acknowledged everything and reminded him to represent the kingdom of Gracis well.
However, much more than the topic of discussion between his father and his guests, Herscherik was interested in the fact that the queens and his siblings exceeded his expectations on how unimaginably good-looking they were.
Genes really are a powerful thing...
Just from the few meetings he had with them, Herscherik was already aware that the queens and his siblings were attractive. But seeing his royal family dressed to the nines blew him away. All of the queens were sublimely beautiful, with bodies so slim that Herscherik couldn’t believe that they had each borne a child. Since they were attending a party, of course, their makeup, hair, and dresses were all perfect. Naturally, they all pulled it off wonderfully.
The princesses, too, were all stunning girls. “Beautiful as a flower” seemed to be a comparison concocted for the sole purpose of describing them. And all the princes were handsome to match the queens and princesses. Herscherik didn’t know how else to describe them.
Take the oldest of his siblings, the First Prince, for example. He had spectacular red hair, as if the purest rubies had been melted into strands on his head, and eyes of the same color that gleamed with unwavering willpower. His mother, the First Queen, was filled to the brim with sensuality that had unmistakably been passed down to the prince, whose every gesture was extremely elegant. His elegance was only enhanced even more by his well-built body clad in a perfectly tailored outfit. After greeting Herscherik and the king, he was immediately swarmed by ladies of the nobility. Dealing with all of them without showing even a touch of annoyance in his expression made him look like a prince among princes.
The next oldest, the Second Prince, looked more like the king. He had the same platinum blond hair as his father, loosely braided in the back, and his eyes, as blue as the deep ocean, gave off a different sort of sensuality. His beauty was as cool as a clear crystal ball.
Herscherik had six older brothers in all, each varying in style but all equally beautiful. As everyone congratulated him, Herscherik gave his thanks in return, but his mind was wandering.
What kind of shojo game am I living in!? Is there anyone not beautiful around here!? Herscherik internally interjected. He was quickly getting fed up with his dressed-up siblings.
Couldn’t one of them have been a disappointment!? This isn’t right! ...That probably means I’m the disappointment!
His internal comedic monologue concluded with this depressing realization. Still, Herscherik was adorably put together, thanks to Meria’s efforts. He was adorned with an ornately embroidered emerald outfit with buttons and cuffs of intricate designs glittering on them, and a light green ribbon stylishly tied around his neck. Both Meria and his father had showered him with compliments, so he had gotten a little cocky, feeling like maybe he was kind of good-looking, too. After his gorgeous siblings greeted him one after another, though, his fragile self-confidence was shattered into dust. Herscherik was now aware that he was lacking some sort of style or princely aura. While he was a stereotypical blond-haired, blue-eyed prince, Herscherik now learned that he was short on flashiness compared to his siblings. If his oldest brother was a rose and his second oldest was a lily, Herscherik was a sprig of baby’s breath; this vague comparison seemed fitting to him.
They say it’s what’s on the inside that counts...
Herscherik wondered what chance he had against them when he was an otaku woman in her thirties on the inside.
Besides, any compliments from these good-looking people don’t make me feel better. They just sound sarcastic...
His siblings had all welcomed the youngest into the family, and complimented his mannerisms and outfit, too. The fact that he couldn’t take the compliments at face value was on Herscherik himself, who was being a little sensitive. A comparison he imagined was the awkward feeling of giving the cutest girl in class a compliment, then having her reply, “no, you look cute, too!” Of course, Herscherik was being entirely paranoid.
As his cockiness was smashed to pieces and blown away, the wave of guests transformed from royalty to nobles. The first noble to greet them was a minister of Gracis, Marquis Volf Barbosse.
“An honor to meet you, Lord Herscherik.”
It’s so nice to see a normal face after all the beautiful people...
A thought that would have been extremely disrespectful to say out loud crossed his mind. Marquis Barbosse was a middle-aged man with hazel eyes and hair, with an impressive mustache, who exuded an obvious aristocratic air. But his sharply shining eyes, as if he was evaluating Herscherik, made him uncomfortable all of a sudden. Come to think of it, even during his previous life, Herscherik was always terribly sensitive to feeling as though he was being looked at, whether it was friendly or not. At her office, Ryoko had a little trick of sensing her boss looking at her and responding before her name was even called. She must have also had a sort of sixth sense, as she could pick up the phone almost the instant it began to ring. Her apprentices were more scared than impressed by these tricks, though.
Herscherik instinctively straightened his back and put on a gentle smile.
“The pleasure is mine, Minister. Thank you for coming.”
His accumulated experience allowed him to respond with etiquette too refined for a three-year-old. He realized after that fact that it sounded unnatural. In his previous life, Ryoko’s mother had told her, “The less you like the person, the more polite you act toward them.” Her mother had had the same temperament, too. “It’s maddening when someone you don’t like is super polite with you, isn’t it?” she had said, grinning. She really was Ryoko’s mother, all right.
To avert the minister’s sharp glare of suspicion, Herscherik maintained his calm smile. Make a mistake? Smile and nod. Just a survival tactic that any adult would learn eventually, although this one required the user to pick their audience. In turn, Marquis Barbosse broke into a smile that wiped away his glare.
“What a clever child. You must be excited for his future, Your Majesty.”
“...I am. He is my treasure. I can’t wait to see how he grows up,” the king answered with a smile.
But Herscherik didn’t miss his father’s face stiffening for just a moment nor the strange beat in the conversation. Seeing that the two men carried on as if nothing had happened, though, Herscherik couldn’t interject.
When the wave of nobles started to die down, a man with a desperate expression came up to the royal hosts of the party. Herscherik only noticed him because of his intense stare. The man was in his late thirties with mustard-colored hair. He wore a slightly wrinkled burgundy outfit and had a rugged face, but he was much skinnier than the other nobles. More accurately, he was more worn out than the others. Seeing his appearance and intense attitude, everyone around him kept a certain distance.
With determination, the man clenched his fists and stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, I must make a report.”
Herscherik jolted at this sudden proclamation that began without even a greeting. His father took a step forward, as if to protect him, and faced the man down.
“What is it?”
The king’s tone was not the kind one he used when he talked to Herscherik. Now wearing the expression of a serious leader, Solye demanded an answer from the man. Peeking his head out from behind his father’s back, Herscherik looked at his father, the man, and the people around them. The glitz and glamor of the party from a moment ago had dissipated from the ballroom. The music had stopped and everyone kept their mouth shut, leaving the oppressive tension to rule the room.
“Your Majesty, your people are being pushed closer and closer toward their breaking point, year after year. The annual tax increases, the forceful collection... Nobles and court officials are becoming more corrupt and self-serving by the day. I beg of you, Your Majesty, face up to what your people endure!”
The man’s voice echoed through the hushed ballroom.
“At this rate, the legacy of the Gracis Kingdom that has lasted over five hundred years will end in self-destruction!”
“Mind your tongue in the presence of His Highness! Step aside, Count Ruseria!”
Marquis Barbosse was the one who interrupted the plea. But the skinny man, Ruseria, glared right back at the minister.