“Pfft...”

Upon hearing Ann's words, Moen nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. His eyes fixed on Ann, his gaze unfocused and trembling as he stammered,

“W-What? Did you just say... engagement ceremony?”

“That's right.”

Ann nodded and replied matter-of-factly,

“You’ve forgotten, young master? According to established custom, the engagement ceremony is supposed to take place only after Princess Celicia’s eighteenth birthday.”

“I know that, but isn't this way too sudden?” Moen said dumbfounded.

Previously, Celicia had mentioned she was a year younger than him.

And he had just celebrated his own eighteenth birthday three months ago, which meant Celicia would turn eighteen a few months later.

Although for a noblewoman this age wasn’t considered too young, Moen hadn’t expected things to move this fast.

No—actually, he hadn’t even considered this at all before now. Distracted by so many other concerns, this sudden news had caught him completely off guard.

“When exactly is it supposed to take place?”

“On the day of Princess Celicia’s eighteenth birthday. The ceremony will be organized by the royal palace, while the Duke's household only needs to provide some assistance and... well, all you need to do is attend, young master.”

“...That’s way too soon.”

Moen muttered, sounding dazed,

“I haven’t even prepared for this.”

“I was startled too, but apparently, it’s a decree issued personally by His Majesty,” Ann said with a sigh.

“When the news first arrived, the entire Duke's estate was thrown into a panic. Fortunately, based on the timeline, the Madam should be able to return in time, which provides some reassurance.

Though as for the Master... I fear that might be difficult.”

“I see. Father will surely be disappointed.”

Moen sighed along with her.

But then it hit him—wait, why should he be fretting about his father?

Shouldn't he be the one panicking?!

He's about to get engaged! Engaged! Engaged!

Only months ago, he was worrying about survival, about avoiding getting slapped to death by the dark god. But now, in the blink of an eye... he has to consider major life decisions.

Though it had only been a few months since he crossed over into this world, the experiences he’d been through made it feel like an eternity. So much had happened that he had unknowingly, entirely integrated into this identity, this world. Looking back on everything... he couldn’t help but lament.

“That's the first matter. What’s the second?” he asked, brushing aside unnecessary worries for now—after all, the ceremony was still months away. Moen’s focus returned to the present.

“There are letters from the Master and Madam.”

An handed over two wax-sealed envelopes adorned with the Campbell family crest.

“Letters?”

Moen was momentarily caught off-guard.

Quickly, he grabbed the envelopes, broke the seals, and began reading them intently, word by word.

Two letters.

One from his father.

One from his mother.

It was obvious from the handwriting and tone that both were personally written. Their distinctive styles of expression gave it away immediately.

The holographic letter from his father brimmed with military swagger: anecdotes about how he had pushed the battlefront several miles forward, how many demonic troops he'd defeated, and even a boast about a one-on-one duel where he knocked out several teeth of a demon duke.

At the end of the letter, he casually mentioned,

“Kid, I’m proud you managed to score eighty points. Now hurry up and find a good-looking woman to give me a grandson—granddaughter works too. Don’t spoil that princess too much. A real man can handle more than one woman—if there’s trouble, I’ll take the heat for you...”

But even this single statement revealed several traces of amendment, as if these few sentences had been much more difficult to write than the preceding several paragraphs.

As for the letter from his mother, it was far more fluent, primarily because the entire sheet was densely packed with doting concerns: like whether he was eating properly, resting enough while studying, and taking good care of himself... and even agreeing with his father, suggesting not to worry too much about the princess, as his father would "handle any issues."

She exemplified the phrase "loving mothers spoil their children" perfectly.

Yet each ordinary word drew Moen in and held his attention.

After a long while, Moen finished reading both letters, carefully folded them, stored them away, and exhaled deeply while looking up at the ceiling.

Indeed, words are the most evocative force in this universe. Two simple letters were enough to fill his heart with warmth.

Moen turned to gaze out the window, a wave of indescribable emotion swelling up inside him.

In retrospect, while his injuries weren’t yet fully healed and a subtle emptiness still lingered within him...

He had saved his senior.

The Moon had fallen.

The dark god likely wouldn’t be causing trouble for now.

At this moment, all was peaceful—sunlight beamed, clarity reigned.

So...

“Ann.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you say... I’m happy now?”

“...I wouldn’t know.

But...”

Ann’s eyes locked onto Moen’s face as she softly replied,

“You do look quite joyful right now, young master.”

“Is that so?”

Moen chuckled, “It feels pretty good, honestly.”

What he had been searching for all along was suddenly within reach. Leaning against the window, Moen savored the tranquil scenery outside while basking in this blissful state of mind.

If only things could stay like this forever...

…

But good things don’t last. Suddenly, the sound of mechanical movements echoed. The carriage windows were abruptly sealed shut, transforming into black curtains that blocked out all light and noise from the outside.

“What’s happening? An attack?”

The moment of peace shattered—Moen’s instincts kicked in, alerting him to danger. Without hesitation, he sprang up, scanning his surroundings vigilantly and preparing to draw Elizabeth.

Yet he paused, puzzled, finding no sign of an enemy. All he noticed was Ann sitting across from him casually, unscrewing a rare luminous pearl that emitted an enchanting pinkish hue in the cramped carriage space.

“Relax, young master. It’s no attack.”

The small tea table between them had somehow vanished. Rising from her seat, Ann gently pressed Moen back onto the soft, oversized sofa, whispering,

“You’re safe here. No one will disturb us.”

“Safe? Disturb us?”

Moen’s mouth twitched—why did that last statement sound so contradictory?

But he didn’t have the chance to dwell on it, as the pinkish glow began revealing Ann’s flushed, regal face, slightly labored breathing.

Wait a minute—was this about to...?

At that instant, Moen’s survival instincts blared loudly. He instinctively wanted to escape...

But before he could, Ann had already leaned in, her graceful figure pressing tightly against him, the fragrance surrounding her inundating his senses of touch, sight, and smell.

“Ann...”

Moen swallowed hard, forcing out words,

“W-What are you trying to do?”

“Come now, young master, isn't it obvious?”

Ann chuckled softly,

“You mentioned wanting happiness. I just want to make you a little happier.”

No, no, no—this wasn’t just happiness anymore. This felt like he was ascending to heaven!

And in the literal sense of ascending!

No way. Escape—he had to escape!

Moen scanned the area frantically for a means of escape.

But it seemed Ann had already anticipated his thoughts. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she let her firm, curvaceous figure press tighter against him.

“You’re free to smash through the carriage and flee, as I promised never to imprison you again.

But with so many people outside, do you really want them to see me like this?”

Her tone carried an uncharacteristic sultry charm.

Moen instinctively glanced downward, noticing that Ann’s previously tied-up hair had now cascaded down. The first two buttons of her maid’s uniform were unfastened, showcasing a flawless curve and her deep purple lingerie.

In this amalgamation of purity and elegance, an intoxicating allure glimmered.

Darn it.

Resigned, Moen’s hand holding the blade reluctantly retreated.

“Don’t worry—this carriage is specially designed. Whatever happens inside will never transmit to the outside.

Because, young master, I belong only to you,” Ann murmured near Moen’s ear, her tone implying excitement.

“Though...I was curious how it might feel—having so many people outside, even that princess who’s about to marry you, while I share a private moment like this with you here, where no one can interrupt us...”