"Moen Campbell, don’t die!"

Weier's voice rang out from outside the door, carrying a mix of half pity, half encouragement, and nine parts schadenfreude. It made Moen begin to question the reality of this world.

Getting drunk off a single liquor-filled chocolate was absurd enough, but somehow this absurdity had spiraled into a potential threat to world peace and urban safety.

Alright, that might actually come to pass.

Moen glanced at the nearby ice crystal longsword, which had easily pierced through the formation barrier, and his delicate nerves couldn’t help but quiver.

Given Celicia's current level of ferocity, Moen had no doubt that if she broke out, she could easily flatten at least three city blocks.

However...

"What good does it do me to stay in here? I’m not her match! Open the door so we can figure something out together!" Moen pounded on the door with tears of rage and frustration.

"If the president gets out, things will really spiral out of control," Weier’s voice responded from the other side. "Relax, she’s just drunk, not completely out of her senses. As long as you can distract her, you should be able to hold out until the alcohol wears off. Probably…"

"Damn it, you don’t sound so confident yourself! Open the door, Weier—this is murder! Murder, do you understand!?"

"Murder? No, this is for the greater good, for the peace of the majority!"

"If it’s for the greater good, why don’t you handle it yourself!"

"Oh, just in case, I’ll strengthen the formation now. Afterward, no matter what sounds come from inside, they won’t be heard outside. Good luck, Moen Campbell. I believe in you!"

With Weier’s deliberately feigned innocent words, a heavy "thunk" followed, and the magical energy on the door instantly thickened further.

And then, the world fell silent.

So silent, in fact, that Moen could only hear his increasingly frantic heartbeat—and another, increasingly erratic and heavy breath.

"Hey, M-Moen Campbell, why won’t you turn around to look at me? Is it because I’m not pretty enough?"

The ice crystal longsword yanked out from the door and wobbled before stabbing down again, grazing Moen’s side.

Moen’s body shuddered violently. His expression was a mix of horror and utter desperation, and yet he forced a smile as he turned to face the girl.

"How could that be? Celicia, you’re so beautiful, I could stare at you forever."

"Really? Then why doesn’t it feel like you mean it?"

Celicia suddenly leaned in closer.

She was already close enough to almost stab Moen's side with her sword earlier, and now, this advance brought her practically pressed up against his body.

However, Moen was a good half a head taller than her. After tilting her head and staring at him for a while, all she could see was his chin and Adam’s apple.

Unhappy about the height difference, Celicia pouted. "You’re too tall. Let me cut you shorter."

"Don’t, don’t, don’t!"

Her words terrified Moen to the point where his very soul almost fled. He frantically waved his hands to stop Celicia from raising her sword and stammered, "I’ll shrink myself! I’ll shrink myself!"

Slowly, Moen bent his knees, not daring to lower too far. He hovered in a half-kneeling position, slightly shorter than Celicia.

Seeing Moen lower his height, Celicia nodded in satisfaction. She then extended her other hand and, with a "thud," pressed it firmly against the wall near Moen’s head.

Was this... a wall slam?

Moen’s mind went blank, overcome by a surge of humiliation.

He, a son of a duke, with a towering stature, an unyielding figure even in the face of the dark god itself... How could he possibly be on the receiving end of a wall slam?

If anything, he should be the one doing the slamming...

"Urp... You don’t seem to like this pose, do you?" Celicia burped as she stared intently at Moen.

"I love it! Absolutely love it!"

Moen forced a wide grin, nodding fervently.

This pose wasn’t actually that bad. If he thought about it carefully... it did make the heart race.

It was just that his "heart" was currently on the verge of racing itself to death.

"So... urp... tell me again, do you think I’m pretty?" Celicia hiccupped, revisiting her earlier question.

Moen’s breath caught in his throat.

Lifting his gaze, he scrutinized the young woman in front of him.

Right now, special candles flickered brightly, their light casting a soft and gentle glow upon her pale skin.

The warmth of the blazing fireplace made the room feel as cozy as spring, and the girl—dressed only in light, soft layers—revealed delicate curves of her figure.

Her silvery white hair draped naturally, brushing against Moen’s cheeks with a subtle fragrance that tickled slightly.

Through her hair—it was like pushing through a lush jungle to finally discover, deep within, a secluded hot spring misted by steam.

Those were her eyes at that moment.

Eyes once frozen and guarded like ice in an unreachable abyss had, under the influence of alcohol, become a shimmering emerald pool, brimming with tenderness, captivating Moen’s very soul.

"Stunning. Absolutely stunning..." Moen blurted out instinctively.

"How stunning?"

"Stunning enough to hold one’s gaze forever."

"Really?"

Although his response mirrored what he’d said moments ago, it made Celicia’s lips curl into a faint smile.

Her smile eased Moen’s tension, and he exhaled a sigh of relief.

But just then, Celicia followed up with another question:

"So... urp... among all the women you know, where do I rank in terms of beauty?"

"..."

Thump.

Moen’s heart skipped a beat.

"R-r-r-r-rank where??" Moen stammered nervously. "But why do I have to rank—"

"I just want to know!"

Celicia swayed her head adorably, her tone laced with childlike charm. Yet with a sudden motion of her knee, she forcefully dented the door Moen was half-leaning against, a door magically reinforced to withstand considerable pressure.

"Quick quick."

"..."

Feeling the chill beneath him, Moen was overcome with despair.

Not even struggling seemed wise; one wrong move, and in her drunken, strength-enhanced state, Celicia might honestly tear him apart.

This wasn’t bad drunk behavior—it was a complete personality shift.

"I-I suppose you rank as number—"

Snap.

Just as Moen was about to placate her with some flattering words, he froze upon hearing a sharp, crisp sound. His gaze darted toward the tiny, intricate voice recording stone in Celicia’s hand.

"Ce-Celicia, wh-what are you doing?"

"Urp... Ob-obviously recording what you say."

"Recording it??"

Moen’s mind went blank.

This was taking risks to a whole other level.

"Th-this isn’t good. Private conversations like this... broadcasting them wouldn’t end well."

"You don’t like it?"

"N-no, no!"

This time, Moen fervently nodded, even as tears brimmed in his eyes.

"Hmm, so this question might’ve been too difficult. What if I asked something simpler?"

Though the connection between question difficulty and her actions made no sense, Moen eagerly nodded regardless.

Any question other than the current one sounded wonderful!

"Something simpler, simpler... Let me think..."

Celicia shook her head vigorously, using what was clearly subpar reasoning capacity in her drunken state to think of simpler alternatives.

After a while, her eyes suddenly lit up.

"I’ve got it!"

Moen’s eyes lit up as well, hopeful for salvation.

"If it’s simpler, then I’ll narrow the scope a bit."

Celicia explained, "Urp... How about just three people."

"Eh?"

Moen’s face froze.

"Me, Anna Kablin, and your little maid at home... Between the three of us, if you had to choose the prettiest..."

Celicia fiddled with the now-recording voice crystal in her hand, lowered her head, and fixed her gaze on Moen’s eyes.

"Moen Campbell, which one would you pick?"