To Whom It May Concern,

Dear Father and Mother,

I hope this finds you well.

Autumn in Belland is a bit chilly; I wonder how it is where you are.

The chrysanthemums in the Duke's estate have already bloomed, and this is their most glorious season.

Since you left home, I have gone through so much on my own. I have grown, I have gained, and now I can proudly claim the title of the top-tier "manly man" worthy of the Campbell name.

But even the mightiest man will eventually encounter insurmountable obstacles—a human female tyrannosaurus that he can't defeat.

And so, through this letter that exists only within my heart, I offer you my sorrows.

Farewell, Father.

Farewell, Mother.

Farewell, my younger sibling—whether yet to be born brother or sister.

All I hope is that you will still remember me in the days to come.

May heaven, too, abound with milky white bosoms and thighs. Amen.

---

"Come on! Do what you want!"

Watching the thoroughly drunk Celicia, Moen realized that doing anything extra at this point would only bring more torment.

So he stretched his neck, lay flat, and chose absolute resignation.

Come on, spare no mercy for this delicate flower; trample me ruthlessly—I dare you! I refuse to believe you'll actually kill me!

Moen shut his eyes, preparing for the inevitable storm to come.

Yet, he waited for a long time, but nothing happened.

Instead, all he felt was something cool, like a finger, poking at his cheek.

He opened his eyes and looked at Celicia, who was using a single finger to prod him. She tilted her head and asked with a sideways glance:

"What are you doing?"

"You... you want some yap?"

Celicia wobbled a box of chocolates that was about half-full and asked sweetly.

Moen froze.

Damn it, how adorable.

Staring at Celicia's increasingly flushed face, Moen's gaze became somewhat dazed.

If the earlier Celicia was like a melting spring, then the current Celicia was the misty steam wafting over a hot spring.

Forget her usual cold demeanor—right now, every part of her was unpredictably soft and endearing. Combined with her still slightly icy outer appearance, this created a sensory allure more provocative than even the earlier saintess photo shoots.

Sure enough, opposites really are the most irresistible charm in the world!

But so what if she was cute? Does being cute mean she can make people obey her every whim?

"I'm not eating!" Moen gritted his teeth in defiance.

"Not eating?"

With a crack, Celicia slammed her palm onto the bed frame, shattering it. "Are you sure?"

"..."

He took back his previous thought. No matter how cute she was, it couldn’t cover up her status as a human-shaped female tyrannosaurus ready to explode anytime.

"Here, eat some yap."

Celicia pinched a piece of chocolate and brought it right up to Moen's lips.

His body stiffened slightly. He lowered his gaze to the chocolate… or rather, to the two slender, pale fingers holding it. They looked just like polished jade; in fact, compared to the chocolate, they were much more tempting to place in one's mouth.

How was he supposed to eat this?

Just like that?

This was practically being delivered straight to his mouth!

With a sudden motion, Moen leaned forward and took the chocolate into his mouth.

Soft fingers brushed against his lips, their icy touch combining with a faint ticklish sensation that made the chocolate's sweetness all the more pronounced.

"Is it good?"

"Yes, it's good."

"I think so too."

Celicia withdrew her fingers and picked up another piece of chocolate, this time placing it into her own mouth.

Without hesitation, she slid the same two slender fingers past her cherry lips, her blush intensifying as an expression of enjoyment graced her face. When she was done, she even extended her soft pink tongue to thoroughly lick the sweetness off her fingers.

Whether due to the liquor-infused chocolate or the growing heat in the sealed room, Moen suddenly found his mouth dry while watching her.

"Do you want more?"

"I do."

"Here, ahh—"

"Ahh—"

And so it went: one piece for him, one piece for her. Under Celicia’s personal feeding, the half-box of chocolate was finished in no time.

By now, Moen felt increasingly warm.

The chocolate he had eaten seemed like a blazing fire, scorching his chest and abdomen. With the alcohol kicking in, he now felt his face burning—and the whole world felt slightly wobbly.

Damn it, just what kind of liquor was in those chocolates?

Although one or two pieces posed no problem, after eating so many in a row, even someone like Moen felt a little bit light-headed.

No doubt about it, not only was this liquor expensive—it was incredibly strong.

Fortunately, he wasn’t as much of a lightweight as Celicia, who collapsed after just one piece. Even after eating so many, he was still perfectly sober.

Yes, not even slightly drunk.

"Mo... Moen Campbell…"

On the edge of the bed, Celicia, who had eaten even more than him, was now practically limp, like a puddle of molten wax. Her eyes had glazed over in a hazy daze.

"You... you still haven’t answered my question…"

"Wh-what question?"

"Me, Anna Kablin… and that little maid of yours… who’s the prettiest?"

"Why... why is it still this question?"

Moen was instantly enraged.

Once was fine, but over and over again—did she take him, Moen Campbell, for a pushover?!

Slamming his hand on the bed, he leaped up and glared down at Celicia.

"Enough… enough already! Shut... shut up! From now on, don’t ask anything like that ever again!"

"Why—why not?"

"Because… because I said so! If I say you can’t ask, then you can’t ask!"

"Mo… Moen Campbell, are—are you rebelling against me?"

Celicia’s brows furrowed as she wobbled to her feet, yet another crystalline sword materializing in her hand.

"Don’t… don’t think just because you can project other two doppelgangers, you can rebel. As long as I’m here, you’ll never rise up!"

"Nonsense! I’m—a man aiming to be on top!"

Moen stood tall on the bed, pointing an accusing finger at Celicia, his voice filled with disdain:

"You’re the one who’s out of line! So what if you’re a little stronger? So what if your skill’s higher? Or your lineage’s impressive? You think you’re that great? I’ll show you—who’s the boss who runs this house!"

"Hmph, you… you think you’re up to the challenge yap?"

Celicia swayed precariously as she smirked coldly.

"My swordsmanship isn’t just for show!"

"And my abilities are no joke, either!"

"Then say no more—let skill speak!"

"Fine! Whoever wins... is on top!"

In an instant, tensions ran high.

The two stared each other down like predators, sharp eyes scanning for any weakness.

Then, as if thunder met erupting flames, both moved simultaneously.

Celicia swung her sword. Her strikes were shadows of pure precision, forged from the top-tier techniques of royalty. Her mastery had reached perfection—a formidable display that filled the room with countless afterimages of her blade.

And… her sword flew out of her hand.

Celicia tilted her head, her flushed cheeks laced with confusion. She appeared genuinely puzzled as to why her blade had slipped mid-swing.

Meanwhile, Moen opted for direct brute force. Activating his alchemy core, he dialed up "tenfold time dilation" and launched forward.

But no matter how adept, even tenfold dilation couldn’t counteract the inevitability of stepping on a loose corner of the bedspread…

And Moen slipped.

No amount of slowed perception could undo this misstep.

In that fleeting moment, his and Celicia’s bewildered eyes met.

Then, as if fate could not be defied—they collided, tangling together in one.