Inside the room, Celicia took a deep breath, gazing at the hole that Moen had flown out and crashed into.. She gradually steadied her breathing.

Under her extraordinary emotional composure, the flush of anger on her delicate face slowly faded away, and her demeanor quickly returned to its usual frosty calm.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

...

“President~”

Weier peeked cautiously around the doorway before walking in, careful with each step. The first thing she saw was Celicia in a flowing, pale long dress, exuding an air of cool elegance and nobility. Every strand of her golden hair seemed so perfect, entirely befitting of her title as a princess.

Truly a worthy president...

Weier found herself momentarily stunned, awestruck by the remarkable beauty of the girl before her. She couldn't help but silently sigh in admiration.

How foolish of me to have thought that Moen Campbell took advantage of the president last night!

Just look at her—untainted by any impurities, as flawless as a precious gem sculpted by divine hands. Even as her fiancé, how could Moen Campbell, that scumbag, ever tarnish someone like her?

There's absolutely no way.

The president is forever the president—always pure, always aloof, as untouchable as the noble snow lotus blooming proudly atop distant alpine peaks, far removed from the filthiness of this mortal world.

That’s precisely why I admire her so much.

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Weier instinctively glanced around the room, now in complete disarray.

She couldn’t help but click her tongue in amazement.

Look at those chairs, tables, and stools shattered to bits. Look at those documents scattered to the corners. And that bed... collapsed entirely as though it had been trampled by two crazed elephants.

Moen Campbell, were you used as a mere punching bag last night, going through hundreds of rounds of torture with the president?

Thinking of this, Weier couldn’t stop a deep sense of sympathy from welling up in her heart.

Moen Campbell, because you’ve suffered so miserably, I’ll make an effort to badmouth you less in the future!

Just as these thoughts ran wild, Weier suddenly felt a cold gaze pinning her. Her round face froze instantly, and she put on her most pitiful expression.

“President~”

Celicia stared icily at Weier. “Weier, you ran pretty fast last night.”

“M-me? It’s because I was worried about you, President.”

Weier batted her eyes innocently, explaining hastily,

“If you had lost control and accidentally caused some serious consequences, you’d feel guilty when you came back to your senses, wouldn’t you? So, as your secretary, I needed to step in and prevent that from happening!”

“And locking Moen Campbell in with me... What was that for?”

Celicia, usually icy-cool, sounded as if she were grinding her teeth. “Was that also to prevent losses?”

“Mhm, mhm.”

Weier nodded earnestly, as if everything was only natural, and replied with conviction,

“As long as Moen Campbell occupied the president’s attention, additional damages would be avoided. It worked really well, didn’t it? For once, the house didn’t get completely torn apart.

And besides...”

Weier pursed her lips, a look of disdain crossing her face as she said matter-of-factly,

“Given someone like Moen Campbell, there’s no way he could do anything to the president, right? It’s just perfect!”

“...”

Watching the obliviously naïve Weier, Celicia nearly choked on her own emotions. She was furious.

Sure, he didn’t manage to do anything to her.

Instead, she had him pinned under her and ruthlessly “tortured” for a solid three hours.

Totally not a big deal! (Grinding her teeth.)

“Forget it.”

Celicia took in another deep breath, once again calming herself to suppress the uncontrollable anger that surged at the thought of *that* man.

She decided against punishing Weier. Doing so might make it seem like she had a guilty conscience.

“Where is that guy? Did he die?” she asked.

“Moen Campbell? No, he’s not dead, though it seems he passed out. Should I heal him?” Weier suggested kindly.

Unexpectedly, Celicia’s demeanor suddenly changed. She bristled, her voice turning cold and sharp, practically hissing the words,

“Why bother? Let him die!”

“Oh, alright… sure.”

Weier shrank back, startled.

Still, the pity in her heart for Moen Campbell only deepened.

Poor Moen Campbell. You’re in such a pathetic state, yet the president won’t even offer you treatment.

Turns out the president truly despises you!

“Help me gather the documents.” Celicia exhaled deeply, giving a new instruction instead.

The shattered furniture and the destroyed bed weren’t the real issues here.

The real problem was how the documents, which she'd painstakingly organized the day before, had been scattered everywhere due to all the chaos.

Although simple “close combat” was unlikely to have caused significant damage to the paperwork, reorganizing this mess was going to be a pain.

“Got it.”

Weier had no objections. She was simply grateful that she got no punishment and began humming a little tune as she enthusiastically got to work.

“Huh?”

While sorting through the mess, Weier suddenly let out a puzzled noise.

Holding a document in her hand, she examined it closely, a large question mark practically popping up above her head.

“This document… seems to have been wet at some point. Coffee? No, this doesn’t seem like coffee.

And...”

Weier bent down, sniffing the paper.

“This smell... it seems kind of strange. A bit... musky—”

“Weier!”

An indignant, flustered shout interrupted Weier’s thoughts as Celicia snatched the document from her hands. A faint blush crept onto the otherwise icy princess’s cheeks.

“You don’t need to sort the papers anymore. Go clean the bathroom!” Celicia ordered abruptly.

“Huh? What? Why?”

Weier blinked in confusion, completely unaware of Celicia’s sudden awkwardness.

The bathroom!?

That large bathroom?

Me alone?

“Because *someone* used it. I don’t like that! Just clean it, now!” Celicia demanded sharply.

“... Oh.”

Weier complied, her spirits instantly deflated.

While she was somewhat pleased that the president once again expressed her disdain for Moen Campbell, the thought of having to clean such a *massive* bathroom by herself made her entire face crumple in agony.

Even the strange thoughts swirling in her just moments ago vanished without a trace.

“President~” Weier tried to plead faintly.

“No assistants. No magic. Go now!” Celicia cut her off sternly, glaring at Weier. “If I find even a *trace* of that *man’s* presence left in the bathroom, I’ll strip you bare and throw you into his room!”

“Ugh...”

The little secretary whimpered pitifully.

I hate you so much.

*Damn you, Moen Campbell!*

...

Once everything had been dealt with, Celicia heard a knock on the door.

“This time of day...”

Glancing at the fading light, Celicia sighed knowingly.

“So, they’re here, after all.”

Since no one else in the estate was free to answer the door, she opened it herself.

Standing outside was a Royal Guard clad in gleaming armor detailed with golden filigree. At the sight of Celicia, the knight immediately knelt respectfully.

“Your Highness.”

“Hm.”

Celicia nodded slightly.

“Have you come for Moen Campbell?”

“Yes,” the knight replied, nodding. “By order of His Majesty.”

“He’s over there.”

Celicia gestured toward a nearby section of the collapsed wall. Beneath the pile of rubble, one perfect posterior stuck up toward the heavens, silently voicing its protest to the injustices of the world.

The knight’s expression didn’t change. He merely nodded. Two retainer knights appeared behind him, carrying a stretcher. Without a word, they wandered over to the pile of bricks and, with an impressive lack of ceremony, hauled Moen out of the rubble. They laid him on the stretcher—a position that still left his rear skyward—and carried the unconscious man away in slow, awkward rhythm.

“We take our leave, Your Highness.”

The lead knight bowed respectfully before departing.

“Hm.”

Celicia nodded lightly in acknowledgment, but as if suddenly recalling something, she spoke up,

“Wait.”

“Your Highness?”

Celicia’s icy gaze tilted toward a nearby direction. With frost in her voice, she said,

“There’s a river over there.”

The knight paused, then looked at her questioningly.

“Before he’s presented before my father... toss him into the river and rinse him thoroughly.”