Chapter 50: A Royal Invitation and a Familiar Robe

Ethan blinked, startled, at the people knocking on his door so early in the morning.

Dale stood there, accompanied by a middle-aged man Ethan had never seen before.

“You’re still in your pajamas. That works out perfectly, actually. Time is short, so we’ll have to proceed a bit hastily.”

“Haha, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ethan Prescott. I’m here to take your measurements for your banquet attire. Would you mind stepping over here and spreading your arms?”

“A-a banquet?”

Ethan asked, looking bewildered, as Dale gestured for him to raise his arms. He absently complied, then stared, realization dawning on his face, but Dale merely offered a reassuring smile as if it were nothing.

“His Highness, First Prince Herace, is hosting a small banquet to celebrate the victory.”

“A victory celebration? The domain war between Riga and Veliki is in its final stages, but the Antares Unit only fought one minor skirmish.”

At Ethan’s groggy, bewildered question, Yuwol, the Dongja, clicked his tongue, seemingly exasperated.

‘You idiot. They just made an excuse, didn’t they?’

The man, having taken measurements with utterly traditional methods, now produced an array of cutting-edge equipment. As a portable body scan device circled Ethan, scanning him from head to toe, information about his physique appeared on the man’s tablet.

He inputted his manually taken measurements, calculated the margin of error, then smiled contentedly as he packed away his devices.

“If you’re in a hurry, you could just use a brand-name product….”

“That won’t do. This banquet is Ethan Prescott’s official debut into high society, and an excellent opportunity to deliver a respectable shock to Prince Devon Green.”

Ethan’s head snapped around.

Enoch Cloud, looking as if he’d stepped right out of a digital fashion spread, raised a hand to Ethan before beginning to examine the tablet with the designer.

At the same moment, Ethan felt himself enveloped in something warm and firm.

“…Bliss.”

His tense body relaxed as Ethan called out the name of the man embracing him. Bliss, ignoring the bustling figures around them, gently guided Ethan toward the dressing room.

Buzz.

The dressing room door slid open, and Bliss began selecting Ethan’s clothes one by one. Still in his pajamas and not having properly washed his face, Ethan’s cheeks flushed as he quickly dashed into the washroom, then emerged after splashing water on his face.

“Why is even Lord Enoch doing this? Are you two picking out clothes for me and Bliss?”

He asked, trying desperately to tame his wildly dishevelled hair, when Bliss held up a piece of drab, solid-coloured knitwear from seemingly nowhere.

“It’s banquet attire, but it needs to be styled like an actor’s costume. Since it’s your first day of class, how about this for a neat look?”

Ethan chuckled, then promptly shoved the knitwear into a corner.

“Neat is fine, but I don’t want to dress like a grandpa.”

What Ethan chose was a simple, water-coloured shirt, featuring a patterned collar but otherwise unadorned.

It was a choice that seemed both tidy and appropriately stylish, yet Bliss frowned, then presented a mask.

“…I’d like your eyes covered too.”

The way Bliss looked around, clearly searching for sunglasses, made Ethan hastily push something that had been placed behind him into a drawer.

Finding suitable pants, Ethan quickly held them up, hoping to prompt Bliss to leave.

“I’ve picked everything!”

It was clearly a request for him to leave, but Bliss somehow dawdled, remaining in the room and idly looking into the mirror.

“Bliss. Please leave so I can change.”

Even after Ethan clearly expressed his wishes again, Bliss continued to mumble seriously about needing a watch, needlessly opening drawers. When Ethan’s gaze began to sharpen with impatience, Bliss finally exited with a reluctant air, slowly closing the door behind him.

“Hmph.”

‘Doesn’t Bliss Moore seem to have developed a bit of a sneaky, trickster-like streak?’

Ethan, who had been chuckling in agreement with Yuwol’s chatter, hurriedly changed his clothes and rushed out when he heard it was time for breakfast.

****

“This is the first time a breakfast has made me feel utterly wretched from the moment I woke up.”

Enoch, uttering such vulgar words with an elegant expression, gracefully moved his long fingers to block Bliss’s chopsticks, which had been carrying braised tofu toward Ethan’s plate.

Bliss, his face impassive, simply let the braised tofu drop.

As Enoch flinched back, horrified by the splashing sauce, Bliss picked up another piece of tofu and, with a determined air, placed it onto Ethan’s rice.

“An Asian-style spread fit for a dinner banquet, served for breakfast? The Moore household truly never ceases to amaze me.”

“It’s not for you. If you don’t like it, leave. I won’t fault you for rudeness if you get up during the meal and return home.”

Ethan chewed thoughtfully, eating the tofu Bliss had given him along with the pristine white rice. Since he’d mentioned his fondness for rice, the frequency of it at mealtimes had increased, but today’s spread was indeed, as Enoch had said, almost overwhelmingly diverse.

Apparently, the cook had misunderstood Bliss’s instruction to prepare a huge amount of rice for Iwol’s tribute, and had consequently prepared an immense quantity of side dishes to match.

Dale sighed, distributing the excess food evenly among the servants. The rice, however, had long since vanished without a trace from the kitchen.

Faced with an overwhelming choice of dishes, Enoch shifted his focus.

“That shield, can’t you drop it for a moment? I don’t sense that Mr. Ethan is such an extraordinary Guide.”

“I’m not Lord Enoch’s Guide, so it’s not strange that you can’t sense it. Your question presumes that I would show a matching rate of 50% or more with you, Lord Enoch.”

The possibility of such a high matching rate was actually quite high, causing Bliss’s impassive expression to twitch, unable to dismiss Ethan’s words as mere jest.

Enoch offered a light laugh, his expression becoming inscrutable.

“Hmm, I suppose so. Indeed, there’s no need to deliberately expose myself to Mr. Ethan’s guiding.”

“…Is Scott doing well?”

Enoch’s relaxed posture stiffened. He then abruptly focused on the dish before him, resuming his meal.

“…They said he’d have a scar on his back.”

As Bliss, who had been watching him, answered on Enoch’s behalf, Ethan’s eyes turned sharp.

“Was it Lord Enoch’s intention to remove the Esper guards?”

Enoch, who had been eating, lifted his head.

“How did you know the guards weren’t Espers?”

Caught off guard, Ethan’s words faltered. Information about the gwi had only been shared with Bliss’s close associates and the most discreet members of the Moore household.

To Herace and Enoch, who shared political alignment, Ethan had been presented as a special multi-Guide capable of concealing his guiding.

As Ethan hesitated to answer, Bliss’s voice smoothly came to his aid.

“I told him.”

“Bliss!”

Enoch reproached him, yet Bliss’s expression remained unchanged. This allowed Ethan to finally voice what he had been thinking.

“Were you trying to use Scott… like an object?”

Crash. The chair toppled over, echoing loudly.

“The food is terrible. I’m leaving.”

Rising from his seat, Enoch exited the dining room with an uncharacteristically rough movement. Ethan, who had been staring blankly, surprised by his sudden reaction, belatedly burst out with his feelings.

“What was that? Why is Enoch Cloud getting angry?”

Bliss took his agitated Guide’s hand, stroking it gently.

“…He’s not angry at you; he’s probably angry at himself. Since he’s already left, why don’t you finish your meal? And it would be good if you dropped your shield.”

Unable to adapt to the sudden softness in Bliss’s voice, Ethan stammered.

“Um… Doctor Sera and Uncle Hans both told me not to drop my shield with you outside of designated times…”

“I think I overexerted myself a bit more than usual yesterday. My head feels like it’s throbbing.”

Far from overexerting himself, he had actually dumped a significant amount of work onto his subordinate to come home early. While the amount of work he did had mysteriously decreased since he started receiving tantalizing guiding from Ethan, compared to the amount he did when he was on the verge of death, Bliss merely feigned fatigue, rotating his neck.

“Bliss. I’ve been thinking for a while now, you seem to do too much work by yourself.”

The shield lifted as Ethan uttered words that would have made Chase or Philip expend all their energy on anger management.

Feigning weakness, Bliss gently stroked Ethan’s hand with his thumb, then tilted his perpetually impassive face to meet Ethan’s gaze, a soft smile gracing his lips.

Ethan, his eyes still dazed, unconsciously chewed the food Bliss had given him. Finally, undisturbed by anyone, Bliss spent the entire meal idly caressing Ethan’s hand, diligently attempting to charm his Guide.

Then, committing the atrocity of dropping off Ethan Prescott, who was refusing adamantly with a face on the verge of tears, and his guards at Ramiel Royal Academy in a military vehicle bearing the Antares Unit’s scorpion emblem, Bliss calmly set off for work.

“…I suppose that translates to ‘touch him and die’.”

At Liam’s words, Ethan cast his gaze downwards. In just two appearances, he had become the academy’s most notorious ‘parachute’ student.

As if oblivious to Ethan’s feelings, a Virgin Ghost and a Bastard Ghost were splashing around in the campus lake.

****

“These are the ceremonial attire designs. They required some historical research, but apparently, even more similar styles were found in pre-continental shift records. Ha, it’s just clothes. I can hardly believe I’m doing this myself.”

A few days later, Enoch visited again, grumbling as he handed a tablet to Ethan and Bliss.

Ethan, who had inadvertently accepted the tablet from Enoch, froze like a broken doll. The designer’s sketches were superimposed, appropriately scaled, onto the body scan silhouettes of both Ethan and Bliss.

Yuwol, the Dongja, let out a short gasp of admiration.

‘Huh, what are these Aitoolian guys, really?’

“These are ceremonial robes?”

At Ethan’s slightly trembling voice, Enoch swiped through the designs, revealing other styles. Ethan blinked.

Though they were heavily modified and modernized, the basic lines, the patterns…

“They’re apparently clothes worn by the Aitoolian founding dynasty, and Devon Green has developed an obsession with them.”

It was a hanbok.

“Pure white was only worn by royalty during ceremonies, so it’s not really suitable for non-royals to use as banquet attire, excluding that… Mr. Ethan, what’s wrong?”

Enoch pointed at Ethan’s hand gripping the tablet. His hand, clenching the device so tightly, had turned white from the lack of blood flow.