The world snapped into monochrome clarity through my [Shade-Tinted Glasses]—pale outlines of students frozen in panic, hands clutching at faces or each other.
Some stumbled blindly, others crouched low.
Zephyr was forming a human shield around Luna (as expected.)
The chubby first-year poet still chewing (impressive dedication and courage).
As for Emilia and Livia, they had practically fused themselves to Aeron's arms, their silhouettes trembling.
At least they are pretending to be scared.
I rolled my eyes and focused past them, scanning the hall as I heard a familiar voice's scream—
Then my breath caught, my eyes widening.
My legs moved before I could think—
"GOT YOU ALL, DIDN'T WE?"
I stopped turning in the voice's direction.
Light exploded through the hall.
Pain lanced through my eyes—right, the glasses. I yanked them down to my nose bridge in one fluid motion, squinting through the sudden glare as:
- Half the students screamed again
- Three teachers fainted dramatically
- The chubby kid finally paused mid-bite, but he was sitting on another table now since he had already emptied his own.
He came here for free meals, right?
"Haha, it worked-! We got you all!"
I shifted my gaze to the stage where the new announcers—a wiry boy with emerald-dusted cheekbones and a girl twirling a silver ribbon—stood, the previous hosts bound comically behind them with their own cravats.
They are... acting? Then... My lips twitched. So this was a planned event too.
And neither looked remotely apologetic.
"Was that necessary?!" a voice shrieked.
"WHAT IN THE EMPIRE—"
"MY HEART NEARLY STOPPED!"
"WHO'S IDEA WAS THIS?!"
Livia's voice cut through the noise like a knife. "Since when do you need glasses? And your eyes are all squinty!"
"They do suit you." Emilia complimented still not letting Aeron go.
Aeron asked while standing awkwardly between two girls. "Fancy. Where'd you get them?"
Before I could answer:
"OH, DON'T LOOK SO TRAUMATIZED!" The male announcer crooned, kicking his feet like a child on a swing. "IT WAS JUST A LITTLE...ATMOSPHERIC STORYTELLING!"
His partner pirouetted, sending glittering dust into the air. "NOW THAT WE HAVE YOUR UNDIVIDED ATTENTION~"
The crowd's reactions splintered:
- A cluster of students started slow-clapping
- Three teachers looked ready to commit murder(probably those two)
- Zephyr's killing aura intensified by approximately 300%
- The unstoppable eater...kept eating...
New letters exploded overhead:
«HEARTSTEALER'S GAMBIT»
Where Love is a Battlefield~
The female announcer's grin turned feral. "SEE A COUPLE YOU COVET? CHALLENGE THEM! WIN OUR LITTLE GAMES, AND STEAL THEIR PARTNER FOR THE NEXT DANCE!"
"THREE CHALLENGES MAX PER PAIR!" her partner added, dangling upside-down from nothing. "BUT HERE'S THE FUN PART—THE ORIGINAL PARTNER MUST WIN EVERY DEFENSE TO KEEP THEIR DATE!"
The girl winked at a blushing cluster of first-year girls. "LADIES~ DON'T BE SHY! YOUR PRINCE AWAITS!"
What a waste of time...
My fingers absently traced the glasses' frame as my gaze flicked to the royal siblings again.
Prince's expression had gone glacial. Little Sara stood stiffly, her earlier bravado shattered—until our eyes met.
A spark of recognition.
I offered her a small reassuring smile.
Then she immediately looked away, cheeks pink.
"OH, WE HAVE THE FIRST VOLUNTEER!"
My gaze flikcered back to the prince.
Should I use it...? Or... was I just seeing things...
"I, Leroy von Albrecht..."
A voice sliced through my thoughts—honeyed with false charm, sharp with venom.
"...will challenge the transfer student for Lady Emilia's next dance!"
The crowd's murmurs died instantly.
I blinked slowly before turning toward the stage.
Leroy stood there, blonde hair perfectly coiffed, one hand resting dramatically over his heart. His smirk dripped with the kind of arrogance only noble upbringing could cultivate.
Ah. I almost forgot about him.
The female announcer clapped excitedly. "Oho~! Our first challenger steps forward and takes the shot!"
Her partner swung down from his invisible perch, landing between us with a flourish. "What do you say, transfer student? Will you accept this duel of hearts?"
Do I have another choice? And didn't you at least learn my name first?
Before I could respond, Leroy scoffed. "Unless he's too cowardly to defend his own partner."
The crowd buzzed. My fingers twitched against the glasses' frame.
Aeron stepped forward. "I can take this—"
Emilia shook her head. "You don't have to—"
"Challenge right after I win," I said quietly, already moving past them, putting the glasses back in the pocket.
The announcers' grins widened as I approached the selection box—an ornate chest pulsing with faint light. Leroy's gaze burned into me, but I kept my expression blank.
The male announcer's fingers brushed the box's lid a second too long. Leroy adjusted his cuffs in a peculiar pattern. Their eyes met briefly.
I suppressed a sigh. Of course the game was rigged. But it didn't matter.
The female announcer twirled, her ribbon slicing the air as she announced:
"LET THE GAME DECIDE YOUR DATE!"
She plunged her hand into the box, withdrawing a glowing slip that burst into fiery letters above us:
Windstaff Target Duel!
Leroy's smirk turned razor-sharp.
"Rules are simple!" her partner declared, producing two polished oak staves tipped with crystals. "These windstrike rods fire compressed air bursts. Hit the moving targets—" He gestured upward where dozens of floating orbs began bobbing erratically. "Most hits in three minutes wins!"
Leroy caught his staff with practiced ease, giving it an unnecessary flourish. "Child's play. I've trained in marksmanship since I could walk." His gaze slid toward Emilia. "Perhaps you'd prefer a more... skilled partner for the next dance?"
Emilia's expression remained politely frozen. Aeron opened his mouth—probably to protest—but I was already stepping forward.
"Let's start." I took the second staff, testing its weight. The crystal hummed faintly against my palm.
Leroy's smirk sharpened. "Oh? No last words before your humiliation?"
I adjusted my grip. "Just shoot."
Although I hate cringe and all this uneccesary trouble/drama, it doesn't mean I will act like a loser.
You asked for this yourself. Don't regret it later, arrogant young master.
The crowd's murmurs died as the announcer raised her ribbon.