I was reincarnated into a world where magic and divine power exist.
I wasn't particularly happy about it.
It wasn't something I wished for, and if you suddenly snatch someone who's living just fine and toss them into some remote, unfamiliar environment, who would be thrilled?
If I had at least been given overwhelming talent, or some explanation for why I ended up here, that might have been different. But I have no aptitude for mana and zero faith—so I gained nothing but a new life.
A drastically changed environment. New relationships.
I spent seventeen years adapting to it all, overcoming depression and loneliness.
They say ten years is enough to change mountains and rivers. By now, I've more or less grown used to this new life.
Except for a few unpleasant things.
The arrogance and hypocrisy unique to nobles.
Their obsession with splendor and beauty.
The complicated, dizzying etiquette and formalities.
Of all things, I've never managed to get used to the ones nobles consider most important.
It's truly dreadful.
If I had to be fair, I could at least understand etiquette, formality, arrogance, and hypocrisy. They're uncomfortable, but not incomprehensible. They exist everywhere—just in different forms.
What torments me to the end, however, is the obsession with splendor and beauty when it combines with vanity.
Especially the clothes.
To me, noble attire is excessive.
Men wearing stockings with garter belts. Women cinching their waists to madness with corsets, puffing out their skirts with panniers until they waddle around shaped like hourglasses. Watching them feels like looking at the face of someone addicted to plastic surgery.
Grotesque. Creepy.
It may seem odd to feel that way over mere clothing, but when a person's silhouette narrows like a funnel and then flares out like a parasol, isn't it stranger not to find it bizarre?
"Tsk…"
I clicked my tongue softly, picked up a glass of champagne prepared in the hall, and made my way toward a wall where few people were gathered.
For nobles, social activity is practically work. Unless you're on the verge of death, you must attend national celebrations.
And today is the anniversary of His Majesty the Emperor's coronation.
Which is why I was dragged to this banquet and forced to feast my eyes on outfits I'd rather never see.
Beneath the dazzling chandeliers, the usual army of hourglass silhouettes had appeared once more, decked out in multicolored garments and glittering jewels.
They sparkled so much I felt like I might have a photosensitive seizure without even needing a monitor.
"Haah…"
I let out a sigh.
If I kept staring at the noisy, crowded center, I felt like I'd grow dizzy and collapse.
I tipped another mouthful of champagne down my throat and turned my head slightly.
The edges were less crowded.
But I always realize too late that turning my gaze isn't the best choice.
A young lady about my age with red hair came into view.
A dress drenched from shoulder to ankle in frills and lace. A skirt so voluminous it made a parasol look plain. A waist slim as an hourglass. A chest gathered up as if wringing out her very soul, with more than half of it exposed. Jewelry the size of eyeballs.
I don't know which family she belongs to, but judging by how she flaunts such peacock-like splendor all on her own, she must be the daughter of someone quite eminent.
"—Sss…"
I inhaled sharply through my teeth like a hissing snake and downed the rest of my champagne in gulps, trying to settle my irritated chest.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to look beautiful.
Any living creature dresses itself up to attract a mate and prove superiority over rivals.
Like cicadas crying loudly to find partners, peacocks flaunting brilliant feathers, stags boasting large, thick antlers.
…Wait. Aren't those all males?
Hmm…
Fuck it. I don't know.
I just wish it would all disappear.
The corsets. The panniers. The dresses smothered in layers of frills and lace.
"…"
My chest felt tightly clogged, like it might burst. I hurriedly brought the champagne glass to my lips—only for nothing to flow in.
"Ah…"
Staring blankly at the empty glass, I let out a long sigh and tore my gaze away from the peacock-like young lady, stepping off to fetch more champagne.
Before entering the banquet hall, Mother had firmly warned me, "Don't guzzle alcohol like a whale."
But it couldn't be helped.
It's suffocating. Hard to endure sober.
"Young Master, please allow me."
"…Thank you."
As I walked slowly in search of more champagne, the butler appeared at my side before I knew it, smoothly exchanging my empty glass for a full one before retreating.
I always think this, but a highly trained, first-class servant is indistinguishable from a ninja.
They glide in when needed, finish their task, and vanish like the wind. If that's not a ninja, what is?
"..."
Sipping the champagne the butler handed me, I returned to the wall and leaned against it.
I'll just look at nothing, blend into the wall, quietly sip champagne, finish the ceremony, and leave.
A perfect plan…
"William, what are you doing over here?"
And the moment I formed it, it was ruined.
Lowering my glass slightly, I turned toward the sound of Mother's voice.
"I was feeling a little dizzy, so I was resting."
"You're dizzy because you're gulping champagne. I saw you—scurrying around like a mouse and finishing a glass in less than five minutes."
"Ha ha…"
I bit my lip slightly at her sarcasm and raised the glass again with an awkward smile.
Damn. She'd seen everything.
At least it was only my first glass.
If I pretend to restrain myself from now on, maybe she won't press the issue.
"I'm sorry. I guess I got a little carried away by the banquet atmosphere. I won't drink anymore after this."
"Tsk."
Mother clicked her tongue sharply, frowning as she covered her mouth with her fan.
She clearly didn't like what I'd said.
That wasn't the right answer…
"If you're so intoxicated by the atmosphere, why are you always glued to the wall like wallpaper? Do you have no intention of mingling?"
"No… I am trying, in my own way—"
"Trying to blend in with the wall? Have you decided to become a cicada? Or one of those sloths from distant lands? Except when you fetch alcohol, you're stuck to that wall so diligently. So naturally, in fact, that I nearly mistook you for wallpaper."
"I'm sorry…"
I lowered my head and tried to look dejected, but Mother only stared at me coldly.
A chill crept down my spine.
She had sharpened her blade for today.
This wasn't a passing scolding. I could feel it in my skin.
"William, how old are you this year?"
"Seventeen."
"Yes. A full seventeen. Others your age are building connections, finding partners, preparing for engagements or marriage. And you? Will you continue wasting time like this? More importantly, are you seeing anyone these days? Every time I see you rubbing up against walls like this, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."
"I am trying, in my own way—"
"Enough! I'm sick of that word 'trying'! William, I tolerate it because you're not the eldest son, but are you truly making an effort? You don't want an arranged marriage, you don't want free romance, you don't meet friends—well, you don't have any, do you? You don't even have a dream. Whenever there's a ceremony or banquet, you look for excuses to skip it. You rarely go out. Is this what you call 'trying'? If you were truly trying, shouldn't you at least attend the matches your parents arrange? We can only be fooled by that word 'effort' so many times. How long do you intend to drift along like this?"
"I…"
"As a child, you were so bright. Why are you so lifeless now? I still vividly remember when you spoke of all the dreams you would pursue."
"..."
Her words poured down like a waterfall, tearing at my heart in an instant.
Every sentence carried the weight of someone determined to rip me to shreds.
And yet, this wasn't baseless condemnation. Each word was rooted in affection and fact, in genuine concern—which made it hurt even more.
Like when a former fan turns into an anti and strikes harder than anyone else ever could.
"I-I mean, Mother, I do think I want to change…"
"William…"
As I fumbled with my lips, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, Mother suddenly grew emotional. Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes as she gently took my right hand.
Looking into her faint, sorrowful jade-colored eyes, my chest ached and my heart throbbed.
I felt terribly sorry for being such a useless son, but I absolutely did not want to associate with those peacocks.
No, even if I tried to approach them first, the moment I see them, all my motivation just drains away… What am I supposed to do about that?
It's so unfair I could go crazy.
"..."
But no matter how unfair it felt, I couldn't just say that outright.
I forced an awkward smile and waited for Mother to speak. Wearing a deeply worried expression, she carefully opened her mouth.
"Are you… impotent?"
"Excuse me?"
I stared at her blankly, eyes wide.
Did something strange just come out of her mouth?
"William, boys your age are usually getting engaged or flirting with the servants, but you just stand there blankly watching others. It makes me worry for no reason…"
"That's absolutely not it."
"Then… are you afraid of women?"
"..."
After calmly beating me down with facts, Mother suddenly switched tactics to wild speculation and exaggeration.
From my perspective, the leap in logic was so absurd and ridiculous that I was left speechless.
I lightly pressed the cold champagne glass to my head to cool my overheated thoughts. As I did, Mother's grip on my right hand tightened.
"Shall I ask Caroline to help you?"
"Pardon?"
My aunt's name suddenly slipped from Mother's lips.
Ever since my uncle passed away a few years ago, she's been living quietly in a secluded estate. Why bring her up all of a sudden…?
"?!"
Goosebumps spread across my body.
Because I suddenly realized the 'role' of a widow living quietly like that.
I hurriedly shook my head and said with wide eyes,
"That's not necessary. I'm not afraid of women, and there's nothing wrong with… that."
"That's how desperate I am. Do you know how frustrating it is to see my perfectly normal son acting like an awkward fool who's uncomfortable around women? Be honest with me."
"No, I—haah…"
Faced with Mother's stubborn attitude, I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a sigh.
No matter how desperate she was, assigning a widow to give me "sex education" felt like going a bit too far.
"I really don't need that. And it would be a burden for Aunt as well."
At my reply, Mother narrowed her eyes, leaned closer, and whispered in a small voice.
"Surely… you don't prefer men?"
"..."
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My shoulders trembled.
After being hit with "Are you able to perform?" and now "Are you actually gay?", I felt like I was about to lose my mind.
"Absolutely. Not. Mother."
"If it's neither this nor that, then please just find your partner already. The whole family is beside themselves with worry over your marriage prospects."
I clenched my molars and firmly denied the gay suspicion word by word, but Mother paid it no mind and continued worrying.
"I'll bring you good news soon."
"Very well… If you truly wish to show us good results, I hope you'll let us know as soon as possible. I don't think our patience will last very long."
Even after I spoke with complete sincerity, Mother's gaze toward me wasn't gentle.
Narrowing her eyes, glaring sharply, she left me with a quiet warning before turning on her heel and walking toward the center of the dazzling, glittering ballroom.
"…"
Watching her retreating figure, I downed my champagne in large gulps.