The moment of truth arrived.

  The palace corridors were lined with torches that lit my path—every single one had been replaced ahead of time.

  Still, there was one last surprise before I reached the hall.

  Sir Percival and I met at an intersection just before the main doors. The young man was dressed in a blue doublet, a dark cloak, black hose, and formal shoes.

  The tailor had done a good job, as always.

  “Sir Percival, ready for your first banquet?” He looked incredibly nervous. I could see him fiddling with the hem of his skirted doublet to calm himself down, and honestly, it was kind of funny.

  “Y-Your Highness… do I look good? I won’t embarrass Lady Alda, will I? We practiced for hours so we wouldn’t make fools of ourselves.”

  “Relax. It’s just a banquet. Eat until you’re about to burst and dance calmly. No one will judge you.”

  That last part wasn’t entirely true. The nobility was eager to meet the great hero who had defeated bandits and entered the king’s service.

  But telling him that right now wouldn’t help him at all—quite the opposite.

  “O-Okay… I still can’t believe I’ll be attending a banquet. I’m really excited.” The blond smiled, and we immediately started walking toward the banquet hall. All the seats had already been assigned, and as host, it was my duty to arrive first.

  “Your effort will be rewarded, Sir Percival. Just one last thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “Take care of my sister, please.” And with that, I gave him a teasing wink. “She’s been looking forward to this banquet a lot. Could you make her smile for me?”

  “I-I… of course, Your Highness.” My new knight didn’t say anything else. He stayed silent, cheeks flushing hard at my request.

  Sir Percival was a good kid.

  That’s why I felt guilty for using him for my dirty political purposes. Right now, Percival had no real pressure on his shoulders. The war hadn’t begun yet, and his image as a hero was still a mystery to the common people.

  But sooner or later, his skills would come to light—and with them, his true role: calming the masses.

  Heroes didn’t just bring hope. They also brought peace and control. Having Sir Percival on the battlefield would raise morale; keeping him inside a garrison or city would help maintain public order. Everything was planned.

  “We’re here, Sir Percival.”

  The banquet hall was finally ready. The room was enormous, the walls draped with my heraldry everywhere. Decorative swords and elegant suits of armor also served as ornaments.

  And for safety, I wore chainmail beneath my clothes.

  Better safe than sorry.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “I’ll take my seat at the center of the table. You and Alda will be at the far left end. If you need anything, go to the maids—they’ll take care of you.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll go to my seat.” Sir Percival bowed politely, then went to the place I’d assigned him.

  Aside from my throne and the dukes’ golden chairs, the rest of the seats were made of fine wood. I didn’t know if it was oak or agave—I was never great at identifying the flora of this world.

  Some trees shared names with their counterparts in Mexico, but others had new ones. For example, the fire tree, so called because it had red leaves and no insects or fruit. Its wood didn’t soak as easily, and it was in high demand for weapons and furniture.

  On the other hand, fire trees grew in every environment, and thanks to that, deforestation didn’t seem to be a problem.

  Anyway.

  Minutes later, the “ladies” most important to me arrived: Girasol León (Mother), Ingrid Wall, and Alda.

  My mother chose a purple dress, covered in golden jewelry around the lace, with a veil hiding the lower half of her face. Unlike my other life, purple didn’t mean royalty here or anything like that.

  She no longer carried the regent’s scepter, since she would soon step down after the final celebration.

  Alda, on the other hand, wore a long blue dress fitted to her feminine figure. No ornaments, no patterns, no embroidery—just a pale blue as clear as the sea. Add her beautiful smile, and she was basically a walking moe bomb.

  “Brother—I-I’m here. Do you like my dress?”

  “You look great, Alda. Sir Percival will love it. He’s sitting at the far left. The guests aren’t here yet, so you’ll have some time alone to keep getting to know each other.” I gave her a wicked little wink.

  Ah, how I loved teasing my sister.

  “B-Brother, what are you even saying…?” Alda’s blush matched her dress perfectly. Maybe in my next life I’ll reincarnate as a fashion designer—or a matchmaker.

  “In any case, have fun, Alda. Let this banquet become a good memory for you.”

  “Thank you, Ulric…”

  Alda gave me a polite curtsey and walked to her seat. Sir Percival was already waiting there, his face bright red.

  Anyway, as much as I wanted to watch the lovebirds flirt, I had other duties.

  “D-Do you like my outfit, Ulric?” Ingrid spoke last.

  She wore an incredible black dress that contrasted with her pale skin and snow-white hair.

  On her chest was a tiny embroidered red lion—my house’s heraldry and, at the same time, a message to every duke: I am the king’s fiancée. Even if everyone had already accepted that humiliating political arrangement, many lesser nobles still cursed Ingrid behind her back.

  Still, she told me she wanted to be loved for her own merits. Showing a more confident, self-assured side of herself was the first step.

  “You look beautiful, Ingrid.” Oops—I said what I was thinking. “I-I mean… as expected of you.”

  My words had an immediate effect.

  Ingrid’s face lit up. Her lips curved instantly into a smile full of life. The blush on her cheeks and her honey-colored eyes, wide as stars, gave her an unmatched charm.

  S-She’s really beautiful. I need to stop staring or I’ll look hypnotized.

  Unfortunately, I failed.

  My eyes couldn’t leave Ingrid’s smiling face. And that was when I discovered something not exactly strange, but still oddly specific…

  I loved seeing girls smile with their whole heart.

  Her outfit—paired with Ingrid’s angelic expression—made my heart beat faster than normal.

  “Th-Thank you, Your Highness.” Ingrid heard more guests arriving behind her, so she stopped using my name. “I’ll take my seat.”

  As the royal fiancée, she sat at my left. Mother took her place on my right.

  The first guests were minor nobles, knights, and courtiers whose emblems I didn’t fully recognize.

  They must have arrived with the dukes as part of their retinues. Then the musicians came… but they didn’t play anything.

  Unlike my past life—where music always started right away—here, the musicians couldn’t begin until the guests of honor were present.

  Etrica had strict banquet protocol: the host arrived first and left last. No food was touched and no melody was played until the highest-ranking guests were seated.

  And in this case, the highest-ranking guests were the dukes.

  Slowly, the hall filled with people. But I was surprised by how quiet the huge room sounded—only timid murmurs and soft comments, too low to understand.

  Until the guests of honor arrive, nothing begins. Not even conversation.

  I tried to turn my head toward where Alda and Sir Percival sat, but from this distance their faces vanished into the crowd.

  Then the last sounds disappeared entirely, and everyone stood up.

  The dukes had arrived.

  They wore the finest clothing in the kingdom. Their fashion would have put any runway show from my old world to shame. To show equality under the law, they walked in a single straight line—no one above another.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Seconds later, they sat in their assigned seats. Their retinues were already inside the banquet hall (especially Yuka and Ronaldo).

  And just like that, the banquet truly began.

  “Guests,” I announced, raising a cup of wine, “it’s a pleasure to have you in my castle. Tonight we celebrate the arrival of the honorable dukes and my future coronation. Incredible times are coming for the Kingdom of Etrica—the future awaits us! Cheers!”

  I took a small sip.

  The guests did the same, repeating, “Cheers,” and then the music began. Dozens of maids entered carrying plates of food.

  The menu was varied: chicken, beef, venison, boar, apple pie, chocolate cake, pineapple pie, sweet rolls (something like little volcano buns), smoked suckling pig, high-quality ham, and of course… hamburgers.

  I wanted to introduce tacos, quesadillas, suizas, and other dishes from my old world. But at Gonzalo’s request, I had to save them for the next occasion (the tournament), since those dishes were considered “fast food” and better suited for less formal events.

  In a way, he was right.

  During soccer games, for example, the menu was just pizza, snacks, chips—plus beer and soda.

  Ah… how I miss cola.

  While I was thinking that, a huge plate of meat landed right in front of me. It looked so juicy and delicious that I didn’t hesitate—I devoured it like I’d been starving.

  Ingrid only smiled at my manners.

  Mother, meanwhile, took only a few cookies, some wine, and a chicken leg. She was never a big eater. In fact, I rarely saw her eat more than necessary.

  “Aren’t you hungry, Mother?” I asked after swallowing a heavenly cut of meat. Ingrid didn’t hold back either—the “delicate” young lady grabbed smoked pork, ham, and a small hamburger to go with it.

  “No, thank you, my son. You two eat.”

  “All right!”

  Medieval feasts weren’t exaggerated.

  This was food paradise.

  As I ate my sacred treasures, I couldn’t help focusing on Ingrid Wall.

  The girl ate without any shame at all. Her cheeks puffed out from how much she was stuffing in, and to wash it down she took little sips of wine.

  I wasn’t a social drinker or anything, but I had to admit the liquor tasted good—no preservatives, no modern nonsense. It was a bit more bitter, but it made up for it with a special note that paired perfectly with meat.

  “Is something wrong, Ulric?” Ingrid noticed me staring and paused her relentless feast.

  “N-No, nothing.” My instincts stopped me from making a stupid comment. Whether in Mexico or Etrica, questioning a woman’s weight was terrible manners.

  Ingrid had developed a generous—

  …Huh?

  Why the hell did I think that?

  “O-Okay. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll keep eating. It’s normal to eat until you burst at a celebration like this.”

  She was right.

  One quick glance at the other tables confirmed it. Everyone was eating like there was no tomorrow. Even the honorable dukes—so elegant and dignified—looked like circus animals.

  Eat, eat, and eat.

  At the previous banquet, when Sora was murdered, I barely had time to taste anything.

  The incident happened right as the festivities began—plus Vlad II’s presence. I never got the chance to appreciate the culinary customs of formal feasts.

  For example: no table could be left without food. That was considered an insult by the host. So the servants moved at full speed, watching from a distance to make sure no table ran out. The moment they saw supplies running low, they refilled them immediately.

  A titanic task. The entire staff was circling the hall, and for good reason.

  Any mistake in distributing food could bring serious consequences for the host.

  Unfortunately for us, I’d learned that the hard way years ago…

  “The hamburgers are amazing, Ulric,” Ingrid said, pulling me out of my dark memories with her beautiful smile. “Tell me the truth—this food comes from… you know where, right?”

  She meant my old world.

  Beloved Mexico.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I’m glad at least a tiny piece of it made its way here.”

  After answering, I grabbed another mini hamburger and ate it in a single bite.

  Around the hall, guests split into groups: some kept eating, others stood and walked toward the dance floor to open the dancing.

  Fun fact: Etrica’s music wasn’t that different from old European ballads from the seventeenth century. The instruments were harps, lyres, recorders, organs, and finally a quartet of violins made from the kingdom’s finest wood.

  As a musical idiot, I couldn’t say much technically, but at least it sounded good—harmonious melodies, perfect for relaxing or waltzing.

  “Do you want to dance, Ingrid?” I asked. “Or are you too full?”

  Dancing wasn’t one of my favorite activities, but my social duties needed to be fulfilled as soon as possible.

  Mother’s inquisitive look said everything: You must dance now.

  She didn’t need words for me to understand.

  “Of course, Ulric. It would be my pleasure to dance with you. I-I mean—Your Highness, I accept your dance.” My fiancée blushed at her slip, then offered her right hand with proper courtesy.

  “Come. Let’s dance.”

  We stood and walked to the center of the hall. The other guests stopped dancing, and even the music paused.

  Right… the king can’t start a song halfway through.

  Two seconds later, a new song began, and Ingrid and I debuted on the floor. I held her by the waist; she placed her hand on my right shoulder.

  This felt different from practice with Mother.

  Ingrid’s heart beat strongly—so alive—paired with her bright smile. She looked beautiful, like a winter flower.

  The song continued. No lyrics, no words—only a slow, harmonious rhythm that kept us closer than usual.

  A sea of feelings flowed through my soul.

  I didn’t feel even a hint of guilt.

  In a way, I’d always avoided seeing Ingrid as a woman, because I feared betraying my moral values.

  But the person I used to be didn’t exist in this world anymore. Why chain myself to a dead man’s morality?

  Why not enjoy my life as Ulric?

  My two identities—original Ulric and Esaú—had accepted it. I should accept it too.

  And Ingrid’s words still echoed in my head.

  “I’ll make ours a marriage of love.”

  Yes. There was no mistake.

  I, Ulric León…

  Sooner or later, I would fall desperately in love with Ingrid Wall. Maybe sooner than I wanted to admit. Seeing her smile so happily, cheeks flushed, made me truly happy.

  My God.

  How could someone be so beautiful?

  Her physical appeal was secondary.

  Ingrid was good, friendly, gentle, and determined to fight for a just cause. She had so many qualities I didn’t even know where to start listing them.

  While we danced, Alda and Sir Percival fought their own battle. The inexperienced pair looked stiff, rigid, and full of nerves. From a distance, Ingrid and I shared a silent little laugh.

  Despite the awkwardness, our adorable Alda was smiling.

  A face we wanted to see at any cost.

  Alda had always dreamed of cakes, dances, and medieval pageantry. Secretly, she longed to live one of these parties the way they happened in the romance novels she read in her room. It was a desire buried in her heart, because the last experience had traumatized all of us.

  “We did well pairing them,” I whispered to Ingrid.

  “You’re right.”

  The banquet continued without major incidents. Because of the formal nature of the event, I couldn’t go sit with my sister and chat. Instead, I was forced to speak with the dukes about boring legal matters.

  Taxes, arranged marriages between barons, suggestions, inheritances, and other courtesies.

  We didn’t touch Etrica’s independence or my secret plan to build an army. That meeting would be for another time.

  Mother and Ingrid stayed close to me, but they didn’t converse with any of the dukes. Still, they weren’t silent the whole time—I saw them speaking with elegant barons and their entourages.

  I didn’t catch what they discussed, or whether it was casual conversation or business.

  In a banquet this large, there was too much information and too little time to collect it.

  “Your Highness, may I steal a moment of your time?”

  Seneschal Lozano stood up from his seat—located at the far left corner—and addressed me. I rarely interacted with him outside official meetings, so his approach felt unexpected.

  “Go ahead, Seneschal.”

  “I was reviewing the proposals for new laws we’ll enact once you’re crowned,” Lozano said. “And I found one I couldn’t understand.”

  He looked suspicious and cautious. He was a careful man—he never made decisions lightly.

  Of all my advisers, he was the one who thought the most about the kingdom’s future.

  “Which law?”

  “Providing free, secular education to commoners. I don’t understand it, Your Highness. It’s a waste of money. Why does a peasant need to read or write? We need them in the fields, and later… you know where.”

  That last part was his way of saying “war” without actually saying it.

  His doubt was well-founded.

  To me, the lack of schools and literacy was a real problem. I came from a place where almost everyone could read (Mexico), but here in Etrica, reading was a privilege only nobles and wealthy merchants could afford.

  To Lozano, spending a large sum for that purpose was illogical.

  “You’re wrong,” I whispered so I wouldn’t draw attention or embarrass him. “If the population is better educated, we can teach them important things—more advanced instructions for monuments, weapons, and more efficient production methods. Don’t underestimate the power of education, Seneschal, or you’ll be surprised. Trust me.”

  I didn’t want to explain my entire plan.

  Honestly, I still needed to refine details. Building schools across the kingdom wasn’t realistic right now, but I wanted to imitate the Greeks and use open-air classes.

  Hiring teachers to give lessons in fields, plazas, or public centers—temples, theaters, markets—so children and adults could at least study for an hour or two.

  I knew literacy wasn’t a two-year process. It might take my whole life to reach fifty percent.

  But I wanted to lay the foundation for future public education.

  “If you say so, then fine,” Lozano replied, “but I’m still not convinced. Another thing, Your Highness… what were you thinking with the Family Peace Law? Th-this doesn’t make sense. Many people will oppose it.”

  For the medieval mindset of this world, that law was a total revolution.

  For me, it was just common sense.

  Etrica’s society was deeply sexist by nature and tradition. Even if women could serve in the army (because of strength), they lacked many freedoms.

  So I drafted a set of laws grouped under “The Family Peace Law.”

  Mother and Ingrid helped me shape it. Now it only needed review by the High Council.

  That review was mostly formal. Even if they refused, my authority as king would let me push it through anyway. Still, doing that wasn’t recommended—it could be seen as tyranny.

  The dukes, meanwhile, had full authority over laws in their own duchies. I couldn’t change that yet. They saw it as respect and trust between equals.

  Normally, duchies adopted royal laws. Refusing wasn’t illegal, but it was a silent challenge—and it had future consequences.

  “I want to improve quality of life, Seneschal Lozano.”

  “I can understand that, Your Highness,” he said, “but punishing a man for hitting his wife—doesn’t that alter civil rights?”

  “No, Seneschal. It’s the opposite. Women are people too, and they deserve the same rights. If a man hits his wife, he will receive ten lashes in the public square and be branded an abuser. If a woman does the same, she will receive the appropriate punishment as well.”

  Giving women more freedom had become one of my primary goals.

  In a sexist society like this one, the change wouldn’t be welcomed—and I was already thinking about how to contain the backlash.

  “People won’t like that new law.”

  “They don’t have to like it,” I replied, smiling as I grabbed a piece of white bread and took a bite. I swallowed, then ended the conversation. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, I just want to enjoy the banquet.”

  “As you command, Your Highness.”

  Still unconvinced, Lozano returned to his seat.

  At that moment, Ingrid Wall came back to my side.

  “Did you hear my conversation?” I asked her.

  “Only the last part,” Ingrid replied. “Women will thank you for it. And besides… I know you would never hurt me.”

  “Of course. I would never harm any of you.”

  By instinct, I patted her head again.

  Ingrid puffed her cheeks—an expression I loved seeing every day.

  “H-Hey. I’m not a child anymore.”

  Before I could pull my hand away, Ingrid took it and gently placed it against her left cheek.

  “S-See? My face is grown-up…”

  “E-Eh… y-yeah…”

  But her action only made me blush harder.

  “I see you two get along better now. That’s good.”

  Mother interrupted with a mischievous smile.

  Immediately, Ingrid and I pulled apart and avoided looking at each other.

  “I-I was just showing the king that my face is adult now…”

  “And why do you want that, Ingrid?” Mother’s question hit the mark.

  The devil knows more from being old than from being the devil.

  Arguing with Girasol León was as hard as defeating Sir Marte Hogan.

  “T-To show my growth…”

  “And what do you gain from that?” Mother’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, she pointed at Ingrid playfully. “My little chicks are growing up.”

  I said nothing.

  In these situations, the best strategy was silence. Don’t give her more fuel.

  The rest of the evening flowed through food, games, dances, and funny moments. I hadn’t had this much fun in my life. The pressure I’d felt before seemed insignificant now.

  What a way to begin the festivities.

  And the best part… it was only just beginning.

  …Wasn’t it?