The summons arrived a week later—a formal invitation to the Royal Palace, where the five candidates would gather for the official declaration of the Selection.
It was a momentous occasion, the first time all five women would appear together in public.
Ayanokoji spent the days leading up to the event preparing.
He studied the other candidates’ backgrounds, their public statements, their known allies and enemies.
He analyzed the political landscape, identifying potential flashpoints and opportunities for alliance.
And he watched Emilia, observing how she handled the pressure of the coming event.
She was nervous—he could see it in the way she fidgeted with her hair, the way her eyes darted around the room.
But she was also determined, her jaw set with quiet resolve.
“You’ll do fine,” he told her on the morning of the declaration.
“Just be yourself.
The people need to see the real Emilia—not a polished political figure, but a genuine person who cares about their welfare.”
Emilia smiled weakly.
“Is that enough?
To just be myself?”
“It’s more than enough.
The other candidates will be playing roles, projecting carefully crafted images.
You have something they don’t—authenticity.
Use it.”
The carriage ride to the palace was tense, the air thick with unspoken anxiety.
Ayanokoji sat across from Emilia, his expression calm and reassuring.
Puck floated beside her, offering words of encouragement in his usual playful manner.
When they arrived, the palace was already crowded with nobles, officials, and representatives from across the kingdom.
The five candidates were escorted to a private chamber, where they would wait until the ceremony began.
Ayanokoji observed the other candidates carefully.
Priscilla Barielle was exactly as he had imagined—arrogant, beautiful, and radiating an aura of absolute confidence.
Anastasia Hoshin was more subtle, her sharp eyes taking in everything around her with the practiced ease of a seasoned merchant.
Crusch Karsten was stern and composed, her military bearing evident in every movement.
And Felt, the wildcard, was a bundle of nervous energy, her eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.
Five women, five paths to the throne, Ayanokoji thought.
But only one can win.
The question is which one—and what it will cost.
The ceremony itself was a blur of speeches and formalities.
The candidates were introduced, their qualifications were proclaimed, and the assembled nobles offered their formal recognition of the Selection.
It was all very proper and very boring.
But beneath the surface, Ayanokoji could feel the currents of power moving.
The nobles were already choosing sides, forming alliances, plotting against their rivals.
The Selection was not just a contest of candidates—it was a battle for the soul of the kingdom.
This was the moment that would define her campaign.
If she faltered, if she showed weakness, the nobles would smell blood.
But Emilia didn’t falter.
She stood tall, her silver hair shining in the torchlight, and spoke with a quiet dignity that silenced the room.
“I am not a politician,” she said.
“I am not a soldier or a merchant.
I am just a woman who wants to see this kingdom prosper.
I believe that all people—human and demi-human, noble and commoner—deserve a chance to live in peace.
And I believe that together, we can build a future where that is possible.”
Her words were simple, but they carried weight.
The nobles shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to respond to such sincerity.
She’s winning them over, Ayanokoji thought.
Not with rhetoric or threats, but with authenticity.
She’s showing them something they’ve never seen before—a candidate who actually cares.
When the ceremony ended, the candidates were escorted to a grand banquet hall, where the real politicking would begin.
Ayanokoji shadowed Emilia, his eyes scanning the crowd for potential threats.
“Quite a speech, Lady Emilia.” The voice came from Anastasia Hoshin, the merchant princess, who had appeared at Emilia’s side with a practiced smile.
“Very…
heartfelt.”
Emilia smiled politely.
“Thank you, Lady Anastasia.
Your own words were most impressive.”
Anastasia’s eyes flickered to Ayanokoji, assessing him in a single glance.
“And who is this?
Your advisor?
I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“Ayanokoji Kiyotaka,” he said, bowing slightly.
“I am honored to serve Lady Emilia.”
“Indeed.” Anastasia’s smile never wavered, but her eyes sharpened.
“I’ll be watching your progress with interest, Ayanokoji-san.
It’s always fascinating to see newcomers enter the game.”
She moved away, disappearing into the crowd.
Ayanokoji watched her go, his mind cataloging the interaction.
Trying to gauge our strength, our weaknesses.
She’s not an enemy—yet.
But she’s not an ally either.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of introductions and small talk.
Ayanokoji met countless nobles, memorizing their names and faces, their allegiances and ambitions.
It was exhausting work, but essential.
Every piece of information was a potential weapon.
When the banquet finally ended, Ayanokoji was tired but satisfied.
The Selection had officially begun, and Emilia had made a strong first impression.
But the real battles were still to come.
As they rode back to the mansion in the pre-dawn light, Emilia leaned against the carriage window, her eyes heavy with fatigue.
“Did I do well?” she asked softly.
“You did,” Ayanokoji replied.
“Better than I expected.”
Emilia smiled, her eyes closing.
“Good.
I was so nervous.
But when I looked out at the crowd, I thought about what you said.
About being authentic.
And it helped.”
Ayanokoji said nothing, but something stirred in his chest.
It was a strange sensation—warm and unfamiliar.
Emotional attachment, he thought.
I need to be careful.
This is dangerous.
But even as he thought it, he knew that it was already too late.
Emilia had found a way into his heart, and he wasn’t sure he could push her out.
The game was far from over.
But for the first time, Ayanokoji found himself caring about more than just victory.
He cared about Emilia’s dream—a kingdom where everyone could live in peace.
It was a foolish dream, doomed to fail.
But it was also beautiful, and Ayanokoji found himself wanting to protect it.
The Cult, the other candidates, the political machinations—they’re all obstacles to that dream.
And I will eliminate them all.
The road to the throne was long and dangerous.
But Kiyotaka Ayanokoji had never backed down from a challenge.
The game continued.