Amanda, frozen at the door, caught Torglin’s muttering from behind the wall.
“To hell with all these noble ceremonies…”
And in that moment, it hit her.
She froze completely. Then slowly turned toward the corner of the room, where there seemed to be no one.
“…Torglin,” her voice trembled. But not from anger. From relieved, almost hysterical joy. “You… genius.”
“Huh?! What’s that supposed to mean?!” the dwarf’s indignant voice came from thin air.
But Amanda was no longer listening. She clenched her right hand into a fist. A pale light enveloped her palm.
Click.
With a soft sound, an object materialized.
A mask.
Not just any mask. A pale alloy of mithril and orichalcum—the very one. Perfectly polished, thin as paper, a half-mask that covered only the area from the eyes to the cheekbones. No unnecessary decorations. On its surface—masterful guilloché engraving; upon closer inspection, one could discern patterns of tree branches flowing into ancient, unreadable runes. Tiny obsidian granules were set along the edge, absorbing light and flickering with an ominous gleam.
Amanda lifted it with both hands, her eyes sparkling, on the verge of tears.
“You made it yourself! You said it was ‘in case of a fire at the aristocrats’!”
“…Uh… well… that was just for show, back when we were dealing with those weirdos…”
An extremely embarrassed voice emerged from empty space.
“Though… yeah, that’s the one.”
At that moment, Leo snorted.
“Pffft… ha-ha…!” He couldn’t hold it in, and the laughter became outright. “Torglin, that’s brilliant.”
“…Shut up!! Don’t laugh!!”
Amanda was already pressing the mask to her face, her eyes watering from suppressed laughter.
(This is it… it’s perfect…!)
Without wasting a second, Amanda pressed the mask against her face.
Click. Click. Invisible clasps locked it perfectly in place. It didn’t hide everything. But it changed everything. The mouth and chin remained open for eating and speaking. Yet the essence of “Amanda”—her origins, her past, her trembling heart—was completely sealed behind cold, gleaming metal.
This wasn’t a disguise born of fear. This was a declaration.
The eyes peering from beneath the deep slits gained new depth, sharper, more abyssal.
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She glanced at her reflection in the nearest silver pitcher. Before her stood no longer a frightened college student or a panicking isekai transplant.
This was the Harbinger. A being of absolute mystery, half-concealed by an ancient artifact.
“…Idiots,” Amanda murmured quietly with a bittersweet smirk. She adjusted the edge of her cloak. “Both of you are idiots. But… thank you. Don’t stray too far.”
With those words, she flung the door open.
Clang.
The maid waiting in the corridor actually jumped at the sight of the transformed Harbinger. Her eyes widened. But years of training prevailed. Silently and deeply bowing her head, she began to lead the way.
Amanda followed. Down the illuminated corridor strode a golden figure, casting a long shadow.
(Perfect, the face is flawless. The mask is simply genius.)
(It maintains distance without looking hostile. More like part of a “ritual”—ideal.)
(Even Roxana’s gaze should bounce off… I hope!)
Mentally making a victory pose, she straightened her back. Her footsteps echoed in the stone corridor.
Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Like a countdown to a fateful moment.
(Well then, time to begin.)
(The Harbinger Amanda descends to the dinner table!!)
(…Though my stomach is in knots from nerves!!!)
The door opened.
The dazzling light of the chandelier instantly enveloped Amanda.
A long table. The entire Eichenwald family was assembled. At the center—Duke Tywin, brimming with dignity. To his right—the elegantly smiling duchess. The three sons: the second and third burning with curiosity, while the eldest, Randel…
Randel slowly rose. With a soft, yet heart-achingly tender smile.
“…We have been awaiting you, Harbinger.”
At the sound of that voice, her cheeks flared with heat again.
(No-no-no!! Pull yourself together!!)
Behind the mask, she desperately composed her expression into impassivity. Her gaze then caught the figure at the far end.
Roxana Eichenwald.
In a dress of black and deep crimson, her red eyes stared directly at her. She was smiling. But it was the smile of a serpent spotting prey.
“Oh… what a exquisite mask,” she spoke first, of course. Her voice sweet, with a prickly edge. “It reminds one of ancient mysteries. Or… perhaps you simply do not wish to show us your face?”
An icy silence hung over the table. The duchess quietly gasped. The second son gawked. Duke Tywin merely raised an eyebrow slightly.
—Here we go.
Amanda slowly advanced. Her golden boots echoed heavily on the marble.
Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Like a verdict.
She reached the indicated seat—diagonally from Randel, directly opposite Roxana—and, without hurry, pulled out the chair and sat.
“It is for rituals,” she replied in an even, calm voice. “By ancient vow, I am forbidden from revealing my face anywhere except the battlefield.”
A lie, but it’ll do.
Roxana’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Hmm… an ancient vow,” she murmured, twirling her wine glass with her fingertips, smiling. “So it does not extend to the mouth? How fortunate that it does not interfere with the meal.”
(Oh, you’ve got some nerve!!)
Amanda mentally clicked her tongue, gracefully unfolding her napkin.
(I just need to watch and copy… Randel, help me out…!)
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Randel take his spoon with a gentle, understanding smile.
(Perfect, start with that…!)
Amanda reached for the same spoon.
—In that very instant.
Roxana let out a soft laugh.
“Oh, the Harbinger begins from the left. Though in our kingdom, one formally begins from the right…”
The entire table froze. The duchess quietly exclaimed, “Roxana!” Duke Tywin cleared his throat. Randel visibly tensed with worry.
But Amanda moved first.
The sound of the spoon being set back down sliced through the silence.
Click.
“On my homeland, beginning from the left is an ancient custom,” she stated quietly but clearly. “As a guest, I have no intention of violating your country’s traditions. But as the Harbinger… I will not bend my own path.”
A moment of silence.
And then…
Duke Tywin chuckled quietly.
“Ho-ho… Amusing,” his deep voice rolled through the room. “For the first time, our house hosts such a guest. I will not object. Do as you wish, Harbinger.”
Roxana’s smile deepened slightly. Randel exhaled in relief.
(Whew… First round cleared…!)
As she brought the spoonful of soup to her mouth, Amanda mentally made a victory pose.
(Though it’s only just beginning…!)
The candle flames in the candelabras flickered. The long evening meal truly began. And Amanda, behind her metallic mask, felt her nervous tension beginning to crystallize into cold, calculated focus. The game was well underway.