The morning of the Royal Selection arrived faster than Merope expected, and since dawn broke, Reinhard’s residence buzzed with a busyness entirely different from regular training days.
Merope had finished getting ready early in the morning—her white cloth neatly fitted with the blue ribbon wrapped around her waist, the result of repeated practice so her Authority of Vainglory could maintain that shape without needing constant re-casting.
She stood before Felt’s bedroom door, knocking impatiently.
”Felt!
Aren’t you done yet?!” she called out, slightly worried seeing the sun climbing higher than they had estimated.
”Hold on!” replied a muffled voice from behind the door, followed by the sound of a soft thud and a long grumble.
Merope tilted her head in confusion.
“How come you could dress me up, yet you yourself need to ask Granny Grimm for help?”
”What else can I do!” Felt yelled, her voice sounding increasingly frustrated, accompanied by rustling fabric and a soft creak that somehow sounded like a fierce battle.
Grimm’s calm yet firm voice chimed in from inside the room, giving steady instructions faintly audible through the door—and Merope could only stand waiting while suppressing an amused smile at Felt’s struggle, which was far noisier than her own preparation.
In the same hallway, Reinhard emerged from his room, already dressed in his neat formal uniform, sword hanging at his waist as usual.
He paused for a moment seeing Merope standing alone outside Felt’s door.
”Ready?” he asked.
Merope nodded, spinning slightly to show off her look.
“Ready! Just waiting on Felt.”
Reinhard gave a small nod, then his expression shifted slightly, as if remembering something important.
“Merope,” he said, “I must head to the palace first. There are matters I need to settle before the event begins.”
Merope’s smile faltered slightly.
“Eh? You’re not coming with us?”
”You’ll depart together with Felt-sama later,” Reinhard continued, his tone calm as usual, though he could see faint worry on Merope’s face.
“Two young maids named Flam and Grassis will pick you both up. They will ensure you arrive safely.”
Merope stared at him for a moment before finally nodding, swallowing her own nervousness.
She had lived with Reinhard long enough that his presence felt like an anchor keeping her calm amid a world still feeling foreign—and now, for the first time since day one, she had to step forward without that anchor by her side, even if only temporarily.
”Alright,” she said finally, forcing the cheerful smile that had become her habit, “take care on your way, Reinhard!”
Reinhard stared at her a moment longer than usual, as if wanting to say more than just a farewell—ultimately, he just nodded once, gave a brief bow, and turned toward the front door with the firm stride Merope knew so well.
As soon as the sound of his footsteps vanished down the hall, Merope let out a soft sigh, staring at Felt’s door which still echoed with the sounds of struggle inside. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
”May today go well,” she murmured to herself, her fingers squeezing the edge of her white cloth—an old habit surfacing whenever nervousness crept into her chest.
She sat on the small bench near Felt’s door, waiting patiently while occasionally swinging her legs—yet that patience slowly faded as time ticked on without signs of the door opening.
”Felt, still not done?!” she called out again, this time with a tone far more desperate than before.
”Not yet!” Felt replied from inside, her voice now sounding tired, accompanied by rustling fabric and a low groan that somehow sounded like a fierce struggle.
Merope glanced toward the window, tracking the sun’s position shifted quite a bit since Reinhard left.
“It’s been an hour, you know!” she cried out, no longer able to hide her panic.
”Just eat some snacks first over there!” Felt shouted back, her tone a bit breathless, clearly still wrestling with whichever part of the gown refused to cooperate with her.
Merope sighed heavily, resting her back against the hallway wall, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Inside the room, Grimm’s voice occasionally gave calm instructions amid Felt’s chaos, and Merope could only imagine the battle happening behind that door—a struggle that, while making her anxious about time, also managed to briefly divert her mind from the nervousness of facing the big day ahead.
Soon, light footsteps approached down the hall.
A maid appeared, bowing politely upon stopping before Merope.
”Merope-sama, the attendants mentioned by Reinhard-sama have arrived.”
Merope quickly stood from her bench, somewhat relieved to hear the news though her worry for Felt wasn’t fully gone.
”Alright,” she replied, smiling at the maid, “tell them to wait a moment, please.
Felt and I will be out shortly.”
The maid nodded and turned away, her steps vanishing down the hall as swiftly as she had arrived.
Merope turned back to Felt’s door, knocking slightly softer this time, but with a no less urgent tone.
“Felt, those attendants are here! We need to leave right away.”
From inside, a long sigh was heard, followed by heavy, slightly dragging footsteps, before the door finally opened slowly.
”Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”
Felt stepped out, and for a second, Merope forgot how to blink.
The gown Felt wore was made of golden-yellow silk shimmering softly, its bodice corseted in black with small orange ribbons neatly arranged down the center, forming a slender waistline before flaring out dramatically into a massive flared skirt—resembling a fully opened giant flower bud.
Long white gloves covered her arms up to her elbows, complemented by matching yellow cuffs at the ends.
A ruby pendant hung from her neck, gleaming contrastingly against the black choker circling it, while the large black-and-orange ribbon still perched in her blonde hair as usual—the only familiar element amid her total transformation.
”Woah!
Felt, you look so pretty!” Merope exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.
“So different from the clothes you usually wear!”
”But it’s so hard to move in!” Felt retorted, her face flushing between embarrassment and annoyance, trying to walk awkwardly among the heavy layers of fabric ballooning around her like walking inside a giant bell.
”Just bear with it, Felt-sama,” Grimm said from behind her, her tone calm yet leaving no room for further protest, smoothing down a skirt fold that wasn’t quite perfect.
Merope, unable to hold back her excitement any longer, grabbed Felt’s white-gloved hand with both of hers.
”Come on, Felt!” she cheered brightly, pulling gently while remaining careful not to make Felt trip over the billowing skirt.
”Hey, hey, slow down!” Felt cried, trying to balance her awkward steps, her gloved hand gripping Merope’s tightly as if it were her only anchor against face-planting in the hall.
“I can walk myself, you know!”
Yet despite her protests, she let Merope guide her, step by step, down the residence hall toward the front door—where two small figures already waited patiently, ready to escort them both toward the day that would change everything.
As the door opened, Merope and Felt stepped outside, and there stood two pink-haired young girls of nearly Merope’s own height, wearing neat, matching attendant uniforms.
Both bowed in unison, their movements so synchronized it looked like years of practice.
“Good afternoon, Felt-sama, Merope-sama. Today we will be escorting you.”
Merope returned the nod with a wide smile, but her attention was quickly drawn to something much larger standing behind the two girls—a luxurious carriage engraved with the Astrea family crest on its door, pulled by a massive scaled dragon glowing softly under the afternoon sun.
”Woah!
That dragon is amazing!” Merope gasped, her eyes sparkling as she marched right up without a shred of hesitation, her hand reaching out to touch the dragon’s scales in absolute awe.
”Please treat us well, Dragon-san,” she cheered cheerfully, stroking the side of the dragon’s neck like greeting an old friend, completely oblivious to how rare it was for someone to approach a dragon of that size so casually as if petting a house cat.
”Merope, hurry up, stop petting that dragon!” Felt yelled from behind, still struggling to walk in her billowing gown toward the carriage door.
”Coming, coming!” Merope answered, giving one last affectionate pat before turning around and jogging over to catch up to Felt, leaving behind the dragon which, strangely enough, seemed calmer than usual after being touched by her.
…..
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