Chapter 213

When I arrived at the banquet hall, there were so many people.

At first, I didn’t realize it, but the folks who came here with me from the conference room all went off to where their own groups were gathered.

Meaning, those foreigners who came for the meeting—well, technically envoys?

The place that only had the most important ones among them was just over there earlier.

Wait, really?

They actually brought me out and introduced me in such a setting?

Thinking about it carefully, it does kind of make sense.

If they’re gonna sell me at a high price, it’s best to let only the highest-ranking individuals know about me. After all, rare things tend to increase in value, right?

Plus, by providing such crucial info exclusively to a select few, it shows trustworthiness just through that act alone.

Speaking of memories… do people really have to be this naive?

High Pion will probably handle things fine on its own.

If things go south, it’s good because an environment to harvest warmth will unfold as things collapse. And if we see a great reign, the descendants will mix well with the Harvesting System—it’s a win-win.

I’ve set up the board so either way things flow, it’ll turn out alright.

As long as no one tries something drastic like what Victoria attempted before—like drowning everyone and killing all life around—it should yield profit.

It’s not even about tightly planning how to obtain warmth. It’s more about moving gradually while keeping loose reins, ensuring failure is minimized whenever possible.

But here at the banquet hall, there’s nothing much for me to do.

Just standing still *is* my job. And speaking of which, Kanna and Polaris are also here. Polaris is looking at me, standing at the center of the hall, with a surprised expression.

Kanna’s busy going around with her parents making introductions.

Wait, what’s going on?

While Kanna was touring with Lord Shiodore, she crossed paths with Sorindiges, and their expressions became super awkward.

Looking into my memories, Kanna has never harbored romantic feelings for Sorindiges anyway. After all, a cripple can’t become a queen, right?

Rather, I recall her being quite occupied mediating fights between noble ladies. Actually, that’s still ongoing.

Even if Kanna sees someone who makes her suffer and reacts this way, why is Sorindiges looking at her like that? Can’t figure it out.

Lord Shiodore seems to have noticed the vibe too, but he lets it slide without comment.

That strange, tense moment passed quietly.

Afterward, I stayed put slightly away from High Pion. But Polaris’ gaze kept sticking to me weirdly.

So when our eyes met, I waved at her, and she gave a bitter smile before turning away to greet someone she knew.

Why would she smile like that?

Anyway, High Pion is currently glued to Aurora’s side, and nearby, I spot some blue-skinned Harvesters.

Two knights, though one of them was originally just a plain soldier. Based on my memories, this person doesn’t belong here.

Guess they were brought along because they’re needed.

Is this about making sure Aurora’s blue skin doesn’t stand out too much?

Not bad thinking.

Since I’ve seen the creation of Harvesters firsthand, at first there were brief glances of disdain, but those quickly disappeared.

Instead, all eyes turned to me—the one who made them.

Ah.

Was placing me here meant to divert attention from Aurora?

Isn’t this going a bit overboard? There are two princesses and one prince in this country—aren’t they showing too much favoritism?

Nah… kings can do that, right?

A king’s the type who could lock his own child in a trunk and let them starve—or maybe waste away instead—if necessary.

Anyway, a king can impose likes and dislikes onto the world.

Normally, when royal favor skews toward one child, the others should feel jealous, right?

But both Sorindiges and Lunashi, the eldest daughter, absolutely adore Aurora.

This feels kinda off.

Maybe it’s because Aurora was destined to die, and they ended up caring for her so much while treating her kindly?

Caring is good though. Aurora’s future children now have a higher chance of survival.

Anyhow.

Not sure what will happen with the Harvesters in this royal family. Honestly, it’d be convenient if Sorindiges became one—but unless an accident or illness happens, that’s unlikely.

Once they bear a child, becoming a Harvester means the child stays unaffected by my influence.

Still, better not hope for that.

Walking upright is preferable.

When swallowing, you gotta do it properly. Don’t swallow unless it hits your tongue.

I’ve got plenty of time.

So I just stand there quietly alongside the young knight assigned to me.

Thought we’d end without much interaction, but after a considerable amount of time passed, the knight suddenly approached me and whispered softly:

“Doesn’t standing like that get uncomfortable?”

Judging by his expression, he’s genuinely concerned for me.

There are so many decent people here.

“It’s part of my duty.”

Typically, saying this implies enduring discomfort, but honestly, I don’t feel tired standing like this. Still, explaining that might make it seem like I’m accommodating High Pion—or worse, being dominated.

See? The moment I answered, the people who were watching me through the lens of the Harvesters perked up their ears—even though they shouldn’t be able to hear from this distance. Is there magic involved? Or do they just have sharp hearing?

Judging by the slight flinch of someone with animal-like ears, it’s probably just good hearing. Meaning, I need to watch my words.

Keeping that in mind, I asked the knight:

“And you?”

“Well, same here. Duty calls. Though I wasn’t expecting someone unfamiliar with this kind of thing to stay so still. I know since I underwent ceremonial training.”

He slightly frowned when mentioning “ceremonial training.”

Yeah, that makes sense. Training to maintain rigid postures isn’t unusual. Especially for knights entering the royal palace—they might even be used purely for decoration.

He’s being surprisingly kind and considerate. His worried expression feels genuine.

But the moment I responded, piercing stares shot toward me.

Turning to check, I see a few noble ladies glaring, plus a maid lurking near the edges.

A familiar emotion.

One of the top-tier emotions tied to miserable deaths.

Jealousy.

Ugh… yeah. I’m a girl too, after all.

Being categorized as a handsome guy objectively makes you a viable target for sexual advances. Jealousy directed at potential reproductive partners is natural.

Got it.

I contemplated whether I could use this situation somehow, but decided it’s best to pretend ignorance. My memory reminds me melting down jealous girls and eating them tastes good—but I’d rather upgrade my search engine than dwell on such peculiar human desires.

Too many drama-filled love triangles, huh?

Even Victoria occasionally witnesses these at the dormitory. In fact, considering how little time has passed since entering the dorms, this place is no different.

Is it due to lack of entertainment?

Or is this normal behavior—a quick and easy pleasure rather than proper conduct?

Given human relationships, this feels standard.

People meet, mate, eliminate rivals, claim territory, and stamp marriage as a seal of ownership.

No need to reveal unnecessary truths, like how many royal families preserve maternal lineage while cutting off paternal genetics.

Every world has its quirks, so Deagon’s memory doesn’t need to shine so brightly.

Sigh. Anyway.

No need to create unnecessary enemies.

Though it might already be too late, there’s no point fanning the flames further. Getting entangled in such stories within the royal palace would likely displease High Pion if tools start acting on their own.

Losing individuality is ideal.

That way, they’re easier to use.

That’s why companies often break new hires’ self-esteem during orientation by yelling at them for lacking skills, then mentally dominate them by insisting they only listen to orders.

Critical thinkers aren’t needed.

They just want specific functions fulfilled.

Once used sufficiently, they discard them. That’s how bloated societies operate—it’s convenient.

The term “cog in the machine” exists for a reason.

Like in some remote areas where they poison people with pesticides to create disabilities, using survivors as tools and tossing the dead into the ocean to erase their existence.

The origin of zombies in faded memories ties back to this—non-thinking, easily usable tools.

When treated as mere tools, people’s minds break.

If they’re truly human, that is.

I’m not human—I’m their adversary. So I actually prefer being treated this way.

Hi hi.

After I stopped talking and resumed standing, the man glanced at me briefly before returning to guard me closely.

Wishing everything ends peacefully.

I was pondering that when shortly after, he subtly gestured with his hand. Curious, I followed his finger pointing inward toward a pillar near where I stood.

Huh?

Oh, offering rest. Behind the pillar lies a terrace, traditionally used for breaks. If others are present, people instinctively avoid it, or close curtains and leave clothes draped in front when entering.

Though unwritten, it’s an unspoken rule shared by those in that position—an *habitus*.

Since I don’t need rest, I shook my head.

But then Kanna approached me, walking straight toward me while subtly stopping the guards from stepping forward.

“I plan to talk briefly. However, under the name of Kanna Temrane Shiodore, I’d like to politely request you allow us some space to rest?”

Emphasizing the word “rest,” the guard looked directly at Kanna, then guided both her and me to the spot he subtly indicated earlier.

Pushing us into the terrace, he closed the curtain and stood guard outside.

“Hello.”

“You’re always consistent, aren’t you?”

Kanna gave a wry smile.

“Staying stiff in such settings is exhausting. Sit down for a bit.”

She pointed to a chair on the terrace. Once seated, she joined me.

“Break time now.”

“Yup. Exactly.”

Kanna grinned knowingly.

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