Genealogically, the king is my uncle. Impressive, huh? You have an uncle who commands the entire country, can literally start a war if he wants, and on top of that, can give you the job of the dreams or abolish any existing taxation.
Wrong. Very wrong. Terribly wrong.
The king being your uncle means there's a criterion to be met. In family gatherings, there's always that annoying aunt who likes to show off her successful child, and when that person shows up, you yourself end up looking like crap compared to them. That's precisely why I wanted to avoid any contact with my family at all costs!
I'm at the bottom of the food chain, the worst of the worst, the people up there are going to devour me with words and etiquette. Right now, looking at myself in this expensive mirror with my hair neatly styled and this suit the Duke lent me, I even feel like fleeing.
There's still time to jump out the window and maybe scale the palace walls, right? Who knows, maybe I could go to Madame Cerise's brothel and find Elizia there, have a good time in her arms, forget the world. I'd really like to do just that now.
"What a mess..."
I run a hand over my face, calm simply won't come. No amount of acting will protect my ego now. At the café, it was tolerable, but here... what will I do if I throw a wine glass at the king, or worse, curse at them? If in the original work someone was decapitated for a single ugly word, what will become of me?
Knocks echo from the door.
"Coming, almost done!"
It's a lie. I'm not finishing anything, I haven't even started. I'm sweating like a pig in the sun, staring at my own face in that gold-framed mirror as if it would reveal some divine enlightenment. All I see is a high-collared clown.
No way out.
Footsteps outside indicate that the soldier, or servant, or executioner, whatever, is waiting for me with arms crossed. I have two minutes at most before they kick down the door, thinking I've fainted from nerves or tried to kill myself with the lapel brooch's pin.
"Alright... Let's face this shit."
I take a deep breath, adjust my shirt sleeves, and slap my face as if to wake myself up. It doesn't work. It's still me, Darius, the reincarnated bastard, about to sit at a table with the central power core of the continent.
Wonderful. All that's missing is for them to blow a horn and set off fireworks when I enter, then it would truly be worthy of a horror show. What else will they throw at me? That the protagonist mysteriously fell in love with the handsome guy and now wants to eat me? Don't fuck with me.
I open the door.
The Duke Moonlight awaits, showing that cold gaze and enormous bear-like body. So amiable, it even warms the heart. Apparently, he came to ensure I wouldn't escape no matter what.
"H-Hi, Dad. H-How are you?"
"Hmph."
His huff indicates that everything is alright, for now. You know, one thing I learned over the years dealing with and getting beaten by this tough guy is how unemotional he is, when there are huffs or simple reactions like that, it means "yes" or "nothing much." The real problem appears when he's truly angry, like yesterday.
He turns towards the corridors, leaving me to scramble to follow him, which I do like a good, repentant puppy.
The palace corridors are absurd. Marble columns, tapestries of heroic scenes, statues that judge you from head to toe... Pretty typical of the fantasy works I read in my previous life, no offense. Everything is so clean it looks like they made a deal with the devil in exchange for a peasant's soul to keep every corner in perfect condition.
As I walk, I have to force myself not to sweat more, because I already feel my shirt sticking to my back and the collar tightening around my neck.
"You will sit next to Kristia," the Duke says, without looking back.
Of all people, I'd a thousand times rather sit next to Leliana. At least, that stepmother doesn't look at me like I'm dried poop in the middle of the street.
"Uh... Okay."
"Don't say anything that makes the Queen frown. Don't stare at the King for more than three seconds. Don't say the word 'shit,' 'whore,' 'bitch,' 'that's it,' or any commoner slang, and keep your legs closed in the chair."
"Ye-Yes, sir."
This is the life of a bastard at court. I don't even have the right to take a deep breath.
We arrive before the golden doors of the dining room. Tall, with carvings of dragons flying amidst lotus flowers, a symbol of the royal family's peace and wisdom. Ironic, given that behind them is gathered the cast of my possible psychological execution.
Two servants slowly open the doors. The soft music of harps fills the air, the hall is revealed, illuminated by enchanted chandeliers and long windows open to the honey-colored sunset.
And here is the pantheon of hell.
A large dining table stretches across the middle of the room. At the far end, sits the King, tall, with silver hair and a gaze that knows everything before you even speak. On the right side, the Queen, a jovial woman with purple hair and a humor as cold as snow. On the left, are the Prince and Princess, both ready with mocking smiles.
Kristia and Leliana are on the side facing the door, downcast and more than irritated with the situation. The Duke doesn't hesitate and goes to his seat, at the opposite end from the King.
I, on the other hand, am frozen in place. Half my instincts scream to run, the other half screams to hide under the table. What was I supposed to do again?
"Darius Moonlight," the King's voice echoes through the hall. "Sit. We were just waiting for you."
Why, of all possible situations, did I have to meet the final boss right away? Things escalated too quickly, it doesn't even make sense for me to be here! I know the Moonlight family and the royal family have blood ties, but dragging me here is too much!
Half a second ago, I was hooking up with someone in a brothel, why on earth would I be in the middle of a royal dinner with the most influential people in the country? This makes no sense at all!
Hah. Calm down, Darius. First, let's... sit down. Yes, let's sit down first. I take my reserved seat right next to Kristia and choose to make as little noise as possible. I don't know if I'll get out of here alive, I highly doubt it, in reality.
Kristia says nothing, she just turns her face away, offended by my very existence. Leliana, on her other side, doesn't even lift her eyes, she's more focused on swirling the wine glass between her fingers than acknowledging that I'm breathing. How heartwarming coming from those two...
The King watches me for long seconds. I avoid eye contact, but I feel his eyes weighing on the back of my neck. I'd better start writing a will, I'm going to die right here...
"I see you remain as... punctual as ever."
Damn it, I almost choked on my own saliva with that! Was it a joke? A criticism? Is he trying to say I'm going to be executed?!
"Hahaha... ha... sorry for the delay, Your Majesty."
The Queen sighs, full of disappointment. My bad, auntie, your cousin here never had a reason to make you proud anyway.
"Let's begin," she says, sweet as a glass of poison.
With a gesture from the King, the servants begin to serve the dishes. Everything luxurious, of course. Seared pieces of meat with ruby wine sauce, vegetables cut with surgical precision, bread softer than any pillow I've ever lain on. A feast worthy of divinities.
Too bad the taste is mixed with the terror of the environment.
The Prince, a fellow with that typical handsome face who seems to have never sweated in his life, gives me a mocking little smile.
"So, cousin, this is our first time meeting... Would you like me to help you hold your fork?"
The Princess lets out a muffled giggle. Kristia clenches her fists in her lap, but says nothing. Leliana still ignores my existence. As for the Duke, he just chews his meat as if nothing is happening, completely at ease amidst the circus of horrors that this family is.
"I do know how to use a fork," I reply, trying to smile, even though every part of my face is about to contort in a nervous spasm. "I even know the difference between the five types of cutlery on this table. By the way, this one is bigger than your dick."
Oh, shit. I said it by reflex. The world around seemed to freeze; not even the harp band continued its marvelous symphony.
And then... the King laughs.
"Hahahaha, he truly has the family's sharp tongue!"