"Hah... I didn’t think I’d actually fall asleep in a place like this, but I slept so well."

Muen opened his eyes. Slightly dazzling light flooded into his vision, snapping his mind awake fast. It wasn’t sunlight, but the warm glow of magic stones in the VIP room.

Soft fragrance and tender warmth were still in his arms. A girl’s faint scent curled around his nose. Celicia’s little head was resting against his chest, her silky hand hooked around his neck.

Muen couldn’t help pinching her soft cheek, then giving her forehead a light peck. No matter how cold and iceberg-like a woman usually was, lying on a man’s chest would still reveal a bit of that gentle, sweet softness.

So Muen secretly decided it wasn’t that his willpower wasn’t firm enough—it was that this little iceberg in his arms, in the middle of melting, was simply too charming.

Just imagine: an icy beauty who was normally cold and ruthless, decisive and deadly, suddenly sleeping like a little rabbit—unconsciously obediently leaning against your chest, even rubbing against you now and then...

Who could withstand that?

Of course, last night’s overexertion also had to take part of the blame.

"But it’s fine. After resting a bit, I’ll be more composed facing the matches afterward... wait, the matches!"

Muen finally remembered the important thing. He jerked upright and turned to look at the clock on the wall.

At some point, the hour hand had already passed the top and was falling downward. Which meant...

"It’s already this late—going by the time, wouldn’t I..."

"Yes. That’s right. The first round is already over."

When Muen hurried out of the room, he saw a beautiful woman in a professional outfit and gold-rimmed glasses waiting silently outside. She hadn’t gone in, but she still wore that speechless expression of someone who’d been stuffed full of dog food.

"You’re... Headmaster Hathaway?"

"Yes. I’m the headmaster."

Hathaway pushed up her gold glasses and showed Muen an eerie smile that felt strangely familiar.

"It’s not like this is our first meeting, Student Muen. Don’t tell me you can’t recognize me anymore?"

"So it was you..."

Muen didn’t want to get tangled up in embarrassing memories from the past, so he changed the subject.

"Since the match time already passed, why didn’t you call me?"

"Her Majesty ordered that no one was allowed to disturb you. What was I supposed to do?"

"..."

The corner of Muen’s mouth twitched. That order really did have Celicia’s tyrannical style written all over it.

Sure enough, the “tsun” part of that dead iceberg-tsundere stayed on full display. You only got to see the “dere” in private.

"Then what do I do? I missed the match."

"Nothing. Get ready for Round Two. The second round draw is about to start."

"Huh?"

Muen froze.

"Me? Round Two? I didn’t even—"

"Count yourself lucky, kid."

Hathaway stared at Muen’s handsome face and said meaningfully, "Your opponent this round got injured for certain reasons and can’t participate. So naturally, you advanced to Round Two."

"Hah? Injured?"

Muen: "...Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"But this is too coincidental. My luck can be that good?"

Muen scratched his head blankly, thinking: is this some bizarre scheme again? Otherwise, with the luck of a heaven-abandoned child like him, how could something like this happen?

But when he thought about it carefully, aside from letting him—this guy who advanced without fighting—get mocked by others, this so-called “scheme” didn’t really have any other destructive power.

"Even people with bad luck get their turn to flip the table. Maybe you’ll have more good luck next," Hathaway said, patting Muen on the shoulder. "Go. You can’t be late for the second round draw. This time, Her Majesty won’t help you."

"Hm? Her Majesty helped me?"

Muen was confused, but Hathaway clearly had no intention of answering. She knocked on the door, got Celicia’s response from inside, then pushed the door open and went in on her own.

"Forget it... I’ll just ask Celicia later."

Muen shook his head. He didn’t waste more time and hurried toward the drawing room.

...

Hathaway walked into the VIP room.

"How did the matches go?"

Celicia yawned, adjusting the long dress that had gotten slightly rumpled from being pressed at an awkward angle.

"The first round has come to an end. That seventeenth prince was as expected—his talent is extremely frightening."

"What talent?"

"The legendary Innate Two Hearts."

"Innate Two Hearts?"

Celicia frowned slightly and accepted the materials Hathaway handed over.

But to Hathaway’s surprise, Celicia only swept her eyes over them casually before tossing the papers aside.

"I see. I know."

"Your Majesty... shouldn’t you treat it a bit more seriously? It’s Innate Two Hearts. He’s a future powerhouse set in stone."

"A future powerhouse? So what?"

Celicia sat back down on the sofa, picked up the apple that had been set off to the side, and gave a cold laugh.

"Talent without actual battle results is just a paper tiger. The kingdom protected him too well, so he really thinks this world runs on talent. Ridiculous."

...

The atmosphere in the arena was still blazing hot.

Even after two hours of rest, the audience’s enthusiasm hadn’t faded in the slightest.

After all, in this kind of top-tier elite showdown, a “peerless genius” who could finish an opponent in under three minutes was already rare in past international exchange events—yet today, two appeared at once.

That made everyone even more eager for the matchups to come.

Especially the kind where strong met strong.

"Looks like... I missed something pretty insane."

Muen also noticed the crowd’s excitement that was beyond normal, but when he thought about it, it made sense. A seventeenth prince the kingdom had hidden away for over a decade, and a chosen-fate protagonist blessed by destiny—no matter how you looked at it, the morning matches wouldn’t have been boring.

And the matches to come would definitely be even more intense.

Thinking of that, Muen felt a rare surge of bloodheat.

"Muen Campbell."

Suddenly, on his way to the draw, a voice that could be called familiar—sort of—stopped him.

It was only “sort of” familiar because he’d heard it not long ago.

"Prince Milne?"

Muen stopped and looked at the kingdom’s prince walking toward him.

Milne was still imposing, every movement filled with confidence. Now and then, he would nod toward the girls screaming in the audience, as if all the world’s light was naturally meant to gather on him.

"Well?" Milne asked.

"...Well what?" Muen was a little lost.

"I mean this morning’s match."

Milne frowned, seemingly dissatisfied that Muen couldn’t even grasp something so obvious.

"Mine. How was my performance?"

"...Oh, th-that... that one!"

Muen forced out a stiff, aristocratic smile.

What match? He hadn’t watched at all. He’d been sleeping with Her Majesty the empress. But he couldn’t exactly say he hadn’t watched—an outrageously rude thing to say to a prince—so he could only brush it off.

"Amazing. Too amazing! Your Highness Milne’s performance was truly outstanding!"

"Is that so?"

Milne saw through the falseness in Muen’s words at a glance. Irritation showed in his eyes.

"Is that your sincere opinion?"

"Of course! Truer than diamonds!"

"Hmph. Earlier you were lucky—you advanced to the next round without even competing. But I hope after you can’t use those despicable methods anymore, you’ll still be able to keep that tough mouth."

Milne gave a cold snort.

"Hah?"

When did I ever have a tough mouth?

Wasn’t I praising you the whole time?

And what do you mean “despicable methods”? He slept with the empress—was that “despicable”?

Muen was once again baffled by the shocking statements of this moron seventeenth prince. But before he could ask anything else, Milne—already looking like he disdained further conversation with Muen, even carrying a hint of contempt—walked past him and headed toward the draw room first.

"...What the hell is his problem?"

After standing there dazed for a while, Muen finally shook his head and followed him in.

...

...

The draw took place in a special room. To show fairness, it was sealed shut—no outsiders could peek until the results were out.

The moment he entered, Muen started looking around.

Looks like he was the last one again.

And before him, the ones who had advanced to Round Two were...

On the kingdom’s side: Milne, Sevier, Coton, and Floris.

On the empire’s Saint Maria Academy side: Ariel and Marshall.

And counting himself, that made seven total.

Muen held the materials he’d swiped from Celicia and compared them one by one with the unfamiliar faces from the kingdom, sighing to himself that the academy really was at a disadvantage this time.

"Even Senior Fanny lost?"

That was honestly unexpected. In Muen’s view, with Senior Fanny’s strength, she should have advanced no matter what.

Until he saw Senior Fanny’s opponent’s name—Milne Lodest.

"So that’s how it is."

Muen murmured, "So that guy can be that arrogant because he really isn’t someone to underestimate?"

...Even if his brain didn’t seem to work that well.

...

"Because time is tight, the rules for this exchange tournament will be simplified across the board."

The teacher in charge of the draw got straight to the point.

"There are seven people in Round Two. Random draw, paired matchups. But because of the number, this round will include one special draw—"

"A bye?"

"Yes. A bye."

The drawing teacher glanced at Muen.

"Whoever draws the bye automatically advances to the final four. Everyone else competes as normal."

Everyone’s expressions stayed calm. No one said much. With fourteen participants and a paired elimination format, a bye would inevitably happen once.

But Muen subconsciously rubbed his chin.

He remembered his earlier good luck... the chance was low, but could it be—

"The bye goes to—Muen Campbell!"

As the teacher’s announcement rang out, everyone froze for a moment, including Muen.

It was real...

Muen stared at his own hand. Two straight strokes of good luck—had he finally broken free of his old misfortune? Was he really about to walk the path of a lucky god?

Thinking back to how he’d exhausted all his luck just because he pulled five SSRs in a row, then got hit by a cement truck and sent to another world, Muen felt moved to tears. So he really ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) did have a day to turn things around.

"Bullshit! Who the hell believes that’s luck?"

At that moment, Coton from the kingdom side suddenly jumped out, furious.

"Twice in a row, he doesn’t even participate and advances directly—this is luck? Isn’t this blatantly rigging the draw right in front of us—"

"Student."

The drawing teacher cut him off coldly.

"The draw is conducted entirely according to the rules, and it depends on individual luck. Muen Campbell drawing a bye is perfectly reasonable. If you have no evidence, don’t speak recklessly."

"But—"

"Enough, Coton."

Milne grabbed Coton and shook his head. "Stop making trouble."

"I’m just pissed—"

"It doesn’t matter."

Milne gave a cold smile. His arrogant gaze swept over Muen like he was looking at something pitiful.

"The more he uses this kind of tactic, the more it shows how anxious he is inside. So what if he advances directly? He might end up crashing straight into my hands next round anyway—exactly what I want. When that happens, I’ll make him regret his little cleverness!"

"Y-Your Highness is mighty!"

Coton looked excited. "Please make sure you teach him a lesson, make him lose face in front of everyone—also avenge Art!"

"Don’t worry. I will."

Milne straightened his collar.

"That’s why I came."

"..."

The kingdom people left again with that look of disdain, like breathing the same air as a despicable villain was beneath them. Only Sevier gave Muen a slightly apologetic nod before following them out.

Muen was left standing there blankly. He racked his brain and still couldn’t understand what kind of insanity had taken over those kingdom people.

What “tactic”? What “anxiety”? What “little cleverness”?

And that guy named Art—he didn’t even fight Muen, so why was the blame being shoved onto him?

It was utterly baffling.

"Do you know?" Muen asked Ariel.

"Who knows? Maybe you did something that made everyone hate you again."

Ariel crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged, completely unconcerned.

"Is that so?"

Muen fell into thought.

Since when did sleeping with his fiancée become something that enraged heaven and humanity?

If later he hugged a few more...

Would he just get struck dead by lightning?

...

...

This time Muen learned his lesson. He didn’t go back to hug his fiancée again. Instead, he found a spot below the stage and prepared to properly watch the matches.

But what disappointed him was...

This second round was unbelievably boring.

Aside from him personally pulling the “good draw” of a bye, everyone else’s draws weren’t nearly as “good”—at least from the audience’s perspective.

First match: Ariel versus Coton. A crushing defeat. Still traumatized by Baror’s ghastly condition, Coton carried fear from the start. Ariel chased him down the entire time. He didn’t put up even a remotely exciting resistance before he got beaten until his face was unrecognizable.

Second match: Milne versus Floris. But since they were both from the kingdom, that little girl Floris clearly received instructions. She didn’t want to waste Milne’s stamina in meaningless internal fighting, so she surrendered directly.

Third match: Sevier versus Marshall. This was the most exciting of the three, but Marshall’s hard strength was ultimately inferior. After holding on for more than ten minutes, he still lost.

And just like that, the final four were decided smoothly:

Milne and Ariel, whose outstanding performances had made all sides place their hopes on them.

Sevier, also not to be underestimated.

And Muen Campbell... who hadn’t fought a single match and still waltzed into the semifinals.

For some reason, though, despite not fighting even once, Muen Campbell’s popularity was even higher.

Aside from national rivalry factors, when Muen swept his gaze over the stands from the corner of his eye, he seemed to spot the three little ones...

...

...

Another draw room.

This time, without Coton making a scene, the atmosphere felt even more oppressive.

Ariel stood with her arms crossed, giving Sevier’s huge chest a hostile look, while from the moment they walked in, Milne’s undisguised predatory gaze had been nailed to Muen.

"This time, you have nowhere to run, Muen Campbell."

"...When did I ever run?"

Muen was speechless. But he didn’t pay Milne much mind. Instead, he stole a glance at Sevier.

It was strange. Sevier had been so enthusiastic during the Holy City trial—why did she look restrained toward him now?

Was it because other people were here?

But forget it. He didn’t really have much of a relationship with her. And with his current love-triangle calamity still unresolved, it was better for her to stay farther away from him.

Muen shook his head, cleared out the messy thoughts, and focused on the draw in front of him.

Only four people remained.

So for him, a good draw meant getting Sevier, the weaker one. That would make it easier to advance to the finals.

A bad draw meant immediately fighting Milne—whose strength was unclear, but obviously extremely powerful.

Going by past experience, whenever Muen drew lots with his own luck, the odds were basically overwhelming that he’d run into Milne...

But this time...

"I’ve already been lucky for two rounds. Being lucky one more time is perfectly normal!"

Muen showed a confident smile.

Come on, my lucky-god hand!

...

One minute later.

Muen stared blankly at the result in his hand.

Semifinal Match One: Milne versus Sevier.

Semifinal Match Two: Muen Campbell versus... Ariel Bugaard!

"N-No... that’s not right. A semifinal civil war and all that..."

The corner of Muen’s mouth twitched.

"Isn’t that perfectly normal? It’s a random draw." The teacher overseeing the draw remained expressionless. "It’s not like civil wars haven’t happened before."

No, this wasn’t the same. They hadn’t even dealt with the seventeenth prince yet, and now he had to fight Ariel first? That wasn’t in the plan at all!

"Civil war?"

Milne let out a snort of laughter.

"Muen Campbell, is this your so-called good luck? It saved your life again."

"..."

Good luck...

What good luck?

Out of the three possible outcomes, this was the absolute worst one he could’ve drawn!

He’d rather fight this brain-dead prince!

So in the end, was he still going to get backlash from fate? Of course. Being a lucky god was nothing but a dream he could never reach...

And to be suddenly matched against Ariel like this...

Muen shivered. He sensed something and slowly turned his head.

Behind him, Ariel, still staring at the slip in her hand, seemed to finally understand what it meant. The corners of her lips rose into that signature wild curve.

Ariel’s eyes...

Sharpened.