The carriage rolled steadily toward Central Street of Peace Square.
It was mid-afternoon, and the streets were bustling with people. The sun hung high, casting bright light across the faces of passersby.
When people noticed the emblem on Ron's carriage—the mark of the Chosen of the Harvest Goddess—they instinctively stepped aside.
Some devout followers even paused, tracing the symbol of wheat over their chests while murmuring prayers.
It had been nearly three months since Ron returned to the Royal Capital.
The rumors and scandals that had spread during the winter had long since faded.
Now, people knew that Prince Ron had funded the Spring Martial Tournament, opened the Magic Duel arena, and personally organized the increasingly popular Magic Duel tournament.
They also knew that the beastfolk catgirl owner of the arena was his woman.
As for the other rumored "wives"—Eileen, Betty, and the rest—those stories had quietly dissolved. They appeared to be nothing more than acquaintances.
Of course, gossip never truly disappeared.
But at least now, Ron's carriage no longer gets stuck in crowds. Instead, people respectfully made way.
Everything was moving in a better direction.
"I wonder when the title decision will finally be made…"
Leaning against the carriage window, Ron watched the passing scenery with mild boredom.
The court's efficiency was painfully slow.
Each day, his title was discussed for only a few minutes amidst countless other matters.
Even with Sylvie deliberately instructing their side to ease up, the debate still dragged on.
At this pace, half a month—or even a full month—was normal.
Fortunately, development in Tansen City had only just begun. There was no urgency yet.
And with the tournament about to start, Ron would soon be busy anyway.
Arriving at the arena, Ron had the guards hand over fruit and snacks for the staff.
Then, carrying two sticks of candied hawthorn, he headed upstairs to find Nora, who was sitting with Eileen.
"Here, ah"
Plopping down beside her, Ron held a candied hawthorn up to Nora's lips.
Nora blushed and glanced at Eileen, then shut her eyes and leaned forward, biting into it.
Her cheek puffed adorably.
Eileen watched with a helpless smile.
Being dragged here by Mia only to be abandoned—and now force-fed this scene—was testing her composure.
Maintaining her smile was the last line of dignity for a royal etiquette instructor.
"Mia ran upstairs again? Still not Gold rank?" Ron asked casually.
"Yes… She's still about twenty wins short," Eileen sighed.
Ron burst out laughing.
She had been "twenty wins away" for days now.
Clearly, she'd hit her limit.
Soon, Mia herself stormed down.
"Ron! Who are you saying will be eliminated early?!"
Ron blinked. "Why are you down already?"
"Hmph! Rank matches stop at six. I don't have enough time to reach Gold anyway!"
"Such a shame," Ron said—without a trace of sympathy.
Soon, Mia dragged Eileen into becoming a commentator.
With that, the lineup of female commentators became:
Mia
Eileen
Betty
Leticia
A strong lineup.
Later, Nora reported:
"Gold rank players have reached 98. By evening, it should exceed 100."
"WHAT?!" Mia panicked.
Ron smiled innocently.
"Look on the bright side—you might not even make it into the main bracket."
"RON!!!"
At 6 PM, rank matches officially stopped.
Some players left disappointed, others excited.
Meanwhile, casual players gathered, chatting and gossiping.
"Did you hear? A noble lady confessed to Andy!"
"I saw it! He turned red and froze!"
That evening, they ate hotpot again.
Mia was clearly sick of it—but endured it thanks to the seasoning.
Meanwhile, Nora reported more updates:
Mimic Grass visuals were ready for trial use
Kiel had begun a nationwide promotion
Ads were placed in magic academies
Plans for recorded match footage and future "magic film reels" were underway
Ron approved everything.
"Ron, I heard they might grant you a Count—or even Marquis title?" Mia asked.
"Yes," Ron nodded. "As a Chosen One, even a Duke title wouldn't be unreasonable."
"Then maybe you'll be Emperor André IV!" Mia joked.
Ron flicked the air toward her.
"Don't spread nonsense."
"But if I were a man, I'd fight for the throne!" Mia declared. "The nobles are useless!"
Ron raised a brow, amused.
"Who says it has to be a man? Maybe you'll become the future Empress."
Mia rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, right."
Ron didn't continue the joke.
Because even to him, that possibility felt… distant.
Instead, he said:
"If they offer me a Marquis title, I'll refuse. There's no suitable land available."
That was the real issue.
Titles meant little.
Land—that was what mattered.
As Mia ranted about replacing the northern duke, Ron simply smiled.
He understood the scale:
Duke = multiple provinces
Marquis = a province
Count = a city and the surrounding regions
Viscount = a town
Baron = a few villages
The hierarchy was vast.
And yet—
Ron didn't care much about titles.
What he cared about… was control.
Land.
A place to experiment.
As he thought about:
Tansen City
The experimental projects
The factories and convents
The gap between nobles and commoners
A seed quietly took root in his mind.
Not fully formed.
But growing.
A desire to change things.
Not out of obligation—
but because it felt meaningful.
After dinner, they parted ways.
"Don't expect special treatment tomorrow," Ron teased.
"Hmph! I'll make it into the finals!" Mia shot back.
Ron watched her carriage leave, smiling.
Then he wrapped an arm around Nora.
"Last day before the tournament. Let's do our best."
"Mm!"