The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

The list of friends invited to the tea party naturally included everyone who had been with me in the Holy Nation that day.

As the one who had come up with the idea, I probably should have thought about this earlier, but... gathering friends together on the last day of the year wasn’t exactly easy.

Some people might prefer to spend the evening clinking beer glasses with other friends out in the city, celebrating the new year that way.

And, honestly, by the time you hit thirty, a lot of your friends start hovering between whether or not to get married. Those ones? They usually have a girlfriend, and more often than not, they want to spend that night with her.

And I wasn’t exactly going to crash that.

Sure, sometimes friends brought their girlfriends along to introduce them to the group, but... as someone without a girlfriend, I never really bothered attending those gatherings.

...Basically, what I was trying to say was—

Not everyone actually wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with their friends.

And if not that, then there was the fact that, for a lot of people, January 1st was a family holiday.

Especially for nobles, that seemed even more likely.

I only remembered this the day after I had already suggested the idea.

“Huh? That’s not really a thing, though,” Alice responded dismissively when I mentioned it.

“Nobles who like to party would never miss the New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day banquets, right?”

...Ah.

That was true.

They were nobles, after all.

While some treated banquets as duty, many genuinely enjoyed them.

Naturally, that meant New Year’s Day parties were a common occurrence.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I admitted.

Personally, none of my friends seemed to be the party-loving type.

Maybe Charlotte could have been an exception, but... she didn’t really seem to enjoy banquets—she attended them more out of obligation than desire.

If she had really wanted to immerse herself in that social scene, she could have done so anytime. There were plenty of banquets in the capital, and no one would have dared turn her away—not with royal blood. But since she had never bothered, it was safe to say that she wasn’t exactly fond of them.

Alice liked to pretend she didn’t attend parties because she was always studying, but honestly, I suspected it was just who she was.

Even in that illusory world, back when I had deliberately built up my reputation and become somewhat well-known, Alice had still avoided those kinds of gatherings for a long time.

She hadn’t even considered them an option.

And Claire, who had spent most of her time with Alice, was the same way.

Leo, Claire’s brother, wasn’t any different either. Otherwise, there was no way he could have been that dense.

Noble men were expected to dance at banquets—it was practically mandatory—so for Leo to remain that oblivious...

As for Lottie, even if she had attended, she probably hadn’t been treated as a proper noble.

And Jake?

He had probably only gone to protect Lottie.

So it was unlikely that he had enjoyed the banquets either.

For all the women he had escorted, he had only ever seriously dated Lottie.

Sophia, on the other hand, didn’t hold a high enough rank to casually attend high-society banquets.

And even if she could have?

As a deeply religious person, she wouldn’t have enjoyed them.

And Mia... well.

There was no need to even consider it.

“...What’s wrong?” Alice asked, noticing my expression.

“...Nothing. I was just realizing that, somehow, not a single one of the nobles around me fits the stereotypical noble mold.”

Alice let out a short laugh, looking at me as if I were ridiculous.

“You say that, but you’re the weirdest one of us all.”

...I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

*

When I first suggested the idea, I hadn’t been thinking of some grand party.

Like Alice had originally assumed, it was meant to be simple—just tea, a light gathering. If anyone got too tired, I was even willing to offer them a place to stay for the night.

That was all.

So then—

“...Why is there a crate of alcohol on the table?”

Yes.

Right there, sitting boldly on the small, round table meant for a tea set, was a crate stuffed with bottles of alcohol.

And not even good alcohol.

It was actually the kind of cheap liquor that wasn’t even considered proper for noble consumption.

I knew this because I had heard that this particular brand was mainly used for cooking.

“Drinking until you drop is the best way to celebrate days like this,” Jennifer said matter-of-factly, having been the one to place the crate there. “And if you use expensive alcohol for that, it ruins the experience.”

“...At least you’re not planning to give any to the students, right?”

Jennifer smirked.

“Relax. I wouldn’t waste good alcohol on kids.”

...I was seriously regretting inviting her.

“I apologize on behalf of my student.”

And then—

The Sword Saint appeared.

As if one-upping Jennifer, he placed a bottle on the crate—one that had just been dusted off, aged beyond belief.

It wasn’t even made of glass.

A white ceramic bottle—probably an imported liquor from the East.

“Before you drink yourself into a stupor, you first have to appreciate the fine liquor. Otherwise, you’ll never understand what makes good alcohol good. Don’t worry, though—I won’t be wasting it on brats who don’t know what they’re drinking.”

...I regretted inviting him too.

I had only called them because they had been there with us that day—it would’ve felt wrong to leave them out.

But the fact that they had both arrived fully prepared for a drinking marathon meant that they had definitely planned this in advance.

“...You’re sure you’re not going to give the students any?”

This time, Carolyn, our homeroom teacher, spoke up.

Drinking wasn’t strictly illegal for us, but depending on the person, it could be seen in either a positive or negative light.

Educators, in particular, tended to be against it.

It wasn’t really an issue for me—I just wouldn’t drink.

The real problem was the venue.

I had chosen my room for this gathering because I had genuinely intended it to be a tea party.

And yet—

Somehow, my room was getting gradually transformed.

A once plain, bare space was now covered in pink lace decorations.

“...And that?”

When I asked, Alice averted her gaze and responded evasively,

“Well, I might have told the staff that you were hosting several nobles in your room...”

I narrowed my eyes.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“They’re all people you can’t just casually brush aside, you know? So, I just mentioned that it was a light gathering... But I think the staff must have misinterpreted it as a banquet.”

Not just that—

The “party” was already scheduled for tonight.

Since time was tight, bureaucracy was involved, and the Crown Princess herself had been named as an official witness, the logical conclusion the staff had come to was—

“We have to prepare a banquet immediately.”

The process had moved so quickly and efficiently that no one had even stopped to question why the banquet hall wasn’t being used.

“...”

I turned to Alice, staring blankly at her.

She refused to meet my gaze.

And then—

“Sister!”

A newcomer burst in.

“Since we’re all here, let’s take a photo! We’re almost done with our first year—who knows when we’ll get another perfect chance like this?”

Claire, holding a camera, beamed at us.

“...”

I glanced at the crate of alcohol, the servants running around decorating the place, and the guests, who clearly had no idea what to do with themselves.

...Leaving seemed like the best option.

“Fine. Let’s take the photo in the courtyard. The gryphon is there, after all.”

Well.

It was always there, but still.

Claire’s eyes lit up.

*

And, honestly, that turned out to be the right choice.

The sun was still hanging low in the sky, casting a perfect golden glow across the courtyard.

The gryphon had probably never even seen a camera before.

It was its first time encountering one.

At first, I had just wanted to escape the chaos in my room.

But now that I thought about it, having a photograph of the gryphon wasn’t such a bad idea.

If future generations only heard stories about it but had no actual evidence, they’d probably dismiss it as a myth.

Of course, that was their problem to deal with.

Not mine.

...Not that I even knew if I would have descendants.

...

That was a question for later.

For now, we were young.

Even if I had lived another life, to everyone else, I was sixteen.

There was plenty of time ahead.

Plenty of time to figure out what kind of story I wanted to write.

“Everyone ready?”

Claire, somehow having prepared a tripod, set it up.

She could’ve just asked someone else to do it, but from the way she handled everything herself, she was clearly having fun with photography.

...If this were the original story—

—No.

There was no need to think about that.

Whatever the original story had been, this was reality.

We were here.

No one had died.

We were all alive.

Maybe it wasn’t a perfect ending.

But everyone was smiling.

And that was enough.

“Okay! Everyone, smile!”

Claire set the timer on the camera, then rushed back to take her place.

She slotted in perfectly, as if she had done it a hundred times before.

Yes.

This was enough.

A moment where everyone was here, laughing, smiling—

And I was in it, too.

A happy ending.

From the moment I first arrived, this was the ending I had wanted to see.

So I smiled for the camera.