Just as Cynthia said, after we said our goodbyes, a final eting was organized. During it, Erwing discussed with the group the decision between organizing a haunted house or setting up a host cafe for the school festival. Almost all the girls in our class voted for the latter. And although it was very unfortunate for us, we swallowed our discontent. We didn’t say it out loud, but each of our expressions spoke volus: we were all disappointed with the idea. But reluctantly, we ended up accepting.
The activity itself wasn’t very difficult; it only required us, the male students, to play the role of butlers, with formal suits, refined manners, and a helpful disposition that many of us didn’t possess even if we were born again. Erwing, with his unwavering attitude of responsibility, personally took it upon himself to convince us, one by one. It wasn’t an easy task.
Personally, although I didn’t co from a noble family or have any influence within the kingdom, I still felt out of place in that tight uniform. The butler suit was elegant, yes, but also stifling. The high collar and white gloves didn’t help. It made as uncomfortable as having to use that overly formal language; it didn’t suit at all. Even so, Erwing’s insistence—and the girls’ excited looks on their faces—made it hard for to say no, and I had no excuse to get out of this situation.
Erwing didn’t limit himself to just the idea and the general organization. He handled practically everything: from organizing the dishes to defining the nu. The uniforms, by the way, were a marvel in their own right. They delegated this part to Charlie, one of the most eccentric mbers of the group. His mother, although technically a commoner, is a renowned fashion designer. Her talent is so highly valued that even noble ladies had to bow their heads when they sought her out to create enchanted gowns for them. Wearing a garnt with her seal of approval was synonymous with status, and those who didn’t were little more than pariahs at the kingdom’s social gatherings.
The butler suits Charlie gave us weren’t simple clothes. Each one had been magically tailored to fit the wearer’s build. They were a deep black with silver details, their embroidery forming runic symbols barely visible to the naked eye. Not only were they comfortable despite their stiff appearance, but they also had minor enchantnts that kept the fabric clean and wrinkle-free throughout the day. The interior of the main bag even regulated the temperature, which was a relief considering we’d be serving the other students for hours.
Food and drinks were also provided; Jenny, a plain-looking girl with a sigh-inducing undertone, was in charge of this. Her brown hair, cut just below her ears, and her brown eyes weren’t particularly striking... until you found out who her father was. A once renowned businessman, now a mber of the executive council of the capital’s rchant Guild, a man whose influence could move entire caravans of goods with a single signature. It was thanks to this connection that we were able to source high-quality ingredients, so brought from the northern lands, others from the floating island of Lyvaria. The infusions included moonflower petals, twilight berries, and even a rare cacao powder brought from the southern continent.
The nu was quickly approved by the girls, not only for its simplicity but for its flavor. The contents inside were: Queen Bee cream rolls with a cream made from wild nectar, cookies with a glaze sprinkled with white chocolate—which, they said, could be bittersweet or bittersweet depending on the mood of the person trying it—and finally, a selection of infusions that could easily belong in a royal tea room.
Although so of us boys weren’t comfortable and continued to mutter illegible words to express our discontent while we practiced the routine, precise bows, polite gestures, courteous phrases like "It’s an honor to serve you, my lady",the truth is that little by little we gave in. So under pressure, others out of pride. And others, like , simply because, deep down, no matter how much we refused, in the end the result was going to be the sa, or the girls could lynch us and so it was better to be obedient.
After all, it was the school festival. One of the most anticipated events of the year, where spectacles were even put on to attract the attention of the general public and transform the campus into an almost unreal place for three days.
And although I never thought I’d end up dressed as a butler, with a white glove holding a tray of steaming tea... sothing in was beginning to accept that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
***
While each group was getting ready for the festival, we kids locked ourselves in our assigned classroom in the west wing, making sure we had properly locked the door and secured everything. None of us here wanted to be caught under prying eyes. The girls in our class had previously tried to spy on us more than once, using the excuse of "just making sure everything was okay," but the way their pupils glittered as they watched us, resembling predators stalking their prey, made us all a little nervous.
We laughed nervously as one by one we began to dress in our butler uniforms. The room was filled with the soft, steady rustle of fabric against our bodies, murmurs of discontent, and the occasional groan when the gloves didn’t fit quite right. The suits were once again impeccable: a satiny black that glead in the dim light of the mana lamps. The undershirts were as white as frost, and the dark vests seed tailor-made thanks to the enchantnts that fitted them precisely to our bodies.
Once we were all ready, after making sure we hadn’t forgotten anything and not a single hair was out of place, Erwing approached the door. He looked at us with his trademark confident smile, took a deep breath, and opened it slowly.
The first of the girls to enter was undoubtedly Cynthia, as if she’d been waiting just on the other side. She crossed the door in the most noble manner, surveying her surroundings and the staff, and her large, expressive eyes fixed directly on Erwing... and then on . For a mont, she was speechless.
"Wow!" she exclaid with a tone of genuine astonishnt. "I knew they would look good on you, but... I didn’t expect this!"
Her cheeks flushed a faint crimson, and she wasn’t the only one.
Erwing, ever the character, offered her a slight bow and extended his arm elegantly.
"Welco, miss," he said in a deep, polite voice I hadn’t even known I could muster.
I, on the other hand, stood a little more to the side. Although my hair was combed precisely—tipped back elegantly—and the suit fit surprisingly well, I still felt a certain discomfort. Not out of embarrassnt, but because all the formality felt foreign. Still, I simply crossed my arms calmly.
It didn’t take long for the other girls to follow Cynthia. One after another, they entered, and with each pass, the sa pattern was repeated: wide eyes, a small gasp, and then nervous giggles.
"You’re like sothing out of a fairy tale!" one of them exclaid, her hands covering her face. "Can you smile like that all the ti?!"
So raised their phones and started taking pictures without even asking permission. Dim flashes lit up the room as attention inevitably focused on Erwing and .
Erwing, who had started as the girls left, behaved boldly and responded to everything with his trademark smile. It wasn’t long before a slight blush crept onto his cheeks. Although he maintained his upright posture, it was clear the attention was beginning to affect him. Still, he quickly recovered, gave a sharp clap that resonated throughout the room, and regained control of the situation.
"Everyone, enough with the distractions," he said loudly. "We’ll begin in about two hours. Let’s make the final adjustnts!"
With surprising efficiency in each of his movents, he quickly began to give the final instructions: he verified the arrangent of the tables, that they were well decorated, that their shape was well adapted to the number of students who would be visiting us, he also personally checked the photo stand where visitors could pose next to a butler of their choice (Cynthia’s idea, of course), and if that were not enough, he also made sure that each flower that decorated the centerpieces was in its opening point just before peak hour. He even checked himself the runad of aromas impregnating the room, their soft slls, along with instruntal music, warm lighting, that everything was working without interference.
Watching him at this mont with that dedication, he was no different from any other normal student. There was no trace of the boy who would one day bear the burden of being the chosen one. Seeing him so animated, it was impossible not to be caught up in his enthusiasm. And yet, I couldn’t help but rember how the final day of the festival ended.
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