I Married the Beautiful Female Protagonist In Order To Survive

55. The Moon is Beautiful Tonight (Joy!)

Until the members of the Great Ying Empire who had rushed over to search and patrol the academy proved fruitless, and Zerola’s group had to leave the academy, Zerola had not managed to figure out why Philora was blushing so shyly after Henry the Third revealed his identity.

But one thing was for sure: Zerola finally had a perfect explanation for Henrietta the Fourth’s strange, unreasonable, and unruly behavior—Henrietta the Fourth was Henry the Third in drag! His own sister was him!

Although he didn’t understand how the tall Henry the Third, handsome and undeniably male, had used some kind of dark magic to transform into a slender and alluring beauty, Zerola had only one thought about Henry the Third’s trick.

“Cross-dressing pervert!”

This was the conclusion Zerola came to on the road after taking on the task of “escorting Philora home”!

Though he was immediately met with a rebuff from Philora, who almost seemed to shrink back in her seat of doubts. “Don’t you dare insult royalty!”

But that’s the truth of it!

Zerola scratched his head and didn’t continue. After all, he didn’t want to waste his precious time arguing about whether or not Henry the Third was a cross-dressing pervert. Having completed the task of “escorting Philora home,” he now stood, as stiff as wood, in Philora’s room, where he had already been once before, and didn’t leave immediately.

It wasn’t that Zerola couldn’t “control himself,” but rather… both the current atmosphere and the “intention” exuded by Philora, who was sitting on the bed with her knees hugged to her chest, seemed to be telling Zerola: If you chicken out now, you’re not a man!

Worried that the atmosphere in private was becoming more and more “strange”, Zerola quickly scratched his head and brought up what had happened not long ago.

“Sorry, I let that guy get away…”

“It would have been strange if he didn’t… Do you really think you could have defeated him?”

With her hands wrapped around her knees, Philora turned her face away from Zerola’s view. “I told you before that the figure… that Ludwig was no ordinary opponent. If anything, it was your sudden transformation back then that really scared me. Do you have any idea how close you came to dying?”

“Hahaha…”

Zerola chuckled sheepishly.

Now that he had gathered his wits, Zerola certainly felt it: a wave of dread, a cold sweat beading on his brow. Undeniably, it was the threat of death. Instinct told Zerola: that elf was holding back so much more. But voicing such a hunch at a time like this would only be a buzzkill. More importantly, Zerola didn’t want to give Filora any extra worries.

After all, though Filora claimed to only “care about herself,” her eyes betrayed a hint of discouragement. The attacker had revealed himself, and an opportunity had presented itself, yet the opponent had displayed terrifying power, making the recovery of her strength seem even more distant.

Filora could hardly be happy about all this — that was Zerola’s thought.

He wanted to offer some comforting words, but…the memory of his own “unglamorous” performance stuck in his throat, rendering any empty platitudes useless. He could only watch as Filora forced a smile, leaving him unsure who was comforting whom.

“Actually, it’s true my power was stolen, but if I start over from scratch, it’s not like it’s not another option. Compared to that, you’re the one who can’t get hurt.”

“!”

More than embarrassment, Zerola now felt…at a loss! After all, the atmosphere around them instantly became charged with a hint of intimacy, all because of Filora’s words! Zerola could play any other game, but when it came to this sort of thing, he was a genuine “newbie”!

“Didn’t you always want to know what Henry told me today?”

Especially when, in the next moment, Filora gestured to him while speaking…

“Come here, I’ll tell you.”

Zerola moved closer as if under a spell. Men, sometimes, really were pathetic creatures.

“The extra details…telling you wouldn’t do any good. Henry just wanted me to make my choice.”

Releasing her hold on her knees, Filora tugged the “blockhead” in front of her even closer.

“For example, if my future really required me to temporarily abandon my royal status and become a noble who needs to build achievements first rather than making appearances, what should I do then? What choice should I make then?”

The man who usually grinned and cracked corny pick-up lines that could fill an hour was now so stunned he could barely speak.

Filora felt not only amusement, but also a greater sense of “relief.” After all, Zerola’s reaction confirmed it completely: that busty monster Mel hadn’t actually managed to take advantage of Zerola.

“When a royal loses their original prestige for various reasons, there are generally two outcomes: either give up trying and simply become a tool for the exchange of power in the British Empire, marrying into some noble family, which completely detaches them from the royal family.”

“Or…temporarily leave the royal city and go to their own territory, build a truly solid prestige from scratch, and finally return to the royal city in triumph, wiping away the humiliation. And that, for me right now, is a problem I must begin to consider.”

No one wants to give up what they already have, and neither did Filora. So, at first, Filora kept wondering: was accepting Zerola’s kindness a form of…self-comfort, like how a heartbroken person instinctively clings to someone to cry?

But…Henry III’s “incitement” tonight made Filora understand: some things are just coincidences, not self-comfort.

Reaching out, she grasped Zerola’s sleeve. Some decisions, Filora had already made.

“Zerola, do you want to know, how I answered back then?”

“Uh…no, not really?”

“!”

The distance between them closed again, and Zerola quickly changed his tune.

“Yes, I do!”

This time, the two were only inches apart.

“I told Henry, even if I have to let go of everything and ‘fly away,’ it doesn’t matter. My future is right in front of me…”

She paused, then added, “Who do you think it is?”

Before, that “evening,” Flora’s “idea” had carried a certain yearning for “comfort,” but at this moment, she was crystal clear: there was no “comfort” left, only what her heart truly desired.

So…

“Don’t agonize over whether you’re helping me get something back. You’re not completing a task, and I’m not giving you a reward.”

“Zerola, prove to me: that you aren’t just a smooth talker, but truly a man of responsibility.”

—

Happy Good Person’s Day.

Waaah, still writing. This sucks.