45. Fourth Go! (7)

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"Ally's well-built and strong body, clad in a crimson dress, would surely appear like a burning flame. It'll look great."

Maximilian's cheeks dyed red in admiration, while Duke Radphen lifted his eyebrows at his nephew as he let out a sigh.

"Hm. Although Lady Ally's body is slender, it's also lean. The muscle mass is just perfect. In our kingdom, it's considered a virtue for women to be modest and levelheaded in everything, but I personally think they should nurture both their inner self and muscles more... With your type of body, Ally, people will surely stare in awe. I want all the ladies in the world to use Lady Ally as their role model."

Looking at Ally's body from top to toe, the Duke of Radphen nodded, as if convinced. Albeit he was praising her, somehow, at the same time, she felt as if she was being appraised...

Stila yawned cutely, and all of them decided to go home and start to prepare.

Each fiancée gleamed when they saw their fiancés—the Muscle Special Squadron—expertly use magic to extinguish the campfire and clean up the venue.

"Ms. Ally... no, can I address you as 'Ally', instead? I truly think we'll be good friends, therefore, I want you to call me Marilyn."

Marilyn grinned at Ally, the remaining three girls, too, uttered—"Me too!" "Me too!"

Marilyn, Carol, Carrie, Linda...

Ally looked at the faces of her former best friends in turn. For a moment, she was wondering if it would be okay to discard the formality.

The fact remained that she was merely a baroness—she was at the bottom of the aristocratic society. At best, with her status, she would be granted the position of a maid at their houses.

"Hey, everyone, why don't we tailor dresses with the same colors as our future husbands' cravats?"

"That sounds amazing! The five of us, plus Stila, will be noticed for sure."

"Then, should we call ourselves, 'Lady Stila's Defense Corps'-?! I've been longing to become a warrior girl, just like in those picture books!"

"...Your naming sense is just... well, the point remains, so I guess that's fine."

Looking at those strong-willed girls, Ally too, became excited.

Let's be friends again. I shall forget about my identity. In this life, I'm going to protect them until my last breath.

Those girls probably didn't need to train themselves like the Muscle Special Squadron, whom were practically ready to participate in any kind of warfare. Well, it might be necessary later on—

—but for now, Ally wanted them to be able to use magic to protect themselves.

"Marilyn, Carol, Carrie, Linda—yes, I'm talking very impudently right now, but I think we indeed can be best friends. So, starting from tomorrow, I'll train all of you in muscle exercise. Therefore, can you guys visit the West Wing as often as you can?"

Ally spoke with a clear gaze. For some reason, the girls' cheeks became flushed as they nodded and joined their hands in front of their chests—as if praying to God.

Maximilian, and his Apostle of Darkness partner, Ibel, casted teleportation. Thus, they all returned to the West Wing.

The Duke of Radphen patted Stila's head and excused himself with supernaturally light footwork, saying, 'Alright, while I'm here, let me also greet the rat.'

The four muscle devas sent their fiancées home using horse-drawn carriages. Of course, they did so after eating the spirit candies. Only then would their appearances become family friendly.

"Your Highness, pardon me, but can you come to the hall an hour from now?"

Ally hugged Stila, whom was already half asleep, and looked up at Maximilian whose posture was firm and looked ready to fight as always. After she saw him nodding in super high speed, she turned on her heels.

She carefully tucked the adorable Stila to bed and confirmed that she was fast asleep.

Even though an hour hadn't yet passed, Ally already made her way to the hall.

Maximilian took an oriental Zazen (seated meditation) position at the center of the floor. His thumbs were flailing at a super high speed.

"Hey, hey, Ally! Since you called me here, you must have something to say, right!? Alright, feel free to jump in!"

"No, I won't jump in. Rather than that, I'd like to confirm Your Highness' waltz's prowess."

"...Waltz?"

Maximilian's hard shoulders stiffened. After seeing his reaction, Ally put her hands on her waist—"As I thought..."

"Your Highness, you are bad at waltz, aren't you?"

"How do you know?"

"How wouldn't I know?"

Ever since the age of nine, his fiancée had been basically inexistent. It was obvious that:
1.) He had minimum contact with women,
2.) He barely knew about women.

Perhaps he hadn't even held the hand of a girl of the same age as him until now.

Knowing how rude it was, Ally still pointed at Maximilian's face.

"Start practicing from today! If you want to dance with me at the grand ball, you have to acquire a grace and perfection of movement no one else can imitate!"

Ally proudly said so, acting as if she was still a duchess.


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