Chapter 78: An Excellent Lapdog

"It’s Muen Campbell!"

No one knew who whispered it first, but the crowd reacted like they’d been trained for this exact moment—parting instantly, forming a clear path through the crowd.

And at the very end of that path stood Muen, frozen mid-step, trying to sneak into the Academy unnoticed.

“...Shit.”

Muen stared, a half-eaten skewer still clutched in his hand, looking like some low-tier thief caught red-handed under a spotlight.

Who the hell has eyes that sharp?!

Couldn’t they just let him stay low-profile for once? Did no one realize how utterly awkward showing up now would be?

Muen’s gaze flicked to the scene ahead—Eamon squared off against Ariel.

His head throbbed like it was about to split open.

Of course, it just had to be her—the main character, Ariel.

And of course, it had to be one of his own subordinates, sticking their neck out just to hand themselves to the protagonist as an easy stepping stone.

The classic cliché.

Everything about this screamed bad ending for the yellow-haired villain suddenly showing his face.

The moment he showed up, Ariel would definitely assume he came here to gloat—to watch her fail—and that’d only deepen the grudge between them.

****

In reality, Muen had been here for a while—he’d arrived even earlier than Ariel.

But he hadn’t gone straight into the Academy. Instead, he wandered the nearby streets, checked out a few shops, bought snacks, and grabbed some skewers to munch on.

It wasn’t until the front gates thinned out that he decided to slip in quietly.

But just as he approached, Ariel climbed out of her carriage.

Naturally, Eamon and those idiots just had to be blocking her way at that exact moment.

And within mere minutes, the front gates had swarmed with over a hundred "just-passing-by" onlookers.

Where the hell did all these people even come from?!

Moments ago, the entrance was practically deserted!

Could this be that infamous "protagonist’s domain expansion"? Where showing off has to come with an audience?

Muen couldn’t help but mock the absurdity in his mind.

But sarcastic thoughts aside, muscle memory kicked in the moment every pair of eyes turned toward him.

Gone was his awkward, deer-in-headlights expression—his face settled into a practiced, polite smile, chin slightly tilted, nodding graciously at the crowd.

Even though he considered himself outrageously handsome, even though his smile carried zero malice...

At least eighty percent of the girls immediately averted their eyes.

"Shit, don’t make eye contact with Muen Campbell—you’ll end up pregnant!"

"Damn it, I forgot to smear soot on my face! What do I do? I heard if he takes a liking to you, you’ll be knocked out and dragged to the Ducal Estate where he’ll... y’know... do things."

"You want to be a Duke’s wife? What a joke—he’s already engaged! He’s just toying with those girls, they say there’s enough of his ‘victims’ to fill an entire classroom."

"You know the Academy’s infamous Suicide Building? They say half the jumpers were girls he discarded after getting bored of them."

"..."

Muen’s lips twitched involuntarily, listening to the increasingly outrageous whispers circulating among the girls.

Ultimate playboy? Sounds more like public enemy number one—like the kind of bastard who can’t walk outside without some righteous citizen ramming a truck into him.

Sure, his predecessor—Muen Campbell—was an absolute bastard, no denying that.

But there was no way it was that extreme. At most, he probably flirted a little too shamelessly with the girls.

If his actions had really driven students to suicide, even as a Duke’s son, the Academy wouldn’t have stayed silent.

"Three people make a tiger," huh? Rumors really are terrifying...

Muen sighed quietly, fully aware of how steep the road ahead would be if he wanted to change his public image.

But every long journey starts with the first step.

Time to start now.

Determined, he walked toward the heart of the storm.

****

"Well, well, Muen Campbell—you actually showed up."

Ariel didn’t look surprised—in fact, she expected nothing less.

Of course he’d show up. It was his doing, after all. Naturally, he’d want to watch his enemies get humiliated—just like he always did.

But this time, [N O V E L I G H T] she wouldn’t let it happen.

"What’s wrong? Still too useless to fight your own battles, so you send your mutts to bite people instead? Some things never change—still a waste of space."

"That’s harsh, y’know?"

"Isn’t it fitting for you?"

"...Fair enough."

Muen casually accepted Ariel’s verbal jab and approached her.

Then, with a single hand pressed elegantly to his chest, he smiled like the perfect gentleman.

"Good morning, Miss Ariel."

"...Huh?"

Ariel froze, eyes wide, like she’d just seen a ghost.

What... did she just witness?

What... did she just hear?

Muen Campbell, actually greeting her politely? Cordially? Civilly?

His first words weren’t "Filthy little lowborn mutt, why aren’t you rolling back to the slums"?

Was she dreaming?

Ouch— not a dream. That pinch hurt.

Muen Campbell... actually spoke human language?

"You look... surprised that I greeted you," Muen remarked, struggling to keep the corners of his lips from twitching with suppressed laughter.

"I greeted you this way at the banquet too, didn’t I?"

Ah—right, he did... act like this at the banquet.

Which makes this even worse!

For someone to pretend so perfectly, for so long—it had to be some next-level prank. A setup. A plot.

He definitely had ulterior motives!

"What are you scheming, Muen Campbell?" Ariel demanded, expression grave.

"...I’m not scheming anything. I’m just saying hello."

"Don’t try to fool me! I’ve seen through your tricks too many times!

Wait, I remember—back then, the way you looked at Liya... It was off. You’re plotting to pretend to be all well-behaved so I lower my guard, then you’ll make a move on sweet, innocent, big-breasted Liya, right?

Listen here—your schemes won’t work on me! Liya’s boobs belong to me alone!"

Ariel glared at Muen, puffed up like an overprotective mother hen guarding her chicks.

"I already told you, I’m just saying hello—you’re overthinking this."

Muen shook his head with an exasperated smile, deciding to temporarily ignore Ariel’s... unconventional logic.

He turned away, facing the group behind him.

"Young Master Muen."

The moment Muen turned, Eamon and the others straightened their backs like trained dogs, plastering fawning smiles onto their faces.

"What exactly are you doing?" Muen asked.

"We’re challenging Ariel Bugalde!"

Eamon declared with gusto, practically shouting:

"To wash away the disgrace of last semester!"

You’re a fourth-year challenging a second-year... isn’t that disgraceful enough already?

Muen pressed a hand to his forehead, letting out a helpless laugh.

Hard to say if these guys’ stupidity infected his predecessor, or if his predecessor’s stupidity infected them.

No wonder, with all his status as a Duke’s son, the original Muen Campbell couldn’t survive twenty chapters of the story.

"Did someone instruct you to do this?" Muen asked.

"No, we did it of our own free will!" Eamon puffed his chest proudly.

As the second son of a mere Viscount, Eamon understood one truth: if he wanted to rise in the world, his only chance was clinging to Muen Campbell—the Duke’s son.

So, long ago, he made a firm decision:

He would become an excellent lapdog.

And what defines an excellent lapdog? Does it need its master to issue direct orders?

No.

A truly excellent lapdog learns to read its master’s intentions and finds trouble to stir up on its own.