Rob gripped his silver spoon like a knight prepared for battle, which basically meant he didn’t prepare at all. Well, the thing was that Rob didn’t look like he cared for winning nor cared about the perception of his dignity from the nobles’ point of view. Which meant he would probably lose. Which meant not good for Blorbo. Across the table, Honorable Garvais held his spoon with a refined poise and a look of perfect concentration.

  Wait. No! I’m not ready. I was poisoned earlier and I haven’t fully recovered yet!

  Honorable Garvais said, “You’re a third-rate duelist, with a fourth-rate table!”

  Blorbo frantically opened his status table and checked his HP reserves. He knew this duel would do little to his HP, but still, it would only take a slight buckle from the monstrosity he was attached to to completely ruin him.

  HP: 37/40

  Wait. 37? I’ve already on my way to a full recovery. I thought I only regain an HP every like 4 hours or so?

  Does it have something to do with higher stats? Maybe it’s because I have more Endurance now so I heal better?

  The referee butler raised his hands. "On my count. Three… two… one… Begin!"

  “Elegant Swansong!” Garvais announced his move. The spoon glided across the table with a trajectory so impossibly precise. It planted an elegant kiss on the mahogany surface of the Centipede before taking flight with the elegance of a swan.

  Rob, just throw like the strongman you are. I’ll send RIPPLES along my surface to carry your spoon. I have a Skill JUST for this. Just throw, buddy. Just throw.

  Rob did nothing.

  Rob!

  Rob, who seemed like he ahd just registered that they had started, looked down at his own spoon. He exhaled, raised his arm, and—

  Ping.

  Garvais’s spoon tapped the farthest edge of the table and stopped dead.

  Rob had not even moved.

  The butler clapped his hands. “Honorable Garvais wins the round.”

  Great. We’re speedrunning for the fastest 0-3 ever.

  Okay… what can I do to try and influence this? Maybe I can Consume the Honorable’s spoon when it glides along the surface.

  No. It will be too obvious that I’m a magical table. But then again, this might be the only time that Consume will ever be useful.

  The butler didn’t wait for Blorbo to finish his thought. He cleared his throat. “Round two will now commence.”

  Garvais’ hands moved in a blur as he rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and did a full-body stretch. He bent down, touching his toes, then twisted his torso side to side like an athlete preparing for the decathlon.

  hen came the breathing exercises. Deep inhale. Long exhale. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Flow like water… cut like steel… obey the laws of physics only when necessary…”

  Garvais’s eyes snapped open. He pulled his arm back—

  CRACK.

  A sudden, sharp lightning-like sound ripped through the air. There was no lightning.

  What the hell? It happened a second time.

  Garvais flinched.

  Unfortunately, he had already been mid-throw.

  Unfortunately, his pose had been… unnatural.

  His body jerked as he flung the spoon. His spoon launched straight up. The other butler gasped.

  The spoon hit the ceiling with a crisp thunk, bounced back down, and smacked Garvais directly between the eyes.

  He let out a choked sound. The spoon clattered to the ground.

  Silence.

  The first butler, utterly unfazed, adjusted his gloves. “The servant wins the round.”

  Rob, who had once again not so much moved, scratched the back of his head. “Huh.” He looked down at his untouched spoon. Then at Garvais, who was still standing in stunned silence. Then back at his spoon. “Nice.”

  Garvais’ fingers curled into trembling fists. Some servants had gathered at one side of the hallway, murmuring amongst themselves, trying to process what had just happened. Some servants plus Lena, who was also murmuring alongside the servants.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Wait. Lena? I thought she’s being interrogated by the iron-fisted Investigator Klemens?

  Just as this thought registered, Klemens herself casually strolled up beside her, arms crossed, leaning slightly to the side as he chatted with her like they were old acquaintances. She said something, and Lena grinned and nodded furiously.

  “Tell me you’ve tried the roast boar,” Klemens said, nodding toward the Imperial Centipede. “I must emphasize that it has perfect crackling. They must’ve used elderberry glaze.”

  Lena gasped. “I didn’t touch it. I’ve been parked by the pastry end since we arrived.” Then she waved at Rob. “Bob, dear, you got this!”

  She even got a fake name for him, and it just has to be Bob.

  Klemens huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course you have.”

  “I’m serious!” she said, grinning. “There’s one specific honey tart with fig and almond that’s possibly the best thing I’ve tasted since last summer’s harvest festival.”

  What? How come they are best buddies now?

  Garvais exploded.

  “UNACCEPTABLE!” He slammed his hands onto the table, rattling the fine silverware. His nostrils flared, his pupils dilated—his mouth was dangerously close to foaming. He shot a finger at the butler. “A FREE THROW! I DEMAND A FREE THROW!”

  The butler, ever composed, merely adjusted his cuffs. “I’m afraid that is not within the rules, Honorable Garvais.”

  Garvais wheezed. “NOT WITHIN THE RULES? I INVENTED THIS GAME!” He grabbed the edge of the table and his body vibrated with righteous fury. Unfortunately, his table was so heavy that it didn’t vibrate with him, so Garvais looked like a dancing chipmunk. “AND I STATE, CLEARLY, THAT IF A NOBLE’S SPOON IS SENT SKYWARD, REBOUNDS FROM THE CEILING, AND RETURNS TO STRIKE THEM IN THE FACE, A FREE THROW IS IN ORDER!”

  The butler did not so much as blink. “Honorable, such behavior will not get on the good side of the Baron.”

  Garvais stiffened. His eye twitched once more. His lips parted, ready to protest—

  Then he deflated. He mumbled to himself, “One day, I will no longer have to listen to that old mug and his old hag of a wife. Maybe that day will be today…”

  His hands slowly, painfully peeled off the table. His posture straightened, his expression returning to that of a dignified noble.

  The butler adjusted his sleeves. “Round two will now—”

  “NO INTERRUPTIONS,” Garvais snarled, already halfway through his warm-up routine. He was in full stance, knees bent at an unnecessary angle, wrists rotating in circles like a disc-thrower.

  And then Anders popped his head out from behind the gathered crowd and waved.

  The old man’s been around all along! I bet he was the one making all those weird thunder sounds.

  Rob stared at him. Anders pointed discreetly toward the exit.

  He set his spoon down, stood up, and casually started dusting off his pants. “I concede. That’s me done.”