My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 759 - 759 Strong Competition

759 Strong Competition

“Well, well, I see someone can’t get enough of the taste of victory. Either that or you and yours just completely suck at answering romantic questions.”

Hospitality doesn’t usually begin with degrading your potential customers. At least that was what I was taught having to survive Nick’s once-a-week hour-long homilies on customer service.

But then here’s this cheek elf attendant right in front of me, chuckling heartily after the fact. Lucky for her, seems we don’t adhere to the same service scriptures.

“What do you got for me this time?” I asked upfront. “Beauty contest, right? You got a catwalk inside that tent somewhere? Gonna have me strut and strip in front of an entire audience of judges?”

“You’re taking the title a little too literally,” She said, slamming a form of registry down in front of me, and rolling over a pen to the side. “You know, how they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?”

I took the pen in hand, and inscribed the familiar scribble of my name and details across every blank line. Quickly, I gave the table to the near left of me a quick glance, and saw Adalia working her pen at high-octane speeds close to watching paint dry on a wall.

“What about it?” I asked, flicking my gaze away and minding my own business once more.

“Well let’s just say it’s time to find out just how many beholders truly find your beauty beautiful.”

“And in English?”

.....

“Later,” She told me. “Unlike the first event, all of you lovebirds are gonna have to do this at the same time. No point in giving guidelines and rules one at a time. You’ll get brief altogether once you’re all together, alright?”

Saw no point in pressing any further, so with a final dot dotted on the bottom line, I handed back both form and pen, and in return, reaching out from under the table, the elf-lady brandished out a badge for me to pin over my heart almost like a nametag, except it was numbered.

And in my case, I was apparently lucky number seven, flashing and glimmering in a glint of painted gold.

“Seven out of fifteen of you loving, romantic Romeos,” The attendant said, stepping sideways and raising a hand outstretched toward the large tent. “Go on in, have a look around. Won’t be long now.”

Almost more curious than determined now, I shuffled over to the narrow slit in the tent, parting it open a little wider and peering into an odd, awkward-looking bunch of guys like me with badges and numbers of their own, sharing the same look of confusion as they idly wandered around the open space.

And what a vast open space it was, indeed. The tent already looked enormous from the outside, but inside was just a completely different, bigger story. I could close my eyes and walk thirty steps in any direction and I’m confident I wouldn’t even be halfway close to any walls in the vicinity.

Then there were the tables scattered around lined in a grip in pairs of three, they were small tables with just enough space for two on either side. Naturally, my brain was abuzz with all the possible ways they could be used for in the context of the contest, but seeing as all would be explained soon, I didn’t bother delving any deeper.

With one last fleeting look back at Adalia, mildly fascinated fiddling with the springing click of the pen in her hand, unbeknownst of the wearing patience of the growing line behind her, I stepped into the campgrounds joining the rest of the boys in wait.

Not even a full minute into the waiting game when clueless guy number eight came and waltzed in after me. Two minutes after him, number nine swaggered forward with all the elegance of a drunkard and speaking in a giddy slur like he really was.

Then number ten entered the picture—and at once, I felt my confidence buckle. A perfect ten out of ten gracing us middling folks in a dazzling iridescent of wavy, golden locks. And I know it especially. Because I’ve been around this particular ten long enough to recognize him anywhere.

“Leon?” I was astounded, flabbergasted, but most pressing of all, I felt intimidated. “You…? You’re… a contestant? Since when?”

Catching sight of me, pleasantly delighted to see me, he went and flashed his signature pearly smile.

‘Since ten in the morning actually,” he replied. “Wasn’t my decision though. If it was, I’d be warm, relaxing at home instead of out here for my Christmas.”

I blinked, barely even acknowledging number eleven furtively walking in. My mind was far too busy processing the implication of Leon’s surprise appearance.

My eyes slowly drifted to the heart on his sleeve. “Who’s your partner?”

“Only daughter of a close partner of my father,” Leon said in one long audibly weary breath. “Beautiful lady. Smart, quite athletic. Not my type though, sadly, but my dad said it’d help if I showed her a good time. So yeah, here I am.”

Indeed, you are.

“So, who’s yours?” He threw the question back at me, barely suppressing the rousing interest resounding in his voice. “Is Ash in the other tent?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?” then following right after, disappointment, ringing loud and clear. “What do you mean not really?”

“I mean not really.”

“You mean you’re not with Ash,” He said bluntly. “Who’re you with?”

I shrugged. “Someone else.”

“Someone…?” He frowned. “But I thought you and Ash…? Is it Amanda?”

“It’s Adalia.”

Leon paused for a moment, eyes slightly widening in recollection. “The vampire cosplayer?”

“The one and only,” I said, nodding.

“You’re spending Christmas with her?” He said, his head cocked back, a passing breeze of shock fluttering at his silky locks. “So that means you and Ash… you’re not…?”

“No, we’re together, as in together together,” I interjected. “Y’know, like a couple.”

“But you’re with Adalia here,” He said, thrusting a hand out at me, and scratching the back of his head with the other. “You can’t be going out with Ash and Adalia at the same time, can you? How does that work? I am so confused.”

“What’s so confusing?” I asked, feigning complete ignorance. “I’m dating Ash, and I’m on a date with Adalia now. Make of that what you will.”

“You’re cheating.”

“Okay, don’t make of that what you will,” I said, immediately regretting. “I’m not cheating.”

“Explain it then,” He implored, wearing an expression that looked about ready to implode. “W-What, you’re telling me you’re dating both girls at the same time? No way. Like hell that’s the case. No, wait, you’re doing this as just friends or something? Just for the hell of it?”

“Friends, girlfriends, acquaintances, lovers,” I shrugged again. “All the same difference, really.”

Twelve and thirteen then entered in a pair, and Leon seeing them passing him by on both his sides, thankfully had his attention diverting instead to the current matter at hand.

“Lots of tables, lots of participants,” He remarked, finally giving his surroundings its due regard. “Must be quite the game we’ll be playing, huh?”

“You tell me,” I said, scoffing. “Your father’s organizer. So yeah, you tell me… is it quite the game we’ll be playing?”

“Don’t know any more than you do, actually,” He said, crossing his arms in a pose befitting an art piece in a museum. “Not for this game, not for the last. Oh, but I did hear about this one couple in the previous event that got the fastest score. Nine minutes, can you believe it?”

“Oh yeah?” I feigned my response again, simply nodding along. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“Tied on my score for the cleanest,” He smiled. “Hey, who knows, they might be participating in this game too. In which case, it looks as if I found myself a worthy rival to compete against.”

Like batteries draining dead in a toy, I felt my nodding head come to a slow gradual stop.

You got… the cleanest?” I asked, feigning surprise no longer.

“Second fastest,” Leon affirmed, smiling even wider. “Dad pulled me aside, told me not to tell anyone, but… c’mon, you’re not just anyone, are you?”

What was it that devious barista of a mobster said about breaking rules? Didn’t he deny Adalia’s requests because of those very same rules? Oh, that two-faced devil and his special treatments.

So much for being an unbiased leader…

“And if I knew you were here, I’d have asked for your score too,” Leon said. “But what do you think, you have a feeling you’re faring well so far?”

I glanced back at him, feigning again almost immediately.

“Mmm, not too bad, I guess.”

“Nah, I’m sure you’re doing just fine,” He said, placing a hand on my shoulder in confidence. “You’re the current Champion of Asteria, remember? I certainly haven’t forgotten. Beaten me once…”

Then he took a closer step, bridging our gap, leveling our gazes with his suddenly pressing heavy onto mine.

“Not just gonna let you beat me twice,” He proclaimed. “Mr. Nine Minutes.”

Welp, it seemed I sucked at feigning after all.

“You knew?”

“No,” Leon let out a chuckle. “But an extraordinary feat like that, who else here could it be?”

“Sure you’re not just overestimating me here?”

“I’ve already underestimated you once before. I’m not about to make that same mistake again.”

Fourteen walked in, more like sprinted in, waving jovially toward a group consisting of three, four, and five. Friends, I imagine. All three entering in the event all in the name of simple, good fun.

Kinda wish I could say the same about Leon and me here. The glint in his eyes, the shape of his expression. There was nothing fun about it one bit.

“I’m kind of a competitive person by nature, you see,” Leon said.

“You don’t say.”

“So even if there’s really nothing to gain for me in this,” He continued. “You can rest assured I’ll still do all I can to not end up as second best.”

Slowly, Leon lifted his hand off my shoulder, before smiling, parting, and striding past me at a pace brimming and exuding a tenacity and fervor without measure.

“First place is mine,” He called out, his words, his promise rippling towards me. “You can be assured of that.”

Right then, the only thing I could think about was Adalia. The promise I swore to her, the wish she had asked of me. First place no matter what. That was all she wanted.

Such a simple, easy desire… so why does it just keep getting harder?