I Married the Beautiful Female Protagonist In Order To Survive

23. It’s Old Bob, No Doubt

After fiddling with my body, Kefir concluded: I lacked the warrior’s aura, possessing only the basic magic power of an ordinary person, simply put… an outsider.

Why the fuss over me then? Didn’t I say I only had “prophecy”? Kefir blushed and played dumb in silence, not answering. Thanks to that, Little Horse slowed down, and I ended up sharing a bed with Kefir, the ‘true protagonist’, and Miss Nell, the ‘protagonist who wouldn’t be surprised to stab me to death’, for another night.

The next day, as the sunrise broke, our ride, Little Horse, with its distinctive features, passed through the capital of the Great Ying Empire—Yingland, unobstructed, and entered the Kefir family estate, located right next to the royal city of London.

Compared to the rural Dragon Extra Town, this was a truly international metropolis, blooming on both sides, of course…

When I woke up with a start, I saw that my elaborate death scenarios in the script had sprouted like bamboo shoots after rain. After all, this was the “main storyline,” with its layers of tight security; then there was the defense and vigilance within the noble Kefir’s family estate; and then, the passersby!

“So it’s the young miss, please come in. And who is this man with you? I always feel like he looks like a wanted criminal.”

At this rate, I could die in a variety of ways just by walking!

“He’s my attendant, no more questions.”

Thanks to the protagonist’s halo, I safely passed the final check, and then my sight was filled with a super luxurious mansion so vast, I couldn’t see its edges. As the carriage entered, several servants hurriedly blew whistles, and more extras came running, rolling out the carpet right up to our feet before the carriage even stopped.

Kefir, who had been fidgeting and struggling with something the whole way, suddenly perked up as if she had become a different person.

“We’ve arrived, get out. Ojiride, don’t overthink it, I don’t actually like my home either.”

“I understand you!”

My gaze was firm and sincere. Joking aside, a villain contradicting the protagonist is like rushing into a cauldron, right?

Besides, I know the script. To put it bluntly: I might understand Kefir better than her own parents.

“…Cough cough! Let’s go.”

Suddenly shaken, Kefir rubbed her face in front of me, and then put on her usual icy beauty demeanor, leading the way down from the carriage.

Then, I personally experienced just how much of a “true protagonist” Kefir, the favored daughter of heaven, really was. The servants seemed to have noticed when they saw the smart-mouthed intelligent carriage, and it was even more apparent when Kefir stepped down.

The butler watering the colorful flower garden immediately put down his watering can and bowed his head; a dozen maids dressed in the same uniform as Neru lined up on both sides, ready to welcome her. The only thing lacking compared to Neru was that their fair skin wasn’t quite as impressive; finally, at someone’s gesture, everyone shouted in unison.

“Welcome back, young miss!”

Their voices were so loud I thought they were reciting ancient poetry.

Look, this is the treatment enjoyed by the true protagonist, the favored daughter of heaven! Although… it seems Kefir doesn’t really like this arrangement.

“Everyone leave.”

After sternly waving away all the servants who had come to greet her, Kefir walked down from the carriage with me following, casually enduring the “horrified” gazes of almost all the servants, and quietly came closer to me.

“Our family already knows about our trip, charlatan. Don’t leave my side from now on.”

Yes, yes, yes, as if I would leave even if you told me to—I’d cling to your coattails.

Looking up, the various death scenarios in the script began to surface in my mind.

[Servant A, annoyed, stabs Ojiride to death]

[Servant B, because Ojiride sneezed, stabs him to death]

[Maid A, because Ojiride started walking with his left foot, stabs him to death.]

…

Without a doubt, all these scripts were out to kill me. Thanks to Kefir being by my side right now, my life was hanging by a thread.

However, as I was reviewing these elaborate death scenarios, one script stood out, completely different from Maids ABCD and Servants XYZ! Huh, among those who came to greet us, there was someone who wasn’t just an extra!?

With that thought, I subconsciously looked up.

At Kefir’s command, the servants dispersed, but there was one woman’s figure, glamorous and radiant, who stood out.

She appeared in a gown so elaborate that a mere glance would seem troublesome, her bright, curly hair meticulously styled to the point of excess. Adorned with a hat and gloves embellished with numerous accessories, her entire being was practically a walking display shelf, draped with ornaments that seemed quite costly.

And like Kefir, she too had a sword hanging at her waist.

Carrying a sword wasn’t an issue, nor was dressing up as if she owned an entire boutique, but such grandeur was reserved for the protagonist. A mere extra playing this part might find themselves tangled in their hair or tripping over their feet while brandishing a sword and trying to look cute.

The girl who suddenly approached us didn’t seem intimidated by Kefir’s presence. On the contrary… she harbored a considerable animosity towards Kefir, along with… an inexplicable confidence.

Her gaze swept over me, and after a disdainful smirk, she continued to fixate on Kefir.

“Isn’t this Kefir? Finally returned home after running away for so many days? Do you know how worried your uncle and aunt have been these past few days? Sigh…”

With that, she feigned a sigh. Even without a script, it was clear: her concern was superficial, in reality, she was nothing but a sly fox.

“Once a genius among geniuses, how have you fallen so low?”

“How I conduct myself is not for others to judge.”

Kefir, the protagonist and no fool, certainly understood the veiled mockery. She responded coldly while quietly informing me of the specifics through our contract.

“She’s the royal sister… a distant relative of Her Majesty the Queen. The names of the royal family members are arranged in order of status.”

“So she…”

“Ranked 213th, hence she’s called Lu Yi Twenty-Three. Don’t you dare call her 2.b, Euclid.”

I turned my head to find that it wasn’t just me struggling to hold back laughter; even Kefir’s icy demeanor seemed slightly cracked.

Kefir! I hadn’t even thought of it, and you’re already reminding me. Why are you so adept at this sarcasm?

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