A Flat-Chest Believer Reincarnated in a World Where Women with Small Breasts Aren't Treated as Women ~ I Ended Up with a Flat-Chested Harem. - Chapter 43

Today is the anniversary of the coronation of the first king. It’s the most important holiday in the Rolique Kingdom, and a grand evening party is held to celebrate it.

For me, this marks my first major social event since my marriage, and it’s also the occasion when Risty’s pregnancy will be officially announced.

Nothing particularly extraordinary should happen, but I can’t help feeling a bit nervous.

Risty and I were standing in front of the door. Beyond it lay the grand hall where the evening party was being held.

We had arrived just in time, and most of the other guests had already entered the venue. My father and the others should already be inside. It wasn’t that we had overslept—arriving at the last moment had been specifically requested by the Rolique royal family.

“Risty, let’s go.”

“Yes. I’m a little nervous.”

I escorted Risty as we entered the hall. The place was packed with aristocrats, and many eyes instantly turned toward us.

Risty was wearing a light blue silk dress, embroidered with silver thread in a leaf pattern. The design was loose-fitting, clearly maternity wear that did not constrict the body.

I could feel the shock ripple through the crowd.

I could almost hear their thoughts: “No way… they actually consummated the marriage with that princess? And she’s already pregnant!?” That wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

Well, the surprise was expected.

We made our way slowly toward the center of the hall and stopped. A servant immediately handed us drinks.

Just then, music began to play. The King, the Queen, and the former King Damian entered from another door. The crowd quieted, all attention turning towards them.

“Thank you all for gathering here today. As you know, today marks the anniversary of the coronation of the first King of the Rolique Kingdom…”

The King began his address. The content was standard fare. While the speech might be slightly different each year, I imagine the court officials tasked with drafting it must find it quite a repetitive task, and most of the audience listened with only half an ear.

“Now, some of you may have already noticed, but there is an announcement to make today. My daughter, Risty, who married into the Gustique family, is pregnant. I am delighted to share this happy news with all of you, as Gustique has long been a valued ally in the founding of this nation.”

At the King’s pronouncement, murmurs once again spread through the hall.

“And now, let us raise a toast to the future of Rolique.”

With the King’s speech concluded, the evening party officially began.

As the party started, the garden and adjacent halls were opened up to the guests, which usually helped reduce the density of people in the main hall. However, the area around Risty and me remained crowded. It seemed everyone was curious about us.

Even though we were attracting attention, no one approached us to engage in conversation right away. The atmosphere was one of cautious observation, as though people were unsure how to react to the shocking news.

Amidst this, Count Rendolf approached us, a slim, elderly man with white hair.

“Ah, Count Rendolf. It’s good to see you in good health.”

I gave him a light bow.

I had seen Count Rendolf not too long ago. After the Green Fever suppression efforts had settled down, he had come to the Gustique estate in Remilba to express his gratitude.

“Lord Folca, Lady Risty, congratulations to you both. And once again, thank you for your help with the Green Fever outbreak.”

“It was nothing more than my duty.”

“You’re too modest. You saved many of my people, a debt I will never forget. I also attended the presentation the other day. It was truly remarkable. And that magic you used to project documents onto the screen was astonishing…”

We continued chatting with Count Rendolf for a while. After he excused himself, a steady stream of nobles began approaching us.

However, none of the conversations were particularly significant. Most were just greetings and small talk. Some nobles from the Manjula faction continued to push for their usual “Let’s crush Griffis” rhetoric, but by now, such comments were so routine that they might as well have been seasonal pleasantries.

Occasionally, I would catch a hint of a thought from someone expressing, “He’s amazing to have married someone with such a flat chest,” but I would simply smile inwardly and think, “Petite beauties are the best,” and let it slide.

Today, aside from showing that Risty and I were happily married, I had no political missions. In other words, all I had to do was smile and enjoy the evening.

After a while, there was a lull in the number of people approaching us. It wouldn’t do to just stand around waiting for people to come to us, so we decided to move around.

“Risty, shall we take a walk?”

“Yes, Folca.”

We headed out to the garden. The sky was clear, and the stars were shining brightly.

As we walked, a man with sharp eyes and beautiful blond hair approached us. It was Vidal Manjula, the third son of the Duke of Manjula. Since his older brothers had passed away, he was now the heir apparent, making him an important figure in the rival faction.

A breeze blew through the garden, rustling the guests’ hair.

“This is a surprise, Lord Vidal. It’s been a while.”

Risty took the initiative and spoke first.

“Lord Folca, Lady Risty, it has indeed been a while. Congratulations on the pregnancy.”

“Thank you, Lord Vidal.”

“I must say, this brightens the future of the Gustique family. I’m envious.”

Envious, huh? That’s quite a statement.

Vidal was already married, and he had a child born just last year. So for him to say “envious” likely implied, “The Manjula family ended up with a child from a concubine after the rightful heir died, but the Gustique family not only has a legitimate son, they’re already expecting the next one. Lucky for them.”

“Hehe, thank you.”

Risty responded with a forced smile.

“The Gustique family has been strengthening its production capabilities with cotton and iron, and I hear you’ve also been training some of your farmers as soldiers during the off-season. Truly commendable work. It’s something my own house should take note of.”

What he meant was, “I’m glad to see you’re preparing for war. Let’s join forces and crush Griffis together. You’ve got the strength for it, right?”

“Yes. Our people are precious treasures, so we train them to ensure that, in the unfortunate event of war, the number of casualties is kept to a minimum.”

I responded with the underlying message: “I don’t want to send my people to die, so I’m not rushing into war.”

“I see. But ‘the great tree draws the lightning,’ as they say.”

Vidal’s words referenced a Southern proverb, meaning “The risk of a threat only increases the longer it exists,” implying that if we don’t deal with Griffis now, war is inevitable.

“Yes, preparations are necessary.”

I responded in kind, implying that “Just because we’re making preparations, that doesn’t mean we want to start a war right now.”

“Hmm. It seems you’re quite the cautious man, Lord Folca.”

It was obvious that he was calling me a coward.

“Yes. The Gustique family is known for being cautious. We believe in taking our time to ensure things are done properly.”

In truth, the Gustique family doesn’t mind the idea of eventually toppling the Kingdom of Griffis. In fact, we’d like to prepare for it over the next forty years and slowly squeeze them out. The Manjula family likely knows this.

“But if you keep waiting for the perfect day, won’t your parents fall ill?”

This was a reference to a story where someone waits years for the perfect day for their parents’ wedding ceremony, only for the parents to fall ill before the stars align.

“I’d rather not suffer from eating undercooked meat.”

I responded with another proverb, this one about a man who grows impatient and eats undercooked stew, only to make himself sick. My point was that rushing things is just as foolish.

“I see… Well, then, I wish you a healthy and prosperous family. May you have many children.”

Vidal left after throwing out a comment that could either be a genuine wish for my growing magical military strength or a subtle jab.

“Good job, Folca.”

Risty whispered softly.

“Thanks. Are you alright though, Risty?”

I was more concerned about her, given that she was the one carrying our child.

“I’m perfectly fine. In fact, dealing with the Manjula faction is easy compared to people who focus on my chest.”

Ah, that made sense. Perhaps the Manjula faction already understood that Risty and I were deeply in love. After all, Duke Manjula was quite sharp.

In the end, it seemed only our closest allies and enemies truly understood us. How ironic.