I'm in another world, and I start out transformed into Lancelot.

"—!!!" As if all the air had been sucked away in an instant, Lelouch suddenly stood up from his seat.

The chair scraped loudly on the floor due to his violent movements.

He opened his mouth, but his throat was gripped tightly by an invisible giant hand, preventing him from making a sound.

That was his half-sister, the third princess Euphemia R. Britannia, whom he thought he would never see again!

The entire broadcasting room suddenly fell into an eerie silence, with only the low hum of the equipment cooling fans remaining.

Mirei stopped what she was doing, puzzled, and looked up at the doorway. She then glanced at Lelouch, who was speechless with shock, completely bewildered by what had happened.

Chapter 15 Brother~ Meloshen isn't a bad boy at all~

"Let's talk somewhere else..."

Recovering from his initial shock, Lelouch quickly took Nunnally's wheelchair armrest and led them to a secluded and quiet corner.

Before the conversation began, his gaze involuntarily drifted to the figure who hadn't retreated like the other bodyguards—Melushin.

Noticing her brother's gaze, Euphemia understood. She smiled and gently patted Melusin's hand, speaking in a gentle yet firm tone:

“It’s alright. Melusin is a very important person to me, so please let her stay.”

"An important...person?"

Lelouch's tongue rolled silently over the words, combined with the faint, undeniable blush of shyness on Euphemia's cheeks.

No further words were needed; the conclusion struck me like lightning—it turned out that Yuffie was referring to "that" important person.

Although Lelouch was walking a thorny path of resistance, he had neither the time nor the inclination to dwell on matters of the heart.

But whether looking back on that hazy, first love-like feeling, or standing in the position of Euphemia's half-brother.

He believed he had the right and the position to scrutinize and even "criticize" this Melousin.

After scrutinizing the "knight" guarding Euphemia from head to toe with an almost critical and sharp gaze, he finally understood.

Even Lelouch, who is known for his eloquence, had to admit that he couldn't find any specific flaws.

Despite the veil covering her face, her amber-gold eyes were pure and clear, and her long silver hair, flowing like moonlight, silently and convincingly confirmed her beauty.

Although she was dressed in casual clothes, her posture remained as upright as a pine tree.

That dashing and spirited demeanor, combined with that elegant and reserved nature, was wonderfully unified in that seemingly slender yet powerful figure.

With such looks and demeanor, she is no ordinary person.

Is she a noblewoman with a title? Or is she a top-notch bodyguard secretly trained by the Britannian royal family for Euphemia?

Lelouch abruptly pulled himself back from his wandering thoughts. Regardless of who this princess's beloved was, it was none of his concern at this moment...

This "commoner student" who was given the name "Lampelugie" has no connection whatsoever.

Just then, a rather strong gust of wind suddenly swept up.

Before Euphemia could even catch her breath at the danger of her disguise being exposed by her loose hat brim and disheveled hair, Melusin had already made her move with lightning speed.

She pressed down on Yuffie's hat brim with one hand, and with the other hand gently but firmly pulled Yuffie's face into her arms.

She only loosened her arms when the wind died down and the world returned to calm.

Yuffie, nestled in his arms, lifted her head, a beautiful blush spreading across her cheeks. It was hard to tell whether it was from the stuffiness of the fabric or the shyness brought on by the unexpected intimacy just moments before.

Lelouch's gaze swept over the barely concealed emotions in Euphemia's eyes, and a complex, self-deprecating smile curled at the corner of his lips.

He subtly steered the conversation towards the plaza not far away—

There, his childhood friend Suzaku Kururugi was enthusiastically driving an old-fashioned Knightmare, clumsily but earnestly turning over the huge dough.

Lelouch even "revealed" a few funny and embarrassing stories about his childhood friend, which successfully amused Euphemia, making her eyes crinkle and her laughter ripple outwards.

"Ah! That's right!"

Euphemia let out a soft gasp as if struck by a sudden inspiration, and even subconsciously patted her forehead.

The third princess, immersed in the intimate conversation between her long-lost siblings, finally remembered one of the core purposes of her trip today.

However... her gaze went over her brother's shoulder and landed on the stage in the square.

Her friend Suzaku Kururugi had just clumsily and laboriously pushed the unevenly thick, tossed dough into the oven, and it was clear that it would take quite some time.

A slightly apologetic smile appeared on Euphemia's face as she looked away and focused her gaze back on "Lampeloki."

The warmth in her smile remained, but now carried an unmistakable solemnity.

“Brother Lelouch Lamperouge,” she said clearly and steadily, looking directly into her brother’s eyes.

"About us—you and me, and Nunnally—"

"And the extraordinaryly dangerous game you played while hiding your civilian identity... I think it's time to drop the pretense and have a proper talk."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Euphie?! You...how could you...?!"

Lelouch's voice faltered for the first time, and his pupils contracted sharply, as if he had encountered an incomprehensible cognitive shock.

He had always carefully protected the pure and sunny illusion in Euphemia's heart, never imagining that she would so easily and calmly shatter Zero's carefully crafted disguise!

Seeing his brother's unusually flustered expression, he was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

Euphemia couldn't help but smile, her slender fingers gracefully touching her lower lip, emitting a series of clear, bell-like laughs:

"Yes~ Actually, I had a vague feeling of familiarity when the hostage incident happened at the hotel."

"Tsk...was it around that time..." Lelouch closed his eyes in annoyance and pressed his fingertips hard against his brow.

"At that time, I did feel...unable to control the urge to express something about that situation..."

(Sure enough, it was still too much of a stretch for him to perfectly pretend to be a shrewd and calculating old fox in front of his sensitive relatives.)

"Hmm~ But what truly turns suspicion into certainty,"

Euphemia winked playfully at her amethyst-like eyes, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"It all comes down to your brilliant on-the-spot reaction, Lamperouge!"

Lelouch's expression froze instantly, only then realizing that his shock and frustration had become the most crucial factor in the other party's chain of reasoning.

“…Hmph,” he let out a frustrated groan, his gaze unconsciously drifting to a spot not far away—where he saw Nanali sitting in a wheelchair.

She was tilting her head back, a sweet smile on her face, seemingly listening attentively.

The fairy knight with lake-blue hair leaned closer and whispered something, which made Nanali chuckle.

Watching his sister's rare moment of joy being easily evoked by another woman with a mysterious identity.

A complex mix of bittersweetness and barely perceptible bewilderment immediately appeared on Lelouch's face.

But this delicate emotion was quickly overshadowed by another, deeper worry.

He looked at Euphemia again, his voice turning somber: "So... have you talked to Cornelia about this?"

The light in Euphemia's eyes dimmed instantly. She gently shook her head, her long, soft pink hair swaying slightly with the movement.

"My elder sister... she has always treated me like a child who needs to be protected under her wing, and she will never seriously listen to what I'm saying, which she considers delusional..."

She lowered her eyes slightly, her long eyelashes concealing the turbulent emotions within them, her voice as soft as a sigh:

"And... if my elder sister finds out about that rebel leader who gives her so much trouble and whom she wishes she could get rid of..."

"It turned out to be her own younger brother, whom she had been searching for so desperately, and whom she thought was long dead..."

Yuffie paused, her voice tinged with heartbreaking sorrow, "...This blow to her is probably far more heartbreaking than knowing the truth itself..."

Lelouch's gaze also darkened.

Silence spread between the two, like an invisible veil, shrouding the heavy and dangerous truths.

After a moment, he finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for so long, a question that almost smelled of rust:

"...Do you know anything about the truth behind the murder of my mother, Marianne?"

A deep, almost painful apology appeared on Euphemia's face: "I'm sorry, Lelouch..."

Her voice was soft and weak, "Even in the heart of the palace... the information I have access to is limited, just like most dutiful princesses..."

Yuffie paused, trying to hide the hint of helplessness at being defeated by reality.

"However... it seems my elder sister has never given up on the investigation. Because... Princess Marianne... was someone she held in the highest esteem..."

However, the investigation results that the elder sister kept secret were never within Euphemia's reach.

Lelouch listened quietly, each word like a tiny pebble falling into a deep pool. No more words were needed; he understood.

The path to the truth must ultimately pass through that tightly closed door from many years ago—to confront his iron-willed and decisive elder sister, Cornelia Rie Britannia.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Just as the quiet atmosphere between the two was about to freeze, a wave of enthusiastic cheers and applause suddenly erupted from the square in the distance.

Looking in the direction of the sound, one could see that the giant pizza, the grand finale of the school festival, which required several people to lift, had just been carefully taken out of the special oven.

The rising steam carried an incredibly enticing aroma—the caramelized scent of baked cheese, the sweet and sour tomato sauce, and the wheaty fragrance of baked flatbread—spreading out as if it were real.

It instantly captured everyone's attention.

The tense atmosphere vanished, and everyone's face was filled with pure anticipation and excitement.

They excitedly crowded around, waiting for the grand feast to be served.

This raw and boisterous atmosphere of fireworks, which she had never experienced before, also aroused Euphemia's unspoken curiosity.

As a noble princess of Britannia, she was surrounded by strict court rules and dietary doctrines from the time she could remember.

Those elaborate silver tableware, exquisite plating, and rare ingredients constitute the entirety of her understanding of food.

And this pizza in front of us—with its vibrant colors and rich aroma, which nobles privately jokingly referred to as "a vulgar snack that is not fit for high society"—is a pizza.

For her, however, it was a strange and novel attraction.

She subconsciously leaned forward slightly, her clear purple eyes blinking.

It revealed an undisguised, childlike curiosity, a desire to taste it for oneself.

Chapter 16 The Curiosity of Witch CC

"Understood. Your Highness and the others' share will be handled by me."

Melusin's amber-gold eyes precisely captured the barely concealed curiosity and longing in Euphemia's eyes. A barely perceptible glint of tenderness flashed deep within those inhuman vertical pupils, and the corners of her lips lifted slightly. She gracefully bowed slightly, giving Euphemia a simple yet dignified curtsy, the hem of her knee-length skirt tracing a clean arc.

Then, with a figure as light as rippling water yet possessing the steady gait of a knight, she walked towards the bustling center where pizzas were being distributed. Her short skirt fluttered lightly with each step, revealing her shapely and powerful calves, each step exuding a silent sense of strength. Her flowing silver hair moved like moonlight through the gaps in the crowd.

"Please wait a moment, how can we trouble our guest to carry so much alone?"

A voice, impeccably polite and as gentle as a fine porcelain mask, rang out from behind him. Lelouch Lamperouge quickly followed, a perfectly curved smile playing on his lips, his voice warm and friendly. But deep within his purple pupils, hidden beneath his wispy bangs, lay a detached scrutiny and a chilling aloofness.

(After all, someone whose identity is unknown, who can easily bring a smile to Nunnally's face, and who makes Euphemia look so dependent on him...)

(Even if her actions at this moment were beyond reproach, the former Prince of Britannia's vigilance radar continued to buzz.)

His gaze, like an invisible probe, followed her receding figure—beneath that knee-length skirt, her steps combined the fluidity of a dance with the precision and steadiness unique to a fighter. Every exertion of her calf muscles contained an astonishing explosive power, each movement exuding an indescribable smoothness. Even with Lelouch's most demanding assessment from the perspective of a former royal, almost data-driven analysis of her every move, he still felt a sense of unease.

Picky? Faced with this natural, almost instinctive composure and power, any deliberate criticism seems too naive and powerless.

(—Well, at least in terms of actions and demeanor, there's really nothing to criticize.)

Lelouch Lamperouge's mind was already churning with countless sarcastic and even wary thoughts. But his carefully maintained, impeccable mask of a gentle smile remained firmly on his face.

Until—his alert gaze, like a sophisticated radar, swept across the surging crowd…

A striking, almost ominous, long, emerald-green hair suddenly captured his entire gaze!

The meticulously crafted "Lamperouge" mask instantly cracked open, revealing a visible gap.

"you…?!"

Even disregarding the need to maintain pace with Melosine, Lelouch, almost instinctively, broke through the crowd in an instant, seizing C.C.'s wrist with lightning speed. The force was so great that it nearly knocked the pizza off its feet. He growled in a low, trembling voice, almost forced from between his teeth, distorted by extreme terror:

"What are you doing here?! Didn't I tell you to hide—!" Panic gripped his heart like cold vines. This capricious witch, why did she have to appear right under the noses of the Empire at the most dangerous moment? And with Euphemia and Nunnally both present?!