To understand how things ended up this way, you'd have to rewind to the previous evening.
Beyond the Magic Ore, Gojo had found several interesting Divine Protections scattered through the shop's inventory. One of them was the Divine Protection of Hairdressing. According to the listing, it granted the bearer "the sensibility of a barber capable of bringing charm and refinement to an entire civilization." That was the shop's description, word for word.
There were others in the same vein: a Divine Protection of Tailoring, one for Sketching, another for Barbecue... all of them mundane, domestic little blessings. The concept of Divine Protections had genuinely piqued his curiosity. Plenty of people around him carried them, and their odd, specific abilities were impossible to ignore. So after a moment's thought, he'd picked one that interested him and decided to take it for a spin.
Hairdressing it was.
Judging by results, the investment had paid off. Before this, he'd known his way around cooking and basic housework well enough. But cutting hair? He'd never so much as held a pair of scissors outside a barber's chair. Yet the moment the Divine Protection settled into him, every technique, every instinct clicked into place as if he'd always known. No thought required. Effortless.
And the results spoke for themselves.
"Well, Lia? Don't I look fierce and majestic?" Puck twisted left and right, showing off from every angle, tail swishing with anticipation.
"You do." Emilia couldn't hold back her laughter.
"You look like a little lion."
Under Gojo's scissors, Puck had transformed from an adorable kitten into an adorable miniature lion. The fur ringing his neck had been shaped and fluffed until it fanned out in a perfect mane. "Little lion" was entirely accurate.
"Wait, really?" Puck blinked, waved a paw, and conjured a mirror of ice in midair. He darted over and studied his reflection intently.
"You could make mirrors this whole time?" Subaru shoved his way in, trying to elbow the Spirit aside for a look at his own haircut. "And you didn't mention it?"
"It slipped my mind." Puck stuck out his tongue, not even pretending to be sorry.
Once the ice mirror expanded, both of them finally got a proper look. Just as Emilia had said, Subaru and Puck each found themselves pleasantly surprised by what stared back.
"So?" Gojo admired the pair of them, arms folded, satisfaction radiating off him.
"Really well done. Better than anything I could manage," Puck said, and meant it. He'd been styling Emilia's hair for years, and he had a decent touch, but this was on another level entirely.
"Lia, come on over! Let Gojo work on yours next." Puck waved her forward, practically bouncing with excitement. Anything that involved Emilia had his full, undivided enthusiasm.
"Oh, okay."
Emilia settled obediently into the chair, and Gojo got started.
Right about then, two heads poked out from behind the courtyard hedges. One pink, one blue. The maid sisters watched from their hiding spot, vigilant against any new catastrophe that might unfold while Roswaal was away.
"Sister, sister." Rem whispered. "Gojo's current activity doesn't appear to be destructive."
"Rem, Rem." Ram's voice was flat. "Complacency is unacceptable. There's no telling when he'll do something bizarre."
"What are you two skulking around for?"
Betty's voice came from directly behind them. Both maids flinched. The little Spirit peered at them, baffled.
"Preemptive damage control," Rem explained. "In case Gojo escalates."
Betty rose on her toes and squinted toward Gojo. "Haircuts? That counts as destruction?"
"Rem believes there is a non-trivial probability that he ruins Lady Emilia's hair and provokes Puck."
"Then why aren't you stopping him?"
Betty knew better than anyone how much her dear brother treasured Emilia. Weighed against the entire world, Puck would choose Emilia every single time.
"Hey, you three! Quit whispering back there and get over here!"
Gojo had spotted them. His voice carried clean across the courtyard.
Ram and Rem exchanged a glance. They turned in unison, ready to bolt. As the sole maids of the Mathers household, they had absolutely no intention of letting their hairstyles get mangled and bringing shame upon the family name.
Gojo, however, had no interest in giving them a choice.
The sisters had barely shifted their weight when they found themselves lifting off the ground, drifting gently but inexorably in his direction.
By the end of the day, not a single person in the mansion had been spared. It wasn't just Emilia's group. Even the construction workers repairing the building had been grabbed and given fresh cuts before they could protest.
And so, when evening came and Roswaal flew back from the Royal Capital, he stepped into the dining hall, looked at everyone seated around the table, and froze.
When he'd left that morning, nothing had been out of the ordinary. He'd been gone for hours, not weeks. Yet every single person in front of him had a different hairstyle. If not for their familiar faces, he might have wondered whether he'd walked into the wrong house.
"Hey, Roswaal. Welcome back." Gojo waved cheerfully.
"It seems something entertaining happened while I was away." Roswaal studied them all with open amusement, then took his seat at the table. Ram rose immediately to set his place, while Rem poured his tea.
"Obviously. You should've been here." Gojo pinched his thumb and forefinger together, squinting through the narrow gap with a grin. "Your current hairstyle, for instance, clashes just the tiniest bit with your overall aesthetic."
"You're telling me Gojo has hidden talents as a barber?" Roswaal caught the implication, one eyebrow rising.
"Hardly worth mentioning. Just a modest little skill."
"So, interested in giving it a try? Everyone else seems pretty satisfied."
The novelty of the Divine Protection hadn't worn off yet, and Gojo was already eyeing his next canvas.
"I've always been open to new experiences." Roswaal took a small sip of tea, then set the cup down. His expression shifted, turning serious as he looked around the table. "However, before that, there's something I need to share with all of you."
"All five Royal Candidates have now been identified. Per the Council of Wise Men's directive, every candidate is to gather in the Royal Capital for an official assembly. All parties will be in attendance. Once the assembly concludes, the competition begins in earnest."
He paused, letting it settle.
"Lady Emilia, Lady Felt. The two of you should prepare to depart for the Capital shortly."
The Royal Candidate Assembly.
The name landed differently on each of them. Emilia's expression tightened, a knot of tension threading through her features. Felt, on the other hand, showed nothing of the sort. Her face was pure excitement, brimming with restless energy.
Roswaal observed the contrast without betraying any reaction of his own.
"Are we leaving tomorrow? Is there anything we need to prepare?" Felt leaned forward, already imagining the fortune that awaited. The questions tumbled out without hesitation.
"No preparations necessary." Roswaal shook his head. "Once you arrive, you can rest at my family's estate in the Capital. Clothing and other arrangements can be handled there."
"However." He turned to Felt. "Your situation will require a small additional step, Lady Felt. Since you don't yet possess a Royal Insignia, you'll need to obtain yours upon arrival."
"That's it? Just a badge? Where do I pick it up?"
"The Knights' garrison. The Council of Wise Men has already made the arrangements."
"The Knights, huh?"
Gojo rubbed his chin. "Perfect chance to visit Reinhard. Maybe I can even give him the full treatment."
"When exactly is the assembly?" he asked, getting to the point.
"Five days from now. There's no need to worry about time. Whether it's preparing formal attire or anything else, there will be more than enough."
"Then we're good." Gojo stretched, arms reaching overhead. "Let's head out first thing tomorrow."
"Oh, and Roswaal? Come find me after dinner. That hair needs attention."
"How thoughtful of you, Gojo."
The news Roswaal brought shattered the mansion's easy calm. The looming assembly sat differently in every chest.
Later that night, in Gojo's room.
"Finally heading back!" Felt flopped against the furniture, grinning wide. "Old Man Rom's probably been losing his mind missing me."
Life at the mansion had been comfortable, even pleasant. But none of that compared to the old man she'd left behind in the Capital. He'd raised her. They'd been together for as long as she could remember, and this was the longest they'd ever been apart. She missed him.
"Haah..."
Subaru, by contrast, let out a long, deflated sigh.
"What's with the doom and gloom?" Felt laughed and slapped him hard across the back.
"Isn't it obvious?" Gojo was tilted back in his chair, feet propped on the desk, rocking lazily. "He's worried about Emilia."
"I truly cannot fathom what goes on in your head." Betty sat nearby, watching Subaru with undisguised bewilderment. "You haven't even known her that long."
"You wouldn't understand. This is love at first sight. Fate itself decreed that I'd fall for Emilia." He held up a finger and wagged it, wearing the expression of a man certain he was being profound.
"Still, the assembly won't be easy for her." Betty twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Gojo had restyled her earlier that day, but for reasons unknown, her hair had already reverted to its signature golden drill curls within the hour. "A silver-haired Half-Elf was never going to win popular support."
Gojo's brow ticked upward. "Because of the Witch of Envy?"
Unlike Felt, who'd barely cracked a book in her life, or Subaru, who was still functionally illiterate in this world, Gojo had built up a solid understanding of its history and politics. The connection clicked immediately.
"What else could it be?" Betty said.
"The Witch of Envy? How does that tie into this?" The mention put Subaru on edge. His Return by Death was tangled up with Satella in ways he still didn't fully understand.
"Do you make any effort whatsoever to hide how little you know?" Betty sighed, the sound heavy with resignation.
"Are you an idiot? Old Man Rom told you this already." Felt shot Subaru a withering look. "Emilia and Satella share the exact same profile. Silver-haired Half-Elf."
"It's not just that." Betty's voice went quieter. "The girl looks like Satella too. Nearly identical."
As a Great Spirit created by the Witch of Greed, Betty had spent a long stretch of time in that circle. She knew the other Witches far more intimately than any ordinary person could.
"So you tell me," she said. "Do you really think people won't resist her?"
"I wish I had some kind of special talent I could use to help." Subaru's shoulders sagged. "Something that'd actually make a difference for Emilia."
"So sentimental." Gojo didn't move from his reclined position. "I don't know much about the other candidates. But Emilia has the kingdom's strongest mage backing her in Roswaal, plus Puck as a Great Spirit. In raw power, she's not behind anyone."
That was the wrong thing to say. The mention of Roswaal's support snapped Subaru right back to reality.
"Roswaal isn't exactly working in Emilia's best interest, though."
"What are you talking about? What am I missing?" Felt looked between them, confusion sharpening into suspicion.
She'd been with them from the start. There was no reason to keep her in the dark. Under Subaru's sheepish gaze, Gojo gave a brief account of Roswaal's involvement with Elsa.
"That bastard." Felt's temper ignited on the spot. The memory of nearly dying because of Roswaal's scheming hit fresh and raw. "He's the one who set that whole thing up?"
Her fists clenched at her sides, eyes blazing.
"It's decided. I am squeezing every last coin I can out of that man."
...
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