Selma's words were incredibly effective, instantly breaking the tense atmosphere.
After a moment, the girl who had asked the question began to recover slightly:
"Don't mention those modern methods—wizards don't need reforms! I mean, in ancient Eastern times, how would this situation have been handled?"
At this point, Selma finally realized how awkward the situation was. After a moment's thought, she cautiously said,
"Well… that… might not be very appropriate?"
"What's inappropriate about it? What are we afraid of? Speak boldly—just like how you usually explain the knowledge of the Eastern magical world to us. It's nothing to worry about!"
Encouraged by the shoulder pats, Selma accidentally dropped her chicken leg. Spurred on by her friends' coaxing, she instinctively said,
"In ancient Eastern times, in such a situation, usually… they would just all marry the person involved together."
Pfft!
Spitting sounds erupted from all around—the onlookers who had been eavesdropping while pretending to sip drinks could no longer hold it in.
The almost-violent tension dissipated instantly—there's nothing to fight over now!
And as for Selma, the MVP of the moment, she didn't even realize whether her actions had been intentional or just playful improvisation. Either way, she returned to the table, resumed eating pudding, and quietly basked in her minor victory—mission accomplished without anyone knowing.
Anyway, this fight was effectively over.
After staring each other down for what felt like an eternity, the two involved finally spoke almost simultaneously:
"Go find him!"
"Let him figure it out himself!"
Before taking a few steps, they both drew their wands and warned over their shoulders:
"Don't follow! We'll handle this ourselves!"
Under the pressure of their wands and the aura emanating from the two girls, the onlookers wisely stepped back to the tables rather than risk entering the fray.
Among the spectators was Allen and the rest of Marshall's roommates—sure, we could take them down, but would it be worth the shame?
With no fight to watch, the crowd returned to their meals—but the puddings on the table had nearly disappeared, except for Selma, who squinted and gave a mysterious smile.
The dinner began with discussions of Marshall's "happiest life" and ended with which flowers to lay on his grave.
If there was any regret, it was that the aftermath couldn't be observed.
But that was inevitable—after all, they were mere outsiders. Aside from watching, there was little they could do.
Assuming the worst was over, Allen and the others returned to the camp.
Surprisingly, the campsite was intact—no destruction, not even a trace of battle. Marshall, meanwhile, sat on the ground with a gloomy expression, showing no visible injuries.
Strange—after all that chaos, where did they go? How did they disappear so quickly?
"Marshall, where are they? Didn't you see them come over just now? Why are they gone?" Allen asked, taking the fastest route to the answer—directly questioning Marshall.
Marshall, still sitting on the ground, replied grimly:
"Allen, why didn't you warn me? They suddenly appeared together, and I wasn't prepared at all—I was completely stunned."
Before Allen could respond, one of the girls quickly interjected in a tone full of contempt:
"Warn you—so you could prepare to hide your ugly face or to fabricate lies to trick Sasha-senpai?" Her voice dripped with anger—had it not been in front of so many people, she probably would have sent a curse flying.
Marshall didn't get angry; he just gave a bitter smile:
"I really had no preparation. They just suddenly showed up and asked me who I liked, who I would choose. I panicked, couldn't answer, and my mind went blank. I blurted out something randomly—and then they cast Leg-Lock and Petrification Charms on me to pin me here. I can even speak now because the Petrification Charm is wearing off."
"And them?"
Marshall smiled bitterly:
"They said they'd go somewhere private to discuss. Now hurry and break the spell—I need to convince them to stop, or I'll just get beaten up."
Luckily, things were still under control—as long as no fighting broke out.
As Allen prepared to break the spell, the girl from before suddenly demanded:
"Marshall, what did you say?"
"I just said there's a Galleon on the ground and a bag with seventeen Sickles. How could I possibly choose? Then they said they'd go discuss it privately. What's the problem?"
Allen froze mid-spell—normally, Marshall's mind was sharp. How could he act so foolish now? Could it be true that love really lowers IQ? And Marshall had essentially confessed to two girls at once—double the IQ drop?
Before Allen could react, the girl, having recovered from her shock, commented sharply:
"Scumbag!"
After a moment of silence, Allen and the others echoed:
"Agreed."
"Pervert!"
"Trash!"
"Scumbag!"
Undoubtedly, even the previously unstartable fight could now erupt because of Marshall's unintentional provocation—and he still had no clue.
"Which way? Hurry, which way did they go?" Allen asked urgently—there might still be time to intervene, save Marshall, and clean up the mess. He wanted to shake the boy upside down to wake him up.
Unfortunately, Allen's plan was good, but too much time had passed—the winner had already been determined.
Though Allen wished Hufflepuff's seniors could win, it was unrealistic—the opponent was basically cheating. A girl who had been trained by professors since childhood, blessed with natural talent, and honed through years of combat experience was not someone limited by Hogwarts' Ministry-restricted curriculum could beat in a duel.
By average student standards, Hogwarts could compete with the best, but Miss Tsutsugami was top-tier. Meanwhile, their senior ranked only medium among the twenty-four prefects—still impressive, but far below her.
Seeing Miss Tsutsugami appear, Allen immediately noticed another figure—though bearing some scratches and minor battle marks, the injuries were not serious. Clearly, there had been no life-or-death fight.
Good—Marshall's fate has been decided.