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“This,” Duncan pulls a note from one of his pockets, clearly written by someone else, and reads, “Futaba’s sudden victory, with her figure that is elegant even by the standards of the Four and the Seven, evokes genuine delight. You approach her and sincerely tell her how deeply impressed and delighted you are by her nobility and beauty, how you rejoice every day at the opportunity to see her in person, and how shocked you are to be so close to her, after which you fall into a deep faint from the overwhelming charm and remain in it until the ceremony is over.” This is the mood expected of you on this wonderful day and during the ritual. The ritual, in turn, consists of the following: “you will approach the president, kneel, lick her shoe with your lips, carefully wipe it with a handkerchief, thank her for such an honor, and accept her words of instruction.” He puts the note back where he took it from. “You should come up with the words of gratitude yourself. And most importantly, show the highest degree of respect in your manners and speech. You will leave here either having satisfied all the expectations listed above or dead. That’s all.”
The hall is enveloped in absolute silence.