Vol 1 Chapter 7 – The Princess Has a Thing for Otherworlders

I’d been mulling something over—technically, wasn’t what happened to me a transfer rather than a reincarnation? When I raised the point, Elena tilted her head.

She wasn’t sure what the difference was. Fair enough. It probably didn’t matter much in practice.

That had been a few minutes ago.

“Pardon the interruption—a new otherworlder arrived with a fixed route, so I’ve brought them before you.”

“I see… the sixth. State your name, young one.”

This. Man. Is. Dangerous.

Not dangerous in a violent way—it was the sheer weight of him. The presence. Was this what royalty was supposed to feel like? Whatever happened to the “pretty casual” description? Which Ritros said that again?

“Oh, honestly, Ashthal-san, stop making that frightening face.”

“And yet, Elena, as a close attendant to His Majesty, I must maintain a certain—”

“He’s not even the King?!”

I’d assumed he was the King, given the overwhelming gravitas. An attendant meant something like a chief of staff. Still an absurdly high-ranking position—but if this was the attendant, what on earth was the actual King like? Was I going to survive this meeting?

“I—uh—I’m Utaki.”

“Utaki. You must find yourself in unfamiliar and difficult circumstances. You are most welcome here.”

Every movement was theatrical. Whether it was the costume or something innate, the whole effect was undeniably visual—incredibly cool, actually, to the point where the formal speech pattern barely registered as strange. This world was something else. Still a little terrifying, though.

Elena, Rito, and now Ashthal—everyone’s outfits were Western fantasy: capes, armor, the works. Each uniform bore an owl motif embroidered or engraved on the chest—apparently the national emblem, like a coat of arms.

“Extremely intense national pride,” I thought, then immediately felt bad about it. But I was definitely not the only person who’d ever thought that. I kept my mouth shut.

“Oh, what’s this—a new otherworlder?”

“Ah—Your Majesty.”

“Hey, what’s up~.”

“…That’s him?”

The attendant looked like a grizzled FPS protagonist. The King looked like a humanities student at a party school—the kind of guy I could never be friends with. Business administration major, the type who posts barbecue photos and beach selfies online.

My cognitive functions flatlined.

And he was young. I’d pictured some stern older man declaring things in the royal “we”—but this guy was practically my age. Maybe exactly my age.

“Go on, Utaki—introduce yourself.”

“Wait—hang on—what am I supposed to say?”

“Ahaha, are you nervous? Relax, man.”

He was sprawled across the throne as if he owned it—which, technically, he did. No gravitas to speak of, but there was something—a quality different from everyone else—a genuine, unpretentious charisma that didn’t announce itself.

“I’m Odile. I run this place.”

Odile is a woman’s name. I did not say this. I valued my life.

“I’m Utaki. And, uh… I seem to have been reincarnated.”

“Utaki! You got isekai’d, and you’ve got a route?! Rough deal!”

The laugh was wide open and completely lacking in dignity. So this was the frank version. Apparently, the previous king had passed away about three years ago, and Odile had inherited the throne almost immediately after. He’d been sixteen at the time.

“If you run into trouble, let me know—happy to help. So, what kind of route are we talking about?”

“Well—”

“Pardon me, Brother—are you in here?”

Stepping between me and Elena was a girl who was—apart from hair length—the spitting image of Odile. Both had green hair, which apparently meant Nature attribute.

“Odette! Perfect timing—Utaki, this is my twin sister, Princess Odette.”

“Oh… a new otherworlder… -sama…”

“Hey.”

“No sense of tension whatsoever…”

Princess Odette approached me with wide, blinking eyes. Her face was noticeably younger than Elena’s, though her figure was generously developed, somewhere in the neighborhood of a D-cup.

“You are called Utaki-sama?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“What a noble name…”

A chill ran down my spine.

I glanced at Elena. She was wearing the same uncomfortable expression, her eyes flicking back and forth between the Princess and me.

Watch out for the princess, not the queen.

Pakira’s words surfaced in my memory. Surely not—

“Utaki-sama, won’t you call me Odette as well?”

“I mean, you’re royalty—it’s different from Elena—”

“I know I still have so much to learn, but—sniff—what have I done wrong? Ugh—it’s awful, it’s just awful. Is a name really too much to ask? Elena-sama gets to be called by her first name, doesn’t she? That’s so—that’s so unfair, unfair, unfair, unfair, unfair, unfair, unfair—I WANT THAT, I WANT THAT, IT’S NOT FAAAAIR—UWAAAAAAAN—”

It was at that moment—for the first time since arriving in this world—that I genuinely wondered if dying might be the easier option.

Vol 1 Chapter 8 – I Like Erotic Content, But There Are Genres Even I Don’t Have a Thing For

Making a girl cry — that weight sat on my chest, even knowing this was a route-assigned yandere situation.

“You really are something, aren’t you?”

“She’s your sister — should you really be that calm?”

“The tears of a pure maiden are among the rarest treasures in the world! I see no particular reason for complaint.”

The royal family of this country was broken. Not just unconventional — genuinely broken. My mental image of kings and princesses had involved poise, refinement, and a certain air of elevation. What I had instead was a party-school upperclassman and an anime club princess.

The only normal-looking person in the room was the grizzled attendant quietly comforting the still-sobbing princess in the corner.

“Right, I never got the full story — what exactly is your route, Utaki?”

“Yandere harem, apparently.”

There was no other way to describe it, and honestly, I was done trying to look at it directly. Goodbye, past-me who used to think isekai sounded kind of fun. Hello, current-me who desperately wants to go home.

“That sounds like the Princess — !” [Footsteps, rapid.]

“I want to go home.”

“Nothing’s even started yet,” Elena said flatly.

I had a genuine appreciation for the erotic. I’ll say it plainly: I liked attractive girls in revealing outfits, I liked well-endowed women, and I’d never once been ashamed of any of it.

But within any given field — fashion, film, food, whatever — there were specific sub-genres that just didn’t do it for you personally.

What I was trying to say was: I had never had a thing for female knights.

But looking at this situation — there was absolutely no way this knight wasn’t going to end up in my route. No way. And the “damsel-in-distress crushed-heroine” type was not something I could work with. Just wasn’t in my toolkit.

“Was it you who made the Princess cry — ?!”

“Why does the translation keep coming out wrong?!”

I had made her cry. I had not made her moan—notably different situations.

If this knight had her own separate romantic subplot, that was a different conversation entirely — but the Princess was in my route, which meant this woman was in the supporting cast with no romantic resolution. Nobody wins here. I genuinely could not see a version of this ending where everyone was okay.

“Oi, Titania — drawing your blade in the throne room, against a civilian, is not something I can endorse.”

“But Your Majesty! This man caused the Princess distress!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine — that’s just how his route works. Right, Utaki?”

“…Sure.”

Elena patted me on the shoulder. Please don’t — I cry easily.

“Royal Knight Commander Titania. You — what exactly do you mean by a route that involves making the Princess cry?”

“It’s a transfer route, and it happens to be romantically oriented — that’s about as specific as I can get.”

“You’re telling me that a weakling like you has a route that includes the Princess?!”

The disbelief on her face was entirely fair. I felt the same way about myself — believe me. I hadn’t chosen to get isekai’d and accidentally end up architecting a yandere harem situation.

“The route existing is outside anyone’s control — but on a personal level, the fact that you made the Princess cry irritates me considerably. Fight me.”

“I don’t have any sword training.”

“Ahaha, Titania’s got the nickname ‘Crimson Rose of the Royal Capital’ for a reason — she’s genuinely terrifying.”

“Please don’t encourage this.”

“Sounds entertaining — you have my blessing!”

This was a flag.

Whether it was a route flag or a death flag, I couldn’t tell yet — but it was definitely a flag.

“Well… you probably won’t die. Probably.“

Elena’s reassurances were becoming noticeably less reassuring.

How did it come to this?