My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 003: The Dragonkin Princess

“Not interested.”

Or so he’d coolly dismissed it.

Yet somehow, Kishō found himself being forcibly dragged along.

Ōka pulled hard on his arm, urging him forward. Her small chest was pressed against him, but she probably didn’t notice. No, she definitely didn’t.

Walking along the garden promenade against his will, Kishō sighed.

“What am I even supposed to do meeting the Princess? Upper School students don’t associate with people like us. A noble Princess even less so.”

“Princess” meant daughter of the emperor.

In other words, a genuinely noble status that surpassed even the daughters of aristocrats.

Such a person wouldn’t possibly show interest in Lower School students.

But Ōka puffed out her cheeks as if to say ‘I already know that.’

“We’re just looking from a distance.”

“How superficial.”

“But I heard she’s incredibly beautiful. You’re interested too, right, Shō-kun?”

“Not at all.”

Kishō harbored strong distrust toward dragonkin women.

Starting with the six female instructors who demanded his expulsion.

The girls who’d befriended him during the brief period after the entrance ceremony had all distanced themselves once they learned he was incompetent.

And every Lower School female student except Ōka had looked down on him to varying degrees. Gossip behind his back was normal. Some even made snide remarks loud enough for him to hear directly.

The worst case involved being verbally abused so harshly he couldn’t stand up. It was a wound he didn’t want to remember, buried deep in his memory with a heavy weight.

Those experiences had provided more than enough soil for distrust toward females to take root.

So no matter how beautiful someone was said to be, he’d decided from the start it had nothing to do with him. To protect his heart.

“Besides, basically all dragonkin are beautiful anyway.”

“Hmm. So does that make me beautiful too?”

With a mischievous smile, Ōka looked up at him from the side.

Kishō thought for a moment. Certainly, Ōka had well-defined features. Large eyes, a small nose, and a charming way of laughing. Rather than beautiful, “cute” seemed more appropriate. The little-sister type that made you want to protect her—wait, when his thoughts reached that point, he shook his head.

“I wouldn’t call you beautiful.”

Since he’d omitted the important part, Ōka sulked.

“Geez, that’s rude. You’ve got a pretty plain face yourself, Shō-kun.”

“For a dropout like me, ‘plain’ is a compliment.”

“Mmm… what’s with this guy? His self-esteem is so low he won’t even take damage.”

Living a life where he’d made enemies of the Lower School instructors and received cold stares from other students—his nerves had grown thick whether he liked it or not.

When he grinned triumphantly, she jabbed his side. It hurt.

The Lower School garden was small. They reached the main building in just a few minutes.

Dragonkin considered it taboo to enter buildings with shoes on. So they tossed their footwear into the wooden lockers installed at the entrance and slipped on indoor straw sandals.

The school building was an ornate three-story stone structure. The floors were laid with wooden boards polished to a mirror shine that reflected light. The ceilings were high. The windows lining the hallways were correspondingly large. Climbing to the second floor and proceeding down the spacious corridor—which resembled a noble’s mansion—they spotted a crowd of people ahead.

“That’s a huge crowd. What’s going on?”

“Upper School students are like celebrities. Especially a Princess.”

The crowd centered around the front of the Lower School conference room.

“So the Princess in question is having a conversation with instructors in the conference room?”

“Hey Shō-kun, watch your language.”

“Oops. Right.”

Since deciding to fight alone after being isolated in the Lower School, he’d behaved rather brazenly. Even so, he hesitated to be rude toward the Princess. Mess that up and he could literally lose his head. Not figuratively—literally.

The wide corridor was packed like a festival street, buzzing with students. Students who’d heard the rumors lined up behind Kishō and the others, pressing forward. With his retreat cut off, Kishō deeply regretted his decision.

(I screwed up. Well, I can’t refuse Ōka’s requests, so it can’t be helped.)

He owed Ōka a massive debt. He didn’t think he could repay it with something this trivial, but he wanted to grant her wishes whenever possible.

Then the crowd’s commotion intensified. The disturbance propagated from around the conference room ahead. Belatedly, he noticed the lavishly decorated conference room door had opened. Surrounded by a sea of students, Kishō couldn’t see well from where he stood.

An angry voice echoed through the area.

“You Lower School students dare block the Princess’s path!”

The clear, sharp rebuke instantly froze the previously excited atmosphere.

Suddenly, strong pressure came from ahead.

“Kyah!”

“Whoa, you okay?”

He caught Ōka’s body as she was pushed off balance.

The sea of students split down the middle, parting left and right. Kishō moved to the side as well with Ōka’s waist still in his arms, following the flow rather than resisting it.

“Thanks.”

Ōka smiled shyly like a puppy. He patted her defenseless head and turned his gaze toward the opened path. His breath nearly stopped.

Those bewitching pale pink lips parted elegantly.

“Koran, you’re being excessive. You still lack awareness of what it means to lead others.”

“My apologies, Onee-sama.”

“Enough. Let’s move.”

“Yes.”

Fluttering her gorgeous Upper School dragon robe of red and black, the person called Princess took a step forward. Perhaps overwhelmed by that crushing presence of beauty, the crowd stirred and retreated.

“No way…”

Her jet-black hair, darker than the night, swayed as that noble figure walked toward them. Kishō stood frozen like stone, eyes wide with shock.

Porcelain-white translucent skin peeked from the dragon robe’s sleeves.

Her delicate frame, a full head shorter, seemed so slender it might break easily.

As they passed each other, their eyes briefly met. His heart jumped.

The Princess walked away. Even her retreating back looked familiar.

(No doubt about it. That’s…)

—Accept your fate.

He recalled the girl’s words. The flower language of the Dragon King Tree.

Those words from that time had allowed Kishō to remain at the academy. To her, it might have just been idle amusement. But still, he owed her a debt. He’d wanted to thank her for so long.

And she’d also said—

“Haven’t we met somewhere before?”

The Princess’s beautiful face appeared right in front of him. Incredibly close. Her sense of distance was definitely off.

For a moment, his memories jumbled—he couldn’t tell if this was the past or present. But it was reality.

“Beneath the Dragon King Tree…”

Under extreme tension, Kishō managed to squeeze out just those words.

He felt pathetic, like he’d regressed to his old timid self.

A smile of world-shaking beauty bloomed on the Princess’s face.

“I thought so. I remembered those eyes.”

Kishō’s eyes had no particular distinguishing features. They weren’t sharp, stern, or gentle and droopy—none of those characteristics. So he couldn’t understand what the Princess meant and felt confused.

Completely unconcerned with such matters, the Princess smiled at her own pace.

“By the way, were you able to resist fate?”

“Ah, yeah. Thanks to you, things are going well so far.”

“I see,” she smiled, then turned on her heel. She murmured quietly.

“Again——”

Unable to hear clearly, Kishō tried to ask her to repeat it, but a girl stepped between them, blocking his view. Red and black dragon robes—an Upper School student. Her sharp, strong eyes glared at him.

“Let’s go, Kōran.”

“Yes, Onee-sama.”

The girl called Kōran swayed a single bundle of hair tied behind her head and followed.

Watching that retreating back in a daze was the same as three months ago. What differed was—

“My my my~? You said you weren’t interested in the Princess!”

Ōka stood beside him with a wicked grin.

“Damn it. Why’s a defect like him talking to the Princess?”

“That guy’s a bottom-feeder, but isn’t he being too presumptuous?”

“The noble Princess simply doesn’t know about his circumstances.”

“Right. Otherwise she’d never associate with such a dropout.”

(Upper School students are like celebrities. A Princess even more so. I see how it is.)

Feeling the atmosphere prickling with jealousy, Kishō sighed in annoyance.

“Let’s go. You got what you wanted, right?”

“Yep.”

He took Ōka’s hand, intending to leave—but a male student blocked their path. Among the dragonkin, a race known for attractive features, this one had an unusually ugly, distorted face that Kishō recognized.

“Oh, you’re that third-ranked guy…”

He couldn’t remember the name. Ōka whispered in his ear.

“Gudon-kun.”

“Ah, right, right. Him.”

Being called “him” seemed to wound his pride. His toad-like swollen face flushed red.

“You bastard… you’ve got some nerve as always, don’t you?”

“That’s my line. You pick fights with me every single time.”

Kishō clenched his fist with a sharp crack of knuckles.

Intimidated by that pressure, Gudon swallowed hard and took half a step back.

But even while cowering, Gudon didn’t relent in his verbal assault.

“You two don’t match at all anyway. Why are you hanging around this bottom-feeder? I’m a way better catch! Right?!”

Ōka stuck out her tongue and made a face at him.

“But Shō-kun is way cooler.”

Kishō had utterly average dragonkin male features, with nothing particularly outstanding about his appearance. But compared to a pimply toad-faced man, he’d naturally seem cooler by contrast.

He almost felt a bit sorry for him. Despite the high status of being ranked third in their year. Despite being born into the dragonkin race that revered strength. Despite having strength, his appearance left him with zero female followers—such misfortune. If he’d been more friendly, they probably could’ve gotten along as kindred spirits sharing similar circumstances.

But sadly, this guy was an enemy who constantly mocked and picked fights with Kishō.

Apparently unsatisfied, Gudon tried to grab Ōka’s arm. Kishō instantly stepped between them, sheltering Ōka behind his back.

“I’m warning you—if you lay a hand on Ōka, I won’t hold back.”

Anyone who hurt Ōka deserved execution—that was Kishō’s rule.

He owed her an enormous debt. Protecting her took priority over everything else.

“You… just because long-range attacks are banned on campus, don’t get cocky!”

Within academy grounds, except in designated facilities, using magic and Breath was prohibited. Bringing in weapons was similarly banned, so when students had conflicts, the resolution methods were necessarily the most classical: either settling things barehanded, or dueling with wooden practice swords.

Since Kishō’s swordsmanship was overwhelmingly the best in the Lower School, Gudon couldn’t choose the latter method. That left the former option—a fistfight—but Kishō was ridiculously strong in brawls too. He’d never lost a single bare-knuckle fight.

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

He twisted his neck with a sharp crack.

The surrounding students irresponsibly egged both sides on.

Running away from a bottom-feeder would be shameful. Cornered, Gudon clenched his fist hard and charged with a running start, swinging his right fist.

The next instant, the one sent flying with a fist buried in his face was Gudon.