My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 011: Daily Life with the Princess

The summer special training program—practical exercises against monsters designed to help students gain experience. There was a one-week preparation period before it began.

As for what to prepare during that time, it could be summed up in one phrase: restore your energy. In other words, it amounted to a week-long break. Since students weren’t allowed to leave academy grounds, however, their activities didn’t differ much from usual.

For students with time on their hands, several special lecture courses were offered to keep them occupied.

It was curious how even students who normally grumbled “I can’t be bothered with lectures” would suddenly say “Might as well give it a shot” the moment they ran out of things to do and grew bored.

Amid all this, Kishō continued living as he always had.

He attended only the lectures that interested him.

When he had no classes, he holed up in the dilapidated shack that served as his secret base.

When the mood struck him, he went for walks.

At night, he practiced on his own.

Still, as expected, the time he spent at the shack increased compared to when regular classes were in session. The same held true for the Princess and Ōka, so the three of them naturally ended up spending more time together.

Today marked the third day since the Princess had transferred to the Lower School.

When you spent all day together, you couldn’t help but learn about someone’s personality, whether you wanted to or not.

Discovery Number One:

The Princess’s expressions were sparse.

When they’d first met, he’d been so overwhelmed by her beauty that he hadn’t noticed the finer details. But upon closer observation, her expressions barely changed. Even when she smiled, her face moved so little it formed only a faint smile. That meant her burst of laughter three days ago—when he’d suggested they elope together—must have been quite unusual.

Discovery Number Two:

The Princess was awkward with words.

He’d vaguely suspected this already. She often lacked the necessary words at crucial moments. Conversations didn’t flow naturally, and her logic sometimes made sudden leaps.

But what he’d newly discovered over the past few days was that she was terrible at small talk.

As long as there was a clear topic at hand, she could speak more eloquently than anyone. But when it came to free conversation, she instantly clammed up. If left alone, the discussion would turn into just him and Ōka talking.

Discovery Number Three:

The Princess had adorable moments.

When he and Ōka carried on a conversation by themselves, a hint of sulking would creep into her otherwise expressionless face. If he took pity and brought her into the conversation, her expression would brighten just slightly and her mood would improve. That puppy-like reaction had become his secret source of quiet enjoyment lately. Though he could never say that to her face, of course.

Discovery Number Four:

The Princess possessed an expansion-oriented pack mentality.

He’d learned about this in a lecture once.

Packs had something called “pack-type thinking”—a concept representing the pack’s operational policy.

Stability-oriented, elite-oriented, obedience-oriented, leaderless-oriented, independence-oriented, and so on. Among these, the Princess embodied expansion-oriented thinking. As the name suggested, this was the philosophy of continuously expanding one’s pack and extending its influence. This way of thinking was characteristic of nobles and uncommon in the Lower School.

Discovery Number Five:

The Princess got along well with Ōka.

Dragonkin were a race that looked down on those with inferior strength. So he’d assumed a noble Princess wouldn’t give Lower School students the time of day. But apparently he’d been wrong—the Princess treated Ōka as an equal. She’d get annoyed when Ōka teased her, but it remained within the healthy bounds of friendship.

Lunchtime.

The three of them had gathered in the shack and spread out their purchased bentos.

Kishō glanced at the mountain of food piled in Ōka’s bowl-shaped bento and chuckled wryly.

“Ōka, you really do love that giant serpent karaage bento.”

“I like the texture. You should try some, Shō-kun. It’s delicious.”

While chattering cheerfully, she crunched through serpent scales that were as hard as steel.

“No thanks. I’d chip a tooth.”

The Princess, meanwhile, elegantly moved her chopsticks, eating her refined *makunouchi* bento in perfect balance. Kishō scratched his head awkwardly and thanked her with some embarrassment.

“Sorry for making you get mine too. Thanks.”

“Mm, no problem. It was on the way.”

He looked down at the *makunouchi* bento sitting in front of him. Since the sluggish Kishō never bothered to go buy lunch, the Princess had purchased one for him along with her own.

She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s better if the three of us can eat together.”

Discovery Number Six:

The Princess was the devoted type, apparently.

Kishō mentally added another note to his memory.

“I feel a bit guilty, like I’m using the Princess as an errand girl.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Ah, right. Sorry, Kuroyō.”

When he called her by name, the Princess’s sparse expression softened into the faintest smile.

Discovery Number Seven:

The Princess was a bit troublesome.

Incidentally, she’d get angry if he used polite speech with her too.

“Shpeaking of which—”

Ōka mumbled through a mouthful of giant serpent karaage, her cheeks bulging like a squirrel’s.

She gulped it down and continued.

“There’s a special class called Life Planning Discussion—what kind of class is that, I wonder?”

Kishō didn’t have enough knowledge to answer that question. Naturally, it was the beautiful, academically excellent Princess who responded.

“Simply put, it’s a discussion-format class where you talk about what you want to do in the future. Each session has a set topic. You don’t need to take it seriously, and it’s enjoyable without being boring.”

“Like talking about your future dreams?”

“Broadly speaking, yes. Things like how you want to lead your pack, or what work you want to do. There’s no end to the specifics.”

Ōka nodded with interest. Kishō asked casually out of mild curiosity.

“What’s your future dream, Ōka?”

After thinking for a moment, Ōka put her index finger to her lower lip.

“Hmm… to be a bride.”

Kishō burst out laughing at that typically airheaded Ōka-ish answer. Among dragonkin, not belonging to a pack was virtually unheard of unless you were an extreme eccentric. Naturally, what he’d meant was what she wanted to do after joining a pack.

“Well, obviously everyone joins a pack somewhere eventually. I’m asking about after that. Or do you have a specific pack in mind that you want to join?”

Her answer came immediately.

“Nope, anyone who’ll have me is fine.”

“Anyone… Ōka, you’re talented, so you’ll have plenty of offers.”

Though not to the Princess’s degree, Ōka was also an excellent woman. Her academic ranking among Lower School girls was fifth. Her appearance wasn’t bad either. She had a childish quality that made “beautiful” the wrong word—”cute” suited her better—but her features were perfectly refined. Her short chestnut hair was a bit un-dragonkin-like, perhaps, but it could be considered a charm point.

Her only drawback was her weak constitution and tendency to miss classes often, but even accounting for that, Ōka’s value was plenty high.

“That’d be nice if it were true.”

Ōka said dismissively and turned away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

The Princess looked extremely displeased.

Kishō hesitated, able to vaguely imagine what her answer would be. After wavering, he noticed the Princess’s sparse expression growing stern and gave in to the pressure.

“What’s your future dream, Kuroyō?”

“To raise Kishō’s pack into the world’s greatest.”

“Like I’m some kind of breeding project?!”

“Not breeding. Leadership.”

According to Ōka, the phrase “joining a pack” that dragonkin used carried multiple meanings. Beyond “getting married,” it also encompassed ideas like “getting a job” or “becoming comrades.”

The Princess probably thought of it on the level of building up an organization she’d joined for work. That was why she kept trying to assign him consorts—she saw it as necessary. What troublesome gratitude.

“Anyway, I have no intention of making a pack. I’ve told you this countless times.”

A dragonkin who didn’t want to form a pack was quite the oddball. A genuine eccentric. Though he’d just laughed at Ōka, Kishō had no self-awareness of this fact. Naturally, the Princess wasn’t convinced.

“Ōka said you’re just being shy.”

“Huh? Wait, hold on. Ōka? What the hell are you telling her?”

“Says the guy whose face is bright red.”

Kishō choked on his words. His face did feel hot, now that she mentioned it.

“The stubborn Shō-kun finally making his pack debut… how moving.”

“Alright, fine. You’ve got guts. Let’s take this outside.”

When Kishō kicked back his chair and stood, Ōka assumed a combat stance, bento still in hand. A chaotic game of tag ensued. Dust swirled through the air as the Princess calmly continued eating at her own pace. She murmured quietly.

“Unlike lunch in the Upper School, the Lower School is lively. Not bad.”

Her pale pink lips curved in an amused smile.