My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 013: The Princess's Marriage Hunt

The main building, second floor.

Kishō wandered along with unsteady, unreliable footsteps. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His throat made a “kwaa” sound as he yawned widely, exposing his slack-jawed face.

“No good. I need a nap or I won’t make it.”

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Kishō acknowledged his limits.

He hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days. How should he interact with the Princess? Should he confess that he was a dropout? If so, what timing would be best? And supposing he did tell her, would their current relationship fall apart after all? Or on the off chance it continued…

Endless thoughts circled round and round in his head. The cycle continued all night long, and before he knew it, morning had arrived. He might not have slept a wink. Rubbing his eyelids that kept trying to close, Kishō walked down the wide corridor.

He was aware of his attraction to the Princess.

That’s precisely why he feared disappointing her. The terror of having her turn on him was unbearable.

Even if by some miracle he avoided disappointing her, they still wouldn’t end up together. A stark class difference stood between them. Unless he abandoned his dragonkin status entirely.

Still, he was so sleepy.

You could say he already had one foot in the land of dreams.

His thoughts were rambling and vague, drifting hazily.

“This is bad. The summer special training starts tomorrow. Can’t go sleep-deprived.”

His consciousness felt ready to leave his body.

Next period was a lecture. An optional class that didn’t affect overall grades. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Just as Kishō decided to make a quick escape, someone called out to him.

“You look free, Kishō. Help me with something.”

Instructor Mi’on, who oversaw the Lower School, stood there with her triangular glasses glinting.

Instructor Mi’on taught dark magic. She also handled swordsmanship and archery classes. As evident from her important positions, she was an excellent instructor with significant influence within the Lower School. Though she was a stern-looking female teacher feared by many students, Kishō answered immediately without hesitation.

“No, I’m not free.”

Instructor Mi’on clicked her tongue in response.

“You’re already unserious enough, but lately you’ve been even worse. I’ll give you credit for your swordsmanship skills alone, but everything else is terrible. Do something about it.”

Sleep-deprived and unable to think straight, Kishō gave a listless “Yeah” in response.

“What kind of unmotivated answer is that? And another thing—”

A lecture had begun. It was long. It showed no signs of ending.

Being yelled at pounded in his head. Was this torture?

As his consciousness grew hazy, Kishō tried to slip past her as if he’d become an astral projection, but his collar—which should have become transparent and ghostly—was firmly grabbed.

“Are you mocking me?” Instructor Mi’on sighed deeply. “Fine, whatever. I’m busy with a mountain of work. I’ll save the lecture for next time. You’re dismissed.”

After delivering a full-blown scolding, she casually said that and promptly headed off somewhere.

Though he felt something wasn’t quite right about that, Kishō was relieved to be released and left the main building, heading toward the dilapidated shack tucked in a corner of the Magic Research Building.

Since the Princess had arrived, the frequency of his visits to the shack had increased dramatically. Back when it was just him and Ōka, one or the other was often away in class, so aside from lunch breaks they rarely saw each other’s faces, meaning he hadn’t felt inclined to visit regularly. But now that the Princess had joined their circle, someone was usually at the shack most of the time. That’s why he’d started thinking about dropping by.

But on that day, there was no one at the shack.

“This actually works out well right now.”

No risk of anyone disturbing his sleep.

Kishō collapsed face-first on the long desk and immediately departed for the land of dreams.

◇◇◇◇◇

Someone was talking in the distance.

In his half-dreaming state, Kishō heard girls’ voices speaking.

It seemed to be the Princess and Ōka’s voices.

If they were here, it must be lunchtime already. I’m hungry, Kishō thought in his dream. But that thought soon shifted, luring him into a different dream.

“Did you know? The body odor of someone you’re compatible with smells good.”

“B-b-body odor?”

“Yep. So if you like someone, you can check their body odor first to see if you’re compatible.”

“How do you check that?”

“Hmm, smelling them directly would be best. But if that’s difficult, you could borrow something of theirs. Like a towel, for example.”

“A towel…”

“Ahh, Yō-chan’s face is bright red! Who were you imagining?”

“…………”

“Someone close to you, maybe? Ah, you’re trembling—so cute!”

“Ōka!”

“Sorry, sorry. Just kidding. Don’t get mad.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop teasing me. You made me so embarrassed even during class…”

“I was just wondering what would happen if I poked your side.”

“Of course it would tickle!”

“You made such a naughty sound though.”

“Ōka!”

“Whoa, okay, I’m sorry!”

The sound of them scuffling. Noisy.

“Speaking of which, in that history class where Yō-chan made that naughty sound—wait, sorry, I get it, stop glaring. The teacher mentioned it briefly, but what are the Six Heroes?”

The sulking Princess’s mood came through even in the air.

“The top six dragonkin males are collectively called the Six Heroes.”

“Wow, as expected of Yō-chan. By the way, how do they choose the top six?”

“The Six Heroes have fixed seats passed down through generations, and whoever defeats a Hero takes that seat.”

“So basically musical chairs.”

“Ah, that understanding is correct.”

“Then what happens if another race defeats one of the Six Heroes?”

“In that case, the seat becomes vacant and they recruit volunteers. If there are multiple candidates, they settle it with a duel. But volunteers rarely appear. In fact, one seat has been vacant for fifteen years. It was only filled recently.”

“Ohhh.”

Ōka gave an absent-minded acknowledgment.

“Since it’s the top six, does that mean Yō-chan’s father is one of the Six Heroes?”

“Ah, yes. He’s technically the head of the Six Heroes. Though the Six Heroes have no hierarchy and are considered equals, so it’s just in name.”

Ōka seemed to be nodding along carefreely.

“What’s Yō-chan’s father like? Is he scary?”

“As the Dragon Emperor, he’s full of dignity. But he’s a kind father who treasures his pack.”

“Come to think of it, the Dragon Emperor’s base is in a big city, right? Managing the pack must be tough.”

“If you include other races, it’s over a hundred thousand. Though management is done by my mothers, so Father basically does nothing.”

“Huh!? Is that really okay!?”

“There’s a saying: ‘The master of a pack should preserve energy for when needed.’ In peacetime, Father’s job is to lounge on his throne.”

In his drowsy state, Kishō thought something quite disrespectful: ‘Isn’t that just being a kept man?’

“By the way, I know this is presumptuous of me as a newcomer to say this, but—”

Suddenly, the Princess spoke formally and hesitantly.

Ōka responded lightly to that serious tone.

“What is it?”

“I’m terribly sorry, but Ōka. Could you possibly give up the position of Kishō’s first wife?”

(Huh?)

Kishō’s consciousness rapidly surfaced from its drowsy depths.

“First wife” referred to the first wife welcomed into a pack, and the first wife’s rank was always highest. Naturally it was a position everyone desired, but before that even—

“Huh!? Give up? But I’m not even…”

She and Ōka weren’t in that kind of relationship.

“I’m a Princess, right? So I can only marry with first wife status.”

“Ah, I see…”

“If you’ll give it up, I’ll never forget this debt. I’ll guarantee Ōka’s status. Please.”

At that point, Kishō’s consciousness snapped fully awake and he bolted upright.

What entered his vision was the Princess sitting next to Ōka, facing her and bowing her head deeply. Her long black hair flowed and spread to the side. Though the atmosphere seemed tense, the carefree Ōka maintained her usual tone.

“If you’re asking that much, I guess I have no choice. Okay!”

“It’s not okay! Don’t give permission on your own! And so casually!”

Forcing open his half-asleep eyes until they nearly popped out, he delivered a full-power retort.

This was way too casual, even for her. He wasn’t familiar with the term “first wife,” but it seemed like something you shouldn’t trade away as easily as swapping lunch side dishes. As Kishō thought this in confusion—

“I see. Thank you, Ōka. I’m in your debt.”

She completely ignored him. The Princess bowed her head again. “Hey!” Kishō shouted with another retort.

“Listen to me! And calm down!”

“Kishō should calm down himself.”

“Ah, right. I should calm down with a cup of tea… No, wait! In the first place, you should talk to me first!”

“True, you’re right about that. So Kishō, that’s how it is. I’m counting on you.”

“Like it’s some assembly line post-action report!?”

In a pack, the title of first wife represented both the position of highest rank and chief administrator, while also carrying the meaning of “wife.” Therefore, in human terms, it could be taken as a confession or even a proposal, but the Princess’s statement was far too casual. It was like she was asking for a stamp because it was needed for paperwork.

“It’s fine. It’s not like you lose anything.”

Ōka said airily.

“That’s why it’s too casual! And you do lose something normally. There’s only one first wife position.”

When Kishō bantered back in his usual tone, the Princess who saw this tilted her head. Her beautiful face clouded with anxiety.

“What, are you dissatisfied? Am I not good enough?”

“There’s no way I’m dissatisfied.”

“Then there should be no problem.”

The Princess smiled with relief.

Kishō bit his lip hard.

“There’s a phrase: ‘beyond one’s station.’ Kuroyō and I don’t match.”

“That may be true, but I’ll make an effort.”

Her attitude of continuing to revere him made him want to cry. In the deepest depths of those beautiful black eyes, admiration burned.

“No, that’s not it. It’s not that Kuroyō is inadequate—it’s that my abilities are lacking.”

Even if they both wanted it, they could never be together.

As long as they lived in dragonkin society, there was a hopeless class difference.

“What are you saying? You’re more excellent than anyone.”

And if she learned the truth, she’d never say those words again.

A half-dragon with no attribute affinity. Unable to properly handle anything except swordsmanship. The greatest dropout in the academy’s history. She’d just happened to challenge him to his specialty—swordsmanship—so he’d managed to win. If she’d challenged him in any other field, he’d have lost without being able to lift a finger. The Princess didn’t understand that.

“In overall ability, Kuroyō is stronger than me.”

“That’s not true. You’re underestimating your own value.”

The circular argument continued for a while.

Kishō stubbornly insisted “we don’t match.” The Princess stubbornly insisted “that’s not true.” Their discussion ran in parallel. Explaining verbally didn’t seem like it would convince her.

So he sought help from a third-party perspective—Ōka, who’d become a complete bystander.

“Ōka, tell her it’s the truth.”

But Ōka, who should have been neutral, furrowed her brow with a troubled expression and said something outrageous with an uncharacteristically serious face.

“Shō-kun, you’re a liar.”