My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 014: Hidden Devotion

People often said the Lower School garden was small, but that was only in comparison to the Upper School—in reality, it had a decent amount of space. So when you said “garden,” not everything was uniformly the same. For instance, in the southwest corner of the garden was a rest area called the Fountain Plaza. Red bricks were laid throughout, and flowerbeds arranged neatly around the fountain bloomed with colorful flowers each season.

Sitting on a red brick bench, staring absently at the Anessa flowers that bloomed in summer, Kuroyō sighed.

“What exactly did I do wrong?”

Perhaps she’d been conceited. Her abilities were exceptionally high by any standard. So she’d believed without doubt that Kishō would naturally accept her. The only concern had been securing the position of first wife necessary for a Princess’s marriage, but Ōka’s permission had been surprisingly smooth to obtain. Everything should have gone smoothly.

The fountain’s spray misted down like a light rain, dampening her skin.

The scorching summer sun’s heat cooled her body pleasantly. Gazing through the misting spray toward the distance, the fresh greenery dancing vibrantly in the sunlight appeared dazzlingly radiant.

In contrast, Kuroyō’s heart was clouded with dark shadows threatening to pour rain at any moment.

“Beyond my station. I don’t understand… Is it just an excuse? A polite way to refuse me?”

Kishō had stubbornly insisted he wasn’t worthy.

That couldn’t be true. Dragonkin were a race whose abilities developed evenly on average. Even accounting for some strengths and weaknesses, she couldn’t understand why a man who could wield swordsmanship at that level would deprecate himself so severely. His swordsmanship, despite his student status, had already reached a high enough level to contend with mature dragonkin—even dragon lords.

“The one who’s unworthy is me…”

She’d wondered if perhaps he was ashamed of being enrolled in the Lower School.

There was a time when the Upper School was also called the Noble Academy, and the Lower School the Commoner Academy. The Upper School fundamentally required noble recommendation to enter, hence the name. But that was ancient history. Now that advancement to the Noble Academy had become possible, they were simply called Upper School and Lower School.

So she’d told him that.

“Even if it’s impossible right away, by the time you advance to second year, you should be able to transfer to the Upper School.”

But Kishō had stubbornly refused to yield.

“Why won’t he understand?”

An unidentifiable emotion welled up from inside her.

Her eyes stung hot, and Kuroyō wiped them.

“What is this? What’s happening to me?”

Kuroyō felt confused by this uncontrollable something she was experiencing for the first time in her life.

She dropped her gaze to the red brick ground.

Just then, someone sat down gently beside her.

She lifted her face from where it had nearly sunk into the abyss and looked sideways.

It was Ōka.

“Hey, Yō-chan.”

Her voice carried a hard edge.

With a serious gaze that seemed to have left her cheerful, sunny demeanor somewhere behind, Ōka asked.

“Do you love Shō-kun?”

Unconsciously, Kuroyō placed a hand on her chest. She felt her heartbeat quickening. She bit her pale pink lips and nodded with a small movement.

“Ah, I do love him.”

Ōka closed the distance while maintaining that serious expression and took both of Kuroyō’s hands. Her brown eyes stared straight ahead.

“Joining a pack doesn’t necessarily involve romantic feelings, right? In fact, the larger the pack becomes, the less connected to those emotions it gets.”

As Ōka said, the phrase “joining a pack” contained various meanings, encompassing [marriage], [employment], [becoming companions], [joining a friend group], [serving], [becoming subordinate], [being hired], among others. This perception gap arose because the concept of a pack served a role like a communal living group, different from simple polygamy.

In other words, people had various motivations for joining packs, and romantic feelings weren’t necessarily required. The younger the age—the smaller the pack—the more emphasis on romance, but that awareness faded as the pack expanded. There were also women who joined large packs after graduation for calculated reasons or personal safety. That felt closer to [employment] than [marriage].

And Kuroyō had grown up in the world’s largest pack, inheriting those conventions strongly. In fact, she possessed those sensibilities, and her request for the first wife position had been purely from an employment perspective.

In other words, wasn’t Ōka saying this:

“That I approached Kishō without romantic feelings—for calculated reasons?”

Ōka neither affirmed nor denied. She simply tossed a question.

“Yō-chan, why do you love Shō-kun? Because he’s stronger than you?”

Her voice was inorganic, devoid of emotion. At some point, all emotion had vanished from Ōka’s expression, leaving a bloodless coldness like a noh mask. It was fundamentally different from Kuroyō’s sparse expressions—a completely different expressionlessness. It was void.

“Hey, why? Answer me. The Black Dragon Stone—that was Shō-kun’s doing, wasn’t it?”

Struck dead center, Kuroyō’s eyes widened. Kishō had sworn her to secrecy about that story. He’d specifically warned her never to tell Ōka especially.

“How did you know…”

Ōka wore an emotionless, mocking smile.

“Simple. On the day Yō-chan transferred to the Lower School, the Black Dragon Stone was found sliced in half. And that day, despite supposedly meeting for the first time, Yō-chan was somehow interested in Shō-kun and said you’d join his pack. Shō-kun didn’t act like it was your first meeting either.”

The vivid red visible through her wide-open mouth looked like fresh blood. A single red trail ran down from the corner of her upturned lips. Ōka wiped it with the back of her hand and narrowed her eyes sharply as if targeting prey. Keenly sharpened pupils. Countless capillary threads running through the whites. From those eyes, red tears seemed ready to flow—

A hallucination?

Kuroyō felt an incomprehensible terror.

When she’d first transferred, despite being a stranger, Ōka had treated the isolated Kuroyō brightly and kindly. That cheerful figure was gone now. Was that the false form, and this the true one? She couldn’t help thinking that.

Ōka’s face drew near.

“On top of that, today you requested to become his first wife. So there must have been some major incident on that first day—’something that made Yō-chan fall for him.'”

The mighty torrent of sword aura like a tsunami.

The moment the Black Dragon Stone was severed, Kuroyō had indeed fallen in love.

It was close to love at first sight.

Cutting the Black Dragon Stone with a practice sword—that absurdity had far exceeded Kuroyō’s expectations.

“Ah, yes. I decided to follow the excellent Kishō.”

Ōka never looked away for even an instant, didn’t blink, just stared intently at Kuroyō’s eyes. In the depths of those brown eyes, something desperate flickered. Was that madness? Or—

“Ōka… So you don’t want to give up the first wife position after all?”

Packs were female-dominated societies. And first wife was the title at their pinnacle.

Normally, when asked to give it up, one couldn’t easily concede. Naturally, she’d prepared various persuasive materials for the negotiation, but they’d approved so readily she’d had no chance to use them.

But truly, she hadn’t wanted to give up the first wife position. Thinking that made more sense. Being bowed to by a Princess, she couldn’t refuse.

But Ōka sadly shook her head in denial.

“Hey, Yō-chan. That won’t work. Liking strong boys—I understand that feeling. But that won’t convince Shō-kun. Hey, Yō-chan. Do you really love Shō-kun?”

A challenging tone. A testing tone.

Another face of the cheerful girl. She realized it wasn’t madness but seriousness.

Placing her right hand on her chest, she confirmed her heartbeat.

“For the first time in my life, I’ve fallen in love with someone.”

For just an instant, Ōka’s eyes—her determination—wavered.

“This is my first love. And it will be my last.”

If this love didn’t come to fruition, she’d marry some dragon lord upon graduation.

“Yō-chan. One last thing—tell me. Can you truly stay by Shō-kun’s side until the end? Can you swear you’ll never abandon him?”

“What do you mean by…”

“It’s important—answer me!”

She felt Ōka’s seriousness was concentrated in that question. Her hands gripping Kuroyō’s trembled finely, perhaps from tension.

“From childhood, I was raised to pursue the pack’s interests over personal interests. That meant accepting the death of individuality. As a result, I became unable to express emotions well. So—”

She pulled the held hands firmly and pressed Ōka’s hands tightly against her own chest.

“Kishō taught me this feeling. I don’t want to lose this feeling.”

Surprise spread across Ōka’s face that had been piercing through the void.

“Your heart’s pounding.”

“Yes. It’s pounding so hard.”

“Even though Shō-kun isn’t here. This much.”

“Just thinking about Kishō makes it do this.”

Ōka smiled shyly. It was her usual self.

“Sorry. That was scary, wasn’t it? Asking such strange things.”

She was hugged tightly.

“——!”

A shock like electricity running through her entire body.

Wordless surprise escaped Kuroyō’s mouth.

She asked fearfully.

“…Ōka?”

No response. Her body, smaller than Kuroyō’s, trembled finely.

“Are you… crying?”

Then finally, as if a dam had broken, Ōka began to cry. Mixing sobs with her pent-up feelings, she desperately wove words.

“I’m really sorry. I was rushing. I absolutely had to confirm it. But I felt Yō-chan’s feelings. I really, really felt them. So I’ll tell you. About Shō-kun.”

Ōka told her.

And she concluded the story like this, smiling a bit embarrassedly with her tear-swollen face.

“I’m entrusting Shō-kun to you. Please support him properly, Yō-chan.”