My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~

Receiving news of the Princess’s serious injury, headquarters fell into uproar.

The summer special practicum was urgently cancelled, and swift withdrawal was performed.

And the damage from the Tempest Turtle hadn’t stopped at just the Princess. It had also appeared in the forest near headquarters and attacked students during practicum. That damage had even reached headquarters, and though fortunately no deaths occurred, serious injuries had apparently resulted.

Instructors Mion and Fūga, who’d responded, were defeated at the end of a death struggle with the Tempest Turtle. They’d apparently gone missing for a time.

And even now that they’d safely returned to the academy, the confusion from that time hadn’t settled.

Because it had developed into a major problem over responsibility for the Princess’s serious injury.

The Lower School first-year summer special practicum was cancelled.

Instead, Kishō and the others were digesting regular lessons in the form of self-study.

“Still, even with high-grade recovery potion, to completely recover in one day. What kind of recovery power does she have?”

The breath-exclusive training facility was established in the garden’s southeast. Recognizing the Princess’s figure dutifully waiting for him at the entrance, Kishō showed a wry smile.

—I rested for about half a day after all. I’ve recovered enough to walk.

He was made to realize anew that words he’d thought were just bravado might not have been exaggeration but fact.

To his wisecrack, the Princess responded while holding down her bangs swaying in the wind.

“I heal a bit faster than others.”

If half-dragonkin Kishō had suffered equivalent injuries, even with high-grade recovery potion, complete recovery would have taken a week. Even pureblooded dragonkin would take half that, so the Princess’s natural healing power had to be evaluated as extraordinary.

They entered the breath-exclusive training facility surrounded by thick stone walls.

It was a desolate space. A rough dirt field with exposed rock spread across the entire view. On the field were arranged a white line drawn horizontally straight across, and iron pillar targets set up at thirty meters’ distance from that white line.

At the extended ends of the iron pillars were circular adamantite objects that became breath targets, and furthermore, magic stones were embedded in the targets, deploying magic protective barriers. The mechanism was such that even if students released breath at full power, it wouldn’t easily be damaged. The stone walls surrounding the training ground received similar treatment, so even if aim deviated, damage wouldn’t occur outside.

There were ten targets total, and the one hundred fifty first-year Lower School students would divide into each column and wait their turns. Since it was a self-study format, there were no instructors’ figures. Each column was already bustling with students waiting their turns.

Kishō and the Princess lined up in one of those columns in that order. She, standing immediately behind, had already completely recovered and floated her usual meager expression while staring fixedly at Kishō. It was hard to believe she’d been near-fatally injured.

The Princess, who’d returned from death’s threshold, tilted her head.

“Isn’t Ōka together?”

“Ah, she’s with other friends.”

Ōka was lining up in another column together with a friendly girls’ group.

Kishō had asked her to do so. To be alone with the Princess.

Kishō had today resolved to confess his secret.

It was an important talk. It was better with just the two of them. He’d said so and pleaded.

That was a very courageous choice for Kishō. The anxiety that confessing might change the Princess’s feelings constantly followed him. Rather, from past experience, he even thought it would be stranger if her feelings didn’t change.

But no matter how anxious, he had to talk about it. To not repeat past failures, he needed to tell everything and properly face her. That was Kishō’s sincerity and the first step to shaking off the past.

The content of his coming out was: first, being half-dragonkin. Along with that, being a dropout with academy grades on the verge of failing, and having no aptitude attribute. He intended to talk about these three secrets. Incidentally, he was fully intent on hiding the fundamental cause of being unable to speak publicly about them.

(There’s no way I can say something embarrassing like being pathetically abandoned.)

Ōka might tell him to throw away such small pride, but since Kishō was also in puberty, there was a line he absolutely couldn’t yield. He didn’t want to show uncool parts to a girl who held feelings for him.

That said, though.

He needed to show uncool parts in a different sense from now on.

And he’d already resolved that.

There was one problem in telling the Princess the truth.

That was the point that her evaluation of Kishō was high at a level of worshipping a god. How to convince her? A difficult problem.

In the first place, Kishō’s swordsmanship—though he felt odd saying it himself—had reached considerable mastery. With coming out as half-dragonkin as the premise, would she really believe the claim that other abilities were zero or infinitely close to zero?

No, it’ll be tough—Kishō judged so.

Normally, dragonkin abilities developed averagely. Academy lessons were also organized that way. Cases of being sharply specialized in one point like Kishō were extremely rare. Even if half-dragonkin.

But precisely because of that, this lesson was a godsend.

Kishō couldn’t release breath. He couldn’t do the natural thing any dragonkin could do. If it was the type of talk that improved with training, Kishō would have practiced as much as it took. But this was innate talent, not something that could be managed with effort. So normally he wouldn’t line up but just observe students’ practice scenes from the side, but today’s circumstances were different.

(Right. I just need to directly show I can’t release breath.)

He’d be embarrassed before a crowd, but that couldn’t be helped.

He was prepared to receive that criticism.

“[Flame Fire]!”

A female student in the neighboring column shot flames from her palm. That was fire attribute breath. Magnificently hitting the target, she made a fist pump.

Three more columns over, it seemed Ōka’s turn had just come around. She held her palm horizontally and commanded loudly.

“Pierce through, [Flash Burn]!”

A line of light shot from her palm and pierced the target’s center. Perhaps penetrating the magic barrier, smoke rose from the target. Ooh, cheers rose from the surroundings. Admiring voices also came from behind.

“Light attribute breath, huh? Not bad, Ōka.”

The Princess’s usually flat voice contained a ring of admiration.

Kishō also agreed gleefully.

“Even though she’s like that normally, she does it when she does it.”

“Right. Ōka is excellent and has good judgment. That’s why she’s with you.”

“No way. She’s just kind, so she stays with me out of sympathy.”

“That’s not true. Don’t underestimate Ōka.”

Only then did Kishō notice the Princess lining up behind had gotten in a bad mood. She stared fixedly at him as if glaring.

Huh? She was normal until just now, wasn’t she? Kishō panicked inwardly.

(The atmosphere’s already bad—isn’t the bad end route confirmed?)

A flag of operation failure floated in his mind, and he shivered.

And with the awkward atmosphere as is, Kishō’s turn finally came around.

But only when things reached this point did Kishō notice a fatal problem.

‘(What should I do for the call when releasing breath?)’

Breath was a special skill shooting energy of the attribute one had aptitude for among the six attributes [Fire/Water/Earth/Wind/Light/Dark]. Corresponding to each attribute, it branched into six types of breath: [Flame Fire/Freeze Stop/Earth Vitalize/Wind Fang/Flash Burn/Curse Erosion].

The problem there was the issue that Kishō had no aptitude attribute.

Because he had no aptitude attribute, he couldn’t use breath that shot attribute energy—that was the logic. But then he didn’t know what to say as the call when releasing breath either. In that case, what would form was a person silently holding up their palm and just groaning “Unn unn.”

A bad picture.

Just as he carelessly thought he should just say something like “Flame Fire,” he noticed the surroundings were stirring.

“What’s that person dawdling about?”

“You know, that one. The defective one.”

“Ah. The one with lowly human blood.”

“I hear he’s getting full of himself because he can do swordsmanship.”

“Some girls approached him too, but he completely ignored them.”

“What, he’s getting cocky? How irritating.”

“Still, he’s in the way, right? Why is he lining up today of all days?”

“Stay quiet in the corner, you’re in the way.”

“Why is the Princess even with someone like that?”

Words with malice were directed from here and there. Some were whispered voices, and there were even those talking openly so it could be heard.

For Kishō it was the usual, but it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

He gripped his fists tightly.

(No good. Calm down.)

He shook his head to shake away the risen fighting spirit. What was important now was disclosing all his ability—the negative side—to the Princess. He had to wake up the dreaming maiden’s eyes.

The designated position. He walked up to the white line drawn with lime.

Then suddenly a good scent grazed his nose.

On his back were two soft sensations. Around his waist, arms white and slender like white porcelain were wrapped. Every time long black hair swayed in the wind, a woman’s fragrance drifted and tickled his nostrils. His thinking couldn’t keep up with the situation’s change, and he couldn’t immediately notice he’d been embraced from behind.

Yellow cheers rose from female students, but didn’t reach Kishō’s ears. What reached him was the Princess’s voice whispering at his ear.

“Why do you act to debase yourself?”

Sweet breath leaking from her mouth one head lower sweetly stimulated Kishō’s nape with a shiver. Just that alone nearly robbed his thinking ability.

“Why, you ask—”

That was—

But beyond that didn’t become words. Instead, the Princess took over the continuation.

“Do you want me to know your true self?”

“——!?”

At the statement as if reading his thoughts, Kishō’s heart jumped so large it hurt. Unable to produce words, he just widened his eyes in shock.

Sweet breath was sent into his ear.

“There’s no need. I know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. I heard it all from Ōka.”

One step before thought停止—Kishō’s dulled brain suddenly revived and began high-speed processing to catch up on the delay. But it was the extreme of confusion far removed from calm.

(Everything means how far? If she said everything, does that mean everything? No, what is everything? Damn Ōka, how much did she talk about? Being half-dragonkin? Not being able to use breath? Or—)

Even speaking his own shameful parts was hesitated even in his heart.

The Princess’s sweet voice said as if wrapping everything.

“That night. During the duel, you of the past said it. To value myself. That my worth wasn’t something like that. The unreasonableness you felt toward me at that time—now I also feel it toward you. I was finally able to understand your feelings.”

Ah, that’s right. That night, Kishō had certainly felt unreasonableness.

It was a talent that, despite her being in a woman’s body, had mastered Sword Aura, a skill difficult for students to learn and rarely encountered. Moreover, as the Upper School valedictorian, it was predicted that her abilities outside swordsmanship were also considerable. And she even possessed peerless beauty—one for which the word “beauty” was far from sufficient. Her value should have been immeasurable.

Yet he had been indignant at her attitude of underselling herself and throwing her own worth away. That was why Kishō had accepted the duel: to correct that mistake. Because he had thought—

Unlike someone like me, you have value, don’t you?

She was feeling the same unreasonableness.

That meant she evaluated Kishō highly. That even knowing the truth, she believed in that possibility. But that expectation was simultaneously a burden.

“Unfortunately I’m different from Kuroyō. If you heard from Ōka, you know. I can’t shoot breath. I’m a defective half-dragonkin.”

“Then kiss me.”

“Huh?”

“Then kiss me.”

At the statement like “I’ll say it twice because it’s important,” Kishō reflexively retorted.

“No, the context is wrong there!?”

The sensation of chest pressed against his back grew stronger. Just that alone peeled away the plating of pretending calm, sealed it without leaving a trace. From the pressed chest, large pounding as if she’d run at full speed was transmitted.

“Exchange a kiss to become engaged, tie the bond to become married.”

Words were woven smoothly like reciting poetry.

“If you’re worried about my change of heart, we should just form the engagement right here and now. All the Lower School first-years are witnesses. It can never be made to have not happened.”

Ōka had truly told everything.

Kishō’s face ignited at the shock of having his shameful parts exposed.

But that wasn’t the only cause of ignition.

The capacity to embrace and accept, fully aware of everything. He received thunder-like impression from that attitude unlike dragonkin girls. And more than anything, he could carve even more strongly into his heart that—her seriousness, that resolve—which he should have already fully realized plenty. In an instant, he clearly recognized her as a romantic interest. The majority of ignition was from heat generated at that time.

Self-reproach simultaneously surged in.

(What am I doing? How pathetic.)

Arbitrarily deciding they weren’t balanced and rejecting her, yet stubbornly pushing away a girl trying to believe in him. Without even knowing her seriousness.

Then what to do? How to repay her seriousness?

“Kuroyō… I. I also, you—”

He tried to somehow squeeze out words.

But someone appeared to smash the built-up good atmosphere. That person parted the column and walked up leisurely, then plastered on a vulgar smile and raised one hand. A frog-faced male student with a reputation for not reading the air.

“Yo, you two are hot stuff, aren’t you? Still, to embrace in a place like this—for one as exalted as the Princess to treat honor lightly is lamentable.”

Dragonkin girls might look like promiscuous women, but their sense of chastity was solid. Naturally, not offering oneself in devotion until marriage, they considered exposing skin more than necessary shameful even with someone they liked. And even kisses that age-appropriate lovers exchanged naturally—they wouldn’t do without considerable resolve.

Even under such circumstances, the Princess’s resolve had been clearly conveyed. However, the problem lay elsewhere. Despite her position as a Princess, she had sullied that virtue as a dragonkin girl.

Among the dragonkin, once honor was tarnished, a woman’s value was severely diminished. That was common sense within the tribe—an absolute rule. Precisely because she held the noble status of Princess, the negative impact was immeasurably greater.

At worst, there was even the possibility that all of the highly sought-after marriage proposals would disappear entirely.

Then he felt warmth leaving from his back. The arms wrapped around his belly were undone, and his body became free. Turning around, their eyes met. Those eyes were moist, but her mouth was tightly drawn. She said quietly “Leave it to me.” And the Princess turned toward that man whose face was ugly, rare for dragonkin.

“Were you Gudon?”

“It’s Gudon! Not the dull one!”

“Ah, sorry. I mistook it because it fits the image perfectly. Forgive me.”

“You bastard…”

The ominous atmosphere thickened. The love story that had begun so suddenly—

the pink-tinged mood of the place, where cheers of “Kyaa, kyaa” had once welled up, had at some point fallen completely silent.

“You picking a fight? Fine by me. Wanna compete again? Princess.”

“I don’t mind. What will it be? Compete with breath?”

“Alright, that’ll do. If you lose… hehe, you know, right?”

“What? Don’t turn disgusting smiles at me.”

“Same as before. The deal where you’ll listen to anything I say.”

“Ah, that’s impossible.”

At that immediate answer, Kishō sensed her change.

“Whaat? You lack confidence, huh?”

“It was not a matter of confidence. I would not undersell myself anymore. I had decided that. And also—”

She took Kishō’s arm and pressed it against her chest.

“The person to whom I would devote this body had already been decided. It was not a man with an ugly heart like you.”

Earlier, the Princess had said she understood the unreasonableness Kishō felt—those feelings. So she’d shown improvement so Kishō wouldn’t be sad again. He felt like he’d been told “I can do it too. So you change too.”

“You bastard… saying I’m inferior to that defective—”

Gudon took a forward-leaning posture. A stance about to attack any moment. Kishō also lowered his hips and prepared for an emergency. If he intended to hurt the Princess, there’d be no mercy. At that time, he’d strike with his fist with all his might.

Knowing that resolve or not, the Princess didn’t break her dignified gaze.

“You said earlier that honor would be sullied. How wonderful. I don’t care what others think. It doesn’t matter if I’m cursed as a sullied woman. It’s fine if only Kishō knows. Because where I’m marrying has already been decided.”

“Haan, I get it. You actually lack confidence, right? You’re afraid of losing the match. So you pretend to protect the half-dragonkin born incompetent—”

Without preliminary movement, the Princess turned her palm toward Gudon. And then—

“Begone. [Curse Erosion]!”

A roar.

The target at which Kishō and the others had lined up was blown away without a trace. Even the tip of the iron rod that had been standing upright had been cleanly gouged off.

The Princess had changed her target from Gudon to the one directly ahead just before firing. Everyone must have mistakenly assumed that she had fired at Gudon.

“Who’s going to lose?”

Standing imposingly before Gudon who’d lost his nerve and sat on his bottom, the Princess proclaimed transcendently in a chillingly cold voice.

“So what if half-dragonkin? So what if can’t use breath? We can complement lacking parts. If you can’t use breath, then this me will use it instead. Power is as you just saw—I’m excellent.”

Complement lacking parts. What was recalled was the incident in the Beast King Forest. At that time, against a monster hard as Black Dragon Stone, the Princess restrained it with magic, and during that time Kishō who’d refined [Ki] delivered the finishing blow. The Princess alone had lacked the decisive blow, and Kishō alone would not have been able to defeat it without exploiting an opening to strike. Precisely because of the Princess’s support, he had been able to fully demonstrate his power and seize victory.

The Princess lost interest in Gudon who’d lost fighting spirit and looked up at Kishō’s face from below with upturned eyes. And then proposed in a reserved tone, a complete change.

“That’s what I think, but how about it?”

“Kuroyō, you really are a good woman.”

He wouldn’t say they weren’t balanced anymore.

“So much I don’t deserve you.”

She possessed a beautiful appearance and excellent grades. She also had superior situational judgment, and was able to throw herself into battle without fear, even against powerful enemies. And most precious of all was her noble spirit.

He wrapped his hands around those small shoulders and slender waist and pulled her close.

At close range where they felt each other’s breath directly on skin. The two’s lips were drawn together as if attracted by gravity.

“Become mine. I believe I said the same thing before.”

“Ah, I was surprised at that.”

“But this time I’m serious. I won’t let go anymore.”

“Just what I want.”

The Princess stood on tiptoe. Their lips met.

That day, the Princess became engaged.