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

One month since the death struggle in Beast King Forest.

Around when the injuries of students who’d suffered Tempest Turtle damage had completely healed.

Summer was approaching its end.

Lower School became a huge commotion over the Princess’s serious injury incident.

The six female teachers supervising Lower School were emergency-summoned, and the second and third-year summer special practicum was apparently also canceled midway. According to rumors, a stern protest had been submitted from the General Consort who was the Princess’s mother.

Symbolizing that confusion, classes that had initially been conducted in self-study format also disappeared midway, perhaps because managing the timetable became too troublesome. For such reasons, school closures continued day after day, and Kishō had too much free time.

The hangout there had already become natural.

Propping his cheek with his hand at the ramshackle hut’s long table and gazing out the window with a bored expression, the door opened and the Princess entered. It was about a six-tatami hut. The two of them in the narrow enclosed room. An overwhelming presence impossible to ignore stood right before him. Pale pink lips opened.

“You look bored.”

“Yeah. I was thinking about what happened in Beast King Forest. Hey Kuroyō. Was it really okay to hide that I was the one who proposed going into the forest depths?”

The Princess arranged her bangs disheveled by the wind, then nodded cutely.

“The problem became unexpectedly large. The Princess suffered serious injury, headquarters was ravaged by Tempest Turtle, and the two teachers who responded also suffered deep wounds and were temporarily missing. Though ultimately no deaths occurred, this was a major incident warranting opening six consorts conferences. Then, to settle the problem smoothly, I should stand at the forefront.”

“But there are other things that should be reported, right?”

“It’s all for Kishō and the academy. Please trust me on this.”

As if cutting off the conversation, the Princess held out what appeared to be documents bound in a binder.

“What’s this?”

Elbow still on the long table, Kishō casually asked. Then a faint joy colored the Princess’s meager-expression face.

“Please look at it.”

Pulling over a chair, the Princess sat right beside Kishō. As always, that sense of distance was buggy and incredibly close. Even if the ramshackle hut was narrow, it wasn’t so narrow they had to stick together this much.

Since they were engaged, he thought it was probably fine, but even so, having a too-beautiful face at close range forced excessive nervousness.

As if urging him to open the binder quickly, the Princess brought her face even closer. That sense of distance was already that of lovers. His chest screamed with ba-dump ba-dump.

“I-I get it. I get it, so you’re too close.”

He averted his eyes as if avoiding the too-close pale pink lips.

He’d gotten carried away into engagement. He had no regrets about that itself, but the reality was he’d been swept along, unable to endure from her extreme lovability.

Because of that, though he had awareness of being engaged, strangely Kishō didn’t have the sensation of becoming lovers. And since the Princess didn’t show such behavior either, even now as summer was ending, their relationship hadn’t progressed since then.

(Though Ōka teased me plenty.)

They’d become engaged before Lower School first-years—one hundred fifty people. Before such perfect material, that demon couldn’t possibly stay quiet. Her eyes, having obtained a new toy, were truly vividly sparkling.

However, right now Ōka who served as mood-maker wasn’t at the ramshackle hut.

These past several days, she’d been holed up in the girls’ dormitory with the reason that her physical condition was poor.

That he couldn’t honestly rejoice at being alone with the Princess—the cause might lie in that area.

“So what is this anyway?”

The sleeves were in the way so he rolled up his sleeves as if brushing them aside, and Kishō opened the binder. Thick documents. Hundreds of pages were bound. Turning the opening pages, a female student’s photograph was pasted in the upper right of the first page. And arranged were name, affiliation, pack scale, father’s peerage and other background, with even academy grades mentioned—how did she investigate this?

Once more, Kishō asked:

“Résumés?”

The Princess nodded with satisfaction. Every time she stirred at close range, a woman’s fragrance stimulated his nasal cavity, startling and disturbing his mind.

“The academy roster. Anyway, please look through it.”

Without understanding the Princess’s intent, Kishō flipped through pages as told. And suddenly noticed. Not a single familiar face.

“Could this be the Upper School student roster?”

“That’s right.”

For what reason was he being shown the Upper School student roster? After all, Kishō had no acquaintance with Upper School students. Like being shown a different school’s graduation album evoked no emotions.

However, in front of the Princess, he couldn’t dismiss that wish, so he dutifully looked through the documents. Rather than reading, he was just looking, and the content didn’t enter his head. A while of futile time passed, but among it he discovered a familiar face.

The documents said Kōran.

Sharp eyes that seemed strong-willed with a straight nose. Hair tied together in the back—

“This is—”

The day the Princess first visited Lower School. The person who’d attended the Princess like a knight where he’d headed, dragged by Ōka to catch a glimpse.

“For you to notice Kōran, as expected. You have good eyes.”

For some reason the Princess was smiling happily, somehow proudly. Just like when an important friend was praised. At that point, Kishō remembered:

“She was calling you Onee-sama, right? Is she your younger sister?”

“Ah. Alliance Consort Seiran’s daughter.”

Alliance Consort Seiran. At the academy director’s name appearing, Kishō made a sour face. Because memories of receiving expulsion recommendation revived. In his mind, the director was firmly recognized as an enemy.

Once more, he lowered his gaze to the photograph’s girl.

“So that means this person is also a princess?”

“That’s different.”

The Princess denied sadly.

“To be precise, she’s my half-sister. Different fathers. There are some circumstances.”

There’s a saying that two heroes can’t stand together. Though when young, multiple males sometimes belonged to one pack, in the process of packs growing, factional disputes inevitably occurred and one was fated to be eliminated. If something similar happened in the Dragon Emperor’s pack, that would be an understandable story. That said, better not pry too deeply. As Kishō tried to change topics, the Princess said something strange:

“So please be assured. There’s no need to take her as First Consort.”

“? Take her? What are you talking ab—”

“Kōran is a talented woman achieving second place among Upper School first-year females.”

The Princess’s jet-black eyes harbored a child-like light, glinting darkly. So what?—was Kishō’s honest impression, but she paid no mind to such things and began speaking forcefully:

“Ōka isn’t suited for combat personality-wise, right? So I think it’s good to entrust her with a Wise Consort governing internal affairs. Then we’ll separately need a consort to entrust with military matters. I could serve concurrently, but if we can secure excellent personnel, better to entrust them. On that point, Kōran can be called perfect personnel worthy of military trust.”

He’d heard similar talk before. It even felt somehow nostalgic, but—

“Wait wait wait, didn’t you give up on the pack talk!?”

“Guiding lost lambs is the duty of a powerful dragonkin.”

“That’s—why—I said I have no intention of making a pack!”

“What are you saying? At the point you welcomed me as First Consort, raising the pack banner is confirmed.”

“Why? Banner-raising is done by my will as the pack’s master, right?”

While sensing it was futile resistance, Kishō still couldn’t help but resist.

Against Kishō, resisting with full strength, the Princess maintained a thoroughly calm tone.

“’First Consort’ is a local title within the pack. In other words, at the point the title First Consort is granted, the pack must already exist. Because if the pack doesn’t exist, the title First Consort can’t be granted.”

Presented with perfect logic leaving no room for argument, even Kishō was at a loss for words. In the first place, he’d known from the Beast King Forest incident that the Princess was strong at this type of verbal battle.

“Making a hundred concessions, I’ll accept making a pack. But just stop making harem.”

Building a happy home together with the Princess. Even if ordinary, that was the form of happiness Kishō envisioned. Just because he’d accepted the Princess and exchanged engagement didn’t mean values cultivated since childhood would suddenly change.

Of course, since Kishō was also an adolescent male, it would be a lie to say he had no interest in other girls. But still, being fickle toward other girls felt like betraying an important person and pricked his conscience. Even if the Princess desired it.

However, the Princess showed no sign of yielding either. Making a sullen face, she glared up at him.

“It’s not a harem, it’s a pack. Don’t lump it with vulgar polygamy.”

Collapsing face-down on the long table, Kishō threw both arms forward. While rubbing his forehead against the cold long table—

“What about the option of just the two of us living happily?”

“None. That future disappeared when you abandoned command authority over me.”

The command right obtained in the duel had apparently expired. Though he’d never intended to use it from the start.

“You stopped mentioning the pack so I let my guard down. You haven’t given up.”

“Of course. I was always waiting for you to accept me.”

—Always waiting.

Hearing only these words, she sounded like a pure and devoted maiden. But for some reason, Kishō imagined a hunter crouching in hiding.

“If I’m being hunted by such a beautiful hunter, I’d welcome it… I’d like to say. But I want to be happy with just you, Kuroyō.”

“That’s the same for me. That’s why we must properly strengthen the pack.”

Kishō desired a world with just the two of them.

The Princess believed expanding the pack was precisely what led to their happiness.

Their values weren’t just parallel lines, they faced completely opposite directions.

Dragonkin who lorded their authority—for example, the female teachers who unreasonably pressed for expulsion—Kishō hated them. So he also resisted exercising his own rights, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

“Pack formation authority lies with the pack’s master, didn’t it? Then I have decision rights. Meaning, I can’t increase consorts without my permission. Too bad.”

When Kishō said this with his face buried in the long table, the Princess’s voice descended:

“The First Consort must be an existence equal to the master. Meaning, I also have authority to direct pack enrollment. From the moment you accepted me, you were confirmed to walk the path of hegemony. Don’t worry, I’ll properly support you.”

(I-I’ve been set up!?)

The reason a hunter came to mind. Was this what his intuition was telling him?

However, having once accepted her, he couldn’t make it not have happened. Breaking the engagement—such demonic conduct was absolutely impossible.

As if striking those agonies against it, he rubbed his forehead against the desk. The desk was chilly and cold, feeling good on his heated head.

The Princess who’d been peeking at such behavior pouted her lips with dissatisfaction.

“I don’t intend to ignore your wishes either. So I want you to choose together.”

Kishō’s movement stopped precisely. Slowly raising his face, he lowered his gaze to the binder left open mid-pages.

“I see. So that’s it.”

In short, this thick binder of student rosters was like background documents and matchmaking photos for finding suitable consort candidates. That’s why she’d brought Upper School ones to select more excellent people, not Lower School.

Moreover, looking closely, handwritten fine characters were densely written in the special notes column. Personality, abilities, appearance, thoughts on packs, and which position would be appropriate to grant if enrolled in the pack. Based on specific numbers, the Princess’s considerations were recorded in detail.

“Hey. Did you make this document the whole time? That must have been hard.”

The Princess hadn’t mentioned anything about packs during this entire month. If the logic was speaking up as First Consort since engaged, there’d be no need to prepare such documents in the first place. She could have spoken up from the day after engagement.

However, she didn’t do that.

Why?

Because the subject remained Kishō as pack master, and she thought to thoroughly serve as assistant.

(I understand. I understand. I’m not doubting Kuroyō’s sincerity.)

It wasn’t about appearance or abilities, but her true worth lay precisely in that straightforward personality. That’s why he’d fallen for her, Kishō thought.

But too embarrassed to say it aloud. Instead—

“That’s right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least listen a little.”