My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 061: Instructor Mion's Invitation

Even after a full day and night passed, the storm didn’t pass through.

The weather remained foul, wind raging violently, rain pounding the school building windows hard.

“Achoo!”

Hugging his chilled body, Kishō sneezed spectacularly.

“That’s weird. I’m feeling off.”

He’d been pelted by rain all night.

From a human perspective, one might think “what an obvious result”—but dragonkin had high resistance to various ailments and rarely caught colds. High enough immunity that realizing you felt slightly off might actually mean the Black Death. Even half-dragonkin, Kishō inherited that quality, so naturally his immunity should be high too.

“Was spending a night in thunderstorm overdoing it?”

Additionally, sleep deprivation was probably significant. Regarding sleep, dragonkin followed the same cycle as humans, so consecutive all-nighters took a toll.

Nevertheless, with dragonkin’s high immunity, a bit of endurance would bring full recovery. Deciding thus, Kishō walked shivering down the main building hallway.

The threat from Elesia Ignoosis intensified most at midnight while sleeping. Conversely, daytime with classes was safest. Thinking like a killer lurking in the academy, wanting to complete the switch peacefully meant unlikely to act during daytime with students coming and going.

—Clap clap!

Slapping both cheeks hard, he tightened focus that had slackened after clearing the biggest hurdle. Fortunately, he felt no drowsiness. Though physical fatigue existed, thanks to his brain maintaining battle readiness, his thoughts were clear, even filled with motivation to the point of exhilaration.

He should probably nap in the shack and recover stamina, but uselessly elevated motivation urged him to search for the killer.

“Well, with motivation this high, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

No other students appeared in the main building hallway.

Naturally, since elective magic classes were currently in session.

At such times, failing students were strong. After all, whether attending classes or not, grades remained absolutely immovably “fail.” Precisely because of that, the taboo of skipping classes couldn’t become taboo for Kishō. He felt no guilt whatsoever about brazenly skipping classes. Honor students like the Princess and Ōka couldn’t do this.

Kishō proceeded down the deserted hallway. His destination: the classroom where dark magic class was held. His intention today as always was monitoring Instructor Mion all day.

Reaching the target classroom, he hid behind a pillar and waited for class to end.

◇◇◇◇◇

Tailing was surprisingly difficult.

When traveling deserted hallways, stealthy actions were needed to avoid the tail target noticing. But during breaks packed with students, that didn’t work. Moving quickly from pillar to pillar would only look like a pervert to bystanders. If Ōka were watching, she’d surely say this:

“Shō-kun, that just looks like stalking.”

For such reasons, tailing during breaks was conducted by blending with other students. While maintaining the pretense of moving between classrooms, keeping distance, following Instructor Mion.

He hadn’t bungled enough to be noticed tailing. But as the day was ending without particular gains.

‘(No suspicious behavior whatsoever. Is my deduction wrong? Or is she just that cunningly blending in?)’

Either way, Kishō’s options were limited.

The forceful measure of storming Instructor Mion’s private room seemed unlikely to yield results now that the missing female student had escaped the academy. Nevertheless, he couldn’t just twiddle his thumbs doing nothing. So he patiently stuck like this, waiting for her to show her tail.

Then the target turned right at the hallway’s end. Student figures existed sparsely around; stealth impossible. Though wanting to immediately rush over and turn right, he endured and acted natural. Though anxious about losing sight, he mustn’t rush.

Though the time should still have daylight, outside the windows was dark as midnight.

Light stones were installed at key hallway points, so he didn’t feel much dimness. The window glass with darkness as backdrop reflected light like mirrors, projecting Kishō’s figure.

Then, separate from the light stones’ glow, another light flashed across the hallway. The external darkness momentarily cleared, followed by delayed ten thousand thunders roaring.

Dozens of seconds behind Instructor Mion, Kishō turned right down the hallway. Upon turning right, he reflexively nearly stopped. Because Instructor Mion stood leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t commit the folly of stopping. Continuing straight ahead with a nonchalant face.

“Kishō, lend me your face a moment.”

Just as he tried to pass before Instructor Mion. Having kept eyes closed, she opened them like a predator and spoke.

Though inwardly flinching, Kishō cracked jokes to avoid showing agitation.

“Sensei, I hear the phrase ‘lend your face’ includes kissing.”

“What are you saying?”

“Well, basically I’m busy right now, so pass.”

“Wait.”

The collar of Kishō trying to hurry away was grabbed firmly and forcibly pulled backward.

“Guh! Wait, my neck, you’re choking me.”

The more he struggled to escape, the more his neck tightened uncomfortably. On that point, dragonkin bodies were uselessly sturdy, so Instructor Mion showed no reservation. So much force that if he stopped resisting here, he’d be slammed against the wall. If human, wouldn’t his neck bones have broken long ago?

Kishō, nearly ascending from oxygen deprivation, finally gave up and raised the white flag.

“Got it. Got it, so. I won’t run, so let go… I’m… dying…”

The end of his words truly approached unconsciousness from oxygen deprivation. Tapping his constricted neck to signal submission, Instructor Mion finally released her hand.

Sucking in fresh air to fill his lungs, Kishō coughed while saying:

“How did you know I’d pass through?”

Then Instructor Mion jerked her chin toward the window glass painted black like a mirror. The black mirror surface reflected the L-shaped corridor he’d just walked.

While Kishō secretly felt relieved the tailing hadn’t been exposed, Instructor Mion released a large sigh.

“I value only your sword skill. But dragonkin race isn’t shallow enough that skill alone can marry Princess Kuroyō.”

Academy director, then Instructor Meika. And now even Instructor Mion. At the third lecture, Kishō didn’t hide his fed-up expression, releasing a large sigh back.

“That again? So many villains trying to tear us apart, it’s troubling.”

Instructor Mion didn’t reproach that mocking attitude. She adjusted her misaligned triangular glasses, re-crossed her arms, and slowly shook her head.

“You wouldn’t understand. What political marriage means.”

“I understand political marriage. It’s marriage arranged for parents’ benefit.”

“Hmm. Then what do you consider marriage?”

“Well, a vow two people in love exchange—like a lifelong contract. Seems there’s also a role of connecting families.”

“Correct. Political marriage in human society is conducted to connect mutual families and obtain reciprocal relationships. But dragonkin race has no concept of family.”

“I know that much. That dragonkin are a species living in packs.”

Then feeling a sudden question, Kishō tilted his head.

“Hm? Then what’s political marriage for dragonkin? If families don’t connect, do packs connect?”

“Packs must exist as completely independent. Offspring forming marriage won’t shake that independence.”

“Meaning packs don’t connect? Then political marriage doesn’t work in the first place.”

To that question, Instructor Mion responded like instructing a poor student.

“We pledge loyalty to pack masters and conduct our lives cherishing pack companions. Pack companions are friends, family, and colleagues. And dragonkin young raised in packs marry into other packs at eighteen and become independent. While serving new masters then, becoming independent doesn’t erase attachment to birth packs.”

Naturally, Kishō thought. Just because marrying and leaving home didn’t make parents and siblings strangers. That preceded family connections.

“We dragonkin are a belligerent race above all. Small troubles—say, shoulders bumping—can escalate to pack-wide slaughter. So, if the pack married into and the parent pack where one was raised oppose each other, how do you think dragonkin females act?”

Questioned by Instructor Mion, Kishō answered hesitantly.

“Well… they’d try to stop the conflict, right? From my perspective, it’s like family and family killing each other.”

“Correct. In emergencies, dragonkin females maneuver to avoid attacking parent packs. Then, the higher their internal pack position, the more influence, the higher the deterrent effect. Especially the Six Consorts holding maximum power—their impact is tremendous.”

“So basically, placing daughters in high positions can avoid future conflicts?”

“Yes, exactly. But avoiding conflict with weak packs is meaningless. It’s meaningful precisely because conflicts with powerful packs that would disadvantage one’s pack can be avoided. In short, for you to marry Princess Kuroyō, you must make His Majesty the Dragon Emperor recognize you as potentially becoming a future threat.”

According to the Princess’s plan, in the short period from graduation until marriage, she intended to receive the Dragon Flash peerage from His Majesty. But hearing the talk, circumstances seemed somewhat different. Though he didn’t swallow Instructor Mion’s words wholesale, some parts made sense.

“The condition of Dragon Duke-class or higher consort is for that reason.”

To that answer, Instructor Mion nodded solemnly.

“Though Dragon Saint is nobility, from His Majesty’s perspective, it can’t become a threat.”

“Then what about the condition of Dragon Flash head consort? That’s far below Dragon Saint.”

“The head consort is special even among Six Consorts, with influence equal to the master. Marrying off to Upper School top-ranked equivalent, growth to Dragon Duke-class can be expected during the period until adulthood.”

Equal to the master. That literally meant the head consort held top executive responsibility. Then no matter how much the master desired war, if the head consort refused, it wouldn’t happen. Certainly with this, relaxing conditions limited to head consort treatment wasn’t strange.

“Come to think of it, Kuroyō said the head consort equals the master. So she also has authority over consort selection…”

Recalling the Princess’s harem plan, Kishō simultaneously felt dejected.

But without time to feel depressed, Instructor Mion’s sharp voice flew.

“Don’t let your guard down. Your situation isn’t sweet enough to laugh off.”

“Then what should I do? Currently, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

“Don’t skip classes.”

“Huh?”

“As the first step to break the current situation, first properly attend today’s final class.”

“Today’s final class is… sword arts, right? I won’t skip without being told.”

Until now, he’d never once skipped sword arts class. After all, sword arts was Kishō’s only strong subject, the lifeline for avoiding expulsion. Plus since Instructor Mion taught sword arts, no need to skip for monitoring reasons.

Rather, before that, the logic of attending classes as the first step to break the situation was incomprehensible. Even if meaning to receive classes seriously, become a model student, and steadily raise grades, that logic didn’t apply to the super-exception of no aptitude attribute.

“Due to rain today, we’ll conduct class in the Experiment Building instead of the usual stage. Don’t skip, definitely attend. That’s all.”

Ignoring the dumbfounded Kishō, Instructor Mion walked off as if the conversation had ended.

Dragonkin sometimes were completely unreadable. Or perhaps bloodless killers were the same?

The mirror-like window glass reflected Kishō’s stupefied figure.