My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 121: Hand in Hand Together

Chapter 121: Hand in Hand Together

She gently laid the unconscious tall man down.

When she rose and looked around, the Imperial Guard, clad in flashy red dragon robes, rippled in a great stir. Nearly half of them were old familiar faces, and Kirin gave a wry smile.

“Please don’t worry. I didn’t kill him. His body’s just a little numb.”

She had merely disturbed the flow of [Ki] in his dantian a little.

He likely couldn’t move his body freely for the moment, but in about one koku, he should be back to normal.

“Now then…” Kirin said, giving herself a broad stretch.

The sunlight pouring down from the blue sky felt pleasant.

She used to do this often, putting them through their paces with sparring.

How about a hundred-man bout for old times’ sake? They’ve soaked in the lukewarm bath of peace long enough. Let’s see whether their skills have gone dull.

At her Bodhisattva-like smile, she saw several of those old familiar faces trying to flee. To those who didn’t know the circumstances, turning their backs on the enemy could only look like desertion before the foe, and the Imperial Guard immediately broke into a scuffle.

“The demon instructor’s back!”

“Let go of me. I need to run!”

“Uwaaaaah! It’s the end of the world!”

“Peace in Black Emperor Castle is over…”

One rude remark after another flew through the air.

Kirin forgave every last bit of that disrespect with the smile of a holy mother.

“Well then, shall we begin?”

At those words, the scene fell into even greater confusion. It broke down at once.

The encirclement around Kirin collapsed, and the veterans who knew her shook off their comrades’ attempts to stop them and ran for it, each trying to be first.

The Imperial Guard was made up of people selected especially for their fierce loyalty, so to the newer members, abandoning their posts in a situation where the Dragon Emperor’s safety was at risk must have been utterly incomprehensible. Who could possibly imagine that the Head Consort, absent for sixty years, had returned?

Unable either to pursue their fleeing comrades or re-form the encirclement, the Imperial Guard stood there in half-measures. Then the crumbling, thinned-out formation abruptly regained order and began gathering before the gate as though to protect the Phoenix Pavilion.

“Honestly, this musclehead hasn’t changed a bit. Does she know no way to speak except with her fists?”

The Imperial Guard in red robes lined up in neat ranks once more. Then that orderly wall of people suddenly split to either side, revealing a single path leading to the Phoenix Pavilion.

Walking down the centre of that path, her lavish heels clicking against the ground, was a single flower in full bloom within Black Emperor Castle. It was General Consort Rakuyō, possessor of peerless beauty and bewitching eyes.

Letting her splendid dragon robes billow, as though displaying the full extent of her power and influence, Kirin’s former friend came to a halt before her.

“You look a little older than when I last saw you. Your vaunted beauty’s dimmed a touch.”

“You’re as irritating as ever. Turning up now of all times without a shred of shame. What exactly do you want?”

“I have business with Kokuren.”

“Surely you don’t mean to say you still think you’re the Head Consort. If you do, how thick is your skin? Thick enough to bake a pizza on instead of gyoza, I’d say.”

“Oh? According to your daughter, the Head Consort’s position is absolutely unshakable. Even if I wished to, I supposedly couldn’t give it up.”

When Kirin threw her daughter’s own argument right back at her, Rakuyō made a bitter face and fell silent.

Even so, she still didn’t seem inclined to let Kirin see Kokuren, and remained standing there with her legs planted wide, blocking the path to the Phoenix Pavilion. That stubborn streak of hers had not changed. Kirin gave a wry smile.

“It seems you taught your daughter that jealousy is an evil that throws a pack’s unity out of step.”

“I did. I could hardly let her grow into a daughter like you.”

Rakuyō frowned from the bottom of her heart, thoroughly displeased.

By contrast, her daughter Kuroyō had shown none of these finer shifts in emotion at all. Feeling just a little disappointed by that, Kirin said,

“If it was your inferiority complex toward me that drove you mad, then I owe that girl an apology.”

“You suddenly show up again after all this time, and that’s what you start saying? What is this woman even talking about?”

“You know it yourself, don’t you? That the way you raised her was a mistake.”

“What did you say? You really do say whatever you please… She’s my daughter. You have no right to complain about her!”

Clad in gorgeous robes and basking in glory to her heart’s content, General Consort Rakuyō let out a shrill scream utterly unbefitting that splendour and swung up her arm.

As though pressing down on an invisible head.

Her open palm lashed down through the air.

SZZT!

Something invisible released from her palm scorched the stone pavement, branding it with the imprint of a slapped hand. Thin white smoke rose from the finger marks carved into the ground.

The Imperial Guard held its breath in the face of that explosive tension.

But Kirin had no intention of letting up.

“She isn’t your daughter alone.”

Kokuren had written it in his letter.

My daughter is your daughter too.

It was a slightly misleading way to put it, but a pack was something like one large family.

As Head Consort, Kirin was not only the highest responsible authority, but also the one who filled the role of the pack’s mother. The children born within the pack were, at least nominally, Kirin’s children as well.

On top of that, Kuroyō was her son’s wife.

Even if she had lost the title of Head Consort, that did not change the fact that Kuroyō was still a precious daughter-in-law to Kirin. She had every right to speak.

“She can’t even manage a social smile.”

That low, icy tone, aimed straight at the heart of the matter, splashed cold water over Rakuyō’s rage-flushed face.

“At that rate, she gives others an overbearing impression. She can’t possibly be suited to negotiation. After speaking with her, I understood that much very well.”

When she had greeted her mother-in-law, Kuroyō had worn a blank expression, without so much as the faintest smile.

Unlike the friend beside her, she had not simply stiffened up from nerves. That much had been clear from the everyday conversation that followed.

“And…? So what? Even if she’s unfriendly, that’s enough so long as she produces results.”

As though covering up the flicker of agitation that had surfaced for just an instant, Rakuyō stressed how capable her daughter was. Kirin let out a heavy sigh at that papier-mache facade.

“What that child can do is conduct hard-nosed negotiations through reason and intellect. Or strike deals that amount to threats by exploiting the other party’s weaknesses. But she cannot build trust, join hands with others, and forge an alliance together with them. Isn’t that a fatal flaw?”

The insight to gather limited information, connect it, and arrive at the truth.

The scheming ability to seize people’s hearts and move events in the direction she intended.

Those qualities were flawless, without the slightest opening. They had left even Kirin with no choice but to stand here.

But it was also true that they rested on a dangerous balance that could collapse if she misread the situation even slightly. In fact, Kuroyō had not known about the bad blood between Kirin and Seiran. If Seiran had been the one who killed Michelle… it might have led to irreparable consequences.

Kuroyō was not a god. Information beyond what she could know could never be worked into her schemes. That became an irregular factor, and at times it would come sweeping in from an unexpected angle to knock her off her feet.

That alone was what troubled Kirin.

“Then all you have to do is assign people where they fit best. That child doesn’t need to do everything alone.”

“Exactly. There is no need for one person to fulfil every role alone.”

That was precisely why her son had to support that dangerous fragility. Rather than either of them handling everything perfectly by themselves, husband and wife had to help one another and live that way together.

And because that was true, there was a contradiction in Rakuyō’s approach to raising her.

“And yet you tried to cram absolutely everything into that child in order to create a perfect dragonkin. Under your harsh instruction, you forced powerful self-restraint on her, never realising that such recklessness would hinder the development of emotion in a child still so young.”

“…………”

“Why did you try to create a perfect dragonkin? The cause was me, wasn’t it?”

She had mastered Breath three days after birth, and learned magic at the age of three.

Before that hope called a once-in-a-thousand-years genius.

Rakuyō had wanted to raise a daughter stronger than Kirin.

She had wanted to raise a daughter wiser than Kirin.

So that the daughter would never commit the folly Kirin had, the folly of betraying her master.

She packed her dreams into the child. Harshly, harshly… so harshly that it produced a fatal defect in her emotional development. That was how she raised her. The result was the Kuroyō of today.

“Isn’t it about time you set her free? You shouldn’t drag the grudges between parents into a child’s life.”

Rakuyō’s beautiful face twisted so badly it looked on the verge of tears.

She bit her lip in frustration, and yet without looking away, still burned with a spirit of rivalry toward Kirin. But that flame had already dimmed considerably.

“My purpose isn’t to hurt you. So let me tell you something. That child said she was grateful to Mother.”

“……..”

“She said it was because of Mother’s teaching that she could now wield strategy as she did. Bearing those teachings in my heart, I will support Kishō. That’s what she said. With that expressionless face of hers turning red.”

Rakuyō abruptly turned her face away. It was her habit whenever things became inconvenient for her.

Kirin directed her next words at that fragile back.

“Rest easy. My son will untangle the emotions that child has lost.”

Watching her had made Kirin realise it. When Kuroyō spoke about her son, the fluctuations in her emotions were clearly greater than with any other topic. Because Kirin had seen that sign, she could say it with certainty.

“Hah… honestly. Even now, I still can’t beat you. I never imagined the day would come when you’d talk me into a corner.”

Rakuyō looked up at the sky as though holding something back, and let out a long, long sigh.

Then, after exhaling such a long breath it seemed she had emptied every last bit of air from her lungs, Rakuyō started walking toward the Phoenix Pavilion without turning around.

“Where are you going?”

“You want to see Kokuren, don’t you? Come with me.”

“No. If I’m going to see him, I’d rather it be just the two of us.”

“Hah!? You come strolling back now of all times, and you think I’m going to let you be alone together? I’m attending too. Attending too! I’ll be there as well. That’s only my natural right.”

Kirin gave a wry smile and followed after her.

Then, careful not to let it reach that back with its shoulders drawn up in anger, she murmured in a small voice,

“I’m sorry, Rakuyō. The truth is, I have no right to speak of others either. I’m the one who taught my son to love only one woman.”

The nostalgic Phoenix Pavilion drew near.

Its construction had not changed from sixty years ago. Had the flowers and trees in the garden changed a little? Even so, with it being winter, she couldn’t sense that much of a difference.

The palace beside it, the Tower Palace, had once been Kirin’s residence as well.

Because of that, she had often had occasion to visit the Phoenix Pavilion, and she used to work through mountains of accumulated paperwork there together with Kokuren.

Maids were waiting in front of the Phoenix Pavilion.

The Dragon Emperor’s attendant maids and Rakuyō’s attendant maids stood to the left and right with their heads bowed. Rakuyō ordered them to remain on standby, and Kirin leisurely passed before them as they offered her deep bows.

The Phoenix Pavilion had a lavish interior, but Kokuren’s range of activity was narrow. Most of the time, it looked as though he was in his office handling routine matters… but in reality, that unmotivated man was often slacking off in the study instead. If she opened the sliding door, Kokuren would be there in his sleepwear, listlessly lowering his eyes to a book, and…

“Yo. Long time no see. I’ve wanted to see you, Kirin.”

Clicking her tongue, Rakuyō shut the study’s sliding door.

Beyond the door she closed with a sharp snap, what words of reunion were exchanged?

Only the three people involved know that.

That day, the long-absent Head Consort returned to Black Emperor Castle.

◇◇◇◇◇

“Cold!”

After washing her face with water drawn up from the well, Ōka involuntarily cried out at just how cold well water was in the dead of winter. So dragonkin feel cold too, Kishō thought distantly.

One full day and night had passed since his mother departed.

Had she arrived by now?

Shivering, Ōka hoisted the water jar and headed back to the hut.

The sun had set, and the surroundings were being wrapped in dimness. Mixed with the orange light leaking from the hut came the pleasant smell of stew.

Leaning against the pasture fence, Kishō gazed blankly at the scene.

“She said she’d be back within five days because the cattle need looking after, but…”

“Mm. Which means we’ll have to keep things running in the meantime.”

There was little fodder in winter. They had to feed the cattle with the piles of hay stacked in the backyard. Kishō had just finished the day’s work and was taking a breather when Princess-sama came over carrying a basket full of vegetables and gave a small nod.

The work had been divided up. Princess-sama was in charge of harvesting vegetables.

Ōka handled all the housework.

Seiran spent the entire day doing nothing but absentmindedly gazing up at the sky. Sitting in the grass with her knees hugged to her chest, white clouds reflected in her eyes, she looked younger than her actual age.

Even though there was a guardian present, living together overnight with two girls from back home felt fresh in a way different from academy life. It made his heart beat a little faster.

If he ever raised a pack, would everyday life start to feel like this?

“Hey. Do you think they’ll approve our engagement now?”

“Yes, that is how it should turn out. If Head Consort-sama is handling it, she will surely manage it well.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll think of another plan. I will marry you no matter what.”

As Kishō scratched his cheek, Princess-sama came over to his side and set the vegetable basket on the ground. She brushed at her dragon robes, dirtied from farm work.

“Mother-in-law-dono scolded me.”

“Huh?”

She drooped her shoulders and muttered dejectedly.

Had a mother-in-law versus daughter-in-law problem suddenly broken out already? A faint sheen of sweat dampened the back of Kishō’s neck.

“She told me not to shoulder everything alone, and to rely on her son more.”

Kishō had been all set to take Princess-sama’s side, but cancelled the words of defence he had been about to offer. Putting on a deeply serious face, he said,

“Well, she’s right. Rely on me more.”

Pointing sharply at himself with his thumb, Kishō declared it with total confidence.

It was true that Princess-sama’s clever schemes had saved him.

The Eleshia Ignosius incident, his promotion to the Upper House, and even the engagement problem that had been the biggest obstacle, all of it had been cleared by Princess-sama’s skilful direction.

But at the same time, it also made him feel lonely. He wanted her to rely on him more. The boyish part of Kishō wanted that. Instead of learning what was going on only after everything was over, he wanted to face things with her from the very beginning. Was that selfish of him?

In response to Kishō’s fervour, Princess-sama gave a weak nod.

“I myself am beginning to feel the limits of carrying everything alone.”

“What is it? Is there already some kind of problem?”

“There is.”

Princess-sama said it flatly, then fell silent.

A cold wind blew across the hill.

Her glossy black hair danced as though melting into the dusk, brushing the tip of Kishō’s nose.

Seeing how troubled she looked, Kishō wondered what he ought to say.

Ignoring Kishō’s concern, Princess-sama turned her slender neck and began looking around. Again and again, she carefully checked that no one was nearby before looking up at him. Even Princess-sama in such a melancholy mood was beautiful enough to take his breath away.

“Do you remember the anti-evil talisman?”

“Hm? …Yeah, the one you gave Ōka during the Eleshia incident, right?”

He recalled the circular talisman with a magic circle drawn on it. It was a finest-grade ornament called [Fortress], and boasted impregnable defensive power against curses. Princess-sama had prepared it during the Eleshia incident, a masterwork by a renowned artisan, and apparently a single one cost enough to build a lavish mansion.

“You went out of your way to prepare it to stop Eleshia Ignosius’s cursecraft, right?”

“No. That item had been procured regardless of that woman.”

“…What?”

Kishō froze at Princess-sama’s unexpected answer.

“I want you to remember. The art of Soul Transfer can basically only be applied to those whose attribute affinity is darkness.”

To be more precise, if she took over a body whose attribute affinity was anything other than darkness, then she would no longer be able to activate a new Soul Transfer and would be stuck. So long as Eleshia acted in her own self-interest, Soul Transfer could only be applied to those whose attribute affinity was darkness.

“Mm… now that you mention it, yeah. I remember hearing that.”

Scratching his cheek, Kishō recalled those days. Even as he did, a strange sense of wrongness lingered in his chest like a foreign object, warning him that something was off. The source of that wrongness was…

“Ōka’s attribute affinity is light.”

Princess-sama supplied the answer.

“…Wait. Are you saying that means Ōka could never have been one of Eleshia Ignosius’s targets?”

“That is correct. Even if Ōka had been captured, Soul Transfer could not have been carried out on her any more than it could on Kōran. And because that creature was bound by the restriction that it could not harm students, it could not have laid a hand on Ōka in any case.”

In other words, Ōka had been safe from the very start. That was what Princess-sama was saying.

“Then why? Why did you give the anti-evil talisman to Ōka?”

In the end, the conversation returned to that point.

For just an instant, something like pain passed over Princess-sama’s clear, translucent face.

“Back when I was depressed after being rejected by you, Ōka encouraged me. She hugged me and told me she was cheering for me, so I should do my best. And she told me about the problem you were carrying. Ōka is my benefactor.”

The instant he felt that smack on his back, Kishō remembered how he had met Ōka.

“Do you remember? I can trace back and analyse any spell formula I touch.”

“Yeah. That’s how you noticed the Soul Transfer carved into Alice-san too, right?”

Her pale pink lips drew tight. With her face lowered slightly, Princess-sama trembled, both hands clasped together before her chest, unable to bring herself to say something.

That hesitation, so unlike Princess-sama, filled Kishō with doubt and unease alike. Her bearing was always dignified and straight. Her words were always refreshingly clear. And yet now she was wavering over whether she should say this. Shaking her head against that hesitation, she struggled in silence. Something so grave she hesitated even to put it into words. Whether or not she should speak aloud the thing she had been carrying all alone.

“Hey,” he started, beginning to reach out an arm, when Princess-sama murmured,

“…It is carved into Ōka as well. The mark of that horrifying curse.”

That unbearable reality opened a blank space in Kishō’s thoughts.

“It is an incurable disease.”

Princess-sama’s voice sounded strained somehow. The face she lifted toward him as though clinging to him was startlingly fragile. What floated in her jet-black eyes was sorrow.

“While Kishō was fighting desperately in the Upper House, I stayed constantly by Ōka’s side and tried to break the curse. I pored over every text I could find and tried every possible method. But it was no use. I simply could not do it. That curse alone, the [Sixteen Curses] known as incurable diseases, did not have a single recorded case of successful removal. I was crushed by my own helplessness.”

His hand remained stretched out.

That one hand, frozen in midair.

Princess-sama took it as though clinging to it.

“With my power alone, I cannot save Ōka.”

And then, in frustration, she let tears fall.

“So please, search with me. For a way to save Ōka. Together with me.”

—– End of Part Four —–

[Next Episode Preview]

Ōka had been afflicted with the incurable disease known as the [Sixteen Curses].

Through Princess-sama’s life-prolonging treatment, Ōka’s condition was stable. However, it was not cured, and no matter how much her life was extended, certain death would come for her on her sixteenth birthday.

There was no way to prevent this.

Even Princess-sama shed tears, saying there was nothing she could do.

Hand in hand, Kishō and Princess-sama begin searching together for a way to save Ōka.

As they continue their investigation, they obtain information that the answer may lie at the deepest level of a dungeon. They will have to challenge a dungeon of [Apocalypse Class] difficulty.

The neutral city of Ashitana, site of the winter special practical training.

Kishō challenges Ashitana’s Apocalypse Dungeon, that place no one has ever reached before.

But waiting there is not only the threat of the dungeon, but Yotsuba’s malice as well.

In a completely unforeseen way, he will be driven into a desperate, inescapable crisis.

There, Princess-sama presents a move to turn the tables.

It is a strange plan, one that would be psychologically hard to accept, one anyone would recoil from. And yet that very strange plan is the brilliant move that will let Kishō rise in the shortest time, and the only path to saving Ōka.

NEXT

“Final Part: Until Princess-sama Builds a Harem”

Please look forward to it!