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

Chapter 122.2: Side Story 2: Cherry Blossom Hair Ornament

Ōka was studying the accessories laid out on a street stall with an unusually serious look on her face.

What held her burning gaze was a cheap hair ornament with a tiny gem set into it. She stared at it so intently with her brown eyes that it almost looked like she might bore a hole through it.

“Do you want it?”

Leaning in as though peering over her shoulder, Kishō spoke right by Ōka’s ear. Maybe his breath brushed against her, because her little shoulders gave a start. Shrinking in on herself, Ōka shook her head.

“Nn-no. Not really.”

In spite of what she said, her eyes stayed fixed on the hair ornament.

She’s so easy to read.

Kishō picked up the ornament and handed the stallkeeper three silver coins.

“Here. It’s yours.”

“Huh? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? You want it, don’t you?”

“I don’t.”

“Quit forcing yourself. It’s totally obvious.”

Kishō held out his hand with the hair ornament resting on his palm.

“Ungh…” Ōka groaned, lowering her head in indecision. Even with her gaze on the ground, she kept stealing glances at the hair ornament, like she still couldn’t quite give up on it.

“Are you sure? Giving me a present when Yō-chan should come first?”

“It’s fine, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t. Giving one to a friend instead of your girlfriend.”

At that, Kishō furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. He scratched roughly at his head, gave the short chestnut-haired girl a long look, then deliberately started to pull back the hand he’d offered her.

“Then forget it…”

“I’ll take it after all.”

From diagonally above, a hand shot in at high speed and snatched the hair ornament away. So she did want it after all. Wearing a wry smile, Kishō watched as Ōka clasped the ornament to herself with both hands.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?”

At Kishō’s question, Ōka slowly shook her head.

“It’d be a waste if I lost it.”

That defeats the purpose, Kishō thought, but Ōka looked so happy that he let it go.

“Let’s go,” he called, turning toward the street.

Ōka hurried after him with quick little steps.

Ōka was short. Her stride was short too, and if she got swallowed up by the crowd for even a moment, he’d probably lose sight of her right away. He slowed his pace a little.

Once she came up beside him, Ōka took his arm.

It felt nostalgic. Before he got engaged to Princess-sama, back in their first term, Ōka had often tugged him along by the arm like this.

Her modest chest was pressing against his arm, but at a time like this, he decided to keep quiet about it.

“Shō-kun, you’re quite the ladies’ man, aren’t you?”

With her eyes still fixed on something by the roadside, Ōka let out the comment in an airy tone.

When he followed her gaze, he saw a street performer breathing fire. For dragonkin, being able to breathe fire without using oil wasn’t all that rare, and yet for some reason Ōka was staring at it.

“Why would I be? I’ll buy something for Kuroyō too before we head back. That should be fine, right?”

“Hmm. Even though you’re basically newlyweds, you’re out on a date with another girl.”

Shaking her chestnut hair, Ōka looked back at him with a teasing smile.

“We’re not newlyweds. We’ve only just become fiances with our parents’ approval.”

His mother, who had temporarily returned to Black Emperor Castle, came home last night. According to her, every problem had been resolved. In other words, they were together now with their parents’ approval.

That said, the condition was still that Kishō had to prove he possessed strength worthy of taking Princess-sama as his wife. His mother had also warned him that if he showed a pathetic side of himself from here on, he’d have no grounds to complain even if the engagement were called off. All she’d done was strip away the entanglements between the parents.

In other words, there were still problems piled up in front of them.

This was no time to celebrate without reserve and let his guard down.

“Well, even having the groundwork in place so they can judge me fairly is enough.”

“Hmm, you’ve gotten a lot more manly too, Shō-kun. You’re totally different from when we first met.”

He had met Ōka in the fountain plaza.

Back then, Yotsuba had only just dumped him, and he couldn’t find the motivation to do much of anything, so Ōka was always the one kicking him into motion. It was Ōka who found the shabby hut. It was Ōka who suggested they clean it up and turn it into their secret base. And it was Ōka who proposed a relationship where they could gather there freely, chat, and never bind each other down.

“You really took care of me. I’m grateful.”

“Hehehe. Well, looking after my little brother is a big sister’s job, you know?”

Ōka had always been the one leading him along. Looking at that one point alone, Kishō probably did fall into the little-brother position. Even so, there was no way he was going to admit that so easily.

“No, I was born first.”

“It’s about spirit.”

Pouting, Ōka gave his arm a hard tug.

She pulled much harder than he expected, and Kishō lost his balance and lurched forward. Then she tugged his arm once more and swung him to face straight to the side.

“I want to try drinking this.”

At the end of Ōka’s pointing finger was a stylish wood-grain sign that read, “Meido Coffee.”

Coffee was a luxury drink widely enjoyed in the west.

It wasn’t especially rare in Algant, but to Ōka, a dragonkin, it must have seemed novel.

“Tea’s the norm in dragonkin society, after all.”

He looked up at the sky. The sun was almost at its peak.

They were supposed to leave Algant at noon, but a little detour wouldn’t hurt. With that in mind, Kishō decided to head into the cafe.

“Want to see what it’s like?”

“Yeah!”

He had known Ōka ever since they entered the academy, so it had been close to a year now.

And yet, why did it feel as if he had known her for much longer than that?

The shop was long and narrow inside. Counter seats lined the left side, while four-person tables stood in a row on the right.

Kishō and Ōka were shown to one of the tables.

The place was filled with the distinctive smell of coffee. Kishō wasn’t especially fond of it, but Ōka apparently liked it, and she immediately started staring at the menu with great interest.

After hesitating for a while, Ōka ordered a hot coffee. Kishō asked for the same.

Before long, a waitress in a serving uniform carried over two cups of coffee on a tray. Faced with the cups set on the table, Ōka let out an admiring “Wah,” then promptly took a sip of the black liquid.

The next instant, her blooming smile vanished and turned into a grimace.

“What is this? It’s bitter…”

As Kishō suppressed a quiet chuckle, Ōka stomped on his foot from under the table. It hurt.

“Muu, you knew and kept quiet.”

She stuck out her lips in a sulk.

The slight tears in her eyes were probably because her tongue had gone numb.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

“But I can’t drink this. Can you, Shō-kun?”

“Nope.”

With a grin, Kishō reached for the little bottle on the table.

“You put this in before you drink it.”

What he took out were white lumps of sugar cut into squares. In other words, sugar cubes.

He dropped two into the black liquid.

Picking up the cup, Kishō took a sip with a cool look on his face.

Watching him, Ōka grumbled, “Ungh,” then copied him by dropping in sugar cubes and sipping her coffee. But she still didn’t seem to like it, and once again she made a sour face.

“You tricked me. It’s still bitter.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It got a little sweeter, but the bitterness is still way stronger.”

“You’ve got a kid’s palate.”

This time, teary-eyed Ōka lightly kicked him in the shin.

She was probably frustrated that she couldn’t play the big sister.

“Then how about this?”

He picked up the small metal container that had been brought with the coffee cups.

When he opened the lid and poured its contents into the coffee, the colour changed from black to brown.

“If you add milk, it gets milder on the tongue. Give it a try.”

“Okay.”

This time she seemed to like it, and Ōka’s face brightened at once.

She dropped in even more sugar cubes with little plops, turning it thick with sweetness, then sipped it in complete satisfaction. He really did think she had a kid’s palate, but this time he kept quiet.

Because she looked far too happy.

Normally, he would have said something like, “If a single cup of coffee can make you that happy, Ōka, then the cost-performance of your entertainment is unbeatable,” but he kept that to himself too. Instead, he asked,

“How was Algant?”

“I think it’s a really nice city. Your mother was nice too, Shō-kun.”

Adding, “A little scary, though,” Ōka smiled.

But Kishō’s next words made that expression stiffen.

“Then let’s come again sometime.”

“…Yeah, that’s right. Maybe next time I want to try iced coffee.”

Her agitation lasted only an instant before she immediately returned to her usual carefree face.

It happened so quickly that if he hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed it.

“Hey.”

He pointed to the cuff of Ōka’s sleeve.

“Why don’t you at least try putting it on once? I bet it’d look great on you.”

There was a pocket in the cuff of her dragon robes. The cherry blossom hair ornament should have been tucked inside.