Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 83

I understand.

Everything originated from the story I began.

I was the one who asked Faust to resolve the incident, and he responded.

With all his heart, as a knight, he devoted himself as an enthusiast, crushing every possible occurrence of crime in his investigation.

And this was the outcome.

The truth became clear.

Who wanted the truth?

It was none other than me.

—

My face.

Is my face disfigured, I wonder?

It’s close to hatred or anger, yet decisively different.

Not as the Elector of the Holy Gusten Empire, nor as the Queen of Anhalt.

Nor am I any longer a mother to Anastasia or Valiere.

Am I not something indescribable, turned into a kind of monster, unlike a public or private individual?

Is this the true nature of Queen Liesenlotte, which I’ve been hiding all along?

I am afraid of that.

I understand.

I do understand.

What Faust mentioned with a face full of anguish was not the truth I wanted.

My life from now on.

I must live carrying only this empty reality.

I must accept the fact that fate has cruelly mocked Robert.

—

“Faust, I—”

Faust has been displaying a look of anguish all this time.

In solving this incident, the utmost effort Faust had put forth for me.

What did I offer him in return?

I threw a wine bottle at his head in anger.

That was all I gave to Faust.

I needed to say something to make amends.

Words of apology?

Words of reward?

What I managed to say was:

“What do you desire? Speak your reward, Faust.”

It was words of reward.

Faust probably doesn’t desire an apology anymore.

The persona of Liesenlotte is already in ruins.

No matter how much I try to disguise it, my earlier frenzy cannot be undone.

Even the gentle Faust must have come to despise me now.

Let’s just end it here.

The rest of my life might as well be an extra.

If Anastasia returns to the capital, I should abdicate the throne.

I will seclude myself.

I will withdraw into the palace and maintain the rose garden left by Robert with my clumsy hands.

I will close the curtain on my role as queen and live in seclusion.

I am determined to do so.

With a smile, I look at Faust.

—

He simply extends his hand in front of me and whispers.

The reward Lord Faust von Polydoro, as a knight, sought was just one thing.

“Please, waltz with me.”

Michael is singing in the palace garden.

But what he sings is a requiem, not a waltz.

A song to soothe the souls of the dead.

Gold.

He could have taken as much gold and treasure as he could carry from the treasury and returned to his land.

That’s the best reward for Faust.

“You’re saying what? I’ll give you a reward. As much gold and treasure as you can carry with your own hands—”

“I don’t need gold. I don’t need treasures. I undertook this case not for my subjects or my domain, but for personal reasons. There is only one thing I desire as a reward.”

He extends his hand.

His hand shows no interest in gold; it seeks someone to hold.

“Please, waltz with me,” he says simply.

At his voice, I smile a little.

“Faust, can you dance?”

“Only as part of my education from my mother, Marianne. However, I’ve never been called upon to dance at parties, and I haven’t danced in seven or eight years.”

Essentially, Faust’s dancing skills are nonexistent.

Beyond the basic manners necessary for social gatherings, his skills have likely completely deteriorated.

Yet, he wants this dance with me as his reward.

What is Faust really seeking?

His hand.

His hand is extended before me.

Trembling, I take it.

Light pours in through the glass doors of the room.

It is a night with a slightly waning moon.

Faust’s skin is rugged, his subcutaneous tissues thick, and his hands especially are roughened from training.

Veins stand out on his arms, the blood coursing through them almost visible.

His superhuman nature and early upbringing made him this way.

I remember Robert.

Robert’s muscular body, his thick arms, his rough hands—I remember touching them.

Ah, Faust is different from Robert.

Yet sometimes, he painfully reminds me of him.

“It is a reward. Shall we dance?”

“Yes.”

Strength drains from my body.

I haven’t eaten properly these past few days.

Drunk, my body feels unsteady.

Yet, I am from the royal family of Anhalt, proud of our beautiful red hair, from a lineage of superhumans.

Descended from berserkers, the leaders of a clan that charge madly into battle.

A few deep breaths are enough to dispel the dizziness from intoxication.

—Dancing.

In fact, it has a terrible reputation among men.

For men who neither possess much strength nor numbers, a dance festival feels like being toyed with and thoroughly tossed around by numerous women.

Thus, having proper “conversation” through words, “leading” while being considerate of the partner’s stamina, and adhering to “etiquette” when declined are crucial.

For Faust, none of this was necessary.

But there was one problem.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“I suppose so.”

Faust’s footing was incredibly awkward.

Of course, I tried to compensate for his lack of skill.

However, with such amateurish movements, there was only so much I could do.

Even Faust, a warrior superhuman, has his limitations.

It must be so.

Faust said nothing more.

It was silent.

In the vastness of my room, the superhuman man and woman continued their wordless steps.

I wished for some sound.

Something other than the requiem echoing behind us.

“Faust, what meaning does this waltz hold?”

I asked, unable to bear it any longer.

He paused before matching my steps.

“There is none,” he said, drawing closer, yet our eyes did not meet.

With a face as if he was chewing on something bitter, Faust murmured.

“What can this knight named Faust possibly say to Her Majesty the Queen? I am, after all, far from omnipotent, merely a blunt superhuman.”

I responded to Faust without words.

Faust was terrible at everything.

The strength with which our hands were clasped was not delicate like holding an egg, but strong.

His stride was terribly large due to his large frame, not matching a partner’s pace.

Above all, the tempo was off.

Dancing to a requiem was nonsensical to begin with.

Well, regardless, it was terrible.

But this was his reward.

I couldn’t just say let’s stop now.

“I see, you are utterly straightforward to the end.”

Ultimately, Faust von Polydoro is direct in his emotions. This man before me, a lone knight, had been thinking about one thing—somehow.

Somehow to save me.

To save the heart of the Liesenlotte before him.

He had pondered earnestly about the peace of my heart that I had once mentioned.

—

You once prostrated yourself for a 9-year-old child.

You bared your soul trying to save the heart of Queen Virendorf.

You swore a geas to protect everything from future threats.

So far, that had sufficed.

But this time, it’s different.

An awkward waltz.

Even dancing it won’t clear my heart anymore.

You must have thought hard about it in your own way.

Seeing no solution, perhaps you thought at least it could be a distraction.

You certainly solved the case, but you could not grant peace to my heart.

But that’s alright.

Better than a foolish man who dies trying to save everyone—

—

Ah, there was such a foolish man.

Truly, there was just one in this world.

That day, that moment, when I received a letter from the Emperor of the Holy Gusten Empire to Robert and me.

When we were informed about the policy towards nomadic tribes, “It is fundamentally not a crime to kill nomadic tribespeople.”

As a public figure, I responded to the envoy, “Very well.”

I approved everything.

Because it couldn’t be helped, and it wasn’t my concern.

What I needed to protect was elsewhere.

What needed my utmost priority was elsewhere.

It was the Kingdom of Anhalt, the royal family I was part of, the supporting nobles, the country, the provincial citizens living there.

I had all those responsibilities, and nomadic tribes who didn’t belong to the nation were the least of my concerns, not even at the bottom of my priorities.

It didn’t matter where they died, just not in Anhalt, for their dying would soil our land.

If I hadn’t thought so, no one would recognize me as their queen.

I voice my lamentation.

“Robert was a strict realist too. He understood what could and couldn’t be done.”

It’s too sudden, Faust probably wouldn’t understand, but I can’t stop talking.

“It was unfortunate that he could manage most things. Once, Robert asked me if we could save just the nomadic tribes within Anhalt. I strongly opposed it. That was all I could do. Because Robert could have saved them within that scope.”

He was a foolish husband, wasn’t he?

Should I think that now?

Because he’s no longer suitable as the consort of the Anhalt royal family.

A fool killed by those he protected.

I close my eyes, picturing Robert’s face.

I try to hide my face.

Though words leak out, it seemed I could no longer straightforwardly hide this flaw.

As a public figure, I couldn’t compose my facial expression.

But the hand Faust clasped with mine tangled so tightly it couldn’t be released.

Faust gripped it with his strength, not letting go.

Not with the delicacy of holding an egg, but a clumsy strength in his hold.

I give up trying to free my hand and bury my face against Faust’s chest to hide it.

—

“If only everything in this world could have gone as Robert thought it should. If only it had been kinder.”

Such a convenient world doesn’t exist anywhere.

I believed what His Imperial Majesty of the Holy Gusten Empire proposed was an effective measure, and I was prepared to act on it.

“Robert was a terrible realist. But he wasn’t a twisted man who hated this world because of that. Like the one who created that rose garden, he was a man who first thought, ‘Can’t something be done?’ trying to pick up talents shining in underprivileged environments. He was unusually intelligent and sensitive to people’s hearts.”

I opposed.

“These last few days, drunk and sinking into my bed, I dream of Robert. I dream of when I passionately opposed him when he asked if something could be done about the extermination policy towards the nomadic tribes.”

That was perhaps a mistake.

“Robert was sensitive to people’s hearts, realizing during our conversation that I, Liesenlotte, not as a public figure but as a private individual, didn’t actually want to kill the nomadic tribes. Rather, I even pitied them.”

Why did I allow such a thing?

In the end, it wasn’t about the nomadic tribes or Robert, but Liesenlotte herself.

In the end, Robert had seen through the weaknesses in my heart.

“I should have honestly told my husband more about my lower, worse, more embarrassing flaws. Robert was a kind husband, truly kind to everyone. And he loved me. That’s why—”

A tear trails down my cheek.

I voice it.

Words I never said in front of Robert

, I now say in front of Faust.

I should have spoken these words properly in front of Robert.

Yes, Robert certainly pitied the nomadic tribes and tried to save them.

But what he most wanted to save was my heart.

“It was I who killed Robert. Robert realized my true feelings—that I didn’t want to do such things—and he threw himself into the fire of the final solution for the nomadic tribes so that I could no longer touch it.”

Robert truly loved me.

A man who seemed to dream of protecting me from the darker aspects of this world.

These past few days, I’ve been constantly dreaming of Robert.

“I don’t quite understand Robert-sama’s thoughts. If Liesenlotte truly wanted to protect you, then he should have discarded everything else.”

“That might be right. Looking at the results, you are correct.”

Faust’s consolation—or perhaps critique—whether it was sincere or not, was what I also wanted.

If I were to lose everything, then it should have been so.

“But I fell hopelessly in love with that strict realist and kind-hearted Robert. Just as you saved Martina, regardless of our country’s interests, and just like you beautifully severed Queen Katarina of Virendorf’s heart, thinking of it separately. You disdain this country to protect it, working like a mad horse, much like he did.”

Yes, that’s it.

Ultimately, what makes Faust and Robert alike isn’t their appearance.

It’s the shining manner of their hearts.

The flame of their souls.

—

“Ah…”

What my husband, Robert, left behind.

What remains even as ashes.

I slowly remember that.

Anastasia and Valiere, our two daughters.

The talented subordinates he found, the rose garden, and everything else.

These will remain no matter what I do.

But there was one thing I left undone.

Something that only I could address eventually.

“Why is Michael singing?”

Finally, I remember.

Why had I forgotten about that child until now?

I am so foolish.

Why is that child singing a requiem?

“Your Majesty.”

“Why is the child, who Robert deeply pitied and welcomed into our court, singing a requiem?! Answer me, Faust!!”

Faust von Polydoro is not usually eloquent.

Occasionally, he blurts out words in his fervor, but a calm Faust is not like that.

I hear the words he eventually begins to say, one by one.

I see.

The fool.

Did Robert, who treasured Michael like a son, wish for his death?

I forget about my own future and rush out to the royal garden.

Faust follows behind me, astonished.