The Kingdom’s Greatest Fool? No, I’m the Ruler From the Darkness ~The Hidden Face of the Fat Prince~ - Chapter 33: A False Tale of Valor

Chapter 33: A False Tale of Valor

(Leia POV)

Back at the capital residence, alone in the quiet night, I sank into thought.

I had just agreed to be Alexander’s partner for the ball.

That decision brought to mind a memory from five years ago.

A bitter recollection now, but I couldn’t help wondering how much that day shaped the present.

It was the summer when I was fifteen.

I was attending a gathering of young nobles in the capital, alongside other noble daughters.

Eleanor was there too.

Even then, she was the belle of high society, drawing ardent gazes from young noblemen.

Among them, Prince Victor was particularly persistent.

Even back then, he was visibly unhealthy—grossly overweight, sweat dripping from his brow, breathing heavily.

Despite his royal blood, his appearance lacked any trace of nobility.

“Lady Frostheart, would you honor me with the next dance?”

The prince’s voice was cloying, his eyes devouring Eleanor.

She declined politely but firmly.

“I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“Then the next dance?”

“I’ll have to decline that as well.”

“And the one after?”

His obsession was unnatural.

No matter how many times she refused, he wouldn’t relent, circling her like a predator stalking prey.

I watched from a distance. Eleanor never asked for my help. She remained composed, rejecting him with her own words.

I admired her strength, but anger at the prince’s behavior swelled within me.

“Lady Frostheart, it’s a waste to be alone on such a beautiful night.”

The prince approached again, this time trying to seize her hand.

Eleanor swiftly dodged, fixing him with an icy stare.

“Your Highness, how many times must I say it for you to understand? I have no intention of dancing with you.”

Her blunt rejection caused a murmur among the young nobles nearby.

The prince’s face flushed with anger.

“Why not? I’m royalty!”

“And what of it?”

Eleanor’s voice was cold as ice.

“High status doesn’t give you the right to ignore a woman’s wishes.”

The prince’s face grew redder, sweat more pronounced.

His breathing was ragged, trembling with rage.

“You’ll regret those words… I’ll make sure of it.”

He gritted his teeth, spat the threat, and stormed off.

His steps were heavy, clumsy.

His corpulent frame slowed him, making his exit more comical than dignified.

Eleanor sighed and rejoined her friends.

I kept watching, and soon enough, I saw the prince approaching her again.

“Enough already!”

I couldn’t help shouting.

All eyes turned to me.

“What’s that?” the prince snapped, glaring at me.

“Your persistence is tiresome. Eleanor has refused you. Can’t you understand that?”

“A Braveheart girl, huh? Stay out of this. It’s between me and Lady Frostheart.”

“A problem? You’re the problem, harassing her despite her refusals.”

I stepped closer, unyielding.

“Being royalty doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

The room fell silent.

Such defiance against royalty was unheard of.

But I couldn’t contain my anger.

“What did you say?”

Hatred flashed in his eyes.

“How dare you speak to royalty like that!”

“And how dare you treat a noble lady like that?”

As the tension escalated, Eleanor approached quietly.

“Leia, that’s enough.”

Her voice was calm, but her eyes held gratitude.

“Eleanor…”

“I can handle this myself.”

Her strength made me step back.

She was indeed strong.

But I still couldn’t forgive the prince’s actions.

“No, this is my problem too.”

I turned to Eleanor, then faced the prince again.

“Your Highness, I’ve heard much about your tales of valor lately.”

“Oh… of course.”

He seemed momentarily flustered.

The prince’s “tales of valor” were often discussed at court.

Slaying a hundred men at the northern border, fighting a bear barehanded—obviously exaggerated stories.

“I’d love to witness your prowess at the training grounds tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I want to see your legendary skill with my own eyes. To confirm if you truly live up to the royal name.”

It was a clear challenge.

But I framed it as a request to honor his reputed skill.

Excited and surprised murmurs rose among the young nobles.

“Hmph, fine. Tomorrow at noon, the palace training grounds.”

The prince answered with feigned confidence, unable to back down.

The expectant gazes around him trapped him.

“I look forward to it.”

I gave a cool smile.

Eleanor took my arm, pulling me aside.

“What are you thinking, challenging a prince?”

“Exactly because he’s a prince. Royalty doesn’t excuse arrogance.”

Eleanor sighed deeply.

“You never change, Leia.”

“No. I’ll face anyone to protect my friends.”

She gave a faint smile, then grew serious.

“But I’m fine. I can handle it. Don’t push yourself.”

“I know. But that prince needs a lesson in humility—call it ‘guidance.’”

Eleanor said nothing, just shook her head lightly.

I knew her strength, but my urge to protect my friend wouldn’t fade.

The next day, I arrived at the training grounds early.

Young nobles, drawn by the rumors, were already gathering.

Eleanor was there too, watching me with concern from a distance.

Noon came, but the prince didn’t appear.

Whispers began: “He’s not coming.” “Is he scared?”

But eventually, he arrived, trailed by several attendants wiping his sweat and offering water.

“You didn’t run, Braveheart girl.”

He spoke, breathing heavily.

Even a short walk seemed to exhaust him.

“A promise is a promise.”

I replied calmly.

I intended to teach him a lesson through this “training.”

But the prince showed no sign of changing into training gear, just standing there.

His demeanor screamed reluctance.

“Let’s begin.”

He took a sword from an attendant, striking an awkward stance.

It was far from martial, almost laughable.

Snickers escaped the crowd.

“In that outfit?”

I asked, eyeing his attire.

He was in regular clothes, clearly not serious about training.

“Is there a problem?”

He answered haughtily.

I shrugged, readying my sword.

“Then let’s go.”

I took a basic stance.

If I went all out, he’d fall in an instant.

But that wouldn’t teach him anything.

He needed to feel shame and recognize his arrogance.

“Here I come!”

He shouted, clumsily swinging his sword as he charged.

His movements were utterly amateurish.

I easily dodged, striking his back firmly.

Thud!

“Guh!”

He grimaced in pain.

His reaction showed his body was softer than I’d expected—flabby, no muscle.

“Your footing is wrong.”

Thwack!

I pointed out calmly, striking his side again.

This time with the hilt of the wooden sword.

“Guh!”

The prince groaned in pain.

Laughter leaked from the crowd.

His face twisted with anger, and he charged at me again.

I easily dodged, striking his back hard.

The wooden sword sank into his flesh with a dull thud.

Crack!

“Your balance is off. Your center of gravity is too high.”

Every subsequent attack followed the same pattern.

Thud! Crack! Snap! Whack!

I didn’t inflict serious wounds, but I kept striking to cause pain—bruises treatable with healing magic—while pointing out his technical flaws.

Bruises began to appear on the prince’s body.

“Your Highness, this is quite different from the valor we’ve heard about.”

My words stirred louder murmurs from the crowd.

Mocking laughter.

The prince’s face flushed red with humiliation and anger.

“Shut up!”

He swung his sword desperately, but his movements grew sloppier.

It was clear he lacked proper training.

I dodged again, landing a hard blow to his stomach.

“Ugh!”

The prince dropped to his knees.

His breathing was ragged, sweat pouring like a waterfall.

“Get up. We’re just getting started. I’ll give you proper ‘guidance.’”

At my cold words, he stood on trembling legs.

But in the next moment, I slapped his face.

Smack!

“This is for your disrespect toward women.”

The sound echoed through the training grounds.

Everyone stared in stunned silence.

Raising a hand to royalty was unprecedented.

But I didn’t stop.

Before he could react, I slapped his other cheek.

Smack!

“This is for your relentless pursuit of Eleanor.”

His cheeks swelled red, his lip split, blood trickling.

He stood speechless, dazed.

“And this is for your arrogance.”

Thud!

I drove my fist hard into his stomach.

“Guh… please, stop…”

A loud crash sounded as the prince collapsed to the ground.

The training grounds fell silent.

“What about your battle with the wild bear? The hundred men at the northern border?”

Sarcastic questions flew from the crowd.

The prince’s “tales of valor” were clearly lies, now obvious to all present.

“Get up, Your Highness.”

I said calmly.

He remained sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

“We’re not done training. So sloppy! No grit at all?”

I grabbed his collar, forcing him up.

Then I saw tears streaming down his face.

“Enough… please, stop…”

His voice was weak, tearful.

“Defeated by a woman… what a disgrace…”

He muttered.

His pitiful state almost made me feel guilty.

“So you’ll stay away from Eleanor… I swear… please, stop…”

He sobbed, pleading, completely broken by the relentless pain.

“Will you promise to respect women’s wishes?”

“Yes… I swear… just… don’t tell anyone…”

Looking at his tear- and sweat-soaked face, I felt a fleeting pang of pity.

But recalling his treatment of Eleanor, I pushed it aside.

“Understood. Let’s call today’s events just training.”

I smiled gently at him.

My goal of shaming him was achieved.

There was no need to push further.

With his attendants’ help, he struggled to his feet.

His face was wet with tears, cheeks swollen, eyes red.

Bruises across his body seemed to torment him.

“It was… just an off day…”

He tried to salvage his dignity, but no one took him seriously anymore.

“Next time… I’ll…”

Muttering, he left the training grounds, supported by his attendants.

The young nobles watched his retreat in stunned silence.

The “hero” of the tales of valor was a crying coward.

Few believed his stories, given his physique, but he was weaker than anyone imagined.

Eleanor approached me.

“Wasn’t that a bit much?”

She said softly.

“But… it seems effective…”

“Yes, he’ll behave for a while.”

We exchanged glances and shared a quiet smile.

For some time after, the prince indeed stayed away from Eleanor.

*

Standing by the window, I returned from distant memories to reality.

Five years had passed.

Prince Victor, forgetting that “lesson” and humiliation, was approaching Eleanor again.

But this time was different.

Now, Eleanor herself was choosing to attend the ball with him.

Was it truly her choice?

Or was there some hidden motive?

“I’ll visit Eleanor tomorrow.”

I resolved.

As a friend, I needed to know the truth.

And if necessary… another “lesson” might be in order.