The Shut-In Prince’s Splendid Social Debut — Me, a Villainous Imperial, Have Spent the Last Fifteen Years Fighting the “Wicked Thoughts” Eating Away at My Mind. When I Finally Returned to High Society, There Were Way Too Many People I Didn’t Recognize — - Chapter 11: Encounter

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Mother had told me to “stand out.”

As a result, I ended up “putting a nose hook on a female knight.” —That was all.

“Fugo… fugo… s-stop… stohp iiit! Fugo…”

The female knight flailed about, making fugo fugo noises.
Since my strength was greater, she didn’t seem capable of escaping my restraint. While my right hand was bathed in the female knight’s heavy breaths, I turned my gears.

(This is fine, right, Mother…?)

Even though I had been told to stand out, I honestly hadn’t known what exactly I was supposed to do.

If I could have made use of my original reputation, that would have been ideal, but for some reason that hadn’t worked out, so I had to think of another method. Up to that point, everything had been fine.

That said, I didn’t want to take the “nuisance streamer” route, and while I was wondering what I should do, a “Wicked Thought” descended at the perfect moment.

Truly a revelation. To stand out meant understanding charisma.
In that regard, Yoan’s performance had been exceptional when it came to “standing out.”

Since I was an ordinary person who could, at best, only fight, it was best to leave mochi-making to the mochi maker.

This time, there happened to be a “just right” female knight standing in front of me, so I had her cooperate in the performance. Since she had directed malice toward me, she was “just right” in the sense that my conscience didn’t hurt.

“Oi oi, what’s the commotion? Wha…!”
“Aah? Isn’t that the lower noble from earlier… Ha! To lay a hand on an Imperial Knight—has he lost his mind?”
“Uyu…………………… Eh…………………… Let’s pretend I didn’t see that.”

Various reactions rose from the upper noble seats.

(Mother… I don’t know the criteria for judgment. Do I need to push this a little further…?)

In that case, there was the option of letting Yoan step forward a bit, but…

“Kuhahaha! Ugly! What an ugly face you’re making, woman! I always thought it strange that a crawling insect like you had a human face! As expected, what suits you best is this— a pig’s face twisted by fear, humiliation, and pain.”

…No, that was no good. It crossed the line.
That was a straight path to becoming a Villainous Royal.

I had to keep this strictly framed as a rational “Condemnation Show.”

At times like this, it was best to consult Serta. Yes, let’s do that.

“—Serta, what should we do with this female knight? Repeatedly getting a Royal’s name wrong is something I cannot easily forgive. Is there any punishment that would be appropriate?”

“Yes. Placing Yoan-sama in such a lowly seat, and on top of that mistaking your noble name, is unforgivable. I believe this woman deserves ‘ten thousand deaths.'”

Ten thousand deaths… Ten thousand deaths was bad.

“Just in case, this is a celebratory gathering, you know? …We can’t stain the venue with blood. …Ah, that’s right. How about we take her armor? This armor that can be said to be the honor and life of an Imperial Knight.”

The Tiarma Imperial Palace was financially strained, you see. It would also serve as a way to raise funds—killing two birds with one stone. From now on, I would have to find ways to earn money somehow.

“—Yoan-sama, I believe that is too lenient. If you dislike blood, then allow me to sentence her to death by fire with my magic. If we turn her into beautiful ash, no one will complain.”

Serta said this with a smile.

I was happy that her loyalty toward me was so high, but that was a bit too intense.

“Guh… Gono…!”

Seeing that this was going nowhere, the female knight tried to draw the sword at her waist.
I stopped that hand with my other hand.

“You shouldn’t draw that sword. If you go any further, I won’t be able to show mercy either.”

“…Tsk!”

The color of fear clearly seeped into the female knight’s eyes.

(I hadn’t intended for my social debut to be this dramatic.)

Still, I couldn’t simply cry myself to sleep.

If I was seen as someone incapable of doing anything, I would fall to the bottom of noble society in an instant.

And then, my life might be threatened in a completely different sense than becoming a Villainous Royal.

Unless I showed that I also had fangs, they would squeeze me dry however they pleased, exhausting both my mind and body.

That was the state farthest from the happiness I sought.

One must never allow others to hold the power of life and death over oneself.

It was at that moment.

“————You there, put that person down.”

A voice like a ringing bell echoed through the hall.

For some reason, that voice sounded familiar.

(Ah, this is trouble…)

I immediately understood who had arrived.

I had known that person would be here.

There was no way that girl wouldn’t be in the Imperial Capital during the season when this academy began.

And since Mother had said she used that connection, I had fully understood the possibility that she might appear at this place.

—Naphna Selene Perdraon.

A beautiful girl stood there, her hair the color of the deep sea and her unclouded golden eyes sparkling brilliantly. Well, that made sense. Since Yoan hadn’t done anything this time, those eyes naturally weren’t clouded.

And behind her, of course…

(As expected, he’s here too—Larsen Ragnar.)

For me, he was one of the men I had to be most wary of in this world.

A young man with black hair and crimson eyes stood there.

(Well, it’s fine for now.)

I had thought about various ways I might first meet Naphna.

Since she was my fiancée, I had imagined we would exchange greetings smoothly at the academy or something like that, but to think…

———That girl would end up pointing a sword at me.

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A little before that dramatic encounter took place.

A private dressing room prepared within the Grayash household.
It was a room meant for female nobles to prepare themselves for social gatherings.

Two beautiful girls were there.

One was Naphna Selene Perdraon.

The other was a girl with long silver hair.

The gazes they directed at each other were sharp, and the atmosphere between them was tense.

“—Fryure, what exactly are you planning? Suddenly joining the First Prince’s faction. I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“It isn’t something I’m required to report to you, is it? —Naphna.”

The eldest daughter of the Margrave Grayash family—Fryure Miare Grayash.

Her hair was a pale silver, like ash, and her eyelashes were long. Her fleeting expression, tinged with sorrow, possessed a beauty that even made Naphna think she was beautiful.

The two most famous names of their generation facing each other like this could be described as a kind of “Summit Battle between Women.”

“No. That’s irresponsible. You have quite the nerve to say something like that in front of me. Do you not understand thanks to whom you are able to live safely on this Werstan Continent?”

“…The Guardian of the Great Northern Ridge of Daylago. Of course I know. But that and this are separate matters. It’s something Father often says: ‘If you are a noble, you must show profit.’ Were you truly able to present benefits worthy of the Grayash family lending its name?”

To Naphna’s verbal attack, Fryure responded without backing down.

“I return those words right back to you, Fryure. While benefiting from our grace, you repay it by returning evil for good. Truly the ‘Ice Lady.’ You have neither blood nor tears, do you?”

“My, you certainly have a lot to say, Naphna. Yet you are the one neglecting your duty as a guardian while extending your tentacles toward suspicious groups within this Azellan Empire, aren’t you? The name of the ‘White Dragon Priestess’ will weep, you know?”

“…”
“…”

An explosive tension filled the air between them.

However, it ended abruptly.

“…Pu.”

“…Fufu.”

Air escaped from their mouths, neither of them having initiated it.

As though the tense atmosphere had burst, it shifted into a relaxed one.

“Ahahaha. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t hold back my laughter.”

“Ufufufu… Yes, it brings back memories. Didn’t we argue like this when we first met as well?”

There was only one person Naphna could call a close friend.

Because her “ability” and “intelligence” had long surpassed those of other noble daughters, there had never been anyone capable of standing on equal footing with her.

The first person she had ever felt she could stand shoulder to shoulder with as an equal was Fryure.

“Come to think of it, your fiancé’s name was also listed there, wasn’t it? Will Third Prince Yoan-sama be coming here?”

“Yes, it seems so. …But surely I won’t be able to meet him this time either.”

Naphna reflected on the moment she had heard the news.

Crescella of the Tiarma family had suddenly appeared without prior notice.

To summarize it simply: “Yoan has recovered from his illness, so I want him to make his social debut.”

However, for Naphna, it had been difficult to believe.

“My, why is that?”

“Yoan-sama has always been like that. Even when I visit, he is always ill, and until now I have never been able to meet him even once.”

What slipped from Naphna’s lips sounded like diluted grievances.

Usually, Naphna did not speak ill of others, but in front of her best friend of the same sex, she allowed herself to be honest.

“Was that so…”

“That’s why I wonder if this story is true as well. …It’s not that I particularly doubt him, you know? It’s just that even if he appears at this timing, I don’t know what kind of face I should make when meeting him.”

Those around her called Naphna the “White Dragon Priestess” and regarded her as a woman of exceptional character, but there was no way she could feel nothing toward a partner she had never met for fifteen years.

Distrust. Doubt. Feelings like those.

There was also another concern.

Yoan had been born with the “Revelation of the Hero.”

A “Hero” lived a life far removed from the ordinary.

From the way they lived to the way they died, their lives were dramatically colored.

“I see… it must be difficult.”

“Yes, that’s right. …It’s difficult.”

The reason she described it as difficult was probably because she understood, at least a little, Yoan’s resistance toward the “Revelation of the Hero.”

Losing oneself was frightening.

At least in that one respect, Naphna felt sympathy for Yoan.

…Which was precisely why she was also wary of him.

Because when Yoan finally appeared before her, he would already no longer be the “Yoan of the past.”

“But if you actually come to this venue, and Yoan-sama happens to be a wonderful gentleman, what will you do?”

“Fufu, you say amusing things. It’s not really a matter of ‘what will I do,’ but… let’s see… I intend to keep ordinary sensibilities, you know? So I suppose I would think that I want to talk with him. Gentlemen I find wonderful are comfortable to converse with.”

Naphna was what people would call a “Communication Monster.”

With her beautiful appearance and behavior that conveyed her intelligence, Naphna had polished her social abilities to an extraordinary level.

Within noble society, “Hate Management” was especially important. One had to maintain a distance that was neither too close nor too distant in order to avoid provoking jealousy such as “She favors that house alone” or “She is harsh toward us.”

However, the difficult part was that sometimes things simply didn’t work out.

Even when they didn’t, possessing the fundamental strength to stand out while experiencing various failures was precisely the reason for Naphna’s excellence.

What Naphna eventually arrived at was forming alliances with “competitors in the same field” who thought similarly.

By associating with those near the top of noble society, she would be admired by those below while naturally holding conversations on equal footing with those within the same arena.

Once she reached that level, people—regardless of gender—appeared who resonated with her heart.

Like Fryure standing before her.

That was the position Naphna had built for herself over the past fifteen years.

“…You really are as honest and adorable as ever, aren’t you?”

“My, thank you. There is nothing that makes me happier than a compliment from Fryure.”

As for Fryure, she was often viewed through colored lenses as the daughter of a corrupt lord, dragged down by her father’s terrible reputation.

From the perspective of her best friend Naphna, she wasn’t nearly that bad, but that image inevitably preceded her, and she was treated as an unapproachable figure in social gatherings.

As a result, the nickname given to Fryure was—”Ice Lady.”

“…Until now, I have done everything Father told me to do. Whom to speak with in social gatherings, whom to form connections with—everything was judged based on whether it would benefit the Margrave Grayash family. Today is no different. So when that time comes, I—will simply respond accordingly.”

“…”

From Fryure’s words, an unmistakable sense of resignation leaked through.

Noble daughters were strongly recognized as tools meant to bear heirs.

That was true even for Naphna.

The “Pact” with the Tiarma family even stipulated that Naphna would marry the Third Prince and determine the fate of their children.

“I did not carve out a path for myself like you did. Nor did I prepare another path. Those who spend their time drifting aimlessly have no choice but to walk the single path placed before them.”

“…”

Leaving aside how much Fryure truly understood Naphna’s intentions.

Naphna wondered whether Fryure had heard the “rumors” about Military Minister Serbul Nolla Grotes.

It was said that Serbul had been forcibly drawing nobles into the First Prince’s faction.

Hostages. Debt. Or—violence.

Especially for the First Prince’s faction, which held the “Imperial Knight Order” in its grasp, the fact that displaying military power made it easy to force nobles of a certain level to comply was a major factor.

“Fufu, I’m sorry. Even though it’s my engagement anniversary party, I ended up talking about such gloomy things. Even though you are different from me. …Please enjoy today. For you as well—it is an important day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. …Let’s meet again later, Fryure. I look forward to seeing your dress.”

With a beautiful smile, Naphna left the room.

Outside the room, a tall young man with black hair and crimson eyes was waiting.

“—Are you finished now, Naphna?”

“Yes. The conversation is over.”

Talking with her best friend had been enjoyable.

Although their ways of thinking differed, Fryure’s intelligent demeanor always enriched Naphna’s heart.

“Fryure is truly wonderful. She knows many things I don’t know. She taught me everything—from how to make perfume to the different kinds of flowers. I want Fryure to be happy, but…”

A shadow crossed Naphna’s face.

Naphna knew what the Military Minister was planning next, and therefore she knew the future that awaited Fryure.

It was “information” Naphna could obtain precisely because she was so well-versed in social circles.

“I’m sorry, Fryure————I cannot save you.”

Just that one sentence.

Naphna did not possess the power to save her best friend. That was simply the truth.

—At that moment, a scream rose from the venue.

“…I wonder if something happened?”

“…I’m not sure. I’ll go take a look.”

“No, I will go as well. It would be troublesome if my precious best friend’s engagement anniversary party were ruined.”

The two immediately headed in that direction.

What drove Naphna forward was her father’s teaching:

“Those who possess power should use it for righteous things.”

Having grown up in an environment where she could freely exercise her abilities without inconvenience and without ever being exposed to absolute malice, it was only natural that Naphna had developed a strong “sense of justice” as the result of those experiences.

And so Naphna encountered “That Existence,” as though guided by fate.

Touching the distortion that leaned neither toward justice nor toward evil—

————Was that a kind of inevitability, or perhaps a prank of God?