Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Picking Sides
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The scenery outside the window was changing rapidly.
‘…Inside a train?’
Judging by the speed, it wasn’t the Cyrus Express.
The lavish decorations scattered everywhere made it clear this was Christoph’s VIP cabin.
‘Why the hell am I here?’
A headache like a hangover hit me hard.
No, not a hangover. It felt like my head had taken a solid whack from a hammer or something.
‘Arlen’s group… not here, huh.’
That was when it happened.
“Awake, are you?”
Ah, shit, you scared me.
I lifted my head at the sudden voice, and there was Ragnar, arms crossed, looking down at me from the seat opposite.
“……Where are the others?”
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
Yeah. Right now, what I should be worrying about isn’t the others—it’s that fist the size of my head.
The moment I saw Ragnar’s face, my memories came flooding back.
I’d blacked out from that fist and been dragged straight here. No wonder my whole face was throbbing.
Who in the world just decks someone in the face out of nowhere? A breed of human I’d never encountered before.
I wasn’t thrilled, but the gap in our stations was like heaven and earth. Duty calls.
“Haribal Belder, Your Grace.”
I bowed my head immediately.
“Long time no see, Haribal Belder. First time since that day?”
“I’m honored you remember.”
Flashsword Ragnar Ren.
Setting aside True Nosah, he was one of the empire’s three great swordsmen, alongside Adelin and Killien.
The core of the imperial faction, wielding command over the military as a whole—practically the empire’s greatest powerholder aside from the imperial family itself.
Unlike his reputation, though, he rarely showed his face in person like this.
Unlike Viktor, he’d only make brief appearances at assemblies, and even in the civil war arc, he was described in passing like, “Duke Ren repelled the noble faction encamped in formation!”
“I’m finally getting to thank you for saving my daughter. Better late than never—thank you.”
I’d only glimpsed him briefly when receiving my medal, so I’d figured we’d meet formally someday.
But I’d assumed I’d be summoned, not that he’d come find me himself.
And at that perfect timing, right before Killien dragged me off.
“Do you want to guess why I wanted a private word?”
“……I’m sorry about Lady Cecilia.”
“A mishap from sparring as kids. You don’t seriously think I’d come for you over something that trivial, do you?”
Not that either, huh.
“That incident is one where I owe you an apology and thanks, so that’s not why I sought you out.”
The way he circled around it felt like some kind of test.
Maybe I should throw out a guess.
“……I’m sorry about Lady Senia.”
“?”
Ah, damn. Wrong again.
Ragnar hadn’t even heard about Senia—apparently she hadn’t told him, judging by his expression.
His one good eye grew icy, and violent energy flickered over that pot-lid fist.
I’m screwed.
“……Never mind.”
Thankfully, with his words, the pressure that had filled the cabin eased.
“I’ll deal with that girl’s issue directly with her later… For now, let me teach you what a noble’s code is.”
“Code…?”
“A beaten wife.”
“I’m sorry!”
I slammed my head down immediately.
Wronged, but not really—some complicated, nuanced feeling.
“Half in jest, but the point is, to the world’s eyes, you and Cecilia are seen as lovers.”
“……Lovers, you say?”
“That perception has spread through noble society, so I had no choice but to step in myself.”
Ragnar stared straight at me.
“I can’t just let my daughter’s lover be hauled off.”
“It’s just a rumor.”
“Once it reaches my ears, true or not, it doesn’t matter.”
“But…”
“What matters is that Princess Alicia entered the dungeon with you, and Knight Commander Killien headed to Ronwood Plains in the prince’s name. At that point, I couldn’t stay idle. Get what I’m saying?”
He narrowed his brow as he spoke.
“Pick a side. Clearly.”
Ah.
‘This is it. Your side or mine.’
Ragnar was imperial faction.
But that loyalty was to the imperial family alone—he strictly maintained neutrality between prince and princess.
The moment one of the empire’s two pillars leaned toward one side, the other would collapse without a fight.
In that context, rumors spread that Cecilia and I were lovers.
If I—the prospective son-in-law of House Ren—got dragged off by Killien, the prince’s lackey, and Ragnar did nothing?
‘Ah! House Ren chose the prince!’
It’d plant that misunderstanding in noble society.
So the instant he heard Killien was moving, he’d hauled his heavy ass over here himself.
No one but House Ren’s head could stop the empire’s knight commander—especially one acting on the prince’s orders.
Killien, and even the prince behind him, couldn’t argue with “a father fetching his prospective son-in-law.”
Especially not against Ragnar.
‘Shit, for real.’
I wanted to kick a trash can if there was one.
This was why I hated noble scenarios.
They pulled every dirty trick imaginable behind the scenes over one person.
Dungeon runs were a hundred times less stressful.
“Soon, the news that the demonic fog has lifted and the third abyss cleared will spread to everyone.”
Ragnar turned his eyes toward the rising sun.
“By the time this train reaches the capital, it’ll be common knowledge. Including that your name was in the strike team. What do you think your value will be then?”
“Well…”
“Amid students with flashy backings—True Nosah, the imperial family, the Divine Church—you alone shine as the hero.”
He cut me off firmly.
“The world won’t leave you be. Everyone will watch you, and every move you make will take on meanings beyond your intent. Envy and jealousy will follow you everywhere.”
His gaze still carried weight.
I met it head-on without flinching.
And amid that pressure, I read the true intent behind his words.
“……You’re deliberately downplaying my value.”
“Yes.”
Ragnar affirmed it.
“I plan to omit your name from this strike. Officially, it’ll be ‘The last disciple of the Extreme Divine Sword, the Saintess, and Her Highness the Princess cleared the dungeon.’”
“But many people saw me.”
“Can’t seal every mouth, so it’ll come out eventually. But I can delay it. That’s why I’m telling you to decide your allegiance before then.”
He was right, of course.
The higher my profile, the narrower my room to maneuver.
Right now, I was tangled in octopus arms.
Cecilia and Senia. Alicia and Mine, Arlen.
Richard too, and Adelin.
I’d need to keep ties with Eugene and Lan as well.
Viktor had his hooks in me, and with Killien moving, the prince’s side was showing interest too.
Too many people at odds with each other.
If I wasn’t going full neutral, I needed a firm stance at minimum.
But I couldn’t decide easily.
I hadn’t even settled my own future path yet.
Even in this dungeon strike, Climud revealed a fragment of itself. The church would go full throttle now too.
Too much to think about.
Join a faction soon.
Or else…
‘Form my own… force?’
I needed time to mull it over.
As my thoughts reached that point, Ragnar’s figure caught my eye.
‘This guy… was looking out for me?’
But why risk clashing with the prince just to protect me?
Not even for Cecilia…
Wait.
“May I give my answer to your question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Lady Cecilia… sent you.”
Ragnar let out a sigh laced with a snort.
Across his stern face flashed annoyance and incomprehension at once.
Bingo.
“You knew.”
“Yes. I figured there had to be a reason for Your Grace to go this far for me.”
“No— that you knew my daughter likes you.”
*Cough.*
I coughed involuntarily.
“FYI, the punch was just me venting.”
“……I understand.”
“But the one who truly deserved it was me, not you.”
Ignoring my coughing fit, Ragnar continued calmly.
“I separated her from her mother without asking her wishes, planting bad memories. Then after sending her to the main house, I tossed her a sword and taught her nothing.”
“Is that… so.”
“After my wife left, I’d have given her anything she wanted. But the kid wanted nothing.”
He paused, then chuckled lowly.
“That girl asked me for something for the first time. You’re about to strike a dungeon—make sure no issues arise after.”
Ragnar looked at me again.
“A child who never asked me for anything her whole life made her first request—for you. Couldn’t hold back the punch thinking of that.”
“……”
“And I accepted that request, and now you and I sit alone on this train. You know what that means.”
‘Already under House Ren’s protection?’
“I could pull you into the family right now. But.”
Ragnar spoke softly.
“She opposed it. Said she’d claim you herself.”
“……”
“My daughter has no intention of leaving your relationship as mere rumor. What about you?”
He leaned slightly toward me.
“Picking a side also means this. I came myself partly to ask.”
If I drew a line with Cecilia here, I couldn’t predict how he’d retract his favors.
I gazed out the window a moment, steadying my breath.
To decide what card to play before the giant sword across from me.
“……I feel gratitude toward Lady Cecilia that she might consider excessive.”
“Gratitude, huh.”
“But, Your Grace.”
I lifted my head and met his eyes squarely.
“I believe the answer to that question should go directly to the lady herself, not Your Grace.”
Ragnar’s brow twitched.
He stared at me silently for a long while.
“……I see.”
With those words, he said nothing more until the train reached the capital.
⁎⁎⁎
Ragnar closed his eyes.
‘The answer to that question should go directly to the lady herself, not Your Grace.’
An impudent response if there ever was one. To draw a line like “This is between your daughter and me, not you.”
Behind his closed lids rose an old memory.
The day he first met Seidin.
‘Why does the eldest son of House Ren show such great interest in a border noble’s daughter? What do you intend to gain from me?’
She’d stared at the marriage proposal he offered, so bold like that.
‘Thank you for the excessive interest, but if I develop feelings for you, I’ll claim you myself.’
No—even bolder than Cecilia.
What had he answered then?
He couldn’t recall.
But her gaze, unafraid of him, remained vividly etched in memory.
The way House Ren wasn’t reflected in her eyes—only the man Ragnar.
Just now.
In Haribal’s eyes too, not Duke Ren, but only Cecilia’s father had been reflected.
“I’ll claim that man myself.”
Ragnar slowly opened his eyes.
‘Indeed.’
He dimly understood why Cecilia had fallen so hard for him.
But at the same time, he hoped his daughter wouldn’t walk a thorny path.
That was why.
“You there.”
“You called, Father?”
“Prepare for a formal marriage proposal.”
Ragnar resolved to grant Cecilia anything she desired.
He saw it as his atonement.
After Seidin left, what had he done for Cecilia?
The more he thought, the more hollow it felt.
‘I need to make up for it now.’
As he made that promise to himself, suddenly not Cecilia, but his eldest, Senia, came to mind.
The girl who’d always shouldered the family’s weight in his stead. Hadn’t she too never sought her father’s gaze?
“……Come to think of it, I’ve never even made promises to you.”