Roses Have Thorns
With insurance on Asella and no qualms about taking the chief physician exam, there was nothing holding him back.
Yeah, let's think positively about this.
The perks of becoming the imperial chief physician. The pay was excellent. His annual salary would easily top a hundred gold coins. And since he'd be tending to the imperial family? Two hundred wasn't out of the question. Five years of that, and he could buy a mansion in the capital.
Social status was a big one too. In the nine-rank class system, it equated to third rank—on par with a mayor. Even within the palace, he'd outrank the head steward.
And personally, I've got a lot to achieve.
He'd secured a promise of support, so he could build a career as a physician. Being close to Asella meant more chances to nip her bad endings in the bud. He'd get openings to meddle in palace politics, making it easier to prevent his family's downfall.
The downside that offsets all that?
Having to see Asella's face every morning, every lunch, every evening.
Come to think of it, he didn't need the ending list anymore. Just looking at Asella triggered natural flashbacks of his deaths.
She'd make a great living video archive.
Her cheeks were still a bit chubby, baby fat not fully gone.
Whatever. The direction was set, the decision made—no point whining. Time to commit.
The exam's supervised by the head maid, so I need to prep.
The written test was already done, weeding out some candidates. Practical was left. He'd take the written too, but that was a breeze for him.
The key practical exam for final candidates was in a week. Prep time.
But first.
Let's delete this one today.
No. 003: The Impalement of the White-Haired One
31%
A bad ending where Asella gets inspired by the incident of gifting yellow roses to the Empress.
Asella examined the flower crown this way and that. After much deliberation, she nodded as if resolved.
"This is the best."
Asella picked up the flower crown and rose from her seat. She stepped out onto the balcony with soft footfalls.
The head maid greeted her, preparing for the move.
"Where is Mother?"
"In the main hall, in talks with the marquis."
"I'll go see her."
"Understood."
Asella left with dignified grace, not glancing back.
Left behind, Ras turned to Max. The dog lolled its tongue, eyes sparkling at him—the one cotton candy in this thorny hell.
"I'll be back, Max."
He stroked its head, and Max barked, woof.
Along the garden path from the east wing to the central hall. He ended up trailing Asella.
The noble princess had maids in tow; the delinquent trudged along alone.
She hadn't noticed him following.
The Empress was chatting with his father in the tidy front courtyard for meetings, before the main hall.
He ducked behind a willow tree to watch.
Third Empress Camilla von Württemberg.
Her faction wasn't particularly powerful in the palace.
Silver hair. A witch.
She was definitely a mage. Evidence of heavy mana use had bleached her natural hair color to a shimmering silver—the exact shade Asella would have in ten years.
A witch fallen from the Emperor's favor, eyeing our family's power.
He knew the betrothal to Asella stemmed from the Empress's intentions.
Asella stood demurely at the central hall entrance, a bit apart, waiting for the Empress.
His father spotted her first and mentioned her to the Empress.
The Empress excused herself and approached Asella with soft steps. They moved off together, slipping into the shadows like for a secret conference.
Ras shifted behind a nearby willow to eavesdrop.
"Asella, what brings you?"
"I have a gift for you, Mother."
Asella offered the item from her bosom demurely.
The yellow rose crown he'd made.
A surprise gift from her daughter. If he gave his dad something like that, would he score points?
As he pondered, the Empress's cold voice pierced his ears.
"What is this?"
"Yellow roses."
The Empress took the crown. She turned it slowly, inspecting.
"Asella."
"Yes."
The Empress's voice was now icy, stabbing like a blade through his eardrums.
"Didn't I command you to stay quietly refined in the marquis's house?"
The Empress stroked a rose with wrinkled fingers—then snap. She tore it from the stem.
"To interrupt an important meeting for something like this? Unbelievable."
She skewered Asella with sharp words.
Asella bit her lower lip, silent.
"Learn the weight of matters. Do you think I came to this backwater just to pick your physician? We need the Gotberg family's cooperation to seize power in the palace."
So that's why she pushed the betrothal. Common in high society.
Factions abounded in the palace. Nobles always tested allegiances.
His father was a devout believer, weak in politics. Geographically, Gotberg lands were far from the capital.
But looking ahead, the family had high value.
Because it's a healer lineage with high odds of producing a saintess.
Peaceful now, but if the Demon King appeared, the faction with a saintess would dominate.
The Empress was betting on that, coveting his family.
She continued berating Asella.
"So go back to your room and prepare to seduce that idiot delinquent. Perfect match for two fools. This betrothal must not break. Use your body if you have to, keep that fool leashed."
Did that auntie just call him an idiot?
"Or your head will one day snap off just like this."
The Empress dangled the plucked yellow rose before Asella's eyes.
She cast magic—poison attribute, apparently. The rose bubbled and melted in seconds.
The crimson sludge splattered limply to the ground.
Asella watched blankly, doll-like.
The Empress dropped the crown. The roses Asella had carefully chosen crumpled on the dirt.
The Empress turned and left.
Asella slowly bent to pick up the crown.
No. 003: The Impalement of the White-Haired One
31% → 77%
He smacked his forehead without thinking.
Who's the one who doesn't know priorities?
The probability more than doubled.
No—did it rise because he didn't intervene sooner?
His fault?
She's got some nerve.
Fine, calling him an idiot? He could stomach that.
But.
Calling me an idiot? Unforgivable.
He strode toward Asella.
She turned, startled. Like a kid caught red-handed, not expecting him there.
He snatched the crown from her.
Suppressing throbbing veins, he called out politely to the Empress.
"Greetings, Your Majesty."
The Empress turned. He bowed, knees slightly bent.
Her face twitched at the sight of him, then softened brightly.
"Oh, young Lord Gotberg. I didn't notice you there."
"Haha, even from afar, Your Majesty's elegance overwhelms the eyes. Forgive my rudeness in rushing over unshod."
"Nonsense. Thanks to you..."
"However."
He cut her off. Her face stiffened, unaccustomed to such impudence.
Shocking, right? This was just the start.
"It seems our family has greatly offended Your Majesty."
"Young lord? What do you mean?"
"This flower crown."
He held out the yellow rose crown.
"The yellow rose is a specialty of House Gotberg, bred by our founding patriarch himself and cultivated to this day."
Pure bullshit. He didn't even know who the founder was.
"Hm, is that so? I didn't know."
Discomfort flickered across her face.
"And I made this crown myself. The princess was kindly delivering it as tribute to Your Majesty."
"I see... so that's it."
No room for excuses. If Asella hadn't mentioned it was his tribute, it blemished her fiancé—deduction. Claiming she intended to refuse? An even greater insult to his house.
Of course, a marquis house ranked below the imperial family.
But Asella aside, the Empress—out of the Emperor's favor—needed his family.
She wouldn't risk souring ties with his father.
But if the marquis's brat threw a tantrum over the imperial family's displeasure? Talks, betrothal—down the drain.
Even against imperial blood, entirely possible.
He had a notorious rep as a total delinquent.
"...Young lord."
Checkmate. She'd see it as his trap. Her eyes sharpened with hatred.
But he wasn't scared of her one bit.
She couldn't kill him, but Asella actually did.
What could she do, auntie?
Still, stalemate wouldn't end it.
He proposed a deal.
"If Your Majesty accepts the tribute now, I believe it won't reach the family head. What say you?"
"...Very well."
The Empress slowly took the crown. Her nose twitched furiously—she was pissed.
Funny.
"...Not just a delinquent after all. Still, meddling in politics."
She muttered under her breath.
"Ha, really."
Always needing that last barb to save face. Would've ended smoothly if she'd just taken it.
He wasn't the type to ignore provocation.
"Oh, one fell off."
He pulled a rose from his pocket—the thorny one he'd stashed in his coat earlier for safety.
"Take this too."
He jammed it into the Empress's awkward hand holding the crown.
"Ow...!"
Her face twisted in pain.
Fine. No blood—just a good prick.
Her lips parted and closed, like swallowing curses up to her throat.
What could she do?
Grinding her teeth, the Empress finally left.
Phew. Let's check.
No. 003: The Impalement of the White-Haired One
77% → 0%
Done.
A cheer rose inwardly. The moment his beheading future vanished.
Indigestion melting away.
This was it.
Savoring liberation, a tap on his back startled him.
"Young lord."
He turned—and Asella's face was right there. He jolted back, stumbling.
Still not used to it.
Clutching his pounding heart, Asella approached with heavy steps.
Like a horror movie scene.
"Young lord, a question."
"Yes, Princess."
"What's your name?"
She still didn't know.