Blue Blood (7)
The words left her lips so abruptly that my brain short-circuited. Honorary nobility selection?
“……Sorry if this sounds rude, but did you actually have a realistic shot at getting picked?”
I barely managed to swallow my shock and squeeze the question out. Let’s be real—‘honorary nobility’ was nothing more than a decorative ladder. It wasn’t built for commoners to climb. And Tirsi was a fallen noble to begin with. At this point, it felt more plausible for some dirt-poor kid to study his ass off in a cardboard box, pass the bar exam, and buy a jeonse apartment in Seoul.
“If it were the usual Romanian selection, it would’ve been completely impossible,” Tirsi said, as if she understood the odds better than I did. “But this year is a special case that only comes around once every decade. They’re choosing honorary nobles from abroad.”
“From abroad? How? Wait—why?”
My head was spinning so fast I literally tilted it sideways. The fact that Tirsi had made it all the way here meant the honorary title granted in Narmer-Nile was recognized even in Romania. But I couldn’t wrap my head around how or why that was possible.
“They say the Romanian emperor of the ancient civilized era had deep ties with the pharaohs of Narmer-Nile. Some of that culture and policy still remains.”
“……Ah, I’ve heard that part before.”
─Pop!
An old archaeology fact lit up in my skull like a light bulb. I didn’t know the practical policy details, but the historical anecdote had been in one of the textbooks I’d studied. Back then I’d thought, Isn’t this just Caesar and Cleopatra with extra steps? Not exactly a fond memory.
By the time she finished explaining, dawn had broken. Tirsi shielded her eyes with her palm as if the morning sunlight stung.
“The political reasons behind maintaining the policy are boring, so let’s skip that. Anyway, the current pharaoh apparently decided to award this year’s honorary noble rank to whoever clears ‘a certain ruin.’”
“……So that’s why you came to Romania?”
“Yes. I heard there was an expedition team. I wanted to join them, but they said it’s already been a month? They must have left long ago.”
“……You could’ve just asked us for help. I’m a little hurt.”
I meant it. If Tirsi had asked us to come with her, we would’ve at least pretended to help the future honorary noble lady. But instead she’d tried to tackle it alone like some reckless idiot and ended up in this mess? It was a bit harsh to think about someone who’d already suffered so much, but I couldn’t help it.
“……Haa.”
Tirsi let out a sigh heavy with complicated emotions.
“Yes. You’re right, Nord. It would’ve been wiser to shamelessly ask for your help again.”
“This might be rude to ask, but… why didn’t you?”
I knew my tone sounded a little accusatory, but Tirsi just tilted her head with those big, curious eyes again.
“……Right? Why didn’t I?”
“Uh, hello?”
“I’m sorry. It’s… hard for me to explain it myself either… Should I say it in Romanian?”
Maybe speaking her mother tongue felt more comfortable even though she was fluent in the local language, because Tirsi furrowed her brow and stammered.
……She was more afraid of being rejected than dying?
I briefly wondered if I should teach this woman the concept of “nothing to lose,” but Tirsi wasn’t finished. Her red lips parted again.
It had been a long time since I’d felt genuinely hurt. I put my hands on my hips, but the words kept catching in my throat. I couldn’t get them out.
She was scared we would reject her? What the hell? So earlier when she looked shocked that I might think badly of her, she was actually assuming we’d cut her off the moment she disappointed us?
“……Haa. Tirsi. I’ll be honest.”
I exhaled a white puff of breath into the morning cold and spoke from the heart.
“But—!”
Seeing Tirsi nod along with an innocent I knew you’d say that~ expression pissed me off a little, so I raised my voice.
Fuck. The more I talk, the more hurt I feel.
I knew I looked pathetic, but I couldn’t stop my lips from pouting. How long had it been since I felt this way toward someone I was actually close to? I’d been angry or disgusted at plenty of people, sure. But with my wives, there was almost never any reason to feel hurt—whether they felt the same or not, I at least had no complaints. Maybe that’s why it hit me harder.
The emotion called “hurt feelings” only appears when there’s real intimacy and affection. To feel hurt by someone, you first have to care about them deeply—and want to keep caring about them. If some bastard pisses you off, that’s just anger or contempt. Being hurt is different. It’s a little disappointing, a little dissatisfied, but you don’t want to make things awkward by saying it out loud. You’d rather just let it slide and go back to normal with a pout and some sulky glances. That’s what being “hurt” means. Right?
If some other noble tossed me a single copper and said, “This is your tip, now fuck off,” I could write three pages of A4 paper detailing exactly how I’d ruin that son of a bitch without killing him. But if Minerva or Primor did the same? I’d tell myself there must be a reason and let it go, even while feeling a quiet pang of disappointment.
Of course, even that wouldn’t have hurt as much as hearing that Tirsi didn’t trust us.
“Were you afraid Franc would tell us to keep our distance from you? Or that Larilura would ignore you if you ran into her at the mages’ guild?”
My words were coming out faster and faster. I tried to hold back because it didn’t feel very manly, but I couldn’t help it. Apparently my tone gave away how upset I was, because Tirsi started shaking her head like a wet dog fresh out of the water.
─She froze.
Tirsi had been blurting out whatever came to mind, truths she hadn’t even realized herself, but suddenly she clamped her mouth shut as if someone had stolen the air from her lungs. In the silence that followed, she muttered in confusion.
Our eyes met. She looked like a mathematician staring at an unsolvable equation. Maybe it was the freezing January cold, but the esteemed ice mage from an ancient noble house had turned bright red.
“……Heh?”
Tirsi froze solid like a snowman.
“……Tirsi?”
“Y-yeshet?”
Anyone listening would’ve thought I’d just punched her in the stomach. Tirsi made a strange noise and started fidgeting, stomping her feet. She looked like someone who’d been thrown barefoot into a snowfield—except her boots were thick and warm, exactly what you’d expect from someone who knew Romanian winters.
“……Are you cold? Should we go inside?”
“No?! It’s actually hot! Ah—! So hot—! Am I sweating—?!”
─Flap, flap!
Tirsi started fanning herself frantically. Had being trapped in ice changed her constitution? She really was sweating buckets. Sweating like that in this brutal cold. Had Tirsi turned Russian? Next time she gets hurt, pouring vodka on the wound might work better than an elixir. I’d love to see her chugging an entire bottle and going “Krrraaaah!”
Come to think of it, I’ve never seen her drunk, have I?
“Ahem! Hem! Uhm-hem-hem!”
Tirsi cleared her throat like a diva warming up backstage, trying to hide her panic.
“Let’s end this topic here! I’m sorry if I made you feel hurt, but please just accept that it was my mistake and wrap it up there!”
“Huh? Uh… sure?”
“Thank you for your understanding!!”
……Thank you for your understanding? Her speech had gotten a little weird. When Tirsi suddenly changed both her tone and accent and practically shouted, I was overpowered by the momentum and just nodded. They say the person who yells loudest wins an argument. Schopenhauer, you were right. She stunned me with that weird speech pattern and pushed through. Very ex-noble political skill.
“Auuhe?”
But it seemed changing her speech wasn’t intentional, because Tirsi noticed it too and froze like a Russian whose alcohol supply had just run out.
“T-this is! From when I was little! It’s a childhood speech habit! Don’t you remember?! I talked like this when I was chatting with Maria before, didn’t I?!”
When was that again? Oh, maybe on the day I proposed to Franc. It felt familiar but also not. While I was searching my memories, I just answered in the local language.
“Yeah, I remember. I wasn’t planning to say anything about it anyway, so if something comes up next time, just come talk to me, okay?”
“……Um, Nord, your speech pattern has been a little strange since earlier too.”
“You noticed, have you? I was actually trying to imitate Tirsi’s way of speaking.”
Tirsi clenched her fists, radiating the aura of someone who wanted to test exactly how much stronger her offensive magic had become. So I quickly changed the subject.
“That selection—couldn’t you still try it now? It’s a bit late, but since it’s a Narmer-Nile ruin, there’s a good chance it hasn’t been fully cleared yet.”
If it was a ruin worthy of the pharaoh staking an honorary noble title on it, it had to be the ‘King’s Tomb.’ The tomb culture of Narmer-Nile stretched from the divine era to antiquity. The tombs of successive pharaohs in particular were designed with the utmost precision using every technological resource available at the time to prevent grave robbers. They were so ridiculously thorough that even modern Narmer-Nile, which had lost the location records, found them impossible to deal with. That’s why whenever a hidden tomb was discovered by breaking through the barrier, they’d leave the clearing to adventurers or archaeologists before problems arose. At least those guys wouldn’t drain the nation’s power even if they died exploring.
“No, I’m giving up.”
Tirsi answered in 0.1 seconds, as if she’d already decided.
“I’ve already caused you all so much trouble. It would be pathetic if I still couldn’t let it go.”
“If that’s your choice, we’ll respect it.”
Honestly, the chances that they’d give the honorary title to a foreigner in the next selection ten years from now were extremely low. These things were usually handed out to loyal subjects of their own country as diplomatic leverage or rewards. Still, our party’s goal had been to bring Tirsi back safely. I was secretly relieved, but Tirsi stared straight at me.
What now?
She spoke in an incredibly flat—almost like a clothing store employee recommending an outfit—perfectly neutral tone.
“……Nord, are you not interested? In a noble title.”