Chapter 8

Translator: True Detective

Chapter 8. The Grand Duke of the North

And so, the next day.

A refreshing time when the morning air of the North seeps deep into the lungs.

There is a saying that clothes make the man.

Although it’s cliché, my theory is that the more cliché a proposition is, the closer it is to the truth.

In that sense, clothes are actually more important than wings.

Without wings, one merely falls, but without clothes, one is socially buried.

Especially since wings are an option for some species, but clothing is a requirement for all civilized people.

"Sorry to make you wait."

The door to the reception room opened, and Lucia walked out.

A blue velvet dress that her mother supposedly left behind, fitting for the northern snowfield.

Her blonde hair flowed with a glossy sheen, and her pale skin was now flushed with a peach-like vitality.

The days of fugitive life.

The shabby appearance stained with blood, dust, sweat, and tears, the pitiful creature with hair matted from not washing for days was nowhere to be found.

Lucia Von Astellia, who looked like a soaked puppy, had achieved a dramatic transformation overnight.

Washed, polished, tightened, oiled...

It sounds like a car repair shop advertisement, but it really is so.

Lucia’s appearance after bathing and dressing up was truly a complete metamorphosis.

No, according to the Law of Conservation of Base Appearance, it would be correct to say ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regained her original light.

'Pretty.'

A simple impression flashed through my mind.

'Beautiful.'

A slightly more high-dimensional impression followed.

'As expected of a heavenly heroine. She shone even when grimy, but polished up, she’s blinding.'

The rhetorical flourishes attached to her description in the original work, like 'Lily holding moonlight' or 'Rose with morning dew', weren't exaggerations.

So I should give her a compliment.

They say a woman's transformation is innocent, but a man who doesn't recognize that transformation is guilty.

'You are truly beautiful, Your Highness Lucia. I feel deeply moved as if I am finally seeing the true appearance of the Princess. The dress suits you very well.'

"Finally, you look somewhat tolerable."

…This much is a success.

By the standards of my cursed speech, it is supreme praise.

Flinch.

Lucia's shoulders flinched reflexively.

Conditioned reflex. That sad learning effect proven by Pavlov's dog.

But today was different.

"I will take that as a compliment."

She stopped trembling immediately.

She didn't step back. She didn't run away. She didn't scream and dig into a corner.

Rather, she took a step closer to me.

'Oh?'

Lucia held her head high.

And stared at me head-on.

Chin lifted, gaze looking down, corners of the mouth slightly raised to express composure and confidence simultaneously.

It was a very triumphant face.

"I am grateful for the help you have given me so far."

There was strength in her voice too.

"But this is the Northern Grand Duke's household. It is also my maternal home."

Lucia tilted her head slightly. Her blonde hair rippled and brushed her shoulder.

"In other words, it means this is my territory!"

Like a fox borrowing the authority of a tiger to show off.

Or perhaps the feeling of an elementary school student shouting 'My dad is a police officer!' after going to school holding their parents' hands?

Cute. I'm even inwardly touched.

Being able to state her demands so confidently like that, isn't that proof that she has become that much more comfortable treating me?

Because no one demands courtesy from an object of fear.

The construction of a trust relationship. That is becoming visible.

"So from now on, I would like you to observe etiquette towards a Princess. Saying I look tolerable, usable, or telling me to bark like a dog—such vulgar speech is troublesome. Please act with dignity."

To correct her, I never told her to bark like a dog.

That was Lucia barking voluntarily.

Of course, I won't go out of my way to point it out and dig up dark history.

Because I am a generous man. A gentleman does not touch upon a lady's shame.

Fine, if you wish, I should match you.

It is what I wanted too.

Etiquette? I want to observe it. Dignity? I want to maintain it. Sweet words, affectionate attitude, chivalrous manners.

Because those are the basic accomplishments of the pure love romance I dream of.

Anyway, her demand is reasonable.

'Understood, Your Highness. If my words and actions were unpleasant, I politely apologize. From now on, I will strive to use soft speech befitting Imperial etiquette.'

I nodded in affirmation and opened my mouth.

"Do you think you are in a position to make demands?"

Ah.

This snout must have surely belonged to a traitor who sold the country in a past life.

Otherwise, there is no way it would declare war when its owner tries to sign a peace treaty.

Lucia's shoulders jumped up greatly once again.

"Hiek!"

Conditioned reflex activated.

But she didn't collapse this time either. She bit her lip tight, clenched her trembling fists, and endured.

Acting strong while scared.

A trivial cuteness like a newborn lion cub baring its teeth.

"Uh, th-that, it’s not a d-demand, but a request! A request!"

Her voice trembled as if vibrato was added, but she didn't avoid my gaze.

"A-Anyway, let’s go! Freya is waiting! Uncle will come soon too!"

So you have something to rely on, is that it?

The invincible uncle who must be somewhere in this castle. Ruler of the North. Valter Grombalt.

"Lead the way."

"Hmph."

Lucia turned her body sharply.

Clack, clack, clack.

The sound of her heels was exceptionally loud.

A rhythm that seemed to say, 'You're finished now', 'I'm going to tell my uncle', 'My uncle is super strong'.

I am looking forward to it too.

Northern Grand Duke Valter Grombalt.

The Empire's best warrior, and a reliable helper who survives until the very end of the original work to help Lucia's party.

If I meet him, wouldn't my twisted speech be interpreted to some extent?

Since he has years of experience, he might understand instantly just by looking.

Main Castle, Reception Room.

Freya was standing by the window.

"You came? Finally looking a bit human, Sister."

"Freya!"

Freya frowned as soon as she saw me.

"Why did you bring that black bastard?"

Yesterday she called me 'black thing', and today it’s 'black bastard'.

Subtly, the rank has risen. From 'thing' to 'bastard'.

Since I've been promoted from an object to a living creature, should I consider this a development in relationship too?

"Still… he is my benefactor."

"Sit. I'll give you tea at least."

Freya pointed to the sofa with her chin.

We sat down.

Clatter.

The sound of teacups being placed rang exceptionally loud.

Luxurious porcelain. Black tea steaming hot.

The scent of civilization tickled the tip of my nose.

Having only eaten bear stew for days and facing such an elegant tea time, should I say I am deeply moved?

Lucia fiddled with her teacup.

"So, where is Uncle? You said he went out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for inspection. When is he returning? I have so much to tell him…"

There was excitement mixed in her voice.

The heart of a pampered niece wanting to pour out the hardships she suffered, receive comfort, and ask for help.

But Freya didn't lift her teacup.

She rubbed her face dry once, then let out a deep sigh.

"Sister."

"Huh?"

"I couldn't tell you yesterday because you looked too tired, and I was afraid you'd be shocked."

An ominous opening.

Usually, devastating information follows such an opening.

"Father."

Freya bit her lip. Hard enough for blood to well up.

"Has gone missing."

"……Huh?"

Lucia's eyes widened into circles. Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

"Missing? Uncle? Ey, it’s a joke, right? Did he get lost? The northern snowfield is vast, so that could happen, haha…"

Lucia herself must know it’s not a joke.

But humans originally have a habit of escaping into jokes in front of reality they don't want to accept.

"It was a few weeks ago."

Freya's voice was dry.

"Deep in the North, beyond the 'Glacier of Lamentation', an anomaly was detected. The demonic beasts… were different from usual. Too many, organized, and ones we've never seen before poured out."

"S-So?"

"Father led the warrior corps and went out personally saying he would investigate it. But…"

Freya clenched her fist tight.

"Contact was lost. No magic communication, no messengers, no return stone reaction. The 1st search party was annihilated and couldn't even find bodies. The 2nd search party… couldn't even breach the entrance and returned."

Blood drained from Lucia's face like a receding tide.

"That can't be… Uncle is… the North's strongest warrior… That can't be…"

"It’s true. The Grand Duke's house right now is practically… in a state of command vacuum."

"Lies…"

Lucia covered her mouth with trembling hands.

Her gaze wandered.

Looking at the ceiling, looking at the floor, looking at Freya, and…

Her eyes met mine.

My red glint shining through the helmet slits and her terrified green pupils entangled in mid-air.

For a moment, I felt like I could hear the sound of a calculator running in Lucia's mind.

"H-Hiek…!"

She knocked over the teacup and jumped up.

"E-Excuse me! Knight-nim! That thing earlier! I mean! Etiquette! What that meant was!"

Lucia flailed her hands in the air. Her pupils shook as if an earthquake had hit.

"It-It was a joke! Northern humor! Please be comfortable! You can speak informally too! I don't care about etiquette at all! Yes! We are close, right? We are quite close, right?"

Lucia trembled and watched my reaction.

Where did the majestic Princess go, who held her head high asking to 'maintain dignity' just 10 minutes ago?

It seems survival instinct crushed dignity this time too.

Dignity Record: 0 Wins 3 Losses.

Overwhelming inferiority.

Freya looked at us alternately with a dumbfounded expression.

"……Sister, seriously what is it, what is your relationship with that man?"

"N-Nothing at all!"

"If it’s nothing, why are you walking on eggshells like that?"

"Th-That is…"

"Are you really being threatened with something? Tell me honestly, Sister. Shall I cut off that bastard's head?"

"I said no!"

'…….'

Should I laugh or cry at this.

Lucia's desperate antics are cute.

But right now, my mind was complicated.

'Strange.'

The original novel 'The Owner of the Thorn Crown'.

There, Valter Grombalt is called the 'Sentinel of the Northern Wall' and was a core power blocking the offensive of the Evil God in the final battle.

A character who supports the North until the characters grow, and becomes Lucia's reliable sponsor.

But missing? And in the very early stages?

'Something is wrong.'

Is it the Butterfly Effect? Because I possessed this body? But I just stayed quietly in the North?

I didn't even touch the original events.

I just caught bears in the snowfield, cooked stew, and waited for the Princess.

'Do not step forward needlessly.''Respect the original flow.''Do not eat future benefits recklessly.'

I pride myself on having faithfully followed the 3 principles of a possessor.

'……Don't tell me my possession itself is the problem?'

What was the Black Knight doing at this point in the original work?

I searched my memory.

……I don't know.

Because in the original work, the Black Knight appears in earnest only around Part 4.

It was never described what he was doing before that.

He must have just been waiting somewhere for the resurrection of the Evil God. Like a mid-boss.

"……."

As I remained silent, Lucia trembled more violently and watched my reaction.

"E-Excuse me… are you angry…? Sh-Shall I bark…?"

No, please, maintain the dignity of a Princess a little bit.

The road to a happy ending seems much rougher than I thought.