Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: 35. How Can Spring Come Without Winter Passing (1)
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『S-Save me...』
At first, the voice was so faint I couldn't tell whose it was.
And it trembled so badly that it took me a while to realize it belonged to that wastrel.
『P-Please, get me out of here...』
His voice was unnaturally gripped by fear, sounding desperately urgent, as if he were being chased by someone.
I pretended not to notice and glanced around.
The knights and soldiers had gathered in droves, but they were all busy clearing the scattered corpses and paid me no mind.
Only my own knights watched me, awaiting orders.
"Let's head back."
I led my knights toward the 1st Prince's Palace.
『You can hear me, right?』
『Get me out... Please.』
『Say something if you can hear me!』
Even on the way back to my quarters, the wastrel kept babbling nonstop, as if he couldn't bear the silence without someone to talk to.
Click.
I locked the door behind me. Then I spoke.
"Explain it step by step. Make it clear so I can understand."
『G-Get me out of here right now. I beg you.』
He just kept repeating the same plea, ignoring my words.
『Get me out right now! Eek!』
He screamed in extreme terror, then startled himself and clamped his mouth shut.
I waited silently for him to speak again.
『Please...』
A voice so soft it could slip by unnoticed if I didn't pay attention.
『I beg you...』
『Get me out...』
Listening to his whimpering, like a frightened child, I became certain.
"There's someone else in there."
Inside my main body was someone other than the wastrel.
The mysterious entity that had partially awakened my dormant body, incited the young prince, and ultimately led to his death as a traitor.
"Tell me. There's someone else in there with you, right?"
The wastrel didn't answer. It felt like he feared someone overhearing his words.
As if he were glancing around nervously, worried that tattling might provoke something's wrath.
My conviction grew stronger.
The reason the wastrel was this terrified was surely that thing—the entity that had taken over my body and masqueraded as the Dragon Slayer.
"I need to know the situation if I'm going to help you."
I spoke calmly to soothe him.
In this bizarre circumstance where my own body treated me like a stranger, I had no way to peer inside without going through the wastrel.
I had to calm him down somehow and uncover the full picture.
After much coaxing, he finally opened up.
『There's someone else in here besides me.』
"Who is it?"
『I-I don't know. I just hid. It got scary all of a sudden, so I hid. If it found me, I'd be done for...』
Listening to his disjointed ramblings, I asked,
"Then where is it now?"
『It vanished after you showed up. But it's definitely still here. I can feel it.』
No matter how many times I pressed, I got no clear answer.
He just vaguely conveyed that someone was with him, and that this unknown something was utterly horrifying.
My head began to throb.
Something was clearly happening, but not knowing what it was left me utterly frustrated.
I racked my brains in silence.
But no answers came, no matter how hard I thought.
I'd never imagined someone else could inhabit my main body. Even the wastrel's soul settling there had been beyond my expectations.
As I pondered alone, the wastrel whispered to me.
『I-It’s not just one.』
"What?"
『The things in here. There's more than one!』
He whispered at first, then suddenly shrieked in a frenzy.
『There are things crawling around inside!』
『All sorts of unknown things swarming in here!』
It hit me like a blow to the back of the head. My mind went blank.
『Th-They didn't just come in suddenly... They've been here from the start. Since I entered, no, maybe much earlier! I'm sure of it!』
『You can't even imagine...』
『P-Please get me out... Please, please, please!』
『Get me out of this hellhole...』
Once he started, the wastrel poured out his thoughts to me.
Fear, anxiety, suspicion, confusion—every impure emotion imaginable. Just listening made my head spin.
Then, abruptly, his voice cut off.
Sudden silence.
"You there?"
I called out to the wastrel.
"Answer if you can hear me."
But no response came.
I kept calling to him through the night, but I never heard his voice again.
Dawn broke.
"Your Highness."
Lost in a daze on the sofa, staring at the light seeping through the curtains, Adelia arrived.
She froze upon entering and seeing me sitting alone in the dark room.
"Did you stay like that all night?"
What was I doing?
Forcing my sluggish mind to turn, I belatedly realized my state.
Dusty clothes, battle gauntlets worn only at the wrists, clutching my sword in the dim room, sitting rigidly alone.
It probably didn't look good to anyone.
She flung open the curtains and said,
"I'll fetch water for you to wash."
Before I could reply, she vanished, returning with hot water and fresh clothes.
She gently wiped my face with a damp towel, then stared at me intently.
She seemed to have something to say.
"Your Highness."
After a long pause, she opened her mouth several times before bowing her head deeply.
"It's not Your Highness's fault."
Her voice was barely audible, a whisper. Only then did I realize she was worried about me over last night's events.
It wasn't unreasonable.
To others, what I'd gone through yesterday was tragic. Though our relations were poor, a brother's mood after severing his sibling's hands would be grim.
In truth, my mood wasn't great either. But it wasn't the torment she imagined.
I pitied and sympathized, but our bond with the 3rd Prince—who wasn't even real blood—wasn't deep enough for true grief over his death.
"You've grown up, Adelia."
I playfully twirled a few strands of her hair around my finger.
"Y-Your Highness!"
Startled by my sudden action, she yelped and covered her mouth in surprise.
"Adelia."
I stared at her and asked,
"If you want, you can stay in the capital."
She snapped her head up, gazing at me blankly.
"Your whole family is here."
Due to the harsh northern climate, her family had remained in the capital. I'd brought them here out of generosity, yet dragged her north—now I felt guilty.
"If you wish, I'll make arrangements for you to stay."
It was capricious, perhaps.
Something I wouldn't have done without seeing the father's eyes after losing his son.
But in this moment, it was sincere.
I wanted her to spend time with her family until I returned to the capital.
Adelia stared at me.
But her expression didn't seem pleased with my offer.
"His Majesty has summoned Your Highness."
Her response ignored my question entirely, her tone oddly cold.
"Prepare yourself."
Before I could speak, she stripped off my clothes and dressed me in fresh ones.
"Ow."
Her hands combing my hair felt rougher than usual.
"That hurts a bit."
"My apologies."
She didn't sound sorry at all.
I was dumbfounded. And pleased.
The girl who used to tremble at my sight, who followed me reluctantly for her family's sake, now treated me with such familiarity. It was astonishing. My mountain of karma remained, but at least one knot seemed untied.
I chuckled.
Her rough handling oddly brought relief. My heavy head felt a little lighter.
Soon, her hands moved to knead the muscles in my neck and shoulders—gentle and careful as always.
"Ah, that feels good."
My stiff neck relaxed, tension melting away.
The worries filling my head faded too.
With Adelia's help, I prepared to meet the King and promptly left the prince's palace.
The palace was still chaotic from last night's uproar. The servants scurried about with downcast faces, and the doubled guards and Royal Knights exuded a tense vigilance.
It was to be expected.
Last night's incident was mere family treason on a small scale, but tantamount to rebellion on a grand one.
A prince's plot to assassinate his monarch—swiftly quelled or not, the repercussions couldn't be light.
Navigating the disorder, I soon reached the throne room.
The Royal Knights guarding the entrance spotted me and saluted in unison.
They had never slighted protocol toward me. Nor had they shown undue deference.
Just the formal respect due a kingdom's prince from a Royal Knight.
But today, their demeanor felt profoundly reverent.
Whether from my Sword Master display before the crowd yesterday, or something else, I couldn't say.
They were as silent as ever.
"His Highness the 1st Prince has arrived!"
"Let him enter."
A deep voice echoed from within.
"Enter."
The Royal Knights flung open the doors.
Inside were already gathered guests—some familiar, some not.
Bow.
Marquis Villepeldt and the Court Chamberlain nodded slightly to me.
Brother.
Maximilian, bandages wrapped tightly, greeted me with his eyes.
"Hm."
Boys and girls of evident noble blood stared at me intently.
I easily guessed their identities.
Unfamiliar faces, but the Leonberger royal features were unmistakable.
I eyed the princes and princesses before approaching the dais.
Then looked up at the King. He stared back intently.
"I've been waiting a while, and you only now arrive."
His words after so long carried the usual displeasure.
"I hurried as best I could."
I replied in kind, as always.
* * *
Marquis Villepeldt heard of last night's tumult only after everything had settled, quite some time later.
On a small scale, a son's fratricide and patricide attempt. On a grand one, a prince's regicide plot.
A horrific tragedy, a lamentable and irreverent affair.
The marquis couldn't help but grieve. Yet amid it, one consolation emerged.
The 1st Prince had drawn his sword in the dead of night to save his father, quelling the plot.
His prowess drew even grudging praise from the stingy Royal Knight Order Captain, spittle flying. And the father-son exchange afterward hinted at a subtle shift unseen before.
The marquis felt his efforts—taxing his aged body to speak before the 1st Prince of the King's long suffering—hadn't been in vain.
So he hoped.
That the father and son would mend their rift, dramatically acknowledging each other.
Solely for that sight, he dragged his hangover-heavy body to the throne room at the King's summons.
"His Highness the 1st Prince has arrived!"
And at last, the 1st Prince arrived.
The marquis pressed his swelling heart and watched the pair.
"I've been waiting a while, and you only now arrive."
"I hurried as best I could."
But their exchange was far from what he'd imagined.
"Isn't the 1st Prince's Palace the closest to here?"
"I've never visited the others, so I wouldn't know."
"Tch. Seems the messenger to your palace was particularly slow."
"That could be."
Watching the King and 1st Prince growl without yielding an inch, Marquis Villepeldt squeezed his eyes shut.
The father and son hadn't changed.
They still irked each other, still itching to devour one another.
Of course, if a few words could resolve lifelong discord, that would be the real joke.
He merely regretted letting emotions overrule his age. Without false hope, there'd be no disappointment.
"A member of the royal family—no, the eldest son who should set an example—shows no shame before his siblings."
Suppressing his sorrow, the marquis's eyes flew wide. He stared at the King.
The face was unmistakably displeased, as always.
He thought he'd misheard from his lingering hangover.
Otherwise, the King would never call the 1st Prince—a former foe—"member of the royal family" or "eldest son" himself.
"Show such inadequacy as a royal family member once more, and you will be punished."
Marquis Villepeldt's eyes bulged.
No mishearing.
Incredibly, the King urged the 1st Prince—hated like an enemy—to act as befitting a royal multiple times.
And the subtext?
What sounded like reprimand clearly meant forgiveness.
Punishment for one more lapse implied wiping the slate clean of all prior faults.
Unbidden, the marquis glanced at the 1st Prince.
Praying he grasped the intent behind his father's words, he waited anxiously for him to speak.
"A member of the royal family..."
The 1st Prince smirked.
Seeing that smile, the marquis's heart plummeted.
Anyone could tell it was the face of impending disaster.
To stop the immature son from slapping away his father's hard-extended hand, Marquis Villepeldt hurriedly stepped forward.
"Y-Your Highness."
But before his hangover-crippled body could move, the 1st Prince's mouth opened.