(-3) - The Princess Who Doesn't Cry (Side Story)
"Sleep well, my baby, my cute baby"
"May the Demon King protect you in tonight's dreams"
"Sleep well, my baby, sweetly all night"
"Dream sweet dreams of paradise and sleep well"
Finally, I'm being officially appointed as the imperial physician!
Farewell to the days of persecution. Aslan's steps were extraordinarily light today. The previous imperial physician, Isaac Petrovich, had suddenly retired and left for recuperation in a distant countryside, leaving Aslan to fill in temporarily. The term for an imperial physician was short to begin with, so Aslan hadn't paid much mind to such personnel changes. What mattered was that his peers, who had looked down on him before, wouldn't dare utter a word from now on.
The public perception was that serving as the imperial physician demanded utmost diligence, and any mishap with the imperial family could lead to execution. But the reality was different. As long as there was no fault on the physician's part, punishments were merely formal, and one could take a leave and return when the time came. Above all, the greatest perk was receiving an official noble title.
Aslan's lips were already curling up to his ears, impossible to suppress. To top it all off, the patient he'd be treating was the Kaizen Empire's hidden Fourth Princess. Her position was so far from the line of succession that it actually delighted Aslan. No need to get entangled in needless political strife. Live long and thin—that was Aslan's life motto.
"Princess Estasha. If I may."
"..."
"I'm Aslan Yevadov, your physician. I'll be in charge of your treatment this month. Pleased to meet you."
"..."
"May I... remove the bandages?"
Even to the young physician's affable question, the young princess remained utterly silent. Without the patient's consent, Aslan couldn't proceed with treatment. Touching the imperial body without permission was blasphemous in itself, so knights—either guards or equivalents—always accompanied the process. For a veteran like Aslan, nearing his fifth year, examinations in such solemn atmospheres were no longer daunting.
But this case was a bit different.
[Dark Star... why are they here...?]
[Hold your tongue. Focus only on what you must do.]
The emperor's direct special forces unit, the Black Star. And not just a few—over a dozen operatives surrounded the area. Even Kaizen nobles might never glimpse them in a lifetime; they handled the empire's most secretive operations, invisible in the light of day.
"I've heard you have a tumor. To treat it, I need to see it with my own eyes, so please forgive me for touching your head."
"..."
The princess's silence. Aslan finally turned back. One Black Star operative nodded. Taking it as permission, Aslan slowly unwound the bandages encasing the princess's head. Wound perhaps twenty times over, tight as could be. A tumor on such a young child. If it were just a simple sebaceous cyst, that would be fortunate, but a basal cell carcinoma would complicate things. Especially given the location—it seemed sizable, and he prayed it wasn't growing around the brain.
The outer layers gradually peeled away, and Aslan swallowed a groan inwardly.
This isn't... a tumor...
Before he could even be surprised, a masked man thrust a viciously large saw into Aslan's hands.
"Cut both tumors so the remaining height doesn't exceed a finger's width."
"Th-this... it's a horn...!"
"It's a tumor, Aslan."
"Ah... y-yes...!"
Rugged and uneven, but the blade was wickedly sharp—a real saw. Compared to the princess's fist-sized head, the saw—elbow-length for an adult man—was monstrous. Aslan's head spun with vertigo. Am I dreaming right now? If only it were a nightmare.
"Please hurry."
"Hah... hah... yes..."
Urged by the Black Stars, Aslan reluctantly positioned the saw. The princess didn't even flinch. A tiny black horn, no thicker than a pinky finger, protruded. As Aslan pulled his arm, the teeth scraped sharply against it.
Serrrk.
Just a single scratch. The horn's hardness was impressive, but the saw was no ordinary tool either.
Serrrk.
Clenching his eyes shut again, he thrust his gripped hands forward; the blade grazed a crack, emitting an unpleasant sound.
Serrrk serrrk serrrkserrrkserrrkserrrkserrrk
"Hah hah hah hah..."
The thing dangled limply. With just one more stroke left, Aslan suddenly halted his arm. But as if unwilling to allow him respite, the masked youth seized the princess's horn and yanked it out casually.
"The other side as well, please."
The horn's cross-section was etched clearly in Aslan's eyes. A dizzying metallic stench hit him. But the fluid oozing from the cut wasn't reddish—it was pitch black. The viscous liquid slowly trickled down her head, brushing past her eye. At the same moment, the princess's eye blinked unnaturally. It almost looked like... she was shedding a tear.
Aslan nearly fainted at the sight of that black water of original sin flowing down.
"Hurry."
Right, this must be a dream.
"Hurry."
Aslan picked up the saw again. Even as the fluid splattered his face from the princess's head, he continued sawing.
Serrrkserrrkserrrkserrrkserrrkserrrkserrrkserrrkserrrk
Though they'd feared the Demon King breaking the truce and black clouds descending once more upon the empire, fortunately, he halted at the border and withdrew his forces, defusing the crisis for now. Nobles weary of further chaos pressured the palace and military, demanding answers, but gained nothing substantial.
"It's just a stopgap. Hostage-taking... isn't a real solution."
Sparing Princess Estasha's life had bought Kaizen unexpected time. As Valgo said, it was merely a temporary dam holding back the Demon King's wrath, liable to burst anytime. Irogen was well aware.
"Demons fundamentally lack familial bonds. There must be something special about Tenebreia. We just don't know what it is."
"I've just commissioned the Black Star to investigate."
Irogen fiddled intriguedly with the horn.
"The cut isn't clean."
"Demon horns are like bony protrusions—a type of cranial ridge. With nerves and vessels distributed throughout, their hardness makes excision difficult."
"Must have hurt quite a bit," Irogen muttered.
"Fifteen years... that must be the limit of his patience."
"Do you think he'll wait that long?"
"What choice does he have? We hold the cards."
Irogen sneered. Tenebreia, and Estasha. Just what are you two?
The emperor recalled a woman who had come to the palace three years prior. Pregnant and near term, she had requested an audience alone. Trusting only a token from the emperor, she had traveled from the countryside without even a carriage. She settled in the palace's most obscure corner. The child she bore had golden hair, confirming Irogen's certainty that she was the woman Tenebreia had desperately sought back then.
He had planned to one day welcome them openly into the imperial family. But Tenebreia's anguished lullaby at night reached the Black Star's ears, and the emperor could no longer delay investigating the mother and daughter.
Nothing in this world is easy.
The woman who saved him from war's flames turned out to be the Demon King's daughter, and the iron-blooded marshal from his youth now served as his attendant.
Truly, nothing in this world remains unchanged.
What didn't change was eliminated. Erased. Forgotten. The throne still weighed heavily on Irogen. But it was a task no one else could accomplish.
Irogen clenched his fist around the horn until blood welled. For now, he hoped the Demon King would amuse himself with his granddaughter's horn.
"Valgo."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Send a letter."
"Yes? To whom...?"
"The Holy Kingdom of Alpenheim. Include our strong endorsement of their 20-year plan to exterminate the Demon King."
"Sleep well, my baby, my cute baby"
"Mommy."
"May the Demon King protect you in tonight's dreams"
"I had a bad dream today."
"Sleep well, my baby, sweetly all night"
"A dream where the whole world hated me."
"Dream sweet dreams of paradise and sleep well"
"You won't abandon me, right Mommy?"
[......]
"Even if I can't walk, even if I can't see. Please don't leave me."