Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Black Cat (2)
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Catfolk.
A demihuman race with the traits of cats.
Night vision, exceptional hearing, flexible physical abilities. And the ability to shift between humanoid and feline forms.
They were one of the non-human races granted citizenship within the Empire.
That much was common knowledge.
The problem was the word "half-breed."
Human-demi-human hybrids were exceedingly rare.
Species differences made conception itself a near miracle, and even if a child was born, most succumbed to genetic disorders before reaching ten years old.
But.
Those hybrids who survived the harsh trials of childhood and reached adulthood...
They left their names in history.
Elf hybrids, catfolk hybrids, half-vampires, half-succubi.
All of them were total min-maxers.
Of course, behind them lay hundreds, thousands of hybrids who died young, but.
His mighty grace, Duke Walter, treated picking bastards like a gacha game pull, so it wasn't strange for him to end up with something like this.
And the girl before me seemed to be a "jackpot" from that brutal lottery.
"Thank you for saving me, sis."
I bowed politely in greeting. Regardless, it was undeniable fact that I'd survived twice thanks to this "sis."
At my words, her blue eyes flickered briefly.
"...S-Sis?"
"Aren't you my sis?"
"Ah, no... I mean..."
The girl averted her gaze. Her soot-darkened cheeks flushed slightly.
It was an oddly familiar reaction.
The kind of shyness Lize showed when facing strangers.
Was she just that type of person? It made sense for someone as rare as a hybrid catfolk.
"You blocked the morning poisoning attempt... and now you've saved me from this assassin. They must all be people sent by big bro, right?"
"Big bro meaning Ernst? Nah, probably not."
"What?"
As I opened my mouth to ask something—
Lize, who had been sleeping by the door, twitched.
"Mm..."
She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Her silver hair tumbled messily over her shoulders.
"Smell... smell..."
"Lize?"
"Knight Order smell... from somewhere... sniff..."
She sniffed the air.
Suddenly, Lize froze.
"B-Blood smell! Kyaaah! Master, you're in danger!"
Lize bolted upright and dashed into the room.
And spotted the corpse sprawled on the floor.
"C-Corpse! There's a corpse!"
"Calm down. He's already dead."
"But...! This smell...!"
Lize approached the body and sniffed it deeply.
"It's the Imperial Knight Order smell!"
"What? Imperial Knight Order?"
I looked down at the corpse again.
Black clothes. Face covered in cloth. Typical assassin garb.
There was no insignia of the Imperial Knight Order anywhere.
"How do you know?"
"The smell! It reeks of the Imperial Knight Order barracks! Special soap from the barracks, training ground oil, and even the mess hall stench all mixed together!"
Come to think of it, she had an uncanny sensitivity to smells.
Last time, thanks to her nose, we'd nipped two counts' rebellion attempts in the bud early.
"...Now that you mention it, you interviewed for the Knight Order, right?"
"Yesss. But I failed."
With her personality, of course she did.
The catfolk girl smiled brightly.
"That little miss has a good nose. For a human, anyway. Yeah, spot on—that exact smell."
Lize whipped her head around.
She scanned the barefoot girl from head to toe.
"C-Cat? Cat smell? You're that cat from earlier?!"
"Yup!"
The girl waved her hand.
"Waaah...!"
Lize's single red eye sparkled.
I was fascinated by the catfolk girl too.
Especially since she was my half-sister.
I'd never heard rumors of a catfolk half-breed bastard daughter in House Krushtein.
"Sis, what's your name?"
"Name? Hmm... Celine. Celine von Krushtein."
Celine sis... didn't have a tail. No, no tail.
Instead, she was twirling her hair around her finger.
"Celine sis... so when you said that earlier, you meant big bro isn't the culprit?"
"Yeah. Ernst probably isn't the mastermind."
"How can you be sure?"
"For starters, the poisoned sandwich wasn't his idea. Sure, he jumped on board when he heard it could kill you, but."
"Then who?"
Celine sis nudged the corpse on the floor with her toe.
"The one who sent this assassin. And the one who ordered the poisoned sandwich. Same person."
"...Who?"
Celine sis's blue eyes stared straight at me.
"Duchess Clara."
Come to think of it, Ernst had handed me the sandwich while mentioning rare ingredients from Her Highness Duchess Clara.
So that old hag tried to kill me?
"Why on earth would that human with one foot in the grave try to kill me?"
At my words, Celine sis chuckled.
"To keep him in check."
"Me?"
"Overinflated ego. Obviously, it's to check Father."
No, ego or not—a princess and duchess of the realm sent an assassin after me.
"So she thinks my existence is a big help to Father?"
"Yeah, pretty much. In that sense, a little ego is fine."
Celine sis shrugged.
"No, that's not the point! Both Duke Krushtein and Duchess Clara are pro-Imperial! Has that old bat lost her marbles?!"
My voice rose.
Les majesty?
Who cares.
I'd barely survived thanks to her assassin.
Twice, even.
"B-Brother's a bookworm, right?"
Celine sis asked.
Her blue eyes flickered and she looked away when saying "brother."
Was this the same person who'd snapped the assassin's neck in one go?
"Yes, that's right."
I nodded.
"Then here's a question. Excluding royalty... what's the profession with the highest chance of becoming king?"
The profession with the highest chance of becoming king. I knew this one.
It even came up in that famous fantasy novel from my past life.
"Adventurer."
Celine sis's eyes widened.
"Right. Mercenary, dungeon delving, monster slaying... he did it all, but he's an adventurer at heart. And Father rose here in a flash. From commoner to duke."
Sis slowly exhaled.
"The only one thinking he'll take the next step... isn't just that nearly dead granny. Half the Imperials are wary of Father. Duchess Clara's the most blatant among them."
"Then why did you save me, sis?"
"Father's orders. He said not to let you die."
A slight sense of relief washed over me.
At least I wouldn't die.
Duchess Clara would leave soon, and under Father's protection, she couldn't act rashly.
But.
"The problem's big bro Ernst."
Not the mastermind but an accomplice—still, he'd clearly joined in when Duchess Clara tried to kill me.
"Honestly, I don't know if even Father will shield you that far. He doesn't interfere in fights 'among us.'"
I sighed.
"I really have no desire for the ducal seat. I just want to live quietly."
Then Lize cautiously spoke up.
"There's a good way."
"What?"
"Request to serve on the Northern Front from His Grace. As a staff officer."
"Staff officer?"
Lize twiddled her fingers as she spoke.
"Heard it from the servants recently. The 7th Legion's staff position is vacant."
Serve on the Northern Front.
That would let me completely escape this mansion—Ernst's sphere of influence.
But...
"A ten-year-old as staff officer?"
"Young master wiped out 543 orcs. And you beat Duke Sylvesta at chess."
Celine sis nodded too.
"Not a bad idea. Father won't oppose it. Might even like it."
Right.
According to Celine sis, Father wanted me alive.
So...
Maybe he'd approve?
"Info solid?"
"150% sure."
Her single red eye gleamed confidently. No trace of her usual drawn-out speech.
I didn't know it then. The true meaning of "150%."
Chairs surrounded a long, wide table.
A massive man sat at the head. Walter von Krushtein.
Ernst sat right beside him. His blond hair swept back, his expression serene.
The other bastards were seated too.
The ones who'd earned military commendations. Excluding me, all fifteen or older.
Their gazes turned to me.
Curiosity, wariness, jealousy. A mix of emotions.
The ten-year-old who beat Duke Sylvesta. That was me.
"Speak."
Father at the head said.
I bowed and opened my mouth.
"Grant me the staff position in the 7th Legion on the Northern Front."
"Hm?"
"I heard it became vacant recently."
Big bro Ernst said nothing. He just lifted his teacup and sipped slowly.
Not a flicker in his expression.
Father raised an eyebrow.
Silence fell.
The bastards around the table held their breath. Someone swallowed audibly.
"You've misunderstood something."
"...Pardon?"
My heart sank.
Did Lize trick me?
No way. She wouldn't...
"Seems the rumor got twisted. The staff position isn't vacant."
"Then..."
"The 7th Legion's commander, Gerhardt, fell in battle. That must've gotten garbled into the staff dying. Maybe they deliberately downplayed the info."
Commander?
Staff and commander were worlds apart.
Staff advised. Proposed tactics, analyzed intel, assisted the commander.
Even if an idiot got the post via nepotism, the commander could ignore him. So parachutes were common.
But commander? Led thousands, decided life and death in battle. No way a ten-year-old could handle that.
"I... misunderstood. Forgive me, Father."
But...
"7th Legion Northern Front Commander. Adrian von Krushtein."
"...Pardon?"
Time stopped.
"Head to your post."
My brain froze.
What?
Commander?
Me?
A ten-year-old?