[No title provided]
“Huh?”
“Peel some fruit for me. Oh, and my arm hurts, so feed it to me yourself.”
No, your injury was on your leg. Your arm's been fine from the start—what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Suddenly sending Polo home and bossing me around like this? Telling me to peel fruit and then feed it to her? And what else does she want to “confirm”?
“Oh? You’re not gonna do it?”
“No, it’s not that I won’t or whatever... Why the hell should I have to do that?”
When I flatly refused, she smirked like she'd caught me in a trap, her eyes curving wickedly with a sleazy grin.
“W-what?”
“You. From what I can tell, you don’t want anyone finding out you’re an Aura Lord, right? Knowing your personality, the second it gets out that you’re a Lord, people will swarm you from everywhere, hounding you—and above all, it’d be a huge pain in the ass.”
“Kh...”
She'd nailed my exact thoughts, leaving me awkwardly averting my gaze.
“You know the Emperor and my dad are desperately hunting for you right now, yeah? The Empire’s second Aura Lord. They’d pay billions to snag you. And that’s not all—other kingdoms would come knocking too, like ‘How about meeting our princess?’ or ‘What do you think of these terms?’ You think you could handle that?”
“...What do you want?”
“I told you. I’ve got something to confirm, so peel the fruit and feed it to me.”
“What the hell are you even confirming...?”
Is she testing how obedient her pet dog is? I shot her a suspicious glare at her nonsensical order, but our lady was shameless as ever, just beaming innocently.
“Fine, I could peel it for you a hundred times over, but feeding you? Come on, Polo was just here a minute ago—why me specifically—”
“Aaaah, the spot where the kidnapper grabbed me huuuurts. If this keeps up, I might just spill the identity of the Aura Lord who saved me—”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it, so please just shut up.”
“Heehee.”
Her face lit up with a triumphant grin. You can’t spit on a smiling face, but right now, I could hawk a loogie at her no problem.
I’d saved her damn life, and this was how she repaid me? Like demanding my wallet after I pulled her from the fire.
Caving to her blackmail, I grabbed a fruit from the neat pile beside her and started peeling it with the knife.
Scrape, scrape.
As I quietly peeled away, she tossed out an absurd question, probably bored of just watching.
“Shouldn’t an Aura Lord be able to toss the fruit up and slice it midair like shwick-shwick-shwick?”
“Have you met any other Aura Lords besides me?”
“Nope?”
“Then don’t talk like you know.”
“So you can’t?”
“...Piece of cake.”
Whoosh!
Shwick-shwick-shwick!!
I tossed the fruit in my hand into the air, swiftly peeling it mid-flight with the knife. Then, holding a prepared bowl underneath, the slices landed in a perfect circle on the plate like something out of an old cartoon.
“Ooh.”
Clap clap clap.
A real man never backs down from a “you can’t?” That’s historical fact, straight out of the Goguryeo watermelon chronicles.
“Behold. This body. Is Lord.”
“Whatever, now feed me. Hurry up.”
Cheeky as hell... But she applauded my show, so I’ll let it slide.
“Ah, here you go.”
“Ahh~”
Crunch.
I popped a suitably sized piece into her mouth, and she worked her tiny lips, savoring the fruit slowly.
“...It’s good.”
“Glad you like it. Sweet enough, or too sour?”
Watching her devour it so eagerly without a second thought, my tone turned gruff despite myself.
But she ignored me, just relishing the sweetness on her tongue.
“Sweet... and tasty.”
“...That good, huh? Now I’m curious.”
Intrigued, I slipped a piece into my own mouth.
“Oh.”
Strange taste. It didn’t look like an apple, but it tasted like one—with an extra tangy sweetness that hit just right. I didn’t eat fruit often, so the rare indulgence felt intriguing.
As everyone knows, guys only eat fruit when Mom puts it on a plate and says, “Eat some fruit, dear.”
“Kinda more tangy-sweet than just sweet? Weird flavor, but it goes down easy.”
“You ate it?”
“Pardon?”
“My dad had it airlifted straight from the southern regions this morning for me, and you ate some?”
“One piece! Just one! Come on, I saved your life—making a fuss over fruit?”
“Pfft!”
She burst out laughing at my flustered reaction. Guess it was a joke.
“Kidding. As if I wouldn’t share fruit with my lifesaver.”
“Then could you pretend you don’t know my secret?”
“Nope. My date got ruined—I was looking forward to it~ Not your fault exactly, but you made the plan first, so you’re not off the hook.”
She’d pin a murder rap on a clerk for selling a knife. Unreal.
“Sigh... So what? What do you want me to do?”
“You know the Harim Festival is in a few days, right?”
“Oh yeah, that’s coming up.”
The Harim Festival was like a holiday. If I had to compare, maybe Buddha’s Birthday? It commemorated the day the world’s chief god visited the mortal realm—a public holiday where people gathered at temples or holy sites to pray for a year filled with blessings.
“As you know, I’m a duke’s daughter. My sister will handle most family duties as the heir, but I still have to show my face as a member of the house.”
“Right. Almost forgot you were a noble lady.”
“...So this time, you be my escort.”
“Me? Won’t the duke assign his own guards? They’d be way more reliable than someone like me.”
“Hehe, who in the world uses an Aura Lord as a mere escort?”
Fair point. No idiot would waste national-level firepower on guarding a young lady when they could be holding the front lines.
“But after all this mess, the duke actually approved taking me as your escort?”
“Hm? No? He hasn’t yet. But even if Dad says no, I’m going anyway—he can’t stop me.”
Our fire-attribute lady, bold as her magic. They say parents can’t win against their kids, and even a grand archmage turns into a frog before his daughter.
“You think the duke will okay bringing me along? To the public, I’m just some talentless nobody. Plus, if anyone sees a random guy hanging around you...”
“That’s fine. I’ll introduce you as a promising talent I’m investing in. Dad won’t care much about you anyway, and no one will suspect anything between us. Don’t worry.”
...She had a point. Solid logic.
So why do I feel like crying...?
* * *
“Any progress on the investigation?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. The leads are scarce, and they’re buried deep in the shadows—tracking them is proving difficult.”
Prime Minister Philemon, the Emperor’s closest confidant. He’d served by the Emperor’s side since youth and remained his steadfast guardian even in old age.
The only non-blood relative the Emperor truly opened up to—and lately, he’d been troubled by one issue.
“...Enough. We can’t waste more valuable manpower. This should suffice as a show of force.”
“B-but...”
“That is my imperial command.”
A middle-aged man with streaks of white in his hair. Outwardly, he seemed a weary tiger—his once-overflowing vigor faded, his claws dulled to the point of doubt.
Yet the profound intensity in his eyes proclaimed his fangs still sharp.
“As you command.”
“Mm. ...I wonder what that child is up to.”
“If you mean her...”
“...”
“Ah, if it’s Her Highness the Princess, she’s at the academy, serving as student council president. Despite her packed schedule, she’s been writing a paper on a new magical theory framework, earning nonstop praise from the professors—”
“I’ve decided her marriage.”
“Pardon?!”
“The Kingdom of Creteia. Their crown prince is seeking a bride.”
Taurus Creteia, crown prince of Creteia—the current king Minos’s firstborn. Not a massive power, but bordering the sea, they boasted strong maritime trade and a formidable navy. They traded sporadically with the Empire.
A natural-born warrior, Taurus towered with a massive build; in his mid-twenties, he’d already reached the early stages of Aura Master—a monster.
But his brutish, eccentric temperament drew mixed rumors. No major scandals yet, but his reliance on brute strength, disdain for the weak, and recklessness accounted for 80% of his father’s sighs.
“But Her Highness—!”
“Enough. I won’t hear objections. It’s decided.”
“...Your Majesty.”
“A year and a half should be enough to build some memories. That will suffice.”
“...”
“Summon her to the palace immediately after the Harim Festival ends.”
“...Understood.”
After the audience, as Philemon withdrew, he sighed, recalling the little girl who’d sobbed endlessly for her father.
“Her Highness... Forgive this servant for failing to defy our lord’s will...”
Philemon wasn’t deeply devout.
But now, he prayed for a divine messenger to save the poor girl craving her father’s love.