How to Become the Dominant Party (12)
I slipped my head aside to dodge the fist hurtling toward it, then took a single step back to evade the follow-up strike. And when I kicked the man's unguarded thigh, the moron rep staggered before barely managing to keep his footing.
Barely three minutes had passed since the duel began, and the outcome was already crystal clear.
Up to this point I hadn't allowed a single hit to land, while the scrub of a rep was already falling apart at the seams. If we dragged this duel out any longer, it wouldn't be a fight at all — just me bullying him one-sidedly.
Had I been the sort of noble famous for refinement and lofty character, this would have been the moment to suggest he graciously admit defeat. But I was no such thing.
"Your legs are already shaking like a newborn foal and it's been less than three minutes♡ Is that your limit?♡ Really?♡ Even a rabbit would've lasted longer than this♡"
The famous synonym for brattiness, Lucy Aln, knows nothing of mercy!
...Well, that was a joke. The actual reason I kept propping up a guy who could collapse at any moment was that he still hadn't breathed a word about whoever stood behind him.
Even as I gave him just enough impact to keep him standing, all while grinding his self-esteem into powder with the Mesugaki skill, he held his tongue. Was he a loyal little dog to his master, even now?
Honestly, I was starting to suspect he'd never had a master to swear loyalty to in the first place.
Even Grandpaemon wasn't omnipotent, after all. Hadn't he spouted nonsense back at the festival and gotten us into trouble for it?
"Hraaaagh!"
While I was musing on this, the moron rep came charging at me again.
Planning a shoulder tackle, are we?
The trajectory was laughably obvious.
I sidestepped him with the smallest shift of my foot and swept his ankle out from under him. Unable to check his own momentum, the rep tumbled across the floor and slammed into the wall with a resounding crash.
The instant he came to, he tried to push himself up off the ground — and failed.
His body simply wouldn't obey his will anymore.
Watching him smash his face into the floor over and over, I was certain of it: this man had reached his limit.
Time to conduct one final interrogation and wrap this up.
If he wouldn't talk, I could always ask the other two. Judging by the terrified way they were staring at me, I'd get something useful out of them.
I strode over beside the rep and ground my foot down on the back of his head as he heaved ragged breaths into the floor.
"Hey there. Hey. Is this it? Is this all you've got?♡"
"..."
"You had to believe in *something* to challenge me to a duel, right?♡ Oh. Don't tell me — you believed in your own skills?♡ You thought you could actually win?♡ Puhahaha♡ Being too cute is a real problem, you know♡ Getting underestimated by a cockroach like this♡"
Beyond the back of his skull, which I was diligently stomping into paste, I could hear a voice thick with pent-up rage — but that was all.
The rep's body had already hit its limit.
Unless a pedophile degenerate Chief God with a thing for getting stomped by little girls decided to possess him, this man was not moving again.
"I mean, it's not like trash like you would have anything to believe in♡ A commoner nobody♡ Martial skills that are totally pathetic♡ Stamina that folds in seconds♡ And a brain that's nothing but a hideous ornament♡"
There. A slight twitch when I mentioned believing in something.
So there IS something, huh? Shall we steer the conversation that way for a bit?
"The only ones who'd ever acknowledge a loser like you are fellow losers♡ Obviously♡ Because otherwise, why on earth would anyone bother paying attention to you!♡"
"What would the likes of you know about that person, that you dare spew such filth!"
Oh? Ohhh?!
There IS something?!
This moron actually has someone backing him?!
Hey, moron rep. That's right — I don't know the first thing about this 'that person' you keep talking about.
And that makes me incredibly curious, you see? So why don't you explain all about them for me in nice, thorough detail?
"How would I know? That person only exists inside your delusions♡"
"..."
Jeez. Clamming up now isn't going to take back what already slipped out, you know. If you start talking, you finish talking! That's what manners are!
Did you sleep through every etiquette lesson at the Academy?! Fine then! I'll teach you some manners myself!
"So what's this master of yours from cloud-cuckoo-land like?♡ A woman?♡ She pats your head when you come crawling and drooling all over her?♡ Ugh♡ Just imagining it makes me sick♡"
"The Second Prince would never s—!"
The moment the rep cut himself off mid-shout, a dead silence fell over the entire meeting room. Same for me.
The name that had burst from his lips was so utterly unexpected that I couldn't stop myself from blinking.
The Second Prince?
You mean THAT Idiot Prince, right?
No, holy crap, there was actually a moron standing behind a moron?!
No. No. That couldn't be. That *couldn't* be, right?
The Idiot Prince loves strong, talented people. There's no way he'd spare a glance for a scrub like this.
But this bastard wouldn't have spat out the words "Second Prince" for no reason!
'Wh... what do I do?!'
This was something I had no knowledge of.
The Second Prince I knew was not the type to take an interest in a nobody like this.
Which meant some kind of variable had appeared.
⟨Why are you so frightened, girl?⟩
'It's the Second Prince!'
If the person this man believed in really was the Second Prince, his posturing in front of me actually made sense.
The community mocked his every move as so boneheaded that they'd nicknamed him the Idiot Prince — but reality was a different story.
The Second Prince was a genuine contender for the throne, locked in a succession struggle with the First Prince. Unlike Arthur, who had no claim to the crown whatsoever, he possessed a real faction, real power — the full weight of a serious contender.
⟨I see. So it seems the Second Prince is the one who orchestrated this.⟩
'Isn't this a disaster?!'
⟨Not in the slightest.⟩
Grandpa was utterly unbothered by my flailing.
⟨First of all, girl, you have already become someone who cannot be touched lightly. Consider what stands behind you. Moving against you over a single commoner like this is simply not worth the cost.⟩
'...It's not?'
⟨And besides, a man like this was never one to be valued. He is the sort who is used and discarded. No one truly important entrusts matters of consequence to such a tool.⟩
In other words, it didn't matter.
Even if I dragged this man straight to the Second Prince right now, the answer I'd get would be nothing but "I don't know him, deal with it yourself."
As Grandpa's explanation washed over me, I could feel the worry that had been choking my mind draining away.
⟨What demands your attention is something else entirely. The intent behind ordering this. Why the Second Prince, who wishes to draw you to his side, would have you harmed. Starting now, you must—⟩
'Grandfather. Could you please just give me the conclusion?'
Way too much is happening right now and my brain is about to explode?
It sounds like you've already reached a conclusion in that head of yours, so can't you just tell me what it is?
⟨I cannot. If it were a trifling matter, perhaps. But when a figure of a prince's caliber has taken the bait, you must put your mind to work.⟩
'Seriously?!'
⟨And besides, there is something you must do for me.⟩
'...A task? Fine. Just tell me that, then.'
⟨Shall I talk until dawn breaks, then? If that is what you desire.⟩
'No! I shall listen quietly and attentively!'
Back when Rab was a child counting down the days until the minstrels came to town, his parents never tired of telling him: honor the nobles above all.
Whatever those people said, they instructed, you simply nod your head.
Young Rab didn't really grasp what it meant, but he obeyed his parents without question. He offered up his reverence before them all.
That is, until the day the noble who ruled the territory he lived in turned tail and fled, leaving the dungeon behind him.
That day. The day Rab's village fell into danger. The day he first took up the sword his father — a bottom-rung mercenary — had taught him to wield, and cut down a monster.
Rab thought: why, exactly, should nobles be honored?
That question hardened in his mind as the years went by.
As his own talent blossomed.
As he watched the son of a noble run rampant like a thug from place to place.
As he enrolled in the very Soul Academy that delinquent had failed to enter.
As he, a commoner, earned the recognition of the Second Prince.
As he climbed into his second year with grades that outstripped most of the nobility.
Through every step of that journey, a single conviction planted itself deep in Rab's skull:
A person's worth is not decided by blood. A person's worth is decided by that person's ability alone.
Had Mane ever heard that line of thinking, he'd have spent a long while pondering exactly how the man deserved to die — but Rab never doubted it for a second.
And it went further. He nursed the mad conviction that he would prove it by climbing the ranks himself.
There was one pillar holding up this belief of his.
The commoner who refused to honor the nobility.
The man who wore respect on his face while despising everyone in his heart.
Rab believed that the Second Prince — the one person he acknowledged, and the one person he longed to be acknowledged by — was watching him with interest.
It had all begun on the day of an exam he'd taken long ago.
Through sheer chance, he'd ended up sparring with the Second Prince. He'd fought the man with everything he had, and been crushed without ceremony.
There was no room for excuses — bad luck, insufficient preparation, none of it applied.
It was simply overwhelming.
A gap so absolute that a hundred matches would have ended in a hundred defeats.
And as Rab stood dazed under that crushing weight, staring blankly at the Second Prince, the Prince had said to him:
'Properly trained, you could become a serviceable knight.'
From that day on, the Second Prince looked after Rab in every way he could.
He had his men supply Rab with money for weapons and armor.
He handed over rare potions.
He gifted him a connection through which he could learn the sword.
Because these kindnesses never stopped coming, Rab was forever searching for a way to repay that debt.
Which was why, when the Second Prince's man came to him and told him what needed doing, Rab had nodded.
It wasn't even a difficult request.
'I hear that lately, resentment toward Lucy Aln has been growing among the commoners. Make use of it and see that she is harassed.'
What the man described were the same petty tricks the Commoner Faction loved to play on minor nobles.
Trivial little pranks that, even if discovered, implicated no one but those who'd merely given the order.
'That's all you need from me?'
'Yes. Ah — one more thing. Should Lucy Aln ever begin pressing you for answers, say that you demand a trial by combat.'
'...What's a trial by combat?'
'Well, you see...'
"Mm. There's nothing more worth watching here."
Rab jolted awake at the voice beside him — but sitting up proved impossible.
Something had bound his arms and legs fast. His eyes, too, had been blindfolded, because even though they were open, his vision remained drowned in black.
"Awake already? You sleep like the dead. And thanks to that, I got to see all sorts of interesting things inside your dreams."
"Mmph! Mmmph! Mmph!"
What was happening? Who were these people? What was going to become of me now?
Even with Rab's mind drowning in panic, the voice of the one who'd bound him remained perfectly calm.
"Quite the fright, hm? Don't worry. Nothing bad is going to happen. You'll just sleep a little deeper, and by the time you wake, you won't even remember tonight happened."
"Mmmph!"
"Oh. Right. Right. I should mention one thing."
Touch our employer again, and something very, very bad might happen?
Having delivered that warning, Karia lulled Rab back into slumber once more.
Tomorrow he'd wake with no memory of the night's events — but those last words alone would remain lodged in his subconscious, quietly tormenting him.
Truthfully, I doubted this man even had a "next time" in him, and even if he tried something, I couldn't imagine he'd pose much of a threat to our employer — but you never could be too careful.
"Your disciple, is he?"
"Already at work."
Watching Alsaetin erase the many spells woven throughout the room, Karia gave a thoughtful stroke of her chin.
Hmmm. Isn't our employer getting a little too popular?