Proving My Worth (2)
Part of the reason the Idiot Prince had earned such a vicious nickname was that the man's track record was, in every sense, the textbook definition of an incompetent supervisor.
Irritable and sharp-tongued, yet dumb as a rock — he shoved all the responsibility onto his subordinates while pocketing every ounce of credit for himself. He was practically a museum specimen of the toxic boss, the kind that made you wonder, how on earth did this bastard ever climb that high?
The developers had seemingly distilled every nightmare of corporate life into the Second Prince's character, gifting countless players a healthy dose of trauma in the process. And so, carrying the grudges and grievances of an entire community on his back, he was christened with the name Idiot Prince.
That's not to say the Second Prince was without his sob story.
He'd spent his whole life being compared to the First Prince, which had burrowed a deep inferiority complex and persecution mania into his heart. Family, friends, subordinates — not a single person around him ever acknowledged him; they all saw him as nothing more than a tool to be used, and that only fed the negativity further. In turn, it shaped him into someone self-centered and domineering, with a chronic habit of dodging accountability.
If I really dug into it, I'm sure he'd spill out a long-winded tragic backstory like every other lead character in Soul Academy — but honestly, it didn't matter much.
As long as I had no way to call the Second Prince anything other than the Idiot Prince, there was no way I could ever become his savior.
Let's be frank here. What kind of lunatic bares his entire tragic soul and unburdens his heart to the person calling him an idiot?
"Lucy?"
Frey tilted her head at my silence, but there was no way I could explain the situation to her.
So I just answered that there was nothing wrong with calling an idiot an idiot, and promptly got an earful from Joy and Arthur for my trouble.
Well. Once the two of them realized I wasn't your average lunatic but a lunatic who actually thought before she acted, they decided against talking me out of it — and even offered to back me up if it came to that.
I didn't turn them down. No matter how polished Grandpa's plan was, there was no telling when or where it might go sideways.
From that day on, I kept watching for the moment to call the Idiot Prince by his name. Or rather — the moment to call the Second Prince the Idiot Prince.
It was true that I'd decided to call him an idiot, but that didn't mean I could just barge into his classroom and start flinging the word around. That wouldn't be picking a fight — that would be a formal declaration of war. I had no intention of going that far.
The most important thing in Grandpa's plan was walking the line.
I have no intention of taking your side just yet, but if you perform well, I might change my mind. To preserve that delicate, complicated gap, I couldn't be the one to throw the first punch.
If you wait, the moment will come naturally. That Second Prince fellow seems awfully interested in you.
That was what Grandpa had said, so I went about my business while waiting for a moment that might arrive at any time.
I visited the administrative professor, who stood ready to swallow whatever nonsense I fed him, and re-registered my courses. I dropped by Luka's office to hear how he'd dealt with the Idiot Trio, and collected the materials he'd promised to prepare while I was at it. I sought out Vishy, handed over the books, and passed along word about Velma. I went to Alsaetin and asked him to gather everything I'd need for the second-semester dungeon runs.
Did my usual training. Ran Joy and Arthur ragged. Sparring with Frey.
And then forcibly bathed the face-con fox, who had burrowed into my sweat-soaked clothes, soaked up the smell of my perspiration, and was living her happiest life because of it.
That was how I passed my days — until one of them,
just as Grandpa had promised, brought the moment to set the plan in motion.
That was the day the announcement went up: the Academy's second-semester dungeon was about to open.
Countless new spells had been introduced to prevent a repeat of the incidents that had plagued the first semester, and with the academy now fully confident it could guarantee student safety, the dungeon-clearing regulations were reverting to their original form. The moment I confirmed the line stating that solo dungeon clears would once again be permitted, my fist clenched tight.
Admittedly, I now had people willing to form a party with me, so headcount wasn't a concern — but raiding while coordinating everyone else's movements and raiding alone were two very different beasts.
Any normal raider would tell you the more people, the better. My situation, however, was a different story.
The rotten-water approach worked better solo. It let me eliminate the wild card of other people entirely.
Hmm. I'd already talked things over with Alsaetin, so by the time the dungeon opened, everything I needed would be prepared. If I pushed hard enough, clearing the Academy Dungeon on the very first day seemed well within reach.
I was mulling this over when a commotion drifted in from a distance, and I turned my head.
No. Wait. Someone out there could execute a sea-parting crowd-cutting technique this flawlessly?! I thought that was my secret art, Lucy Aln's!
Marveling at the display, I let my gaze wander toward the source — and let out a hollow laugh when I saw the Second Prince and his entourage.
Every single one of their stares was pinned on me, but the meaning behind each gaze was different.
One looked at me with longing. Another with distaste. One was conflicted. One radiated outright hatred.
And this despite the Second Prince supposedly telling them all that he wanted me. The fact that they couldn't even get on the same page — they really did live up to the word rabble.
"Lucy Aln."
The Second Prince walked straight up to me without sparing a glance for anything else, looking down at me with a smile.
"I had intended to wait for you to make your decision, but it seems even my patience has its limits."
One look at that smile, one look at those eyes brimming with confidence, told me everything.
The Second Prince had not entertained even the faintest thought that he might be rejected.
And one look at the glares from the people behind him told me the rest.
It was the sweet nothings whispered by those hangers-on that had injected him with all this confidence.
"I'd like to hear your answer to the question I asked long ago."
As the Second Prince extended his hand, I took a deep breath.
I'm sorry, Second Prince.
"I'm sorry, Idiot Prince."
The moment the words left my mouth, the surrounding air curdled into dead silence.
The crowd. The retainers behind the Second Prince. Even the Second Prince himself.
Unable to accept that this was reality, they could only stare blankly at my face.
But me — me, who had predicted this outcome long ago — I remained perfectly composed amid the crushing silence.
It wasn't as if I'd started manufacturing scenes like this just yesterday.
The first of the shocked onlookers to recover were the Second Prince's followers.
"Are you insulting the Second Prince right now?!"
"She's lost her mind!"
"Get a little talent and suddenly she thinks she's untouchable!"
"A disgrace to House Aln!"
Under the weight of the cascading accusations, the crowd's murmur swelled into a roar.
Amid it all, the Second Prince's eyes went wide — and then the veins stood out on his neck as he thrust his arm into the air.
Instantly, the commotion died away.
Inferior to the First Prince or not, a prince was still a prince. He knew how to project a certain gravity when it counted.
"...Idiot Prince, you say. Who? Me?"
Yes! You!
"Is there some other prince here besides you, Idiot Prince? Because I don't think there is~"
The sound of grinding teeth rang in my ears, but the Second Prince didn't immediately raise his voice. Instead, he exhaled a long, steadying breath, recovered his composure, and lowered his tone again.
"Fine. Considering your abilities, I suppose I can overlook a vulgarity of that degree."
Huh?! Really?! You'll let the whole Idiot Prince thing slide?!
Was my value in the Second Prince's eyes higher than I'd estimated?! If so, I might not even need to push the plan — I could just glide through this smoothly and—
"—If you enter under me, that is."
Ah. And there it is. I'd almost thought he'd actually let it go.
Then again, if he forgave the man being called an idiot right to his face, what would that make him? A total sucker.
I'm sorry, but I—
"I don't know what you were expecting, but I have no intention of placing myself beneath anyone lesser than me."
I delivered the line I'd prepared in advance, and the Second Prince's brow furrowed. His face flushed crimson; he was clearly struggling to contain his fury.
"Are you saying, right now, that you are above me?"
Do you think you're better than me?
"You thought you were better than me? Well. I suppose everyone's entitled to their own opinion. I'll respect yours, Idiot Prince."
"Enough nonsense. Answer me properly. Am I. Or am I not. beneath you?"
The Second Prince's bloodshot, straining glare was undeniably intimidating — but I wasn't afraid.
I'd been through far too much in my life to be rattled by something like this.
Do you honestly think you're better than me?
"No. I'm not joking — do you truly believe you surpass me?"
"This man called Cecil is hardly so careless as to fall short of some runt who's only been shining for barely a year."
Oh, really?
"Really, though? Because that's not how it looks to me."
At my snickering, the atmosphere around us grew several degrees more hostile.
The stares boring into me prickled like needles through my skin — but I couldn't stop here.
Having already thrown the first stone, the only option left to me was to sprint all the way to the finish line.
The First Prince already lost to me, so how could the Second Prince possibly be better?
"Strange, isn't it? Last I checked, the Idiot Prince lost every single time to the gloomy stalker prince. Me? I won. I did something the Idiot Prince couldn't accomplish even with a life~time of effort. Wouldn't that make me objectively better than you?"
The outstretched hand snapped forward, and the Second Prince seized my wrist.
Nice form.
Judging by the pressure crushing down on my wrist, he had plenty of strength behind it too.
Fitting for a character who'd always sat in the top tier when it came to raw combat stats.
Still, this much?
I could take him head-on.
I braced my arm and held firm against the strength pulling me toward him. Confusion clouded the Second Prince's face.
Resorting to force, are we...
"Pfft-hah! Words failing you, so now you're trying to solve it with muscle? How barbaric. A deficiency of character is a fatal flaw, you know? Oh — you do know what the word character means, right?"
"Do not test my patience. Your father's authority will not shield you forever."
A declaration that if I pushed any further, he'd crush Benedict and everyone else associated with me.
I briefly considered pretending to tremble at the threat — which had roughly zero chance of ever materializing — but decided against it. Provoke him any more and he really would start throwing punches.
Did being ignored make you angry?
"Angry, are we? Does it bother you that a girl whose chest is this flat ignores you completely?"
"...What exactly are you trying to say."
Well then...
"Then prove it, Idiot Prince. Prove that you're better than me. Prove that you can beat me — in the very field where even the gloomy stalker prince fell."
Ding—
The instant I finished speaking, a notification chimed in my ear.
The sound of the useless Chief God issuing a quest.
Out of habit, I turned my head toward it — and
Educate the Second Prince!
"Pfft! Koff! Koff-koff-koff!"
I had walked straight into a trap I never saw coming.