Penalty Time (5)
The next morning. I'd slept more soundly than I had in ages, and unlike my usual self, I stayed buried under the covers until the sun had fully climbed into the sky.
If Parna hadn't come to wake me, I might have slept straight through to mid-afternoon.
Seated at the breakfast table with the Countess's enthusiastic work instructions ringing in my ears, I glanced around the room and asked where Frey had gone — partly to check whether the penalty was still in effect, or whether it had wrapped up for good last night.
"She left for the academy ahead of you, my lady."
Sorry, what? Frey did?
"What? That idiot swordswoman did?"
According to the explanation, she'd bolted as if fleeing for her life, ignoring even the Countess's attempts to stop her — wasn't it wrong to leave a friend behind like that? All I could manage was an awkward, hollow laugh.
She must have been embarrassed by how she'd acted last night. Frey does have a surprisingly girlish side to her, after all.
My prediction that I'd have trouble finding her even back at the academy proved exactly right. Despite deliberately hunting for her, I couldn't track her down until around lunchtime.
Call it a consolation prize, I suppose — when the sun reached its zenith, it was Arthur who came looking for me, bearing a message that I wouldn't be seeing Frey today.
"That one has never been able to sit still — it's routine by now — but today she was even more worked up than usual."
Before I could ask what nonsense he was spouting, he told me how she'd run off mid-sentence, and just imagining the expression Frey must have worn at that moment made me laugh despite myself.
'So the business you had...'
"Is that all you had to say? Then kindly disappear so I can enjoy my meal. Your face, Pitiful Prince, kills my appetite."
"Regrettable as it is for you, my business is not yet finished. We must discuss what you will carry out tomorrow."
The moment I heard the words what I had to do tomorrow, my appetite genuinely evaporated.
You're planning to make me do something, and you want to discuss it in advance — that's what this is, isn't it?
I've racked up far too much karma with Arthur already; there's no telling what it could be!
This is the guy who brazenly declared he'd give me a true education back in the dungeon recently — and then he went and fanned the flames on top of that!
"If you wish to eat first, I will gladly wait."
'Would YOU have an appetite right now, Your Highness?'
"Does the Pitiful Prince lack empathy entirely? You just told me something big is coming, and you think I'd have an appetite? Ahh, I see. You simply want to watch me eat with a face full of tears? Puh-hut. What a per~vert you are."
"...I will take that to mean we speak first."
Gritting his lips to hold back his fury, Arthur led me to a private room in the academy.
Something he can't let others overhear, is it? My anxiety was steadily climbing.
"Worry not. It is nothing bad for you."
The moment I saw him lean back and shrug his shoulders, my unease deepened even further.
Whenever someone insists it's not bad news, it is always bad news.
"Let us get straight to the point. I will offer you two choices, and you will pick one of them. That choice will become the penalty you must carry out."
I knew it!
Nothing bad for me, my ass!
Arthur, you absolute menace!
He'll enjoy himself watching me pick a penalty, enjoy himself again watching me carry it out, and then when I complain, he'll smugly say, "Well, you're the one who chose it," won't he!
Perhaps my fury had written itself plainly across my face, because Arthur waved his hands and straightened his posture.
"Calm yourself. Getting angry now would be premature — you may do so after you've seen what I offer."
Well... fair point.
If both of Arthur's options turned out to be reasonably decent ones, there'd be no need to blow up at all.
I crossed my arms in a gesture that said go on then, impress me, and Arthur let out a wry smile.
"A prince, even a third prince, is still a prince, it seems."
'Shut it. Just talk already.'
"How long do you intend to drag this out, Pitiful Prince? I'm getting rather tired of catering to your perverted tastes."
"Haha. Very well. One of my proposals is this: for one full day tomorrow, you will serve as my maid."
'...I'm sorry, what?'
"...What?"
"You would simply wear a maid's uniform and attend to me with proper deference. I won't order you to do anything beyond a maid's normal duties, so it shouldn't be difficult."
Having heard the first option, I returned my mace to its original size and set it down on the desk — angled so that Arthur could appreciate the gleaming head of it in full detail.
"It seems Your Pitiful Highness, in his lust-addled state, has forgotten one small detail♡ The penalty only lasts one day, you know?♡"
Forget that the moment tomorrow passes, the end of this mace could crack open your skull and let your brain breathe oxygen directly, and you and I are going to have a problem.
I delivered the warning with every ounce of menace I could pack into it, flashing a sweet smile — and cold sweat beaded on Arthur's forehead.
"A-aren't you overreacting a bit?! Think about it! Even if I assigned you maid's work, how could I possibly force you to do something you don't want to do!"
Arthur protested that he only intended to go through the motions, but I couldn't accept that excuse.
I'd witnessed the true power of the penalty firsthand yesterday, alongside Frey.
My penalty overrides even the Mesugaki skill and compels my actions — and you want me playing maid in that state?! I have no idea what you'd order me to do!
"Fine! Then here's the next one! If you dislike the first, just pick this!"
When I said nothing and merely smiled while toying with the mace's grip, Arthur's face went pale and he hurriedly added,
"The second one is this! In exchange for carrying out a penalty that takes only a few minutes, I will ask you to teach me how to conquer dungeons!"
Huh?
'Come again?'
"Pitiful Prince. Could you repeat that? Your voice was so disgusting I instinctively ignored it."
"I said — teach me the way you conquer dungeons!"
...
Arthur, you son of a—!
If that was all it was, you should have led with it!
What should I teach first?
Where should I even start?
There's so much I want to teach that my brain is overheating!
Yes. Let's begin with the various mechanics that can exist inside a dungeon, obviously.
"Of course, you may be reluctant to give up the knowledge you possess..."
'What kind of nonsense is that?!'
"Pitiful Prince? You're awfully good at talking out of your ass, aren't you?"
When a newbie is begging to be carried, what kind of self-respecting rotten-water veteran would refuse?!
Anyone who refuses that isn't a rotten-water at all!
They don't even have the right to call themselves one!
The rotten-water species are the ones who, when asked to teach someone, show up armed with a full academic thesis and lecture the poor soul until they're sick of it!
'Enough! Just tell me what this short penalty of yours is!'
"I'm tired of wasting time anyway. Go on, tell me what this brief little penalty is."
If teaching a shameless newbie comes with a price, then so be it!
So what'll it be?
Out with it!
A chestnut fist to the head?
Kneel and grovel for forgiveness?
Or should I put on a maid outfit and give you a big moe-moe-kyun?
"My intention was to receive a sincere apology, deliver a chestnut fist, and be done with it."
'Oh, is that all? That's nothing!'
"Puahaha. Was that deliberately scripted too? You really are a small-hearted man, aren't you, Pitiful Prince?"
When the Mesugaki skill forces my words and actions, there are requests I could never, ever agree to — but this isn't one of those times!
I, who can override the Mesugaki skill through my penalty, can bow my head to another person a hundred times, a thousand times if needed! That's what being a functioning member of society means!
"So you'll take the latter, then?"
'Yes! Exactly that—'
"Since you clearly want to receive an apology in such a pathetic, groveling manner, I simply can't refuse. Truly. The way you leverage looking pitiful to your own advantage is impressive, I'll give you that."
"...You have rather a lot of pride for someone who's supposed to be apologizing."
Arthur sighed, muttering that dragging this out any further would only annoy us both, and waved his hand dismissively, suggesting we get this over with roughly and quickly.
His proposal suited me just fine too.
Finishing this quickly beat spending the entire day sweating over whether Arthur might change his mind for no reason.
Having accepted his terms, I rose from my seat at once and stood before him.
Mmm. Okay. So.
Acknowledge my defeat. Apologize for my usual rudeness. Then take a chestnut fist to the head. That's all?
Easy, so easy!
Wrap up the penalty and go grab lunch, shall we?
But the very moment I resolved to do just that and opened my mouth to deliver the customary words of apology, a message floated up before my eyes.
For the duration of your apology, you will be made to speak with complete sincerity.
Made to speak with sincerity?
What is this now, you pathetic Chief God? What on earth are you playing at?
Yes, I understand Arthur asked for a "sincere" apology, but that's just a customary turn of phrase, isn't it?
"What are you brooding over, Lucy Aln? Didn't you say it was nothing? Get on with it. Only then can I deliver your chestnut fist."
As Arthur urged me on with his fist raised, another message appeared — one detailing the penalty that would be imposed should I fail to carry out my penance.
Fine! I get it! I get it! I don't fully understand, but apologizing should do the trick, right?!
Come to think of it, though, I have more than one or two things to apologize for. My accumulated sins are... considerable.
"I'm sorry for always treating you so rudely."
Distant from the throne though he may be, Arthur is unquestionably born of royal blood.
He has overlooked any number of my transgressions, but by rights, he's not someone I could ever dare treat so carelessly.
As things stand, I'm leaning entirely on his goodwill — so this, without question, was something I needed to apologize for.
"You're always helping me, and I've never once said thank you. I'm sorry."
Our first meeting may have been terrible, but ever since then, Arthur has always come to my aid whenever I found myself in trouble.
During the Partran Festival. When I clashed with the Second Prince. When I pulled off my speedrun the other day.
I knew I owed him my gratitude for all of it, and yet I could never bring myself to say thank you.
Even if the Mesugaki skill left me no choice, that didn't change the fact that it was something requiring an apology.
"I'm sorry for always calling you a loser."
Just watching him keep pace with the grueling training I put him through proves Arthur is no loser.
Honing both sword and sorcery without falling behind in either, he is without question a genius in the truest sense of the word.
And rather than acknowledge his effort, all I ever did was sneer that he was a scrub, a nobody, nothing at all.
That, too, was unmistakably my own failing.
"And... *sob*... I'm sorry for teasing you with 'pitiful' over and over, when I know how much you hate it."
I know all too well how deep Arthur's trauma around that word runs.
I watched his heart laid bare from beyond the screen — how could I not know?
Losing his mother, all but abandoned by his father — the word pitiful drives its blade straight into those wounds of Arthur's.
He brushes it off as if it were nothing, but every time I said it, something bitter must have been piling up inside him.
"*Sob*... and... *hic*... also..."
Recounting my misdeeds one after another, my eyes began to burn.
Considering everything I've done until now, I really am beyond redemption.
Endlessly repeating my sins under the excuse of the Mesugaki skill, I'd grown numb to the wounds I was inflicting on others — and now I was painfully aware of it.
And that made me sorry all over again.
"Hic... *sob*."
Damn it. So this is what "sincerity" meant!
Once I sank into the emotion, there was no climbing back out!
The words won't come out properly!
As I kept wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop falling, I heard the door burst violently open.
"Third Prince! We heard you took Lady Lucy—"
"Prince Arthur. Whatever wager you may have made, this is—"
Joy and Phoebe, was it.
Of all times, they had to arrive at the single most misunderstandable moment possible.
I need to explain myself, fast, but the tears keep leaking out and I can't get a single word of it out.
Damn it — when does this penalty end?!
"...What exactly is going on here, Third Prin— no. Arthur?"
"It's not what it looks like! Joy! I have no idea what you're imagining, but regardless — it's a misunderstanding!"
"And would you care to explain, slowly and carefully, what exactly is being misunderstood, Your Highness? In accordance with the will of the divine, I shall render judgment."
"Saintess?! No! Please, just calm yourself and hear me out!"
BANG. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in my ears.
Not long after, Arthur's shriek of injustice filled the room from wall to wall.
Having quietly observed the entire proceedings, I came to a realization — something I'd once heard was true after all.
When the usually gentle ones get angry, it is genuinely terrifying.
...I should probably tone down the teasing from now on. Just a little.