A Roommate Who Is Not Human
"If there's a next life, I'm definitely going to be born as Duke Randert's daughter!"
Princess Grace's voice rang out with such conviction that it sounded like pure, one-hundred-percent sincerity—not a shred of pretense in it.
"Princess Grace, forgive my presumption, but compared to Your Highness, young master Bayul can hardly be called fortunate. Are you not the Imperial Princess, born the daughter of His Majesty the Emperor? The people of the world would envy Princess Grace far more than they envy Bayul."
"It seems young master Jared simply doesn't know any better."
"...Pardon?"
"Do you have any idea who Duke Randert is? He's the hero of this nation, the first man in imperial history ever to reach the rank of Sword Meister, an absolute powerhouse of the continent. Tens of thousands of knights serve and follow him as their liege. In a sense, he wields even greater power than His Majesty the Emperor himself."
"Grace!"
"I know, big brother. I shouldn't say such things. But let me add just one more thing. The reason I adore Duke Randert is that, despite all that power, he serves the Emperor with complete sincerity. If he were an arrogant man, he would have made trouble for the crown long ago. He's someone who truly knows how to use his strength properly. That's exactly why I said I envy Bayul—he's the son of such a man."
Do you understand?
Princess Grace's gaze was razor-sharp. She had flared up because it felt as though the Duke she worshiped so devotedly was being slighted—and from Jared's perspective, the accusation felt hopelessly unfair. All he had done was offer a polite reminder to a foolish princess who seemed to have briefly forgotten her station. What crime was there in that?
He had seen plenty of noble ladies fawn over Duke Randert over the years, but this bordered on pathological. That wretched princess brought up the Duke at every spare moment, to the point where he barely had time to speak with Princess Hwiwol at all.
What's so great about Duke Randert anyway!
If it hadn't been the princess, he would have crushed her long ago. That was his one great regret.
"Grace, what young master Jared means is that you were born blessed with fortune every bit as great as Bayul's. He certainly wasn't trying to demean Duke Randert. Isn't that right, young master Jared?"
"...That's right! If my clumsy words upset you, Your Highness, I apologize."
"Really? Well, if it was all a misunderstanding, I'll let it go."
"By the way, Princess Hwiwol—do you find the imperial tongue difficult?"
Nothing turns a sinking mood quite like a change of subject. Sederio seized the moment and cut in.
"To be honest, this is a secret, but my head has been starting to ache a little for some time now."
"Oh dear, is that so?"
"I've studied it since I was young, but conversing in the imperial tongue is never easy. The pronunciation, especially, is the hardest part."
"I had no idea—your command of it is so flawless. To think your head aches from the effort of it... Your Highness, Crown Prince."
Suddenly Sederio turned toward the Crown Prince. What flowed from his lips then was not the common imperial tongue, but the language of the Ga Kingdom.
"Might I suggest we use the Ga language for a short while, for Princess Hwiwol's sake? She is a precious guest who has traveled a great distance, and it seems only proper that we aid her in some small way."
"Sederio, you're already speaking the Ga language—what exactly are you asking permission for? What difference would my approval make?"
"My apologies if that was presumptuous. I know well of Your Highness's skill in the Ga tongue, so I spoke without thinking..."
"When it comes to the Ga language, Sederio is better at it than I am."
Does he think I can't see right through him?
Kansas, Sederio's hometown, was a city that bordered the Ga Kingdom. Born and raised in a place where trade with the Ga flowed constantly, it would be stranger if Sederio couldn't speak the language. Bayul had noticed long ago that the man was showing interest in Princess Hwiwol. He was clearly trying to show off his linguistic skill—and if he thought that would actually work, the fool was hopeless.
He really doesn't know the first thing about Princess Hwiwol.
"You flatter me, Your Highness. I merely imitate what I've heard."
For all his modest words, Sederio's face was swelling with pride. It had been irritating him, watching all the attention gather around Bayul, but this should win back at least some of it.
Heh. The way Princess Hwiwol looks at me will change now.
"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, young master Sederio. It feels wonderful to speak the Ga tongue again after so long."
When Princess Hwiwol offered her gratitude, Sederio smiled so wide his face nearly split. Jared, on the other hand, looked as though he'd bitten into something foul.
"Young master Jared? Are you feeling unwell?"
"...N-no, not at all."
"You look pale. Would you like another cup of warm tea?"
"Ah, well, that is..."
Princess Hwiwol was reaching for the teapot to pour him a cup herself when—
"Don't tell me you can't understand the Ga language?"
At his friend's question, both of Jared's cheeks flared crimson.
"Ah, sorry. I had no idea."
He didn't know? HIM?
No one knew better than Jared how impossible that was. Using him, of all people, just to make himself look good?
That sneaking little rat! I won't let this go!
But right now, the humiliation came first. To be made a fool of in front of Princess Hwiwol of all people—tearing Sederio limb from limb wouldn't have been enough to settle it.
"What about you, Bayul? You can speak in the Ga language too, of course. Of. Course. Right?"
"Yes, though not especially well."
"Doesn't Carrington Academy offer Ga language courses?"
"It does."
"Really? Then why can't this guy manage it?"
"Languages are elective subjects, so what each student studies isn't the same. That's probably the reason."
Even if a man couldn't speak the Ga language, he wasn't so oblivious that he couldn't follow along. Jared had a more than sufficient picture of what the conversation swirling around him actually meant. Barely holding back a curse, he glared daggers at Sederio.
"...By the way, why do you keep speaking the imperial tongue?"
Sederio asked, dodging Jared's murderous stare. Internally, he was doubting Bayul's grasp of the Ga language. The man answered every question smoothly enough, but responding in the imperial tongue was suspicious. Could he understand it but not speak it?
"I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to use the Ga language as well."
"Appropriate? What do you mean?"
"I believed that in a gathering like this, everyone should speak a language that all present can understand."
If even a single person in the group cannot understand a language, it is right not to use it. Considering the humiliation and hurt the one excluded would suffer, it was only obvious. Even if the excluded party happened to be a nuisance like Jared. This was a matter of common sense—of basic courtesy.
"Young master Bayul is right. We might have made young master Jared feel left out, and we failed to consider that."
"N-no, not at all! I'm perfectly fine!"
Jared denied it vehemently, though he was anything but fine.
Bayul, how dare you pity ME?
If Bayul had simply responded to a few lines in the Ga language and left it at that, the matter would have passed quietly. Instead, because of him, it had ballooned until the fact that Jared couldn't speak the language was more glaring than ever. Bayul acted as if he were looking out for him, but in the end, this was just another performance to make himself shine. The thought made Jared's blood boil.
"I think Bayul is right as well. Let's set the Ga language aside for the next opportunity and return to the imperial tongue for now."
"Yes! Agreed! I nearly suffocated to death!"
Princess Grace, who had been quietly sipping her tea ever since the Ga language made its appearance, thrust her hand into the air as if she'd come back to life.
"Grace, come to think of it, you haven't said a single word. Were you lying about studying the Ga language so hard lately?"
"No, I really did study hard. The problem is that I seem to have zero talent for it."
"Talent?"
"Ugh, it's so HARD! Whenever it's time to study the Ga language, it feels like a temple bell is ringing inside my skull. Where am I? Who am I? That's the feeling."
"Grace, has there ever been anything you found difficult?"
"Big brother, you're not wrong in general, but the Ga language is especially bad, I'm telling you? I really do seem to have a hopeless aptitude for foreign languages."
Grace grumbled under her breath at her brother's merciless remark.
"Honestly, I don't know how lucky I am to have been born a princess. If I'd been born into a noble family, I'd have been dragged off to the Academy with no choice in the matter, doing nothing but study. Ugh, it's horrifying just to think about!"
"Weren't you just saying you wanted to be born as Duke Randert's daughter in your next life?"
"The Duke is obviously the exception! If I could be born as his daughter, there's nothing I wouldn't endure! And big brother, are you going to keep nitpicking everything I say? Hm?"
"I was merely pointing out the contradiction in your words, as your loving elder brother."
"Ugh, I SAID he's an exception, what contradiction! The point is that I'm incredibly lucky I don't have to go to the Academy!"
"I would like to go. Carrington Academy, especially."
"Oh? Hwiwol, what did you say?"
"Carrington. I've always been curious about it. They say the atmosphere is completely different from the capital, don't they? I've heard it's the most dynamic, most vibrant city in the entire Empire. Is that really true, young master Jared?"
Jared had just barely managed to smother the fury still simmering inside him. Hoping to claw back the points he'd lost, he put a pleasant smile on his face and answered readily.
"Yes, Princess Hwiwol. It's a very different place indeed. Do you have any idea how much cargo passes through Carrington's port in a single day?"
"...Quite a lot, I'd imagine?"
"Haha, yes. That's right. The problem—if you can call it a problem—is that no one could ever count it all. And there are even more people than there is cargo. It's a place the people of the Ga Kingdom see often enough themselves."
"Because so many different people from every nation of the world gather there, a natural exchange of cultures took root, and over time it developed into a character entirely Carrington's own. It's a place where you can experience the whole world without ever leaving the Empire. That's why, once upon a time, I dreamed of attending Carrington Academy myself."
At the Crown Prince's added explanation, Jared's shoulders swelled with pride. It still sent a chill through him, having to bury himself out there for four whole years—but at moments like this, it felt rather good. The label of Carrington Academy graduate was a tool that served him well even now, and would serve him well in the future too.
"There is the drawback of dormitory life, of course, but I learn a great deal there, so I'm satisfied. Should you ever find yourself in Carrington, please do let me know. I would be delighted to show you around."
"Is living in the dormitories unpleasant? I don't quite understand why you'd call it a drawback..."
"Sharing a single room with a friend does inevitably come with its inconveniences. Still, I have it better than Bayul does. At the very least, my roommate is a fellow human being."
"...Do you mean that young master Bayul's roommate is not human?"
"That's right. His roommate is of the merfolk race. Come to study, I suppose, from some backward little country. I honestly can't fathom why the Academy admitted the fellow in the first place. He should be groveling at our feet, and instead he struts around with insolence to spare—it's simply pitiable for Bayul, who has to share a room with him."
He looked at Bayul with what seemed like genuine sympathy, but his eyes brimmed with scorn.
So that warning was useless after all.
Anger unlike anything he had felt before surged up in Bayul as he watched Jared degrade Quinn even here, in company like this. Framing Aidan as a thief, the incident at the night market—every incident, great and small, had always begun with this man. Not a single one had ended the way he wanted, yet far from reflecting on it, he simply refused to give up.
If that counted as tenacity, then perhaps it was tenacity. It was laughable—and at the same time absolutely infuriating—that the word could be used this way.
―Bayul, want me to punish him for you?
Innocent, who had been playing in the garden, read the shift in Bayul's emotions and came flying over.
―Why does this guy keep getting under your skin? Keep it up and I'll dump a whole tidal wave on his head!
Innocent shouted at the top of her lungs, glaring at Jared. Of course, every bit of it was visible to Bayul alone.
Yes, Innocent. Please do.