Chapter 341
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 341
Chapter Title: Everyone, Fighting!
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…….
Sak, sak.
After being confined to the detached palace.
Rimon had been racking his brains.
Was it because he couldn't think of a way to find the seven-colored bird while avoiding the eyes of the slaves who were now ready to risk their lives to stop him from going out?
Of course, that was part of it.
But the real biggest headache for Rimon right now was something else.
He'd only been focusing on the sculpture for a short while.
In the end, with a sigh, he set down the carving knife, turned around, and casually spoke.
"Pharaoh, what are you doing here?"
A chair placed a little ways behind him.
There sat a beauty in military uniform, legs crossed, being attended by slaves.
Hasneti tapped her cigarette ash into the ashtray held by a slave and replied in a husky voice.
"Am I bothering you?"
"When you stare at me without saying a word like that, yeah, you are."
Rimon grumbled curtly.
Of course, he wasn't the type to usually care about other people's gazes.
But it depended on the gaze.
Hasneti showing up constantly, watching him coldly without even blinking—there was no way that wouldn't get on his nerves.
Especially for someone with superhuman senses like him.
"So?"
Hasneti didn't even twitch an eyebrow.
She just asked lowly, her voice laced with an overwhelming pressure that allowed no argument.
"Are you dissatisfied?"
"Yeah, I am."
…….
Of course, Rimon—impudent enough to match his age—brushed off that pressure like it was nothing.
But she didn't seem pleased with his answer.
Seeing Hasneti furrow her brow, Rimon lowered his voice a bit.
"I'm your consort, not a prisoner, right? So at least treat me like one on the surface?"
"You're the one who wanted to be treated as a sculptor, not a consort."
"That's why I'm saying this. There's no reason for the Pharaoh herself to watch a sculptor's work."
"No reason it can't."
"Well..."
"Don't forget. I am the Pharaoh."
In Egypt, his word was law, and obstructing what he wished was illegal.
So reasons didn't matter.
Nor were they necessary.
Looking at Hasneti, who stated it flatly in her husky voice and put the cigarette back in her mouth, Rimon could only groan.
Anywhere else, maybe.
But in Egypt—especially in the heart of the palace—her words were irrefutable truth.
If it wasn't truth, she'd make it truth with force. That was the Red Dragon Princess.
In the end, Rimon could only sigh and pick up the carving knife again.
'Man, who knew just going to see a bird once would get me this suspicious.'
Being locked in the detached palace was ridiculous enough.
But Hasneti personally surveilling him?
At this point, he'd almost prefer being chained in some underground dungeon.
'She hasn't imprisoned me fully, so maybe it's just suspicion for now... but still, this is a problem.'
While pondering countermeasures in his head, Rimon's hands continued the carving without the slightest falter.
It was a feat possible thanks to the parallel thinking ability granted by the power of the stars.
The problem was that even with all that brainpower, no clever way to find the seven-colored bird came to mind.
As he inwardly clicked his tongue, feeling anew the absence of a reliable bride when it came to using his head,
Hasneti suddenly spoke up.
"When did you learn that?"
"Huh? Oh, sculpting? Not that long ago."
"You're pretty good for someone new."
"Had a good teacher."
"I see."
She nodded once.
Then fell silent again, watching quietly until she stubbed out her finished cigarette in the slave's ashtray.
And asked in her husky voice.
"Are you enjoying it?"
"If you mean sculpting, well? I only learned it because I needed to."
Rimon had started sculpting solely to unseal the carving knife, one of the Seven Arcs.
Not because he'd been deeply moved by the art or taken a sudden interest.
Of course, completing a good piece gave him some satisfaction.
But if asked if he purely enjoyed sculpting?
"It's not that I hate it, and it's somewhat fun, but whether I like sculpting itself... honestly, I'm not sure yet?"
Rimon scratched his cheek.
Hermann, who'd devoted his life to sculpting, or even hobbyists—he didn't enjoy it like they did.
It felt like taking a part-time job on a whim, discovering talent that made him better than others, and then being asked if he liked the job.
"Then why sculpt?"
Rimon hesitated at Hasneti's follow-up.
"You seem to have forgotten, but I'm making this sculpture as a tribute to you, the Pharaoh?"
"That's why I'm asking."
"Asking what?"
"Why go to the trouble of sculpting something you don't even like, offering it as tribute to me, just to stop the war."
"Does stopping innocent blood from spilling need a reason?"
At the unexpected question, Rimon tilted his head.
But Hasneti furrowed her brow as if she couldn't understand his answer.
She looked at him with her blood-red eyes and asked bluntly.
"What if it's not innocent blood?"
"What?"
"Would you not stop it then?"
"...If there's no reason to deliberately stop it, then it's not innocent blood, is it?"
Why is she asking this?
Rimon answered dubiously.
"I see."
As if she'd figured it out.
Hasneti nodded.
And murmured lowly.
"Then, that's fine."
"...Fine is good, but it'd be nicer if I knew what was 'fine'."
…….
'Guess she's not gonna tell me.'
As Rimon frowned at her silent, arms-crossed stare,
Hasneti asked again.
"By the way, why not a bird?"
Out of left field.
Perplexed by the sudden off-topic question, Rimon narrowed his eyes when he realized her gaze was on the wooden figure he was carving.
"You heard I wanted to give the Pharaoh a gift?"
"Yes."
"Sorry, but gift's off the table. You locked me here, so now even if I want to sculpt a bird, it's tough."
"...Sculpting doesn't always need a model."
"That's only if it goes well."
He replied half-heartedly to her point, but suddenly his eyes lit up.
"If you really want a bird sculpture, how about letting me into the aviary? At least then I could make ones matching the numbers there, really nice..."
"Can't allow that."
"...Hear me out first?"
"No difference."
"Come on, wait... Pharaoh? Hey, Pharaoh!"
As if she had no interest in hearing more.
She stood up and walked off briskly. Staring at her empty spot in bewilderment for a moment,
Rimon sighed.
'This is bad.'
He'd been through thick and thin, rarely losing arguments unless against someone like Li Chingwei.
But even he had a headache dealing with Hasneti.
She only asked what she wanted.
And ignored everything else.
No way to persuade her.
'No choice then.'
In the end, Rimon gave up on convincing Hasneti to search for the seven-colored bird.
Gazing toward the skies where the aviary must be, he muttered inwardly.
'Guess I can only hope Yuna Kyung finds the seven-colored bird somehow.'
Peep!
'Ugh, this team leader of mine!'
A blue bird trapped in the aviary.
Yuna Kyung hopped around wildly, venting her pent-up frustration with shrill cries.
But only for a moment.
Exhausted from yelling pointlessly, she flopped onto the cage floor with a sigh.
'Should've turned down the princess sister's offer to send me to Africa...'
She should've noticed that ever-smiling face was a danger sign.
But she'd grown too used to it.
And bored stuck in the hotel helping with Sir's magic research, she'd eagerly accepted the Africa dispatch. That was the mistake.
But what could she do?
Too late to go back now.
In the end, Yuna Kyung rolled around on the cage floor.
'If I wait, team leader will handle it somehow.'
From PAB days to now, Rimon had always solved everything alone effortlessly.
So even if a fledgling like her was stuck idling in a cage, he'd figure it out.
Yuna Kyung had no doubt.
...Though seeing him dragged off by Hasneti like a kidnappee made her a bit anxious.
'Nah, it'll be fine.'
He was already worn out helping with Sir's research, and they'd confiscated her dimensional items before departure anyway. Nothing else to do.
Might as well treat it like vacation and chill.
As Yuna Kyung sulked in the cage over Rimon's sudden vanishing act,
Clunk.
The cage suddenly shook.
Startled by the jolt for a second,
She realized someone was carrying the cage and soon her eyes sparkled.
'Team leader again?'
Swish.
But when the cloth over the cage was removed,
Yuna Kyung froze.
Instead of the expected blond tanned boy, a fiery red-haired beauty glared at her cage.
"Is this all?"
"Yes, these eight are all the new Horus candidates."
"Then let's begin the selection."
The red-haired beauty eyed the cages holding Yuna Kyung and seven other birds.
Hasneti spat out her cigarette.
And said in her husky voice.
"[Come.]"
Peep?
At that moment,
Yuna Kyung's eyes widened.
The instant she heard Hasneti's words,
An irresistible compulsion forced her to step forward unwittingly.
'This is... mental influence?'
Yuna Kyung was shocked.
Even as a frail fledgling now, she'd been a high-level player in life.
A single word affecting her this much was astonishing.
She fared better, though.
Three birds in other cages went berserk, flapping madly; three more clung to the bars, restless.
Only one with particularly vibrant feathers stood still, proudly holding its dignity.
"One usable one."
"You never know, so why not observe a few more candidates? Can't predict the future."
"I see."
Nadia offered cautious advice.
Hasneti nodded, snapped her fingers lightly,
And whoosh!
Yuna Kyung freaked out.
Four of the eight cages before them burst into flames, roasting the birds inside.
The three berserk ones, of course.
And even the proud one.
With no feathers left, they became ash piles. Only half remained.
Yuna Kyung and the three that had clung restlessly to their bars.
"Train them yourself."
"Yes, leave the rest to me."
As if utterly uninterested,
Hasneti turned and left. Nadia bowed to see her off, then sighed.
"Ah... do you know how much these cost?"
Truly regretful,
She lamented briefly at the melted cages and ash remnants.
Then turned her head.
"Everyone, everyone, please train hard!"
The girl in an oversized military uniform clenched her fist as if cheering on the remaining four birds.
And smiled brightly.
"Those who don't become Horus No. 20 will end up just like them."
Peep, peep?
Yuna Kyung, age 0.
Not even past her downy stage, thrust into a life-or-death survival contest.