Navy Marigold (5): The Soul Flower
Soul Flower. Also known as the Emperor's Flower. Lancel recalled the name of the flower in the vase.
"We're back."
The bodies of Lancel and Marygold, which had swapped for a brief moment, returned to normal exactly one minute later. Just moments ago, Lancel had been in Marygold's body, and Marygold in his. If he hadn't been seeing things, this was undeniable fact.
And that was precisely the power of this flower.
It randomly scrambled the souls of all beings in the surrounding area. That was the flower's effect.
◈ Randomly swaps souls within a 2-meter radius for 1 minute.
◈ Effect activates once per year, immediately when the petals receive light.
Yeah. Exactly one minute.
"Lancel, what was that just now...?"
"Shh. You didn't see anything. Nothing happened. Got it?"
Lancel's quiet voice. Marygold hurriedly covered her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded vigorously. She'd picked up on how serious his expression was.
Something that should be safely hidden away in the imperial vaults—why the hell did it end up here, of all places?
Lancel furrowed his brow. It gnawed at him, the circumstances of how an item that should be buried deep in imperial reports had ended up as mere loot.
"Lancel? Sounds like the navy guys are outside."
Marygold tugged at his sleeve. Noisy voices from the upper deck suggested reinforcements had arrived.
Lancel glanced at the vase in his hand, then tucked it back into the chest.
The flower's effect only resets once a year. Guess it's just a houseplant for now.
He hadn't seen it. He knew nothing about it. The sole witness, Marygold, seemed oblivious to what had just happened—blissfully unaware, which was a relief.
"Before the navy gets here... should we grab a bit more?"
"Get caught, and it's the brig for us."
"Just this one!"
Marygold snatched a ring and slipped it onto her ring finger. A gold band, much like the one Lancel wore.
...
"Lancel Dante! Heard you scored big! Knew you were cut out for navy or piracy. Never wrong about you!"
As they towed the captured pirate ship in, Guard Captain Coral Baron slapped his back with resounding thwacks.
"Word is the spoils are hefty. Grabbed a bit yourself?"
"Eh, something like that."
Lancel held up both hands. A glinting gold ring shone on his ring finger.
"A matching pair? Tsk tsk, is that all the ambition a navy officer's got?"
He looked disappointed.
"I'll slip a few your way later. Soldiers get the brig no exceptions, but officers deserve a taste."
Lowering his voice, Coral Baron slapped his back again.
"Hahaha!"
Thwack-thwack-thwack—the force made his eyeballs rattle. Lancel grabbed Marygold, who was hovering nearby for no reason, and matched the blows on her back.
"Lancel, sir? Ack! Ow! Eek! Kyaa! Ugh!"
Thwack-thwack-thwack. He hammered away with equal gusto.
"Lancel."
"Yes, Baron."
"You hear?"
"...?"
"About the Third Princess coming to the archipelago. Guess not."
"...Pardon?"
Lancel released Marygold and widened his eyes.
"Is that true?"
"Straight from the count himself. She's already boarded a ship here—should arrive by tomorrow evening at latest."
"What's she coming here for?"
Why? Why now? Of all people, the Third Princess?
"Who knows. But she wouldn't come to this remote spot just for vacation, right? The imperial family's too swamped for that."
Swamped they were—with intrigues, parties, pleasures, extravagance, gambling. No days off for those folks.
Whether their family planning failed or duties piled up, they were busy every damn day. This was the first time she'd shown up in the archipelago across dozens of loops. Speak of the devil.
"You know the rumors about the Third Princess."
"Who in the empire doesn't?"
"Then you're set. Get a new outfit, fix your hair—clean up nice. The count's even footing the bill."
"...Yes, sir. But instead of maids, mind if I bring this one?"
"Eek!"
Lancel hoisted Marygold by the nape of her neck like a kitten caught red-handed.
"She's been eavesdropping. Figured I'd teach her to keep her mouth shut."
"Not exactly a secret, but whatever. Hurry back—first watch this week, so no later than dawn."
7.
"Is the Third Princess really that scary?"
On the way to the count's manor, Lancel pondered that woman at Marygold's question.
Third Princess Claria Arild Prisia. In one word?
"Famous airhead."
"Air...head?"
"Means obsessed with looks. Pretty faces and such."
"Ah!"
In the game, she flat-out played the villainess. Wouldn't let any man she fancied slip away. Even a noble lady's harem-keeping was creepy—imagine a princess. Terrifying.
Naturally, scenes of her targeting protagonist Marygold abounded. Textbook antagonist heroine.
At their first meeting, a count's ball, she'd thrown tantrums at a servant just for being ugly.
Not on good terms with Lancel either.
—Eh, about a nine out of ten. Lancel Dante.
—Out of how many?
—A hundred, obviously.
Damn. Never guessed she was the game's Claria.
"Hm..."
"Why the sudden frown?"
"Nothing."
Marygold suddenly looked troubled. Before he could wonder why, they arrived at the manor.
"First time meeting, Sir Lancel Dante. Ansel, the count's personal stylist."
"Pleasure."
"And the navy fellow...?"
He noticed. The stylist eyed the rings on their ring fingers.
Clearly imagining some complicated honeymoon setup.
"Ahem."
Marygold pretended nonchalance while angling her hand for better view.
"...Just a subordinate. Don't get ideas."
"Ah, right..."
Unconvinced reaction.
"My, my... haven't had a proper trim in ages. Knight duties kept you busy, eh? Let's tidy you up."
"Appreciate it."
Lancel closed his eyes. Distant waves, snip of scissors, stylist's held breaths. A breeze through the window lulled him—until a weird feeling made him open them.
Marygold's face was inches away.
"What."
"Lancel."
Snip, snip. As hair fell, she said worriedly,
"Am I... an airhead too?"
"What're you on about."
"Sigh."
So that's why she'd gone quiet. She looked genuinely conflicted.
"How's it look, Sir Lancel?"
"If the count picked you, can't be bad."
"Too kind. Tailor next door for your outfit."
Once dressed sharply, Marygold's worries deepened.
"I'm really ugly, Lancel."
"Whatever's bugging you, probably just in your head."
Being an airhead wasn't all bad. Lancel got handsome compliments often, but by her scale, he was just a 9/100. Her scale.
Wait, maybe I'm pretty decent by normal standards?
Yeah. Maybe the princess had weird tastes, and he ranked high here—fit, trained body and all.
Yeah. I'm solid. Buff from training too.
Undiscovered achievements detected.
1. Ignores appearance entirely.
2. Experience with only one person (30 loops). -A-rank!-
3. Lover of only one person (30 loops). -A-rank!-
4. Navy couple in a male-male romance.
5. ???
※ Player variation required.
"What...?"
"Hm?"
"Nah, not you."
Ignores appearance 'entirely'? Marygold's got eyes—can't be that blind, honestly.
...
"Face like a crustacean clinging to the shore. Lancel Dante."
The next day, a chilling voice rang out before Lancel.
8.
"They're pouring in."
That afternoon, the harbor buzzed with ships packed to bursting. Imperial galleons filled the docks, doubling and tripling up. Navy, laborers, locals unloaded cargo in a spectacle.
"Light stuff first!"
"Careful, careful! Don't spill!"
"No one boards Ship 1! That's imperial—how many times?!"
Marygold was in the mix.
"Huff, huff!"
She dashed below deck.
"Hm?"
Her eyes lit up.
Cheep! A small birdcage caught her gaze. Sailors' pet, bread crumbs scattered below.
"Birdie!"
She poked a finger in, stroking feathers gently—until the beak snapped.
"Ow!"
Blood beaded. Tears welled.
Cheep!
"Okay, okay, no touching. Just looking. Just... hehe."
Pretty bird. Blue wings, orange body, obsidian beak. Haughty crest glaring imperiously. Nothing like the vicious gulls here.
"Ah."
Enchanted, Marygold lifted the cage. "It's okay, it's okay," she soothed the flapping bird.
"Sergeant! Take this down too?"
"What's that?"
"Bird! Pretty bird!"
"Bring it down!"
"Yes, sir!"
...
"Face like a crustacean clinging to the shore. Lancel Dante."
Partygoers stifled laughs around them. Everyone took turns in the roast line—even spotlighted Lancel now, all blasé.
It was standard princess hazing for first impressions. Fine.
"No need for gifts. Get out of my sight."
The veiled woman. Third Princess Claria Arild Prisia.
Hearing her voice, Lancel was certain.
She's holding back?
The roast lacked her usual bite. Scoville scale too low. Most nobles would smart, but harbor greenhorns only.
—Better than a crushed beach crab.
Tone, content, force, disdain—all off from the real Third Princess.
Veil first screamed wrong. Her lookism stemmed from beauty confidence.
Definitely not her.
Imposter? What kind of palace runs without body doubles?