Sharon Pierce Hasn't Given Up Yet
Sharon Pierce Hasn't Given Up Yet
Unlike the other siblings busying themselves with welcoming guests, Sharon Pierce made her way quietly to the training grounds.
It was called a social gathering.
On the first day, a banquet was held for those who had traveled far.
On the second day, the real sparring between the promising young talents of each house would begin.
A place where bonds were forged with the sword, befitting the north's reputation.
That was the northern Ducal social.
By her nature, Sharon would have ignored it and moved on.
But she had overheard the Duke speaking.
"... That brat is coming."
As she opened the training ground door, Sharon bit her lower lip.
Ian Blackangus.
That boy was coming here.
She couldn't begin to guess why...
— Crunch.
The bitter taste of blood from her bitten lip spread through her mouth.
Pain that felt like nothing compared to the sense of defeat Ian had made her taste.
That man had given her a different kind of defeat than the one she suffered within her family.
The humiliation she endured at home had felt like an inevitability, something she couldn't resist.
But what she suffered from Ian was defeat born purely of her own ability.
"Because I underestimated him..."
He was in the general Magic Faculty, not Aether. His attitude toward her had been servile. His reputation was terrible...
She had looked down on Ian.
She had dismissed the cunning growth-hindering curse that had tormented her as nothing more than a dabbling in black magic.
The price was painful.
Her own growth had collapsed. She had effectively lost in front of the disciplinary committee. She had been utterly defeated at the Grade Assessment.
She needed time to regroup.
She had fled the academy as if running away.
And she had reached a conclusion.
Ian Blackangus was stronger and more calculating than she had thought.
Thinking back on it, secretly placing a growth-curse on her from the start must have been part of a plan to crush her.
"Sly bastard..."
A murmur unlike her usual self escaped Sharon's lips.
There was definitely something shady lurking behind Ian Blackangus. That black magic he used. He must be connected to one of the Thirteen Evils, the groups that plagued the Empire.
"Perhaps even the Blood Rock Sect..."
She had to consider the possibility he was linked to the Blood Rock Sect, the cult she loathed above all else.
And now, such a person was coming here.
She would have to be wary, and ever warier.
"...No."
Was this an opportunity, instead?
Sharon gripped her sword.
Then she swung it toward a wooden dummy.
"......"
Silence.
Nothing but a brief flash of blue light. Not even the common sound of impact.
But a moment later.
— Cra-crack!
The frozen target shattered into tiny fragments, collapsing into a pile.
If Ian Blackangus proved stronger than she anticipated, then she only needed to become stronger than that.
"...I will capture him, torture him, and hear the truth."
Sharon knew there was nowhere to run. She simply needed a chance to catch her breath.
She raised her sword again.
As her mother had said, Sharon knew her only path was to hold onto the sword, and nothing else.
She approached the next wooden dummy.
Just as she was about to swing again.
"So you've been hiding in a place like this."
Sharon turned her head toward the voice.
A blue-eyed man spoke.
His gaze was disgusted, as if looking at an insect.
The firstborn. Hermann Pierce.
"I believe I told you to exist as if you didn't, just breathing quietly."
A fierce blue light blazed in his eyes, as befitting a scion of the Pierce family.
Sharon reflexively choked.
Her body remembered the abuse she had suffered at his hands since childhood.
"I see. Is that the new sword Father granted you?"
Sharon hid the sword behind her back.
"Do you think hiding it will help? How dare a lowly thing like you crawl in and drain the family's resources?"
"...It is none of your business."
"Oh-ho. Now that you're grown, you dare to rebel."
Step. Step.
Hermann Pierce walked toward her slowly.
"Father bestowed that sword upon you out of nothing but pity. You don't know your place."
A distance close enough to touch.
Hermann's military boot pressed down over Sharon's foot.
"... Guh."
"Do not address me with 'you.' And I am certainly not your 'brother.' Your mother was a commoner and a concubine, so we are closer to master and servant."
— Crunch. Crunch.
Sharon bit her lip against the pain of her toenails cracking.
The corners of Hermann's eyes softened with satisfaction.
"Now that's a face befitting a concubine's child."
"......."
"Speaking of which, I heard you were expelled from the academy for causing a scene?"
"...I left on my own."
"Proud of it, are you? After all that, disgracing the family name."
Blood dripped from Sharon's trembling fist.
Hermann's blue eyes, fixed upon it, held a sneer.
"You worthless bitch."
Leaving those words behind, Hermann departed.
— Slam.
The door slammed shut roughly.
As if it were a familiar routine, Sharon pulled out bandages and wrapped them around her foot.
With her bleeding hand, she picked up her sword once more.
A stinging coldness bit into the wound.
But it was fine.
The cold was familiar.
She hadn't felt warmth since she was held in her mother's arms as a child.
— Sharon. We can only be happy once we bloom the snow blossom. No matter what happens, never let go of the sword. I am sorry for bringing you into this world under a mother like me.
The last words she shared with her mother before her death were still vivid.
Her mother had always wished for the Duke's acknowledgment; that must be happiness.
Then.......
She would simply do her utmost for the same.
— Shing.
Sharon's sword split the air.
For now, only a cold, bitter frost filled the room.
◆
Lachti, the core city of the North.
As Ian stepped off the train and exited the platform, a carriage prepared by the princess awaited them.
The carriage was so dazzling it made one squint.
Karen boarded immediately, as if it were nothing new...
"Gah, my eyes!"
"Wh-what's with all these jewels?!"
The others, genuinely blinded, had to board with narrowed eyes.
The inside of the carriage was long and spacious, like a limousine.
A few unusual fixtures and chairs stood out.
"Why is there a swing in a carriage, meow?"
At Danya's brazen question, Rina's face turned red instead.
"Uh, um, Danya."
Rina beckoned Danya over and whispered in her ear.
Murmur, murmur.
"Guh!"
Danya, her face flushed, sat down quietly.
Ian leaned back comfortably against the sofa.
"...They are purely decorative."
Karen spoke, directing her words at Ian.
Ian simply nodded.
< Extravagance + Lechery = Airheaded Princess >
The public image the Third Princess Asteria cultivated was built on that kind of equation. Feigning a life of luxury and pleasure while quietly supplementing her lacking power was her method.
It sounded simple.
But maintaining that act while the senior royals were fighting tooth and nail for the right of succession was no easy feat.
Every carriage she owned or borrowed was likely decorated this way.
Ian knew Asteria's true nature. She had probably never used any of these contraptions in her life. So he could accept this much as perfectly natural.
'It's not even that severe.'
If anything, the real concern was Rina, who was stealing glances at the leashes and ropes hanging on the walls.
'Well. To each their own, I suppose.'
What truly piqued his curiosity right now was Karen.
Karen narrowed her eyes and asked.
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"......."
"If you have a question, speak."
"...It's nothing."
"O-of course I haven't used them either."
What was this woman suddenly talking about?
Ian looked at Karen with a puzzled expression.
She, however, misinterpreted that look.
"O-of course I have experience. Something like this is, well, from my numerous experiences, I-I'm familiar with it, but hm. I suppose our tastes don't quite align?"
"I was simply wondering if you, Lady Karen, are quite loyal to Her Highness."
"Ah."
Karen shut her eyes tight.
When she opened them again, her usual expression—the one befitting a completely emotionless assassin—had returned.
Though her cheeks were still red.
"I spare no effort for my client."
"Then if I paid you, would you be loyal for my sake as well? Hm. Your expression is answer enough."
Karen's gaze was full of murderous intent.
That confirmed it for Ian.
Karen was definitely an assassin from the Black Cat Troupe.
One of the Empire's three great assassin guilds.
They pursued money, not loyalty.
A small curiosity flickered up about what had happened between her and Asteria.
— "The Third Princess's carriage arrives!"
The carriage had reached its destination before he knew it.
As the Ducal estate's gates opened, voices floated in from beyond the carriage.
- Oh my. It's the Third Princess's carriage.
- Who's with her this time?
- If he's a stunning beauty like last time, it'll be a pleasant sight for sore eyes.
In the open-air banquet hall set up on the snowy grounds, nobles were already clustered in groups, making small talk.
[ Initially, Ian, a great deal of attention will focus on you. As it always does on the Princess's men. ]
Karen's voice rang directly inside his head.
A skill of assassins, Mind Transmission, capable of delivering a voice without anyone noticing.
The plan had been formulated together, but to help him grow accustomed to Mind Transmission, Karen began briefing him once more.
[ Until Miss Rina captures everyone's attention, as per our plan, watch your conduct. ]
Rina gave Ian a V-sign and a wink.
[ We begin operations in earnest from the matches starting on the second day. For today, I advise you to forget our objective of gathering evidence on the Duke. To deceive others, you must first deceive yourself. ]
Ian nodded lightly.
— Rattle.
The carriage door opened and Ian stepped out.
Countless gazes fell upon him at once.
- "It seems Her Highness didn't choose for looks this time. His impression isn't very favorable."
- "Oh my, Lady Yuri, these days, men with that tired, sharp look are all the rage."
- "Perhaps he'd look different if he were properly dressed, not in traveling clothes."
- "Is a man's face everything? If anything, Her Highness has sampled all sorts of men, so now she'd probably choose one that's sturdy on the inside. Heh heh."
Every noble in the hall seemed to have a comment.
Some were curious, others mixed in a half-mocking tone.
Whether positive or negative, Ian's appearance had heated up the atmosphere of the banquet considerably.
"To think you'd enliven the guests' mood this much. As the host of this banquet, I'm at a loss for how to properly express my thanks."
Ian turned his head toward the voice.
A man who looked like a male version of Sharon stood there.
Tall in stature. Cold-eyed.
Yet he was also a coldly handsome man, capable of a smile so charming it drew gasps from several young noblewomen who forgot their dignity.
"I am Hermann Pierce."
The firstborn son of the Ducal house and an already renowned knight.
The Chapter 2 mid-boss, 'The Eldest Son, Hermann Pierce,' extended his hand.