The Two Prices of Victory
"Big Brother, you were absolutely amazing!! The knights should have been here to see it!!"
Helena came running and threw herself into my arms.
I hurriedly wiped my tears and hugged her back.
"Their swordsmanship was even more pathetic than I expected. Figures a magic house would be like that."
The sword of House Breyna.
It had been boringly predictable and riddled with openings.
Yes—if several of them swarmed at once, they were undeniably troublesome and dangerous. Fast, forceful strikes raining in from every direction.
But for their formations to keep exposing their weak points in a one-on-one duel? Not a single thrust, and monotonous slashes besides. No matter how fast they were, I could simply widen the distance and even find room to spare.
No wonder, I suppose—they'd only ever sparred against each other.
In a real fight against outsiders, it would be a disaster. They moved with such enthusiasm, blissfully unaware of it.
Even a five-star knight's swordsmanship was pathetic. Like a car with a monster engine mounted on a single wheel, honestly.
That said, the blade clash just moments ago had been close to a gamble.
Right before swinging the sword, I'd pushed my ki-blood channels as if detonating them—then retracted my aura. I caught his blade using the recoil of the strength I'd already released, and gathered all of that withdrawn aura into the sword itself.
If Huben had poured the aura from all five of his rings into his own blade, the outcome would have been different.
Of course, had we simply clashed like for like, it would still have ended in a draw—thanks to the sheer efficiency of the Sun Ring.
So why take the risk? One reason only.
To show House Breyna what it looked like when a four-star crushed a five-star.
"Hehe— I beat a five-star knight!! And I totally saw you dragging out the time on purpose. You were mocking the swordsmanship of House Breyna, weren't you?"
"That's my little sister. You caught everything."
"Ehehe, of course I did! Oh, and also!! That woman shamelessly *acting* her collapse, and that knight concealing his real level of mastery—both were beyond pathetic!!"
She really did see through it all.
Truly a child raised in Valkian. Unlike me, Helena had trained with the sword her whole life. She sneered at what Breyna had done, but didn't call it cowardly—because in her eyes, doing anything it takes to win is simply the way things are.
When I patted that clever little head of hers, she grinned adorably.
Then again.
"Anna. I'll be counting on you going forward. Like a shadow."
"...I obey your command."
The Shadow Unit of House Valkian.
A hidden force I'd learned about in my past life while investigating the family. Mentioning that word was, perhaps, a small joke on my part.
It was thanks to these people that Valkian had managed to hold on for so long even after Father's death.
They must have been following the orders of the Lady who took the seat of family head in your place.
Neville walked away toward the estate with Helena clinging to his arm.
Watching his retreating back, Anna sank deep into thought.
'Like a shadow...'
A remark that sounded as though he already knew of the hidden unit.
'He may be even stronger than four-star. He even noticed that the unit leader had been watching him...'
Anna's misunderstanding only deepened.
The head of House Breyna kept his word.
The Bulldog and the mining rights to the mana stone quarry. Even the compensation for breaking off the engagement.
Father presented the evidence of Breyna's espionage for the First Prince's faction—proof and all.
Haiben, drowning under a scathing reprimand, lost the goods his house had been trading dirt-cheap with the First Prince's faction. Apparently several magic houses, along with the Magic Tower, had decided to use this opportunity to strip away what remained of Breyna's reputation. Some families cut off dealings with them entirely.
The House of Valkian, on the other hand, saw its trading partners multiply thanks to the mining rights. They said the profits would likely double their existing business.
"It was quite the sight, watching the Breyna family head's face over it all."
Father loosed the bowstring he'd been drawing, and the eagle gliding across the sky dropped from the air.
How, at this distance...
He didn't even seem to be using aura. It was no accident they called him the finest sword on the continent.
A week passed in the blink of an eye, and Father made absolutely certain to keep his promise. He'd carved out the time despite his endless schedule, which made me happier than I could say.
The first thing on my list was to deal with the spy—but they still weren't inside the estate. The moment they showed their face, I intended to show them hell.
As we made our way quietly through the forest on the hunt, Father spoke.
"Have you given thought to the two prices you asked of me?"
"Yes..."
"Then don't dawdle. Out with it."
I let out a breath, feeling the tension coil in my chest.
A request to the head of the house. It had to be something big—not something trivial like a potion.
My first request, settled after agonizing over it again and again.
"May I borrow the Bulldog? Just once?"
"The Bulldog?"
"Yes. I've heard that merely practicing with it brings real progress."
"You mean withstanding the aura that pours into you without cease—and passing the Bulldog's trial."
"Yes. I believe it would be tremendous training for my aura control. And I'd like to experience the trial for myself at least once."
"If you add one more ring, I'll allow it. As you are now, you could die for nothing."
"Thank you."
So Father had already passed the Bulldog's trial. It was only natural.
The Bulldog.
The ancestral heirloom of House Valkian.
The instant you grip it, the shadow aura embedded in the blade floods into the wielder. Converting that aura into your own is the sword's true method of use.
But fail the conversion properly, and your ki-blood channels rupture—death. Worse still, the blade touches upon the wielder's most terrible memories, dragging them into nightmarish illusions.
Endure both, and you can swing the Bulldog—and take another step forward as a swordsman.
That was why Father's condition made perfect sense. The sword was said to be unusable by anyone below the rank of Swordmaster, after all.
It demanded a bare minimum of qualification before it would grant you its power. In my past life I'd never managed to obtain it—but I'd always, always wanted to wield it just once.
"And the next?"
"...May I call you Father again?"
He glanced at me sidelong.
Maybe that had been too bold. He still believed I'd deceived him for four years, after all. I worried the answer to the words I'd worked up the courage to say might be cold.
"From the moment you told me the truth, that stopped mattering. Ask me something else."
"Ah..."
Father cares for me more than I realized.
I was genuinely happy. In my past life, I remembered how bitterly I'd regretted it, from the moment I realized this world was a story I'd been transmigrated into—when my pathetic life up until then, and the contents of the original novel, came flooding into my mind like a tide. How desolate it had felt, never having once called out that name I couldn't afford to say.
"...Thank you, Father."
"Sentimental fool. And your other request?"
I caught the subtle uptick at the corner of his mouth.
I could ask for it now—the thing I'd been planning to bring up later.
"Please let me join the next monster subjugation."
"Hm..."
The monster subjugation was, in effect, the largest undertaking House Valkian performed. Normally I would have begun going at sixteen, when I came of age. But a "trash" knight who'd cast aside his sword was in no state to go.
I need to become stronger.
Not fighting those hollow, all-show fools—but a real, life-or-death battlefield. And the cores of monsters. I needed to secretly consume them.
Using the family's potions to grow my rings was an option, but the supply would dry up quickly enough. The knights would be returning soon, and I couldn't be hogging them all to myself anyway.
"If you go with Caina or Helena, I'll permit it."
"Thank you."
The permission alone was a gift. He was probably worrying I might be wounded—or killed.
"Until then, take the family's potions and grow strong enough."
"I won't disappoint you this time either."
"Good. And resume your heir's lessons, too."
"Yes, Father."
'Which of the three he'll choose—no. Could be all three at once, come to think of it.'
Kaiser thought of his two daughters, neither of whom shared his blood. The two children Neville had chosen when they were small. They had grown up splendidly. And Anna of the Shadow Unit was a genius at a young age as well.
A flicker of hope stirred in him—that the golden age of Valkian might yet continue.
Kaiser remembered the moment, back before he became family head, when he'd first heard the truth from his son. He'd been stunned—but it had been a day when he was truly, deeply glad. Watching his son smile so brightly, Kaiser smiled inwardly as well.
*
Helena had been living a dream lately.
The Neville she'd assumed had fallen for that vixen Celine—it turned out he'd been acting the whole time!
Neville had gloriously defeated the knight, and two months had passed since. Every evening they dined together, and sometimes they even trained side by side.
She'd wanted to slip into his room early in the morning to catch one more glimpse of that incredible (?) thing she'd seen before—but Neville was terribly diligent, always moving his body from the crack of dawn. Helena, who loved her sleep, couldn't manage it often, but she did her best to force herself awake and join him.
The sheer volume of training left her exhausted—but whenever she saw the muscles of Neville drenched in sweat, her heart clenched tight.
'He even takes his shirt off... really...'
His body catching the light of the rising sun. Unable to bear it any longer, Helena had worked up her courage today.
"Hehe— Big Brother, let me wipe the sweat off for you."
"Hm? I can do it myself. It's dirty, you know."
"It's not dirty at all! Actually, it's great—"
"Huh?"
"Ahem— nothing. I'll excuse myself."
Sorry, me.
She wiped down his body with the towel, murmuring quietly. Through the thin fabric, she could feel every single ridge of his sculpted muscle.
A natural-born body, even with his sword days behind him. Honestly, it was more suggestive than the hulking, oversized kind...
Gulp—
Helena swallowed, her face flushing. Her heart pounded, and her hands trembled bit by bit. Somehow, her legs felt like they were losing strength too.
"Lena, are you all right? Your face is really red. Do you have a fever?"
"Yes—yes?! I'm fine!!"
A broad hand settled on her forehead. Her heart thundered as if it would burst.
If that hand touched her body—if it wrapped around her waist...
Even Helena's lips were trembling now. She clenched her hand, and just as she tried to touch him a little more boldly—
"Allow me to do it in his place. It seems you have overexerted yourself, my lady."
"No—!"
The towel was plucked from her hands in an instant.
Anna, Neville's personal maid.
"You—!!"
"A bath has already been prepared so that you may wash immediately, Young Master Neville."
"Eh, uh? Anna, you really don't have to go this far."
"I must insist. I may wipe down the body of the one I serve as much as I please. Besides, Lady Helena appeared to be having such a difficult time."
"Grrr! I said *I'll* do it!!"
However hard she tried to snatch the towel back, the woman slipped out of reach like water.
'So annoying...!'
The day of Neville's duel, when Anna had revealed the Recording Sphere, Helena had known at once that she was strong. And that strangely familiar, familiar air with which the woman treated her—a duchess, no less.
She couldn't lose her temper in front of Neville, of all people.
And there was Neville, caught between them, looking utterly helpless.
'I saw those red ears...! That sly little fox!'
That stone-faced expression with nothing but scarlet ears—it was infuriating beyond words.
Before Helena knew it, Anna had wiped his whole body down and collected the towel.
'So she enjoyed it to the very last drop, is that it.'
Left wanting, Helena could only watch, unable even to steal the towel away in parting.
She retreated to her room in defeat and took a bath.
Her chest rose above the water, flaunting its commanding presence. Smooth skin, a beautiful face.
"Big Brother..."
The lingering warmth of the hand that had touched her only moments ago. Remembering that sensation, she let her own hands roam slowly over her body.
How much time had passed?
Helena emerged, her face flushed deep red. Hanging on the walls of her room were all manner of restraints.
A collection gathered under the tidy pretext of a hobby: tools for hunting dogs.
'One of these days, without fail...'
A leather collar and sturdy cords. Gazing at the gags meant to fill a mouth, Helena thought of Neville.
Knock knock—
"Lady Helena. Lady Caina is returning to the estate."
The voice of a maid from beyond the door.
"...Already?"
This was bad. Even that woman Anna was irritation enough—but her sister too?
The moment Caina learned that Big Brother had only been acting all this time...
"Haaah—"
A long sigh echoed through the room.
"Well then... I suppose I should go greet her."
It was time to meet her sister—and her rival of many years.
The Big Brother who had reached out his hand to a girl about to be sold off in a back alley. The Big Brother who had cheerfully smiled and eaten her burnt cookies as if they were a delicacy. The Big Brother who always ran his hand over her hair when he looked at her, who smiled so warmly, who called her by her pet name. The Big Brother who held her and patted her back on her sad days, and cheered her on—*let's get through this together*—on her hard ones.
'I will never, ever give up. The position of true wife is mine.'
Helena's silver eyes gleamed with resolve.