Chapter 36
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: The Aura-Clad Branch
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Ting!
With a sharp sound, the flung metal fragment embedded itself into the ground.
The pink-haired girl who had knocked away the broken sword with a single tree branch was Charlotte.
“...Huh?”
Too stunned to speak, Lancelot's words failed to come out for a moment.
Charlotte casually tossed the branch to the ground. Then she stood squarely before Lancelot, who looked just as baffled.
“Under the pretense of training Prince Joseph, were you planning to kill him? If I hadn't intervened, that sword fragment would have pierced right into Prince Joseph's heart.”
Her voice carried a chilling edge.
It was a voice that relentlessly cornered its target.
A voice so unlike that of a mere nine-year-old, it made one instinctively reflect on their own actions.
“Lancelot...!”
The children who had been defending him until now stamped their feet in panic upon seeing the real sword fragment on the ground, as if realizing he had committed a grave error, and rushed over.
The kids were in far more of a panic than when Charlotte had fallen into the water.
First, because the sword fragment had flown so menacingly, and second, because Charlotte had blocked an aura-infused blade shard.
They were only now realizing just how dire the situation could have been.
Lancelot bit his lip hard.
He didn't think he had done anything wrong.
'Prince Joseph not using aura was the prince's own judgment, not my fault, right?'
That's why he could stand tall.
Separately from that, his sunken green eyes were filled with nothing but questions directed at the pink-haired girl standing in front of him.
'...I can't even comprehend what I just witnessed.'
The fact that Charlotte had knocked away the blade infused with his aura was bizarre enough to begin with.
Lancelot had been mocking the other kids who, ever since the banquet hall, had suspected she might have awakened her talent.
And yet...
'With a tree branch...?'
It was so absurd from start to finish that he didn't know where to even begin pointing out the impossibilities.
The children who hadn't directly faced Charlotte didn't seem to notice she had used aura, but he had seen it clearly.
A red, beautiful aura he had never seen before, enveloping the tree branch.
While Lancelot stood there dazed, Prince Joseph, who had been behind Charlotte, slowly stepped forward.
The prince's black eyes held a kaleidoscope of emotions unlike any the children had seen before.
Emotions that were hard to discern at a glance.
“Charlotte.”
Joseph rarely spoke unless it was something major.
That's why the children—and even Lancelot—found the prince's voice strangely unfamiliar.
“Charlotte, that was a situation where you could have been seriously hurt. And yet...”
Joseph seemed about to say more, but upon looking at Charlotte, he clamped his mouth shut like a man at a loss for words and clenched his fist tightly. As if blaming himself, he gripped it so hard his hand looked painful, staying silent for a long moment before approaching her.
“Are you hurt?”
Only then did Charlotte look down at her palms. The hands that had gripped the branch had faint lines of blood welling up like cracks.
She clicked her tongue and hid her hands, embarrassed.
“Ah... This is just because my training isn't up to par yet.”
“Let me see again.”
“No, it's fine.”
“Charlotte.”
Lancelot's stomach boiled at the sight of Joseph and Charlotte, who seemed utterly unconcerned with him and the other children.
Probably because Charlotte and Joseph, who had never even acknowledged each other before, were acting so intimately, like they shared some profound bond.
It made him feel strangely off-balance and ridiculous.
'...No, the real question is how the hell Charlotte pulled that off.'
Yet he remained rooted to the spot, unable to move as if nailed down, watching their conversation—because that baffling question still lingered unresolved.
With their leader Lancelot standing there dumbstruck like he was under a spell, the other children stayed put too, murmuring their own opinions about the incident.
“What's all this commotion about?”
At that moment, a tall boy appeared without so much as a rustle of grass underfoot.
His sharp, noble features gleamed even brighter in the morning sunlight...
“...Brother Isaac?”
Lancelot called out to Isaac in a dazed voice without thinking.
And understandably so—Isaac had zero interest in training Prince Joseph.
Not just that; he had no interest in anything beyond his own sword practice and managing the knight order. As if he had no time to mingle with others.
In a situation where he was all but confirmed as the next heir to House Setia, no one dared challenge his aloof demeanor.
But now, out of nowhere...
“What brings you here...”
Isaac spotted the prince and gave a perfunctory nod in his direction before jerking his chin toward Charlotte.
“I just came to see what odd permission Uncle granted, but... have you all become such close training partners?”
Isaac's cool gaze swept over Lancelot, the cluster of Setia side branch kids, the children from minor noble houses, and even Prince Joseph standing right in front of Charlotte.
He looked at none of them with any real interest as he strode through the crowd and scooped Charlotte up into his arms.
This was the first time since she had escaped his hold last time, but Charlotte had grown somewhat accustomed to being carried by now and didn't resist.
The moment he lifted her, a soft smile melted across Isaac's icy face.
A fresh wave of incredulous murmurs rippled through the already buzzing children, needing no further explanation.
“You're quite the troublemaker these days, little sister.”
“...I doubt my brand of chaos is on the scale of what big brother brings.”
It was her way of foreshadowing the storms he would stir, but Isaac, observing her with a puzzled look, let her words go in one ear and out the other.
He stared for a long time at Charlotte, dressed in a training robe embroidered with the Setia crest, similar in design to his own, then narrowed his eyes and muttered.
“...Hm? You're hurt?”
Charlotte gave a small, sheepish laugh.
“How'd you know?”
“I smell blood.”
'...What, are you an animal? How do you detect blood by smell? Though, yeah, Brother Isaac is a talent monster too.'
She muttered that inwardly, pondering the future his gifts would bring.
Isaac laid her small hands out in front of him and examined the wounds. At a glance, they were soft, unblemished palms unfit for sword-wielding, now smeared with blood in places.
“Fresh wounds from just moments ago. What happened?”
“It's nothing for brother to worry about.”
“Hm. Nothing for me to worry about, you say.”
Instead of pressing her, Isaac looked up and scanned the surroundings. His gaze passed over the broken sword discarded on the ground and the real sword in Lancelot's hand.
Isaac's cool eyes fixed on Lancelot like daggers.
The situation was all too clear.
Lancelot, who thought he had nothing to apologize for, instinctively shrank back despite himself.
“...Brother, it's...”
“The eldest son of House Cyan. What happened here?”
“...Ah, Brother. I was just carrying out the training as Second Prince Ricardo requested.”
“I asked what happened.”
There was no trace left of the smile Isaac had worn when lifting Charlotte.
Faced with that stern interrogating gaze, Lancelot glared at Charlotte, nestled snugly in Isaac's arms.
'...Since when did Brother Isaac dote on Charlotte so much that I'm stuck in this position? What the hell did I even do wrong?'
But contrary to his thoughts, his mouth wouldn't open easily in front of Isaac, who held his cousin so protectively.
Lancelot forced his mouth open under Isaac's icy scrutiny.
“...It's true I hurt her, but...”
Isaac's eyes narrowed again.
“Were you sparring with Charlotte?”
'...Since when are you on a first-name basis with her?'
“No, it wasn't like that.”
“Then?”
“Charlotte got in the way, I tell you?”
Isaac clicked his tongue lightly at Lancelot's explanation.
“No need to hear more. Injuring someone who wasn't even your sparring partner. The swords of House Setia will weep.”
“...Brother!”
Isaac narrowed his eyes coldly, looking down at Lancelot arrogantly as if asking if he had more to say.