Chapter 37
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Isaac's Interrogation
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Under Isaac's questioning, harsh as a northern blizzard, Lancelot immediately thrust his sword back into its sheath.
He couldn't even think of what else to say, so he lowered his gaze like a child being scolded by his parents and blankly stared at the branch Charlotte had picked up and thrown.
Honestly, the whole situation felt utterly absurd and unfair.
Isaac, who had been eyeing him like some farm animal, was now cornering him because of Charlotte—and it was more baffling than frightening.
On top of that, seeing Charlotte and the other kids watching him get chewed out like this was infuriating.
If anyone was to blame, it all started because Charlotte had needlessly stood up to him.
Stood up to him? Charlotte?
Yeah, he should've realized right then that she had some kind of backing.
Lancelot raised his head and glanced at Isaac, who was still waiting for his response, then shifted his eyes to Charlotte beside him.
She was snugly tucked into one of Isaac's arms, seemingly oblivious to Lancelot—who had nearly hurt her—as she peered past Isaac's shoulder at Prince Joseph.
That sight really grated on him.
Even though she'd obviously be chased off once Shadow Blade Day was over, acting all high and mighty like she owned the place.
He tried to calm the boiling rage inside him and opened his mouth.
"It wasn't a spar, but I had no intention of harming Charlotte."
Lancelot pitched his voice low and said only that. It was the only thing he could say.
But saying "I had no intention of harming Charlotte" felt so weird that the moment the words left his mouth, he wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him.
"...But she suddenly jumped in. It was a duel between me and Prince Joseph."
Isaac nodded at that and stopped pressing Lancelot.
If Charlotte had gotten hurt by butting in on her own judgment, he had no reason to step in and make a fuss.
With business concluded, Isaac turned to Charlotte. The other kids, peeking at his expression, cautiously approached Lancelot.
"Lancelot, we should probably just head out."
"Nah, but real swords are dangerous. If Charlotte hadn't stepped in, it would've been a total disaster."
"Dude, are you blind? Can't you see Lancelot's pissed?"
"What'd I say wrong?"
"Forget it, let's go train. Knight Order promotions and Shadow Blade Day are coming up soon."
The kids chattered as they tugged Lancelot along.
He stood rooted for a moment, then walked over to where Charlotte had been, bent down, picked up the branch she'd been holding, and grudgingly let the kids lead him away.
Even as he left, he kept turning back toward Charlotte as if he had more to say, but that was it.
Once Lancelot and the kids had all cleared out, the wide training ground fell quiet.
Isaac jerked his chin at a servant, summoning Charlotte's personal physician, then met her gaze as she looked up at him.
"What? Why'd you come?"
"To see my little sis."
Isaac, still holding her in one arm, scanned the area, then headed to a rickety bench in the corner of the shabby clearing—there wasn't anywhere decent to sit.
Before he even arrived, the servant had laid out a small cloak. Isaac sat Charlotte down first, then plopped casually onto the ground in front of her.
Charlotte frowned slightly.
An older brother who could meet her eyes at the same level? It sounded sweet at first glance, but the guy was Isaac.
He was too important—and his temperament too ruthless—for her to relax during one-on-one chats.
Especially right after witnessing how one of her actions could completely alter the future.
'The book I know doesn't have anything about Lancelot and Prince Joseph dueling with real swords. If it did, there'd have been something about Joseph suffering a fatal sword wound.'
She could easily picture a sword fragment wrapped in aura embedding itself in Joseph's chest.
Coldly facing the facts, well, it depended on this world's medical tech, but considering Joseph's chronically frail health, it might've even been life-threatening.
This whole mess had happened because she'd provoked Lancelot.
'...The story not following the book exactly is a good thing, in a way. It means there's a chance to save my precarious life.'
Charlotte glanced past Isaac's shoulder at Prince Joseph, who stood blankly in the distance, then back to Isaac.
'Which means Isaac won't hate this outright. As long as it hasn't happened yet and can still change.'
Besides, for some reason, he didn't seem quite so irritating today.
The moment she'd voiced her grievance, he'd apologized exactly as she wanted.
More than anything, she'd never had anyone get mad on her behalf just because she got hurt.
'...He used to ignore me completely, and now he's suddenly being nice—it's weird, but... I don't hate it.'
Thinking too deeply made her ears burn.
Charlotte shook off the thought, sitting on the bench and swinging her dangling feet back and forth like a sulky kid trying not to show it.
Isaac found her obvious attempt to hide her feelings amusing and grinned like a maniac.
"So, what happened? Getting hurt by Lancelot? That's not what I expected."
"...Huh?"
"A guy like Lancelot."
Isaac said it like it was obvious, but Lancelot was one of the top heir candidates in House Setia.
Him downplaying Lancelot like that felt like a compliment to her own potential, which made Charlotte chuckle a bit.
She appreciated Isaac thinking highly of her, but her skills hadn't fully recovered yet.
'I haven't even properly held a sword with this body yet. Not even the first day of training.'
But looking at his intrigued face, she couldn't admit the truth.
Just thinking about facing him in a fight—even if he was off-guard—showed no path to victory right now. Isaac was that strong.
She wasn't sure if she could really win on Shadow Blade Day, but showing him a pathetic side might mean laying her neck on his merciless blade once he became House Lord.
Charlotte just puffed out her cheeks sullenly.
"He had a real sword."
"So my baby sis went at him barehanded?"
"Only had a tree branch."
Isaac's eyes lit up with interest in an instant.
"Looks like you've got a real talent for handling wood. Is that where your gift lies?"
It was obviously a joke, but with Isaac grinning so menacingly, it was hard to tell if he was serious.
Charlotte stared straight into his eyes, recalling what he'd said when he first arrived.
He'd clearly been unhappy about Uncle permitting this.
"You're not here to stop me from training with Joseph, are you?"
Isaac's gaze swept over the clearing—uneven ground littered with poor gravel and overgrown weeds, no real facilities to speak of.
"Stop you...? Hmm. But why bother training in a dump like this?"
"What if it's helpful for my training?"
Playing the same card that had worked before was easy. And it was true.
Isaac smirked as if amused.
"You expect me to buy that? Well, Uncle fell for it hook, line, and sinker."
"...Believe it or not, that's up to you, big bro."
"No need to waste time in a subpar spot when you could optimize in a better environment. I won't stop you."
"...Thanks."
"But you still owe me an answer about last time."
Under Isaac's piercing stare, Charlotte remembered promising to answer his questions properly if he apologized formally.
She nodded.
"Ask away."
Isaac eyed her determined expression and chuckled, extending a hand to the side. As if on cue, the servant hurried over and placed a water bottle in his palm.
Isaac set the bottle beside Charlotte and gently ruffled her hair.
"At least rinse your hands with this and wait. Ben'll be here soon."
Looking down at her, Isaac's shadowed eyes hid whatever he was thinking.
He studied her with that inscrutable gaze for a long moment before glancing at Joseph.
Compared to the rest of House Setia, Isaac didn't particularly dislike Prince Joseph.
In fact, he despised conventions more than anyone.
The Empress from a great noble house meant her sons, the first and second princes, should inherit the throne? Honestly, Isaac only supported it because it helped his bid for the dukedom.
The pathetically frail first prince and the bullheaded second who charged ahead without looking aside didn't appeal to him.
By contrast, the third prince was intriguing—he seemed to grow sharper every time, like someone else entirely.
But that didn't mean Isaac had any expectations for him.
The third prince lacked something crucial.
Ambition.