Chapter 46
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Shadow Blade Day Dawn
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Without even knowing what had happened or how, Lancelot realized in the next moment that he was sprawled out on the carriage floor. His outstretched hand had been perfectly pinned down, and Charlotte was straddling his body, gazing down at him with icy eyes.
Those grass-green eyes held not a shred of the foolish innocence he knew from Charlotte.
There was only the bone-chilling poise he'd once glimpsed in House Lord Camilla's gaze.
"I'm telling you one more time: don't touch my body. You know full well I'm not someone you can play around with anymore. So why come at me like this? Because I'm a woman?"
He could never gain the upper hand.
All those bad premonitions he'd harbored weren't just hunches after all.
Even amid that bitter sense of defeat, another thought struck Lancelot first.
He hated the way she was looking at him.
Isaac had gazed at her with a warm smile. She hadn't spared him a single glance until now, and here she was, finally turning her eyes on him—only to glare like she wanted to kill him. He hated it.
"Let go of me!"
Hearing the commotion from the back, the carriage slowed to a halt with a jolt and a screech.
With that, Lancelot shoved Charlotte's arm away and leaped out of the carriage.
He felt inexplicably wounded. So wounded he thought he might die from it. And he was so ashamed and embarrassed by himself that he genuinely wanted to die.
After that, strangely peaceful days followed.
The main reason was that Lancelot had become oddly scarce, avoiding her like never before. On top of that, with Isaac and Russell hovering protectively around Charlotte, the other kids would eye opportunities to harass Prince Joseph but scatter with annoyed looks whenever she appeared.
Normally, the Second Prince—who couldn't stand seeing Prince Joseph doing well—would have stepped in himself for a brawl. But hearing that Joseph was training swordsmanship with none other than the idiot Charlotte had made even that too bothersome for him.
It was all too pathetic compared to his own glittering setup: the opulent palace training hall, elite swordsmanship instructors, and perfectly prepared sparring partners tailored for royalty.
Thanks to that, Joseph and Charlotte's final three days passed in tranquility.
And before long, the morning of Shadow Blade Day dawned.
At the heart of Cheiker Kingdom's capital, Vibrosu, stood the imperial palace. To its east lay the grandest road, impeccably maintained, and at its center rose a massive circular arena.
Built in the reign of Cheiker Kingdom's founding emperor with the labor of dozens, hundreds of workers, this arena was the kingdom's pride.
Crowds who had been staying in Vibrosu for days or arrived in the capital at dawn began lining up before the arena from the crack of dawn.
Capital guards were fully mobilized to organize the spectators and maintain order, while permitted vendors darted busily through the gaps.
As a tournament to sort the promising youths not yet of age, each house pinned immense hopes on their prospects. The results here would validate all the resources and efforts poured into raising them.
Beyond that, the audience brimmed with anticipation for the next generation of heirs from noble houses—the rising stars. Knight orders that had been away on subjugation campaigns, along with all eyes in Cheiker Kingdom, converged on the arena.
The Setia House was no exception; from the earliest hours, an uncharacteristic tension hung in the air.
Camilla had departed for the palace ahead of everyone to attend the emperor, while Jerome waited for the direct and branch family children to prepare, overseeing the final tournament checks.
Charlotte, too, had been busy since morning with her participation preparations, styling her hair and donning fresh attire.
"My heart feels like it's going to burst right out."
Betty paused in attending to Charlotte's clothes, her face crumpling as she let out a long sigh.
Charlotte soothed her.
She wasn't nervous at all.
If anything, she'd been looking forward to this moment.
Her face lit up brighter than anyone's as she flashed a brilliant smile.
"No need to worry. Just trust in me, Betty."
Betty's eyes welled up at Charlotte's so reliably mature words, wondering when her young lady had grown up so much.
But in this moment, worry overshadowed any pride in the tiny nine-year-old girl.
Lately, Charlotte had treated Betty like a true equal and even cared tenderly for her sick family.
The old days of tantrums and flopping to the floor to embarrass everyone were gone; now she showed such consideration for others.
Betty had always served with utmost loyalty, but these days, Charlotte felt less like a liege to pledge fealty to and more like... family.
Because that's how Charlotte treated her.
Even if Charlotte lacked talent, Betty cherished her young lady so much that it didn't matter.
"All done."
Betty stepped back, gazing into the mirror.
In a red martial robe that wouldn't hinder her limbs, with her hair tied high in a single ponytail, the girl looked utterly adorable and cute. And with that long sword—nearly half her height—strapped to her waist, she was so endearing it made you want to nibble her.
'If only she hadn't been born into such an overwhelmingly great house, she could have grown up loved in an ordinary way.'
Talent be damned.
Betty reached out and gripped Charlotte's hand tightly.
She could feel the faint calluses that had formed on those once-soft, pudgy palms from daily training with Prince Joseph.
But even that just filled her with pity.
"...Yes. But, young lady."
"Hm?"
Betty hesitated before voicing her honest heart.
"Even if you get eliminated in the preliminaries, it's okay. Just don't get hurt or push yourself too hard..."
Charlotte's eyes widened in slight surprise, then softened into a warm smile as she chuckled deeply.
Betty stared, mesmerized by that smile, and before she knew it, she pulled Charlotte into a tight hug.
She'd vaguely thought her young lady was just getting better day by day, but when Charlotte made that face—like the happiness right before her eyes was too much joy to bear—it was so lovable she could hardly stand it.
"Getting eliminated in the preliminaries won't be easy, but thanks for worrying anyway."
Thinking those whispered words mere bravado, Betty hugged her tighter to hide her tears.
Charlotte no longer startled at Betty's embraces.
Like a full-grown child, she quietly hugged back.
Charlotte cherished and thanked Betty just as much.
She closed her eyes tight, savoring the moment.
Being held in that warm embrace still felt a bit unfamiliar, but it was always a good feeling.
The first thing to greet arrivals at the arena was the enormous bracket board, visible from afar. Drawn on paper several times the height of a person, copies were posted at every entrance.
'Where's Joseph's name?'
No matter how huge the bracket, adults crowded in front, so Charlotte could only see the top few lines.
As she hopped in place, straining to peek lower, hands suddenly reached from both sides.
"Here, let me."
"No, Father. I'll take care of Charlotte. Don't worry about it, just like always."
"But I'm taller. What good is you holding her up?"
"My arms are thicker, Father."
Charlotte looked up in bewilderment.
Jerome and Russell stood awkwardly with hands extended, bickering at each other.
It was a first, seeing them compete to pick her up.
But their endless squabble was amusing and touching, yet not very helpful.
'...Better to squeeze to the front row.'
As Charlotte turned to move, another hand scooped her up effortlessly and perched her on a shoulder.
She felt silky platinum blond hair slip through her fingers like silk, then suddenly stiffened as she realized whose neck she was riding.
'...Eek, Cousin Isaac.'
It was just romance novel backstory—ending with Isaac becoming House Lord and a bloodbath ensuing. In reality, it must have been horrific.
After taking over as House Lord, Isaac had ruthlessly purged, exiled, imprisoned in the underground dungeon, or even killed anyone who hindered his control of the Setia House.
She'd never read any description of him being kind or close to someone.
Not even a mention of marriage later on.
Charlotte thought she'd grown used to it by now, but every time Isaac treated her so kindly, memories of the novel's depictions made her shoulders hunch.
Come to think of it, the two people closest to her were both future butchers.
'Maybe my life is veering way off course.'
As Charlotte muttered to herself in her head, one of those future butchers spoke up.