Chapter 59
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Marteng's Demise
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That evening, in a back alley near the imperial palace.
Crash!
Knight Marteng Sians gnashed his teeth and hurled his liquor bottle to the ground.
"Damn it all!"
Staggering drunk, he stumbled down the deserted street.
Marteng had just been stripped of his knighthood and expelled from the palace.
Princess Philomel—no, that woman Philomel—hadn't been satisfied with simply relieving him of his guard duty. She'd gone and reported every last bit of his disloyal behavior.
"Damn her! I won't let her get away with this!"
Why should he have to suffer this humiliation? And at the hands of a fake princess, no less!
Thrown out for such a disgraceful reason, his career as a knight was over. No noble house would hire him now.
Even his brother, Viscount Sians, would surely pretend not to know him. That was just how noble families worked.
Marteng ground his teeth as Philomel's cold face flashed in his mind.
"Come to think of it, that bitch isn't even real nobility."
He vaguely recalled hearing that her mother had been a commoner friendly with the empress. No one knew who the father was.
"Her old man was probably some gutter rat no one knows anything about! Obvious as hell!"
So, he—a member of Viscount Sians's house—had been insulted by some lowly commoner girl!
He screamed in a fit of rage.
"I'll kill her!"
But in that instant, a chill ran down his spine. It felt like a bug crawling up his body—an eerie sensation.
"Who's there?!"
His instinctive sense of danger, the last remnant of his knightly instincts, had put him on guard.
A man stood at the end of the alley.
"Me?"
The man tilted his head and approached. Moonlight revealed a stunningly beautiful face. Golden eyes gleamed sharply.
"Y-You're... who?!"
Trembling with fear, Marteng gripped his sword hilt tightly.
His instincts screamed: this man was different. On a whole other level.
The man chuckled lowly.
"Some gutter rat no one knows anything about."
The man's raised hand glowed.
In that moment, Marteng sensed his death.
"W-Why are you doing this to me?!"
"Who knows? You just rubbed me the wrong way."
And with that, Marteng died without even a chance to scream.
In the blood-soaked back alley, Rguin spoke without turning around.
"What brings you here, Jeremiah?"
Jeremiah stepped forward, quickly scanning the surroundings. A gruesome murder scene lay before him.
"What about Phil? Weren't you supposed to be her guard knight or something?"
Rguin replied in a languid tone.
"She's with Cardin right now."
"Ah, so you left your little sister with him and came to handle this yourself."
Rguin gestured toward the mangled corpse that barely resembled a human anymore.
"You've always been itching to kill trash like this. Too bad I beat you to it this time."
Jeremiah just smirked at Rguin's words.
Then and now, his father was the only one who dressed up his twisted nature with fancy words like "sense of justice."
"Whatever. Doesn't matter who cleans up trash like that. I came because that last leering look at Philomel stuck in my craw, but looks like you were watching too."
"Yeah. Couldn't let a creep like this bother Phil."
But there was another visitor to the alley.
"Gah! What the hell is this?!"
Lexion popped around the corner, scowled at Marteng's body, and wrinkled his nose.
"You made a real mess of it. If you're gonna do it, at least do it clean. Easier to tidy up."
"Nag, nag."
"You're the one who keeps giving me reasons to nag, Tower Master Rguin. Why'd you get blood all over yourself like that?"
Lexion grumbled nonstop as he stepped carefully around the pooling blood.
"Man, it would've been better if Jeremiah had found him first."
Jeremiah would've ended it in one clean strike. And if it had been him, he'd have wrapped it up perfectly neat.
Still, Lexion was a positive thinker. At least it wasn't Cardin. No buildings demolished over one trash heap—small mercies.
"Keep the perimeter ward up for about thirty minutes. Should be enough time to clean."
Lexion clicked his tongue lightly.
"I'm heading out. You guys handle it."
As Rguin prepared a teleport spell with a bored expression, Lexion stopped him.
"Hold on! You planning to go to Phil like that?"
"Why not?"
"Obviously not. What if she faints seeing you drenched in blood?"
Lexion sighed and continued.
"I told you before, didn't I? Phil might not be a total saint, but her sense of right and wrong is pretty normal. If you don't want her avoiding you, keep your true nature under wraps. Got it?"
Rguin glanced down at himself.
"Guess I'll wash up and change first, then."
He muttered cheerfully.
"I don't want Phil hating me just yet."
At that same time, in the state guesthouse.
Philomel was spending time with Cardin. When her shift ended and he'd shown up, Jeremiah had clicked his tongue and left for somewhere, leaving them alone.
Come to think of it, Rguin's been gone for a while now.
Philomel tilted her head but decided to use the chance to get closer to Cardin.
He was the only one of the four brothers she'd never spoken to alone.
He seems pretty straightforward, though...
They'd be seeing each other often from now on, so it couldn't hurt to build rapport.
But her resolve proved unnecessary—he was already gazing at her with syrupy sweet eyes.
...This is awkward.
Philomel swallowed and mustered her courage.
"Um... Cardin... Do you like me?"
"Yeah. I do."
He answered without hesitation.
"Why?"
"'Cause you're like a little sister?"
Philomel pressed her fingers to her temple.
She'd suspected it before, but he definitely had this little-sister fantasy. The whole "little sisters are cute and cuddly" prejudice.
Probably because of those two hulking brothers of his.
If so, she needed to shatter that illusion before he got disappointed.
"Look, I don't know what you think about little sisters, but I'm not the cute, endearing type."
Quite the opposite, in fact.
Everyone described Philomel as a mature child.
Which was just a nicer way of saying "little old lady."
"So don't get your hopes up."
Cardin looked a bit downcast.
"What do you mean? I'm not the sharpest, so spell it out for me."
That was confusing?
Philomel explained again.
"Well... I'm not a very good little sister."
Cardin pondered for a moment, then asked.
"Do you wanna hit me, Phil?"
"Huh? Why would I hit you?"
"Wanna yell at me, then?"
"Not at all."
"Wanna freeze me?"
"...Even if I wanted to, I couldn't."
He laughed brightly.
"For real? You're the best! See, Phil is a good little sister. Great! Awesome."
Somehow, Cardin's bar for "good little sister" seemed awfully low.
And she could easily guess who'd set it that way.
Anyway, if earning "good little sister" status was this easy, getting along with Cardin would be a breeze.
Just don't hit him, yell at him, or freeze him.
Feeling upbeat, Philomel extended her hand.
"Shall we shake on it?"
"Can we?"
"Of course."
Cardin wiped his hand nervously on his clothes before grasping hers.
It was like handling fragile porcelain. An unexpected delicacy from those rough, callused, scarred hands.
"Let's get along from now on."
"You got it!"
The man who'd felt overwhelming moments ago now seemed like a bouncy giant puppy.
Philomel thought of the other three in turn. She'd pegged them all as oddballs at first, but living with them proved otherwise.
She could definitely get along with them just fine.