Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: The Price of Refusal (1)
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The distance from the Northern Imperial Palace to Berryhill was five hours by carriage.
So how on earth had Camillia made it here?
Commander Conan found her standing alone in his room, arms crossed, staring blankly at him.
"Conan Mata, explain yourself."
He could tell right away, as her childhood friend of many years. The princess was furious.
"Why are you, the Northern Military Commander, here?"
In the ten years they'd spent together since childhood, he'd never seen her this pissed off.
So Conan cleared his throat, regaining his composure.
"Because I'm the commander, that's why I'm here."
He reverted to his crisp, soldierly tone.
"Derek Minster is the head of a national institution. Yet he runs a private company staffed mostly by foreigners."
Her background in intelligence made her eloquent as ever. She could handle any situation smoothly, unless it was embarrassing.
"And lately, he's even secretly met with King Barhan X of Bacar. As you well know, Your Highness."
Conan swept back his half-dried hair with a sharp motion.
Then, like the upright knight she was, she lifted her chin proudly.
"As the one responsible for Northern security, I deemed it necessary to investigate personally. So I went undercover."
"......"
The princess's face turned icy at her utterly shameless attitude. Simple excuses wouldn't cut it.
It wasn't just about the Northern Commander leaving her post.
Nor was it solely because she'd taken sudden leave and approached his inner circle.
What irked her most right now was...
"Who goes undercover dressed like that?"
Conan's current outfit, right there in front of her.
"Pardon? What's wrong with my clothes...?"
Her sharp eyes widened like a beautiful mare with a purple mane.
"You know I only use standard military issue, Your Highness."
Sure enough, her top was a plain white t-shirt.
Her shorts were basic black with white trim along the edges.
But.
Even plain clothes can look entirely different depending on who's wearing them.
Just as the princess exuded charismatic beauty in her white uniform.
Conan's t-shirt strained taut over her bursting curves, and her shorts hugged her firm thighs violently.
To any healthy young man, anyway.
"Even if it's military issue, you don't look like a fine soldier right now."
Plus, with her hair only half-dry, a fresh scent wafted subtly.
If she weren't a soldier, she'd have debuted as an idol for sure.
"You're just a plump, tempting mare made for seducing men."
"That's too harsh. I've just put on a little weight since switching to desk work."
Conan pouted for the first time.
She took pride in her soldier's discipline, so comments about gaining weight really got under her skin.
"And you, Your Highness? Seems like that iron will you honed on the battlefield has gone soft."
True to her childhood friend roots, she wasn't one to just take it.
"What?"
"What time is it? You should be handling state affairs, not coming here to spy on me."
"You're the one who took sudden leave and came here."
"As I said, I'm here to vet Derek Minster's loyalties. But you? You're here purely out of 'jealousy.'"
Jealousy?
Her, jealous over some other woman? Because of a man, no less?
Camillia let out an incredulous scoff.
"What nonsense is that? I'm not some ruler who wears her emotions on her sleeve."
"Yet right now, Your Highness reeks of a bitch lioness in heat."
Conan pointed at the princess's face with precise, military form.
"What?"
"White Peach No. 2."
She was naming the exact makeup on her face.
"Since when do you wear foundation, Your Highness? And that subtle blush on your cheeks—Cherry No. 4."
"Is that what you want to talk about right now? And as someone who appears in public, I can wear makeup."
Camillia shot back coldly, clearly embarrassed.
"It's for maintaining imperial dignity. You know that."
But that excuse only worked on subordinates who knew their place.
Not with a friend who knew all her secrets.
"You used to say true imperial dignity came from actions, not words. But your words and deeds don't match."
"W-well, you're one to talk—weren't you just obsessed with your outfit? If you've gained weight, wear a bigger size."
"It's the superior officer's example of conserving supplies."
"You're just a ripe woman distracting her subordinates."
"Then you should clear out that academy uniform in your closet. Since when do you wear it for inspections?"
"You...!"
Camillia looked shocked that she'd found her hidden stash.
Her nose flushed red enough to skip the makeup.
"It felt a tad small for your size, too. Planning to crush the spirits of our empire's young hopefuls?"
"Not after you've already crushed every woman in the military."
The two closed in until their ample curves nearly touched.
They glared like a unicorn and lioness from ancient myths.
"Don't lump me in as some bitch. Back in my soldier days, no man ever showed interest."
"Oh, really?"
Camillia narrowed her eyes in disbelief.
Everyone in the military knew Conan had been every man's first love—even she, an imperial, had heard.
They'd only stopped pursuing when she transferred to intelligence. In a regular office job, she'd have faced endless confessions.
"Sigh... Fine. Arguing like this is pointless."
Camillia pulled a drawing from her uniform's inner pocket.
A scene her surveillance had captured of Conan and Derek Minster.
With her opponent dodging, she presented hard evidence.
"If you're so confident, how do you explain this?"
Conan took the drawing from the princess.
She froze at the lewd scene depicted.
Herself, lying on the beach with a lascivious expression.
And the warden, straddling her, nose buried in her voluptuous curves.
"What is this... erotic art? The heroine looks a lot like me."
"That's you and Derek today. Want to relive old times with some Confession Magic and bond?"
Camillia wielded a spear, Conan a polearm.
They'd honed their skills sparring for days inside Confession Magic since childhood.
"This is way too distorted. Sure, he mounted me, but we didn't do... this."
Conan suddenly recalled a man looming over her domineeringly.
The humiliation of her first defeat, and those electrifying eyes that seemed to claim her.
Thinking back on that gaze, she understood Camillia's obsession.
But admitting her feelings here could demolish the prison, so she stayed silent.
"No such thing happened. Just unintended contact during our spar."
Conan brushed past Camillia indifferently.
She shrugged on her uniform jacket over the "indecent" curves.
"......"
But keen Camillia noticed instantly.
The moment she denied the drawing.
Her usual polite speech had slipped casually.
"I see. Got it."
The princess inwardly resolved something and dropped the interrogation.
She switched questions instead.
"So, what was Derek Minster like today, from your full day undercover?"
"The warden?"
"Yes. You infiltrated all day. What kind of man is he?"
"......"
Conan slumped onto the bed.
Clutching the ledger of military corruption in her hand.
As a former intelligence officer, she'd already investigated Derek thoroughly.
She knew he'd volunteered for the military from the academy.
Bullied kids rarely chose that path.
Most dropped out or transferred, wallowing in self-pity.
But his application read:
"I want to change my weak self."
Hated by everyone for no reason, yet such spirited resolve.
He'd failed enlistment but persisted, graduating anyway.
Then applied to the dreaded prison to grow further.
From her soldier's view, he was flawless.
Worthy of the manual's exemplar of mental fortitude.
Having seen countless types in the military, Conan knew.
That glint in Derek's eyes as he handed her the ledger.
His genuine worry for the empire's future.
'He gave this hoping no future generations suffer like him.'
Her grip tightened on the ledger.
Bolstered by his will and courage, she gave her final assessment.
"He seems like a good man."
With a rare, pure smile.
"Proves Your Highness has a good eye for people."
"......"
The princess stared blankly at her old friend's praising face.
But.
That didn't soften her at all.
If anything, her wariness spiked wildly.
"Yeah, no. This won't do."
Camillia buttoned her uniform to the collar.
Her eyes reverted to steely queen mode.
"A girl who's ignored men her whole life reacting like this? Definitely dangerous."
Conan shivered down her spine.
Had she endangered a fine patriot?
"I need to transfer Derek Minster to the imperial court."
She'd promote him gradually, molding him into a fitting partner.
Then bring him to meet the emperor.
"What, planning to marry him?"
The radiant golden-haired princess adjusted her cap.
She pressed a finger to her lips in a "shh" gesture.
"Not telling. Especially not to a dangerous girl like you."
"I'm dangerous? Your eyes look more predatory right now."
Conan knew the princess's one peculiar taste.
"You aren't planning to chain the warden in your bed like 'Denny,' are you?"
Denny was the pet name for the hatchling doll in her bedroom.
Cherished for over ten years, complete with a collar—like a pet dragon.
"What do you take me for, a pervert? Do that to a person?"
"......"
Camillia denied it with a mature smile, but Conan wasn't convinced.
'That's exactly why I'm saying it.'
However, this grand scheme inevitably reached the warden's ears.
With my realm advancing, I could sense even faint mana now...
I'd come to the underground corridor and overheard by chance.
'The princess sis wants to assign me to the imperial palace?'
"What the...?"
Was it because I got too chummy with Bacar? Making her uneasy?
I hurried up the underground stairs, rubbing my forehead.
'Gotta talk my way out of this politely. Tell her I don't want imperial ties.'
Trapped in the palace, I couldn't control the doom-bringers easily.
Like during my Imperial Prime Minister days in a key post, I'd miss the disaster's roots.
'That's why the system urged me to become a Grandmaster!'
I needed strength to defy even the imperials.
To that end, I had to train freely here, focusing solely on reforming inmates.
"Time to firmly reject sis's offer."
Once I conveyed my true intent.
Refusing imperial blood was disloyal, but she'd understand.
A bit of regret at most.
I ascended the stairs with resolute eyes.