Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: The Eve (4)
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The young nobles finally regained their senses.
Most were men who harbored feelings for the Princess, but a few among them were my opponents in the tournament.
'That guy who suggested a match against me earlier is here too. He's probably targeting me on orders from above.'
"Is everyone alright? What the hell happened?"
"No idea. A few guys suddenly swung at us out of nowhere. Like they were possessed or something."
"Has to be that Minster family's black magic. They must've known we'd call for him."
"You think? Typical of that vile bloodline."
The curly-haired man pointed at me matter-of-factly.
I let out a short sigh in response.
'Does this prick owe our family money or something?'
I brushed past the sticky bastard without a second glance.
I sat on a garden chair and lit the cigar on the table.
"I came when you called, and now you're blaming me?"
The one guy who'd stayed back unscathed while they dragged me here scowled in disgust.
He cracked his knuckles lightly, glaring at me.
"No one else in high society could've touched us. Except for fearlessly ignorant families like yours."
Now that I looked, they all had the same accessory pinned to their lapels.
A silver twin-headed ram badge.
I knew what that badge was.
The Silver Dawn—an old secret alliance formed between the empire's elite houses.
Not only the Aintz Prime Minister, but key figures from the imperial family, military, and judiciary hailed from there.
"I thought you were just immature fools fawning over the Princess. Guess not."
"Finally piecing it together?"
One of them shrugged, smug now that I'd recognized the Silver Dawn.
But his face soured at my next words.
"Yeah, you're not immature—you're rotten to the core."
"You done talking? Think having a chat with Her Highness and the Knight Commander gives you backing?"
The recovering members straightened their suits.
They completely surrounded the table where I sat.
"Don't get it twisted. Alliances like ours—passed down through blood—mean everything."
Their eyes burned with fervor.
But it wasn't the fire of youth or conviction.
Just the filthy certainty that no crime they'd committed had ever been punished.
That was it.
"Sure, you've stuck together nice and tight for a long time."
I casually picked up a fork from the table.
It was filthy with remnants of someone's half-eaten lemon cake.
"Weaklings always band together like that. Just like the sheep pinned to your lapels."
I pointed the dirty fork at their faces.
"Clueless that they'll end up slaughtered, blindly following the shepherd. How's that not pathetic?"
Curly wool-like hair.
Big, docile herbivore eyes like a sheep's.
I looked at the puffed-up lot like the dumb grazers they were.
"And that shepherd backing you is the Aintz Prime Minister, right?"
Nailing their boss on the first try made their swagger freeze.
Only then did they seem to realize I wasn't ordinary, exchanging wary glances.
"The Prince doesn't give petty orders like this. Tutton Grand Duke still has his honor. So the only one slimy enough to handle idiots like you is that scheming Prime Minister."
From the cigar smoke, my venom-green eyes flashed.
By now, I'd shrugged off my dress shirt jacket and draped it over the chair.
"You had your mafia goons dig that up?"
"What was there to dig? You strut around acting buddy-buddy with the Princess—it's obvious."
I reached for a plate on the table.
A finger bowl with lemon slices for washing hands.
"Why not just advertise you're on the Prince's side?"
I grabbed a lemon and wiped the fork's sharp tines clean.
Coating them thoroughly in the sour, stinging juice.
"Whatever. Now that you know our intent, no need to talk more."
The curly-haired man pulled a business card from his inner pocket.
He slapped it on the table, introducing himself.
"Larson of the Label Marquis House. My father was His Highness the Prince's tactics instructor."
In this country, marquis houses carried ancient traditions.
"I don't know why the Aintz Prime Minister wants you, but he said to cripple your limbs for now."
"Swear to ditch the Princess and join us right now, and we'll let it slide."
So it wasn't just petty jealousy over Camillia that gathered them.
The real goal was isolating the Princess from the throne race.
Remove me—her closest aide—and no one would follow her anymore. A thoroughly laid trap.
But.
"That won't happen."
I'd been waiting for this day too.
Eager for an excuse to thrash our fine young masters.
"I'm getting old. Back in the previous loop, I'd rip them apart just for eye contact."
I finished cleaning the fork and tossed the lemon aside.
Then grabbed a bread knife in my other hand.
"Guess being Warden means I have to hold back this life."
"What...?"
I hurled the knife, hitting the lamp dead-on.
The garden plunged into total darkness.
"Let's start. Before anyone comes."
In the black void, my green eyes glowed.
The cigar ember dropped from my mouth to the floor.
"Everyone rush him at once!!"
I began the knight hunt in earnest.
Just like the previous loop, my dark lord days...
Eliminating them one by one from this empire.
"I'll smash that ugly mug first!!"
A massive tournament knight swung a huge fist.
BAM!!
The chair shattered, table flipping over.
But.
No sign of the shadowy-eyed man amid the wreckage.
"Gahk...!!"
While the knight swung, I'd already circled behind him.
I spun the fork deftly and gripped it tight.
Then stabbed his thick side relentlessly.
"Grraaagh...!!"
The man, who'd only known pretty duels his whole life, wailed savagely.
But his lips were soon sealed by my palm.
"Move funny, and you'll be crippled for life."
"Mmph, mmghh...!"
I whispered sweetly to the silenced fool.
Released, he froze like a terrified sheep.
"Isko, you got him for sure?"
"Obviously. Took a punch from the guy."
Laughter echoed from his comrades in the dark.
But it died out fast.
"Mmghh...!"
The voice that returned wasn't the Warden's—it was a comrade bleating pitifully like prey.
"Everyone, stay alert!!"
Larson—whose father taught the Prince tactics—shouted.
Too late, though.
"Over here!! He zipped straight to—"
The cry from the rearmost guy cut off.
"He's an assassin family! Back-to-back formation!!"
The tactician's son barked.
"Did as ordered, Larson!! Next command?"
"Rear's secure—focus and sense his mana!"
Larson commanded arrogantly, frustrated.
"...No mana at all?"
"Larson, you sense it then!"
The young master clicked his tongue, concentrating.
But the academy boy, versed only in mock tactics, soon realized.
"Pathetic. How sloppy do you have to be at mana control to miss one greenhorn?"
All those top academy scores and applause?
Meaningless before a real dark lord.
"What? Why can't I really sense it...?"
His docile pupils dilated wide.
That instant.
"Grrk...! Ambush again!!"
"Where?! Here?!"
A few more knights lashed out reflexively in the dark.
Often hitting the buddy glued to their back.
Thanks to Larson's perfect formation.
"Hey, you got it yet?! When are you sensing him?!"
Comrades dropping one by one.
The sounds made the noble heir increasingly frantic.
"H-Hiding mana completely? I've never seen an assassin who could..."
"Won't."
A familiar voice came from before the panicked man.
Larson snapped to attention.
His legs nearly buckled.
"Everyone I fought back then died."
Overwhelmed by the snake-like slit eyes before him.
"You sheltered brats never even crossed paths with them."
I snapped my fingers lightly.
The garden lit up again.
"...!!"
But the imperial garden had lost its beauty.
What Larson saw.
"Ughh..."
"S-Someone... help..."
Was littered with the broken bodies of comrades who'd stood tall moments ago.
In minutes, most—save a few—bled out profusely.
Blood dripped from my fork.
My dress shirt was soaked in a tangle of their blood.
Yet my face was serene, like I'd just stepped out for air.
Stabbing flesh without a care— it chilled Larson to his core.
Run. Now.
"Y-You're insane...! Daring to swing at nobles above your rank?"
"Fork, not sword."
I held up the black-bloodied utensil for show.
Then approached the lone unharmed noble slowly.
"T-Think you'll get away with this? Once the higher-ups hear, your family is—!!"
I pressed the fork to his cute threatening face.
Casually wiping off the sticky blood like tissue.
"Gonna tattle to your parents about tonight?"
I narrowed my signature slit eyes thinner.
Sneering incredulously at the fine young master.
"So the empire's bright future got taken down by one Minster youngest with a single fork?"
"..."
"Nice. Spread the word I soloed you all. Best assassin house rep."
I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"But you? Rushing me en masse just to get skewered and bawl like girls."
I whispered like a snake slaughtering sheep behind the shepherd's back.
His trembling heartbeat thrummed through my palm.
"Getting it now? What mess you're in."
"..."
The Prince's tutor spawn—or whatever—finally shut up.
I jammed the fork into his trapezius.
"Aaaagh!!"
Softer flesh than the muscle knights— it sank deep.
He collapsed screaming nicely.
"Where are the guards...!! Why hasn't anyone come yet!!"
Scrambling away pathetically.
Ridiculous sight.
"Anyone there?!"
I grabbed his noisy nape by the hair.
Politely slamming him face-first into the dirt.
"Mmph...!!"
Some soil in his mouth finally quieted him.
Now I could extract info.
"Next time Aintz gives weird orders, report to me first. Got it?"
"..."
Larson glared rebelliously up at me.
I gripped the fork in his trap tighter.
"Still not grasping it?"
Twisted the handle sideways.
The wound tore open, blood welling fiercely.
"Hngghk..."
Unfamiliar agony seals mouths easy.
Tears welled in his eyes.
"I'm giving you a chance. Otherwise, old habits—I'd just kill you."
Venom-green eyes with no qualms about killing.
First time seeing such a gaze, the noble spilled.
"O-Okay. I'll report. P-Please stop."
Confirmation given, I released him.
Tossed the fork on the table, rolled down my sleeves.
'Tch, still got work to do. Took a chest graze.'
A trained knight mixed in—his dagger ambush nicked me.
Can't enter the ballroom bloodied, so time to head out.
Slipped on my suit jacket to hide the wound.
Ruffled my hair roughly, heading for the palace corridor.
"Ughh..."
Sheep bleating from behind.
Too embarrassed to admit getting thrashed by me—they'd sneak off unseen.
So I thought, flinging open the garden door.
Checking cautiously for anyone.
Then, at the corridor's end—a familiar silhouette alone.
Rare pink hair.
White dress hugging an hourglass figure.
"Eri...?"
Even masked, I knew instantly.
"Oh? Lord Derek?"
The silver snake-masked lady approached delightedly.
Her entrance flipped the genre to sweet romance.
"Didn't expect to see you here. You were invited to the party."
"Yes. Arrived late due to schedule. You too, Lord Derek."
Red eyes gleamed beautifully behind the mask.
Like a gem raised on purity alone.
"Yes, just stepping out for some air."
"Must be quite the breeze out there? Your hair's a mess."
Eri giggled, pointing at my locks.
Then tiptoed, reaching to fix my bangs.
"Showing such a boyish side."
I knelt slightly to help.
As she tidied, her ample curves neared—tricky.
Sweet scent like a fresh red apple wafted.
"Don't worry about the garden. I sent back everyone heading that way."
The lady whispered amid her dizzying scent.
Like a gentle female tending her mate.
"You saw it all."
"How could I not? Men wailing like damsels."
Eri finished, smiling with her eyes.
Then her gaze drifted to my jacket's interior.
"Oh? Are you hurt?"
Before I could deflect, she parted the jacket.
Saw the bloodied shirt—her mature eyes widened.
"It's nothing. Minor cut from sparring."
"Nothing? Takes ages to get outside the palace. What if it festers?"
The pink-haired beauty looked up worriedly.
"If it's alright, may I heal it?"
"Heal? You know healing magic, my lady?"
"A little."
Eri eased open my shirt collar.
Checked the gash below my collarbone.
"This much, I can handle."
"Then, if I may? Guards might spot me en route."
She nodded assent.
Then.
"Sure."
Instead of reaching for the wound...
She pressed her red lips softly to my skin.
Arms wrapping my waist meanwhile.
"Uh...?"
In that moment.
The pure lady became a massive silver serpent coiling her prey.
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