Chapter 5: The "Kukkoro" Hardcore Fan Begins Plotting with a Prince

~ Cynthia's Side ~

"Cynthia, do you have a moment? I'd like to speak with you."

"Brother? I don't mind, but..."

After classes had finished for the day, I was walking down the academy corridor when my brother suddenly stopped me. It was rare for him to ask for a formal discussion like this. I wasn't sure what he wanted to talk about, but I certainly didn't have any other plans, and it was usually best to listen when he took this tone.

"Is my room alright? Or would you prefer yours?"

"No, your room is fine, Brother."

"Very well. Let’s move, then."

I followed behind him until we reached his quarters. Once inside, I took a seat. Ordinarily, the men's dormitory was off-limits for a princess whose chastity and reputation were of the utmost importance, but since I was with my brother, it wasn't an issue.

"May I get straight to the point?" Victor asked.

"Please do. I know you dislike wasting time in these situations."

"I appreciate that. I’ll be blunt, then: what do you think of Jeralt?"

The question caught me off guard. I couldn't understand why that man's name was coming up now, of all times.

"...To be honest, I still find him difficult to deal with."

"It's rare to hear you say something like that about someone else," he noted.

That man is evil.

Until recently, that was what I believed. But lately, a seed of doubt had been planted. Is he truly evil? I couldn't find an answer, and when asked how I felt, "difficult" seemed more accurate than "loathing."

"...If I may ask, Brother, why are you so invested in him?"

"Personally? Because he’s interesting. As a prince? Because we need to strengthen our faction by deepening our ties with the Drake family. It’s as simple as that."

"But surely there are other houses...!"

"Do you really believe that?" My brother interjected, his voice growing stern.

I fell silent, unable to offer a rebuttal.

"Sigh... It seems you still don't understand the true nature of House Drake. You should go to the Drake territory and see it for yourself. Only then will you understand the weight of my words."

"...I understand, Brother."

I looked down, feeling the weight of a conversation very similar to one we'd had before. I will see it with my own eyes, I resolved.

"And I'll leave you with this: Jeralt isn't as bad as you think he is."

"...If you say so."

I nodded noncommittally, only half-believing his words.

◇　◇　◇

(So this is Betrau, the heart of the Drake lands... I’d heard the stories, but I never imagined it would be like this...)

On my next day off from the military academy, I had filed the necessary paperwork and traveled to Betrau, just as my brother had suggested. To be perfectly honest, it exceeded all my expectations.

While not as large as the royal capital, the number of smiling faces and the general vibrancy of the city were on a different level. Even in the prosperous capital, there are shadows—slums, beggars, and the like. But this city, while shining even brighter than the capital, seemed almost entirely free of such things. In the distance, the Drake manor stood like a magnificent, unyielding fortress, its craftsmanship obvious even to an amateur.

(This city is unnervingly prosperous... Is this truly the power of House Drake?)

The Drakes were known as a house of warriors, of heroes. Yet, since Betrau didn't employ a deputy governor, this meant the Marquis himself was directing the economic policies that led to this success. To be a master of both the sword and domestic affairs... just how capable was he? Looking at this city, I was forced to acknowledge the sheer competence of the man I had disparaged.

(Brother said I would understand their power if I came here... but this is more than I expected. Perhaps I should look around a bit more...)

As I began to walk, hoping to find someone to talk to, a voice suddenly called out to me. Startled, I spun around to find a greengrocer with a kind, beaming smile.

"Hey there, little miss! You're a real beauty, aren't ya? Here, have a taste of this. It’s a Drake specialty apple! One bite and everyone’s grinning!"

"Huh...?"

I had used a cloth to hide my distinctive royal blonde hair, so he clearly hadn't realized my identity, but the gesture was entirely unexpected. I flusteredly reached for my purse, but the man laughed and waved me off.

"Keep your coin! You’ve got a face I haven't seen 'round here. A guest or a traveler, right? I want you to know how good we've got it in the Drake lands, so this one’s on the house!"

"What...? But..."

"Don't worry about it! Here!"

I found myself holding a bright red apple that smelled wonderfully sweet. I was a total stranger with no standing here, yet he was giving me food for free. This was a world I knew nothing about.

My poison-detection magic tool remained silent. Tentatively, I took a bite. Sweet juice and a rich aroma flooded my senses.

"It's delicious...!"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. This was my first time eating while standing in the street—my first time biting into a whole piece of fruit without it being sliced for me.

"Oh! Did you go and give away another apple for free?"

"Gah!"

An older woman stepped out from the shop as I was eating. Guilt flared up again.

"Oh, um... I'm sorry..."

"Hmm? Oh, don't you worry, dear. You didn't do anything wrong. Besides, I just finished baking some apple pie. The fresh ones are good, but the pie is where the magic really happens. I told this man to offer the guests pie, and look at him... Here, have a piece."

She handed me a small plate with a slice of apple pie. Having already accepted the apple, I shook my head frantically.

"No...! I couldn't possibly...! I’ve already taken an apple..."

"It’s fine. I’d much rather see you eat it than have you standing there being polite."

"...Are you sure?"

"Of course."

I took a bite with the provided fork. The sweetness of the dough and sugar perfectly complemented the tartness of the apples. It was exquisite. Even the refined desserts in the royal palace didn't taste half as good as this simple pie. A genuine smile spread across my face.

"Haha, looks like you like it!"

"It really is wonderful! Thank you so much...!"

"Think nothing of it. We're always being looked after by Lord Jeralt. The least we can do is share a bit of that kindness with others, right?"

"Oh..."

I had never heard of a city where the commoners possessed such a collective consciousness. While people in rural areas tend to be closer, the fact that the citizens of a bustling hub like Betrau could afford such emotional generosity was proof that this city wasn't just wealthy on the surface—it was thriving to its core. Prosperity breeds manners, as the saying goes.

However, one name in their conversation caught my ear.

"Um... did something happen with Lord Jeralt?"

"You bet, miss! Whenever he comes down to the city, he always listens to us, helps us with our problems... heck, even these apples are grown using a fertilizer he told us about!"

"Honestly, you talk as if you're the one who invented it..." the wife teased.

"He did that...?"

It was hard to believe. A son of high nobility—a Marquis's heir—walking the streets and befriending the common folk? It was unheard of. Yet, the couple before me clearly weren't lying. I felt my preconceptions beginning to fracture.

"If he's such a wonderful person... Why is he called the 'The Violent Lord'?"

"Oh? You mean you haven't heard what really happened?"

"What happened?"

"Well, there was this noble... Morn-something? He decided he was gonna force one of the local girls to be his concubine. When her boyfriend tried to stop him, the noble drew his sword! Lord Jeralt heard the commotion, rushed in, and saved 'em!"

"What...?"

"He was so cool... Lord Jeralt didn't flinch for a second. He stood up to that arrogant noble and chased him off in a duel! Seeing that... Man, I tell ya, it gave me chills!"

As the greengrocer spoke with pride, other townspeople who had gathered nearby nodded along, smiles on their faces. These weren't second-hand rumors; These were eye-witness accounts.

(No... Then that means... I believed the rumors and hated an innocent man without even trying to know him?)

Everything I thought I knew, crumbled in an instant. A horrific mixture of self-loathing, shame, anger, and disappointment washed over me. I had to steady myself to keep from collapsing.

(I was so foolish... Brother was right. I didn't see anything at all... and I called myself a seeker of justice?)

I thanked the couple and hurried back to my inn, fighting the urge to break down. How was I supposed to face him now? What could I possibly say?

It was then that the peace was shattered.

"Run! Everyone, run! The gate is under attack by monsters!"

(A monster attack...?! I have to go!)

I grabbed my sword from where it leaned against the wall and sprinted out of the room. The peaceful atmosphere of the city had vanished, replaced by a suffocating shroud of dread. Residents were evacuating under the orderly direction of the guards. The lack of chaos even in this crisis spoke volumes of House Drake’s leadership.

(I have to hurry...! I need to minimize the damage!)

I moved across the rooftops to avoid the fleeing crowds, heading toward the rising smoke. Near the gate, a line of soldiers stood ready.

"Who are you? It's dangerous here. Evacuate immediately."

"No. Let me help. I am trained in the sword. I won't be a burden."

"...We need every hand we can get. But I can't guarantee your safety. Follow my orders and protect your own life. If you can do that, we'll take the help."

"I accept those terms."

The gate hadn't been breached yet, but I could hear the rhythmic thudding of something heavy slamming against it. The monsters were trying to break through, and the defenders were waiting for the right moment to counter-attack. In the midst of the heavy tension, a man approached me and whispered in my ear.

"Your Highness. This is far too dangerous. Please, step back."

"Mark...! You followed me... Thank you for your concern, but my answer is no. For now, I am just a commoner. Lend me your strength to protect the people, Mark."

The man gave a wry smile. Mark Willard. He had been my guard since I was a child—more like an uncle to me than a servant. He was a man of immense skill and trust, worthy of guarding the royal family. He also knew me well enough to know I wouldn't budge.

"Very well. However, you are the hope of this kingdom. You must protect your own life above all else."

"I understand."

As we nodded to each other, the commander’s voice rang out. It was time.

"I will fight with everything I have. For the people."

(I wasn't strong enough when the Orc attacked... This time, I will protect everyone!)

"Your Highness, good luck."

"You as well, Mark. Be careful."

The gates swung open, and we surged forward to push back the encroaching tide. The monster horde was a disorganized mess of various species, though their origin was unclear. We had no choice but to cut them down.

"Albar Style... Defensive Form: Backside Swing!"

I twisted mid-air, dodging an attack before cleaving through my foe. It was my first real combat since the Orc incident. My body grew hot, and my breathing sharpened as the adrenaline took hold.

(So this is a battlefield... The air is even viler than I imagined.)

With every swing, an enemy fell in a spray of blood. Because they were monsters, I could keep swinging; if they had been human, I might have hesitated.

(Mark is obviously incredible, but even these Betrau soldiers are strong...! To think that even the rank-and-file are this capable...!)

Mark stayed at a tactical distance, close enough to intervene if I faltered but far enough to let me fight. He was a whirlwind of steel. But the Betrau soldiers were also holding their own. While I might win against one of them in a duel, their small-unit coordination was flawless. If I were a commander, I would choose these soldiers over myself in a heartbeat.

"Good! Their numbers are thinning! Keep it up! Drive them back!"

The momentum was shifting in our favor. We pressed the line forward, ensuring no stragglers slipped into the city.

(We can win... If we just keep this up...)

Suddenly, a violent tremor shook the earth, followed by a deafening roar that felt like it would burst my eardrums. The battlefield froze as everyone tried to process what had happened.

(What was—?! ...Wait! That's...!)

Rising above the carnage was a massive, lumbering form, meters tall and encased in solid rock. I had never seen one in person, but the descriptions were unmistakable.

"A Golem...! Why is one here?!"

Golems were mountain-dwelling creatures. There was no reason for one to appear in the plains of Betrau. In an instant, the tide of battle turned.

"This is bad...! We aren't equipped to take that thing down...! Fall back! Retreat!"

Under the commander's orders, the soldiers executed a disciplined withdrawal. Once the last man was inside, the gates were slammed shut.

"Huff... huff... Why is such a monster here?"

"Who knows? But we don't have the weaponry to stop it. A standard cannon wouldn't even scratch it... Hurry! Get the explosives! All of them!"

I bit my lip. (If only Marquis Drake or the main Knights were here...)

But the Marquis was at the border with the main force, investigating suspicious activity. The remaining guards were few, and their siege equipment was designed for soft targets—arrows and spears. They wouldn't even dent a Golem.

As I searched for a way to turn the tables, another roar, louder than the first, echoed through the air. I spun around to see a massive hole where the reinforced gate had once been.

"No...! They're coming in! Intercept them!"

Monsters began pouring through the breach, led by the Golem. It stepped into the city, its heavy footfalls shaking the buildings.

"Splitting our forces is suicide, but we have no choice! Divide into two groups! Two-thirds stay here to hold the line, the rest follow me!"

I started to run toward the Golem when a hand caught my arm. It was Mark.

"Your Highness. Where are you going?"

"I’m going to stop the Golem. Mark, stay here and hold back the others."

"Your Highness! But—"

"That’s an order! Every second counts!"

"...Understood. Please, stay safe!"

Mark turned back to face the horde. Seeing him engage, I sprinted after the Golem. I had to stop it before it reached the civilians. But the creature ignored me entirely, absorbing every blow as it marched deeper into the city.

"Damn it! Stop it at all costs! Don't let it reach the shelter!"

(My attacks aren't working...! Cutting through rock with a sword is...!)

The heavy cannons couldn't be moved in time. We had to rely on our blades, but instead of damaging the monster, our swords were chipping and dulling. My grip was failing as the shocks from each strike traveled up my arms.

(Is there no other way...?!)

Suddenly, the Golem—which had ignored us until now—swung its massive arm in a wide arc. Caught off guard by the sudden shift in focus, we had no time to dodge. I was sent flying.

I slammed into a wall, the air leaving my lungs in a painful rush. I had managed to block with my sword at the last second, avoiding a fatal blow, but I was grounded.

(Anyone... is anyone else left...?)

I looked around. The soldiers who had been fighting with me were all down. The defense had collapsed. The Golem continued its slow, inexorable march toward me. The evacuation shelter was just around the corner.

(Everyone... run...)

The Golem stopped before me. The sheer scale of it, the overwhelming difference in our existence, was paralyzing. I couldn't stand. I couldn't even lift my sword.

(Ah... so this is where I die... Failing again... unable to protect a single soul...)

The Golem raised its fist. The scent of death filled the air. There was no escape. I felt the terror, but I refused to cry. Even if I lacked the strength, I would keep my heart firm until the very end. I would die with the pride of a princess and a knight.

(I just wish... I could have apologized to him one last time...)

I had believed the lies. I had failed to see the truth that was written on the faces of every person in this city. Looking back, he had been abrasive, yes—but he had never actually hurt anyone at the academy. I was such a fool.

(Father, Mother, Brother... I’m sorry for being such a burden. Please... forgive me for leaving first...)

I closed my eyes, braced for the end.

But the blow never came.

Tentatively, I opened my eyes. A man was standing over me, blocking the Golem’s massive fist with his sword.

"Whew... That was close."

It was a voice I had spent so much time avoiding. A voice I had sneered at with childish spite. And yet, at this moment, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"It's alright now. You did well to hold out this long. Because of you, the people are safe. You and your soldiers have my utmost respect and gratitude."

The man before me was the true ideal of nobility—the person I had so completely misunderstood. Just thinking his name made my heart ache with a strange warmth.

"Lord... Jeralt..."

"Leave the rest to me."

I didn't understand this feeling. I had never felt it before. But for now... all I could do was pray for his safety.

◇◆◇

"Leave the rest to me."

(Crap, that was way too close! One second later and she would’ve been a paste!)

I’d managed to block the Golem's attack just in the nick of time, saving the woman who had been holding the line.

I had only returned to the territory today to help with administrative work while my father was at the border. When the chaos started, I had been out checking on a landslide near the outskirts. I was late to the party, and I’d spent the last few minutes helping the soldiers at the gate, which is why I’d barely made it here in time.

You see this kind of stuff in manga all the time, but experiencing it for real is bad for the heart. If I’d missed this, I would’ve regretted it for the rest of my life. Thank god I made it!

"I’ve got it from here. You men—get her to the infirmary!"

" "Sir! At once!" "

I kept my eyes locked on the Golem, my guard up, as I handed the woman over to the soldiers she’d been leading. Now I could breathe a little easier. Once I confirmed they were clear of the blast zone, I leveled my sword at the monster.

"Lord Jeralt! It's too dangerous! Let us help!"

"He's right, my Lord!"

The remaining soldiers drew their weapons, ready to jump back into the fray. I raised a hand to stop them. As the man currently responsible for this city in my father’s absence, I couldn't allow any more casualties. Besides, a pebble like this was nothing I couldn't handle alone.

"Stand down. You aren't needed here. Just watch."

"...But...!"

"Trust me. Trust your future Lord. That’s all I’ll say for now."

"Yes, sir! Of course!"

They were surprisingly worried about me. Nice guys. But this time, I needed them to stay back. I had a point to prove.

"You’ve got some nerve, trashing my city. And a Golem, no less... something reeks about this. I hope you're prepared to be put down."

The Golem didn't speak; it simply let out a mindless roar. It didn't have much in the way of brains, which only made this whole situation more suspicious.

"You hurt a lot of things I care about. You're going to pay for that with your life."

(How dare you touch my people...! I'm gonna wreck you!)

I cloaked myself in a full-power Mana Shroud, something I rarely did. I wasn't going to hold back. I was going to crush this thing with everything I had.

'GUOOOOOOOOH!'

"Akatsuki Style... Return Form: Hidden Moon 'Storm'."

I lunged, weaving past the monster's fist. In the span of a heartbeat, I delivered three imperceptible slashes. The Golem’s "wrist," "forearm," and "elbow" sections were severed cleanly. Whether it was rock or steel, the Akatsuki Style carved through it like paper. No matter how hard the enemy hit, they couldn't touch me while I was boosted by my shroud, and cutting them was child's play. I thought it might be a challenge, but this guy was just trash.

"What a bore. I'm wasting my time with you. Let's end this."

I sheathed my sword, lowered my center of gravity, and dropped my right hand. I had seen this move before; I had practiced it. But this was the first time I was going to use it at full power against a real enemy. My instincts told me not to hold back.

"Akatsuki Style, Iai Form..."

'BUOOOOOH!'

The Golem used its massive bulk to leap high into the air. If that weight landed on me, even my Mana Shroud wouldn't save me from being flattened.

Interesting. Let's see who's faster.

The Golem plummeted, accelerated by gravity, its fist aimed directly at my head. In that split second, I drew and swung with everything I had.

"Suigetsu-giri."

My blade met the Golem's fist and passed through it like a hot knife through butter, continuing through its entire body without slowing down. By the time I clicked my sword back into its sheath, the Golem's bisected corpse was crashing to the ground behind me.

"Hmph. Weakling."

" " "YEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" " "

"The young Lord killed the monster!"

"He made it look so easy... Our Lord Jeralt is the strongest!"

"Lord Jeralt... he was so cool..."

Akatsuki Style, Iai Form: Suigetsu-giri (Water Moon Slash). In a world of straight swords and no katanas, the Iai techniques developed by the Akatsuki Style were revolutionary. Even with a straight blade ill-suited for quick-draws, the style used a reckless combination of physical enhancement and mana-boosting within the sheath to force a high-speed strike.

It was one of the fastest and most powerful moves in the Akatsuki repertoire—a signature technique that even other schools had to respect.

(Man... who even came up with a move like that? But this power... it’s what’s gonna take me to the next level. For now, though... I owe a huge thanks to the people who fought to protect this place.)

As a bit of "fan service," I thrust my fist high toward the sky, soaking in the cheers of the people.

◇◆◇

(...Well, I guess this works. Doesn't feel too out of place. I can pull this off.)

Two days after the Golem attack in Betrau, I stood before a massive mirror, checking my reflection. I was wearing the academy uniform, but a professional stylist had gone to town on my hair, setting it in a way that felt... right.

I looked so much like a top-tier heartthrob that it actually made me feel a bit uncomfortable. It was like I was wearing someone else's face.

"My, Jeralt. You look quite the part. Very dashing."

"I don't need to hear that from a man. Especially not you."

I sighed at Lawrence as he approached. He was dressed up even more than I was, looking like a total prince. I didn't think he was being sarcastic, but it still felt like empty flattery.

"I truly mean it. With the way you look now, you'll be a hit with the ladies."

"The only people who'd approach me with my reputation are those looking to suck up to House Drake. Besides, I have no interest in being 'a hit'."

"Hahaha, as selfless as ever. Well, I believe it's about time. Shall we?"

"Yeah, let's go."

I nodded and followed Lawrence out of the waiting room. A staff member led us to the venue—a ballroom so glittering and opulent it made every other party I'd attended look like a backyard BBQ.

Just looking at the sheer scale of it made me want to turn back, but today was one of those days where attendance was mandatory.

"I heard these things were usually smaller, but I didn't expect them to hold it in the Royal Castle. It looks like half the nobility is already here."

"Can't be helped," I replied. "This year's freshman class includes the First Prince and the Second Princess. Even for an 'entrance celebration,' they couldn't exactly keep it low-key."

That’s right—today was the National Military Academy's Entrance Celebration Party. It felt a bit late, considering how much time had passed since we actually started classes, but apparently, it’s tradition to hold it once everyone has settled into dorm life. They’d really thought it through.

"Looks like there's plenty of food, too. Let's grab a bite once the greetings are over."

"If I have time. I’ve got something I need to take care of first."

"Oh? Is that so? In that case, I'll pick out a few things I think you'd like."

"Yeah, do that. Sorry if we don't end up meeting back up."

"No worries. We've both got our own business to attend to."

As we spoke, the room suddenly fell silent. It was starting. We turned toward the stage at the front, where a man stood flanked by a small army of guards.

"Can you all hear me? I am Ronald Albar."

His voice wasn't particularly loud, but it possessed a strange quality that carried through the entire hall. It was more than enough to freeze the commoner students, who hadn't realized they were standing in the presence of majesty.

Ronald Albar. Father of Prince Victor and Princess Cynthia, and the current King of the Albar Kingdom.

And then, the "Principal’s Speech" began.

(God, this is boring... At least I don't have to sit on a gym floor with my legs crossed like in my past life, but if I screw up my etiquette here, it's a national incident. I have to at least look like I'm listening...)

After the King, the Queen spoke, followed by the Prime Minister, and then a succession of influential nobles. My father was among them, having returned temporarily from the front lines. Seeing him up there made me depressed—is this the kind of thing I'm going to have to do in the future?

Finally, the long-winded speeches ended. With the signal for a toast, the party officially began. The commoners' eyes lit up at the sight of the gourmet food; the young lords and ladies began to mingle; and the adult aristocrats wore polite smiles while engaging in their usual backstabbing conversations.

As I was debating my next move, I noticed a couple of familiar figures approaching.

"Good grief. Finally, that long-winded, boring speech is over."

"Brother, you shouldn't say such things."

It was Prince Victor, carrying a plate piled high with food, and Princess Cynthia, who was walking beside him with a weary sigh.

Hey, Mr. Prince, are you really the one who should be saying that? You're going to be the one giving those speeches eventually, you know.

"I’m entitled to my opinion. Everyone says the exact same things every year. It's a complete waste of time."

"Sigh..."

Just another day for the royal siblings. However, today, there was a third person with them.

"Prince Victor... and who might this be?"

"Ah, is this your first time meeting her, Jeralt? Allow me to introduce Karen. She was originally a maid serving the royal household, but now she's Cynthia's personal attendant."

The woman Victor introduced as Karen gave a graceful, perfectly executed bow. She looked a few years older than us. She had her black hair in a neat bob, wore a refined maid's uniform, and most notably, a pair of sharp-looking glasses. She was quite the beauty.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Jeralt Drake. I am Karen, personal maid to Her Highness, Princess Cynthia. I look forward to working with you."

"Uh... right. Likewise?"

I’d greeted plenty of nobles, but greeting a maid was a first. Was this the right way to respond?

"Brother, why are you the one introducing Karen...?" Cynthia asked.

"She’s employed by the Royal Family. It makes no difference who introduces her."

"Fine... whatever. Just please, don't do anything else weird today, okay?"

The serious younger sister being dragged around by her eccentric brother. If only Prince Victor had a shred of common sense like I did, he could have a nice, normal sibling relationship like Alice and I.

As I was complaining internally, Victor leaned in and whispered in my ear.

'About that incident... Thank you. Truly. If you hadn't been there, things would have been catastrophic. I don't even know how to properly thank you...'

'Huh? What are you talking about? I didn't do anything that warrants a thanks from you, Prince Victor...'

'Heh. You can play dumb all you want. I like you even more now. I'll find a way to repay this debt one day. For now, just accept my gratitude.'

I really didn't do anything for him specifically...

But if he wants to misunderstand and treat it like he owes me a favor, I'm not going to complain. More importantly, it was time to poke at the Princess.

"It’s rare to see Princess Cynthia approaching us of her own accord. Especially since you usually won't even look me in the eye."

"I—I'm not... that's not true!" She huffed, turning her face away.

It seemed that even after I'd saved her from the Orc, I hadn't triggered any 'Easy Heroine' flags. She still looked at me with that familiar prickliness. Perfect. I love it.

"By the way, your hair looks lovely today. It’s very becoming—truly beautiful."

"Wha—?! Are you mocking me...?!"

"Ahahaha! No need to get so flustered over a bit of social etiquette, Cynthia."

"Brother, be quiet!"

"......"

Victor shut his mouth at Cynthia’s sharp rebuke. I wasn't actually just being polite, though. Cynthia had her hair braided today, and it gave her a completely different vibe than usual. Victor was probably the only person in the world who could call a genuine compliment to the Princess "mere etiquette."

"Are you two not obligated to perform greetings?" Lawrence asked.

"Oh, I'm sure there's a swarm of nobles dying to talk to us," Victor replied with total confidence. "But it's incredibly tedious, so I ran away."

"Um... is that really okay?" Lawrence looked even more worried now.

Lately, I’d been reminded daily of just how eccentric Victor was, but I’d also seen glimpses of his brilliance. If he decided it wasn't necessary to be there, he probably had a good reason.

"Relax, it's fine. Oh, this is delicious. Want some, Jeralt?"

Victor shoved a plate and fork toward me. It did look good, but who in their right mind would say 'Yes, thank you' and start eating in the middle of this conversation?

"No, I'll pass. I feel like the person next to you would kill me if I did."

"Brother? That is a breach of etiquette! If you're going to eat, please do so with some semblance of decorum!"

"Guh... Curse you, Jeralt...! You set me up...!"

Victor shot me a resentful look as I sacrificed him to his sister’s lectures. You did it to yourself, man. I really couldn't tell if this Prince was a genius or an idiot. They say there's a thin line between the two, so maybe he's both.

"Well, enough of that. Let's cut the jokes."

"...? Brother? What's come over you?"

"Prince Victor," I said, "Are you moving now?"

"Yes. The time is near. It's about time we made our move."

Victor gave a dark, predatory smile. Cynthia and Lawrence, who hadn't been briefed on the plan, could only tilt their heads in confusion. Victor handed his plate to a nearby servant.

"Now, let's go. Cynthia, Lawrence—come with us."

"Are you bringing the Princess and Lawrence too?" I asked.

"Of course. Given her position, it wouldn't look good to leave Cynthia alone with a man. And it would be strange to leave her behind by herself. As for Lawrence, he's on our side, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Lawrence is with us. And if he isn't, I'll take full responsibility as a Drake."

Victor nodded, satisfied, and began to walk. The three of us followed without another word.

"Um, Brother. What exactly are we...?"

"Nothing much. Just having a chat with someone a bit bothersome. You and Lawrence just need to stand there."

Cynthia went quiet. There wasn't much else she could say after that. Besides, it was better to have them there as witnesses, even if they didn't know the specifics yet. Victor spotted his target and made a beeline for him.

"Duke Markham. Do you have a moment?"

"Well, well. Prince Victor. To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

The man Victor addressed was Gary Markham. Aside from the royals, he held the highest rank of nobility—a Duke in his sixties. He was also the Prime Minister of this country and the man sitting at the absolute pinnacle of the Aristocratic faction.

"I’d like to speak with you. Can you spare some time?"

"...Certainly. If I can be of service, I am at your disposal."

To enjoy my peaceful, happy "Kukkoro" life, this was a wall I couldn't avoid. Alright... let's give him a shock he won't forget—

The man in front of us wasn't just some old man. He was a cunning old fox who had nested in the palace decades before we were born, secretly eyeing the throne from the shadows. He was a world away from the incompetent high-ranking nobles who relied solely on their birthright. He radiated a quiet pressure similar to Victor's.

"First, allow me to say this. Prince Victor, Princess Cynthia... congratulations on your enrollment into the Military Academy."

"Yes, thank you."

"Thank you."

The old fox deliberately ignored me and Lawrence. Well, I didn't care for his congratulations anyway, but being treated as insignificant still stung a bit. To him, the only threats were my father and his faction, not me. Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts, old man.

"How is academy life treating you? I graduated from there myself, but I hear the facilities have been greatly improved since my day."

"Indeed, it is an excellent place of learning," Victor replied. "It’s quite refreshing to be in an environment where one doesn't have to look at the wretched faces of self-important, black-hearted nobles who don't know their place."

Whoa... he’s really going for it...

That was a direct jab at the Aristocratic faction. Duke Markham didn't even twitch a muscle, though.

"Ho-ho, is that so? If you ever find yourself inconvenienced, please do not hesitate to tell me. I will see to it that even the most pampered young master finds the environment 'comfortable'."

"I see. But I have no complaints with the current state of things. I doubt I'll be needing your assistance."

"Very well. Should the need arise, do not be shy about reaching out."

They were trading barbs right from the start. I was already sick of it and wanted to turn around and hit the buffet, but this wasn't the time.

"Actually, Duke Markham. The reason I wanted to speak with you concerns those very same impudent nobles nesting in the palace."

"Oh?" The Duke’s eyebrow twitched slightly.

The son of the rival faction’s leader was speaking directly about the power struggle. Markham wasn't slow enough to miss the weight behind those words.

"To be frank, I'm planning on sweeping away those insolent fools who’ve forgotten their place. Together with House Drake."

"A pleasure to meet you, Duke Markham. My name is Jeralt Drake. I hope we can become well-acquainted."

"So you are the 'The Violent Lord' of Drake. I’ve heard the stories. The Marquis must be quite envious to have such a talented son."

"I am a man of little consequence, I assure you."

After I finished my self-introduction, Duke Markham stroked his beard, deep in thought. Then, he opened his eyes and allowed a slow smile to spread across his face.

"Hmph. But sweeping away nobles who have 'forgotten their place'... that's quite a violent thing to say. And what do you intend to do with the vacant positions and lands? Surely the Royal Family isn't planning on seizing them all for themselves?"

"Hah, that's simple." Victor gave a fearless grin, his eyes shining with confidence. "I'll use commoners. The vacant posts will be filled by talented commoners. I especially want the position of Prime Minister to be held by someone sincere, who lacks 'unreasonable ambition'."

A total provocation. Victor was essentially telling him: I'm going to drag you down, kick out your faction, and replace you all. I thought he might have been a bit too direct, but hey, that's Victor for you.

"Why use commoners? There is no need to use those of 'low birth' when you could employ nobles who have received a high-quality education."

"High-quality education? Hah, what a funny joke. Less than half of this year's S-Class freshmen are nobles. Before worrying about 'low birth,' I simply refuse to employ the incompetent."

"I doubt those without experience could handle such responsibilities."

"Placing the right people in the right jobs and mastering their use... that is the measure of a King."

He was just a weird prince a minute ago, but man, he looked cool saying that. Even his sister was looking at him with wide eyes. What kind of dork is he usually like around her?

"And so, Duke Markham. For our opening move, Jeralt and I will be your opponents."

"I'm afraid I don't follow. Opponents for what?"

"Hmph. Such a chore."

"Indeed," I added. "Allow me to hand this over to you."

I handed a stack of documents to Duke Markham. As he took them, his expression soured for a brief instant.

"Information on the 'rats' who managed to infiltrate our faction, and the shamed fools who were secretly communicating with your side. I’d recommend cutting loose subordinates who leave such obvious trails as soon as possible."

Yes—I had handed him proof of the corruption and crimes committed by the nobles who were spying for him or secretly allied with his faction. Once the Drake intelligence agency got serious, the storm of dirty laundry they dug up was staggering. Expelling these double agents would weaken his faction's reach, even if the scale was manageable. We had discussed using them to feed him misinformation, but my father and I decided a preemptive strike was better.

"I see. I know nothing of these 'factions' you speak of, but as Prime Minister, I shall see that this is handled appropriately."

"Yes. We look forward to it."

But this was just the first round. The real climax was yet to come.

"Duke Markham. Let me guess the one thing you want more than anything right now."

"What is this, all of a sudden? The thing I want most...?"

"Princess Cynthia, isn't it?"

"......!"

"Wait... me?" Cynthia gasped.

For just a split second, Markham faltered. He really underestimated us because we're kids. Anyone with a brain could figure this out if they thought about it for five minutes.

"Hahaha! Jeralt, don't say such outrageous things. Look, you've startled the Duke."

"My apologies. Prince Victor, Duke Markham."

Victor was reprimanding me, but his eyes were dancing with amusement. Why are you enjoying this so much? This is supposed to be a serious scene!

"I have dedicated my life to the Albar Kingdom as Prime Minister," Markham stated coldly. "The idea that I would 'want' Princess Cynthia is preposterous."

"Exactly, Jeralt," Victor added. "I mean, if Duke Markham did want my sister, the only possible use for her would be to marry her off to his grandson to provide legitimacy after he kills my father and me and takes the throne. Surely the Duke wouldn't dream of such treason?"

"......!"

This Prince... he acted like he was scolding me just so he could dump the whole truth right in Markham's face. He really has no brakes.

But what Victor said was exactly why we believed Markham wanted Cynthia. As a Duke, he had some royal blood. But if the royal family were to suddenly die off—be it by accident, illness, or assassination—and the Markham family just sat on the throne, the people would be suspicious. But if his grandson married the beloved Princess Cynthia and then took the throne? The transition would be smooth, and dissent would be minimal. She was the most important piece on the board.

"I have no thoughts of seizing the throne. Nor am I targeting Princess Cynthia."

"Hah... ahahaha! Well, that’s good news, isn't it, Jeralt?"

"Yes. I’m relieved to hear the Prime Minister is satisfied."

Victor and I shared a grin. I couldn't believe how well this was going. I could barely stop myself from laughing.

"May I ask what you find so amusing?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough."

The moment Victor said that, the ballroom lights went out. The guards scrambled, but before they could act, a section of the stage was spotlighted. King Ronald and my father stood there.

"Father? And the Marquis...?"

"That combination... Jeralt!"

"No way...!"

Cynthia hadn't realized it yet, but Lawrence and Duke Markham both saw it at the same time. They realized the game was already over. Other sharp-witted nobles seemed to have caught on too, as a murmur began to ripple through the crowd.

"I have an important announcement for you all today. My apologies for the lack of notice, but I shall announce it here and now."

King Ronald paused for effect. Then, he raised his voice so it reached every corner of the hall.

"In the name of Ronald Albar, Thirteenth King of the Albar Kingdom, I hereby declare the engagement of Jeralt Drake, eldest son of House Drake, and my daughter, the Second Princess, Cynthia Albar!"

"What...?!"

Cynthia’s shocked gasp echoed beside me. Even Duke Markham, who rarely showed emotion, couldn't hide his agitation.

(Kekeke... you probably thought a marriage between House Drake and the Royal Family was impossible for certain reasons, didn't you? Too bad! How does it feel to be outmaneuvered by a bunch of fifteen-year-olds? How does it feel to have your years of meticulous planning shattered at the foundation? Eat it, Markham!)

I stole a glance at Cynthia, who looked like she was in the depths of despair. I’d worked hard to train my poker face, but it was starting to slip.

(How does it feel, my noble Princess Knight? How does it feel to be engaged to the man you hate most in the world? Don't worry—I promise to take good care of you. This is where my true 'Kukkoro' life begins!)

"This is madness...! House Drake is...!"

"House Drake would never form a marriage alliance with the Royal Family... is that what you thought?"

"......!"

The look on Markham's face said I’d hit the bullseye. I thought so. It felt good to pull one over on him.

"Are you sane...? You have cut off your own escape route...!"

"Yes. We are well aware."

The truth was, the wife of the previous head of House Drake—my paternal grandmother, who was currently retired in the countryside—came from a high noble family in the neighboring Gorabul Kingdom. The King of Gorabul held House Drake in high regard and had even tried to scout them once. They’d turned him down, of course, but the situation meant that if we ever lost the power struggle against the Aristocratic faction, we could always take our entire faction and flee to Gorabul.

The Drake faction was comprised mostly of military houses. If they all defected to a neighboring country, the Albar Kingdom would face certain ruin. That was why Markham had never been able to move against us carelessly.

But that has changed. A marriage into the Royal Family brings great power within Albar, but it makes fleeing to another country impossible. In other words, this was House Drake’s declaration of war—they were abandoning their escape route to Gorabul and throwing their full weight behind the Royalists to crush the Aristocratic faction.

"Hahaha! My sister Lucy recently married abroad, so Cynthia had no immediate political marriage prospects. You got careless, didn't you? You thought you had time—that you could wait for a rival to appear before you had to worry."

"No, I was not thinking such things..."

"You tried a few tricks to make sure Cynthia’s engagement wouldn't go through, but I was able to handle those myself without even bothering my father. You were sloppy."

I never expected things to go as smoothly as Victor had planned. I was shocked when he first proposed it. His first words were: 'I want to erase all those annoying Aristocratic faction guys. Also, it would be a huge help if you married Cynthia?' He was the one who asked for the marriage!

Apparently, Victor had been wanting to marry Cynthia off for a while. To the Aristocrats, she was a prize they were dying to get their hands on, and she was a bit vulnerable on her own.

"This is the resolve of House Drake. Do you accept it, Duke Markham?"

"...I hope the Prince's judgment proves correct. For your sake, I shall pray that it is so."

"You don't mean a word of it. You should have just been honest and said you wanted Cynthia. Not that I’d ever give my sister to you."

"...Our business is concluded. If you'll excuse me."

Markham gave a stiff bow and walked away. Victor watched him go, laughing with the innocent glee of a child who’d just pulled off a successful prank. I was excited for my upcoming "Kukkoro" life, but even I couldn't be that relaxed. Victor’s nerves were made of steel.

"A perfect success. Well done, Jeralt."

"It was in House Drake’s interest as much as mine. Besides, you did most of the work, Prince Victor."

"Hahahaha! Don't be so humble. There aren't many people my age who can see the world the way I do. That was truly entertaining."

"Wait! Don't you two start a world of your own! What is going on?!"

Cynthia forced herself between us, looking completely overwhelmed. Well, we hadn't told her about the engagement. Victor had insisted it was better not to tell her beforehand. I’d actually agreed, mostly because I wanted to see her face when the surprise was revealed.

"Calm down, Cynthia. Getting angry won't change anything."

"What are you talking about?! Do you really think I can stay calm after this?! Explain everything right now!"

"I’ll tell you everything later. For now, you have a duty to perform."

"A duty...?"

"Yeah. Isn't that right, Jeralt?"

Victor threw me a killer pass. You could have handed off the baton a little better than that! Even if it was for the sake of seeing her "Kukkoro" face, her opinion of me was at rock bottom. How was I supposed to handle her in this state?!

"Princess Cynthia? Your hand, if you please."

I offered my hand to her. Her opinion of me was definitely below zero, now that I’d decided her engagement without her. In that case, she would probably—

◇◆◇

"...Why should I have to take the hand of someone like you?"

Cynthia looked down at me with cold, disgusted eyes. I looked back at her and grinned—whoops, wait. I have to keep it together.

"It’s for the debut. They'll be calling us up onto the stage soon."

"I never agreed to this engagement. I will never be your wife."

I felt like her perfect expression and perfect dialogue had just shot me straight through the heart. It was a high-caliber combo. It was so perfect it almost felt intentional. It made me so happy, but I knew this kind of perfection couldn't be faked. She was born to show me "Kukkoro" moments.

I plastered on a smirk to hide my genuine joy and leaned into her ear so no one else could hear.

'The engagement has already been announced in front of all these people. It's impossible to take it back now.'

'Th—that's...'

'It would bring shame to the King and the Prince. I would appreciate it if you would just take my hand.'

'You coward...! Have you no shame...?!'

With those words, Cynthia took my hand, looking truly miserable.

Yes! Perfect! Her words, her face—everything is a solid ten out of ten!

After this, Cynthia would have to put on a fake smile while dying of humiliation inside, greeting the other nobles while holding my hand. Then, the news would spread to the public, and she’d never be able to escape me—!

◇◆◇

...That's how it's going to go!

My plan was working so well it was almost scary. Ah...! Why am I such a genius?! Maybe God reincarnated me into this world as the Apostle of Kukkoro just so I could create the ultimate scene. Man, I'm blushing!

"Shall we go and greet the other nobles, Princess Cynthia?"

"...Yes. Very well."

"...?!"

Contrary to my expectations, Cynthia took my hand and offered a soft, gentle smile. Wait... Is that a fake smile?

I felt a twinge of doubt, but I set out to make the rounds with her. What I didn't notice at the time, however... Was that every time Cynthia looked down at our joined hands, her face flushed a deep, brilliant red.