Chapter 12: S1. The Prince, The Flower, And The Resistance – 2
Warmth.
The girl’s hand led you to a place filled with warmth. For someone like you, scuttling through the streets and spending sleepless nights on the chilly pavement, it was a long-awaited touch of comfort.
Crackle. Crack. Inside the fireplace, firewood was quietly burning, and three slices of bacon were sizzling in a pan above. The enticing aroma paired with the delightful sounds had you drooling.
As you got lost in the bacon’s allure, the female mercenary busy cooking by the fireplace gave the frying pan a couple of quick taps with her spoon.
Her red hair danced like flickering flames, a scar that extended across her face, eyes sharp and wild as a predator. And yet, her leather armor, light yet sturdy.
You recalled the combat assessment lessons taught by the boy knight. You’d check for a dagger at her waist, and if there was one, you’d evaluate how worn the handle was.
The woman had a dagger at her waist, with the handle showing significant wear. According to the boy knight’s estimates, she appeared to be a ‘well-known veteran’ among mercenaries.
Back when you were the Second Prince, someone like her wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, but now, with neither power nor money to your name, she was a rather significant threat. Especially if she had her guard up.
Just as you tensed, ready to pull on your mana, the girl who had led you here stepped in first.
“Ronya, I’m back!”
“Centra, who’s that next to you? Did you pick up another stray dog again?”
“Don’t call him a stray dog! That’s rude!”
“If someone’s in ragged clothes and starving, how are they any different from a stray? You, tell me your name.”
You hesitated for a moment. A name that was once a point of pride now felt burdensome in this world.
Feeling the pressure, you bit your lip in silence, and Ronya, the mercenary, started to develop a real glare. Obviously, someone who couldn’t even reveal their name would raise suspicions.
At that moment, someone gently touched the back of your hand.
Ignoring the surprise that prickled your spine, you tried to appear calm as you looked over. There was Centra—the girl who had shown you kindness—and her fingers barely touched yours.
Even that light touch seemed to ignite a spark of courage within you, as if she were silently saying, ‘It’s okay.’
“……I’m Irid.”
“Irid? Wither Emperor Irid?”
“……..”
“No wonder you were hesitant. Anyone hearing that name would have a negative impression. It’s tough luck being tagged with such a name, huh?”
With a chuckle, Ronya’s tone suddenly turned serious.
“Don’t start any trouble; just make yourself scarce when you get the chance. Centra might want to help every unfortunate beggar she sees, but I’m not like that. I’m more about getting rid of people like you.”
“……I’ve never been taught to repay kindness with malice.”
“Neither was I taught to spare beggars.”
“Stop!”
Centra leaped between you and Ronya.
“I appreciate your concern, but this Irid seems like a decent person. You don’t need to be so on edge!”
“On what grounds?”
“When I jumped from the third floor…he politely turned his head away like a gentleman. Come on, Irid! Is it okay if I call you casually? Let’s head this way; we’ve got some really tasty stew today!”
You found yourself pulled along once more.
By her gentle touch, her sunshine-like smile, and the faint, yet delightful, scent of rosemary that kissed your nostrils.
===============================================================
Being a prince of the Empire entails meeting many people and saying goodbye to many others.
Of course, that includes women—especially given the Imperial Family’s penchant for tactical marriages.
The Second Prince Irid had met numerous noble ladies and grasped the nature of their being. Expressions of sickly sweet perfume, facades of artifice, desires for power, and feigned interests that couldn’t help but lead to physical contact.
Irid vowed he had never once felt his heart flutter.
Their intentions were far too overt. Those eyes saw him merely as a treasure chest.
One day, Irid would certainly end up in an arranged marriage, but he doubted love would bloom amidst such a transaction.
….So, this slight flutter he felt now must surely be a mistake.
“How is the stew?”
Centra gazed at Irid, admiration cupped in her hands like a blooming flower. Her round, clear eyes held no pretense whatsoever.
“It’s delicious. Truly exceptional…cooking.”
Irid found himself unable to meet her gaze directly. Her eyes bore no intimidation or sharpness, yet his heart raced, emotions tumbling in a wonky direction.
He reasoned that perhaps his three days of homelessness had left him vulnerable to even such a simple kindness, and the Second Prince struggled to steady his heart.
“That’s a relief! I was worried you might not like it!”
“I’m not in a position to be picky. Anything offered is welcomed. Besides, I don’t want to sound shameless by asking for more from my benefactor.”
“See! I told you I had a good eye for people…! Ronya always grumbles about how ‘You’re too trusting—’ but I have my own thoughts! Look! Irid turned out to be nice!”
Feeling satisfied with Irid’s reply, Centra gushed about her own discernment.
Being called a good person merely for being humble felt odd. Had it always been so embarrassing to be praised for something so basic?
While listening to Centra’s ceaseless chatter, Irid took another spoonful of stew. It might not match the exquisite delicacies he had tasted before, but the warmth it brought was comforting.
It seemed packed with plenty of meat too; a rich aftertaste lingered on his tongue. And was that a herb mingling in to cut the gamey notes? White grass, perhaps? Or maybe…
“But really, you didn’t peek under my skirt, did you?”
“──Cough, cough, cough…!”
Irid choked on the stew he’d been enjoying, caught off guard by the sudden interrogation.
“Oh dear! I-I’m so sorry! I was just asking…Here, some water!”
“Cough, cough…be mindful of who…cough…you’re talking to when making such inquiries!”
“Here, drink this. I’ll pat your back for you. Huh…or should I be patting your stomach?”
Centra patted Irid’s back with enthusiasm, making his whole body reverberate with each thump. He waved to stop her, fearing he might choke on water too.
Taking a sip to soothe his throat, Irid finally calmed down.
“Huff, phew…”
“So, you really didn’t see anything, right?”
“……Didn’t you just mention that I didn’t in front of Ronya the mercenary?”
“I wasn’t completely sure, I just took a shot in the dark. I thought Ronya might toss you out, so what’s your answer?”
“I didn’t see it. I swear.”
“Phew! As long as you haven’t, that’s fine. I thought I was found out for not wearing anything.”
“No, I definitely saw black…”
“So you did see!”
Caught off guard by her tenacity, Irid lowered his head in defeat.
Black. Ruffles. A small, cherished red ribbon. Slightly translucent.
It was a combination that would forever be etched into his memory.
Centra, face slightly flushed, stammered out, “I didn’t ask for nothing! It might lead to misunderstandings, you know? I mean, someone wearing…such underwear must have a certain…reputation…and things! I just wanted to clarify that misunderstanding.”
“I never once thought such things.”
To leap to the conclusion of ‘lewd underwear meaning she’s a promiscuous woman’ was beyond any unicorn’s rationale.
Irid was no stranger to such encounters. Noble girls often wore daringly risqué lingerie to assert their intentions. Yet, he had never felt so blushingly embarrassed before.
“I don’t have money, but I long for pretty clothes! Dresses or jewelry…things like that! So I figured, since underwear takes up the least amount of fabric, it’s cheaper…?”
“Enough, enough!”
Irid quelled the relentless barrage of TMI with a grimace. He dreaded how much deeper this overly innocent girl might dive into her bare thoughts.
Now it all made sense as to why Ronya, the mercenary, always stayed close to Centra.
===============================================================
“SUIIIIIIIIIIIIII—! LET’S GO—!!”
“Is it really such a joyous occasion that the Prince saw some panties…?!”
I paid no mind to how the Tower Master looked at me like I was a lunatic.
I had safeguarded my pride in my performance!
The Tower Master poked my head, as I struck a glorious victory pose.
“Hmmm, so…are you planning on seducing that Prince to snag a Dragon Heart?”
The ‘Are you truly gay?’ look from Season 2. Such slander was intolerable.
I firmly shook my head.
“Nah.”
“Then what’s your next move?”
When the Tower Master asked about the following steps, it seemed she was finally interested in the TRPG. I smoothly laid out my plan.
“First off, the plot I had in mind has completely tanked.”
“Tanked, huh?”
Yep, it had tanked.
Even Academy extras would weep over my dismal event-avoidance track record. The timing was just disastrous. Even if I wanted to pivot to a territory-based story now, time wasn’t on my side.
Wasn’t this supposed to be a three-hour sampler anyway? I had intended to construct the stage, drop some enticing hints, and then wrap the session up, wielding the full power of dramatic cliffhangers.
It was just that the Second Prince’s finesse in dodging events had proven to be utterly extraordinary.
But to wrap it all up with just mindless ‘Nadenade’ would lack romance.
There was no practical gain either. ‘Nadenade was amusing, but the early part of the session was a drag. Just end it.’ That could be a possible sentiment, couldn’t it? Thus, I needed some leverage.
I had to formulate a quick setup in a short span / progress the plot / ensure the session felt fun and fulfilling. Making sure they’d want to dive into it again. That singular thought dominated my mind from the outset.
Fortunately, I had a leash now. That guy, the Prince, was surprisingly touch-sensitive. It was as clear as day that whenever Centra gently grasped his hand, his mind seemed to turn to mush.
If things started to go awry or felt awkward, I could simply reach for his hand!
“His affection level isn’t high enough yet. I need to ease up Centra’s character a bit more, and once the bond with the player grows stronger, I can kickstart an incident. Probably in about…two more sessions.”
“I still don’t quite get it…? But, you know.”
“Yes, please continue.”
“About Centra’s modeling. Was it alright to use the Heart?”
“……Well, would it have posed any issues?”
I brushed the question aside dismissively after a moment’s thought.
Really, would there ever be any problems? The Second Prince had never seen it for himself.
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