"Huff, huff."
Just as Whitney received word of Princess Katarina's arrival and was about to halt the meeting to welcome her—
"Just one more time, focus…"
Whitney's younger sister, Cecil Lingard, stood in the temporary training ground in the mansion's courtyard, gripping her sword tightly while panting heavily.
Crackle!
At last, small sparks flickered from the sword she held, and a pure energy began creeping up from the hilt, enveloping the blade.
"Hup."
As she intently watched the process, unable even to wipe away the sweat trickling down her forehead, she took a deep breath, her eyes sharpening with determination.
Ziiiiing…!
The moment her sword slashed through the air, it emitted a thin, piercing hum, tracing a beautiful silver arc.
"Haaah…"
Cecil, watching as the trajectory spread outward like scattering dust before fading, suddenly collapsed to her knees, completely drained.
"…I did it."
Despite her body being drenched in sweat and her breath coming out in ragged gasps, an uncontrollable, proud smile spread across her lips.
"I think I'm finally getting the hang of sword energy."
Indeed, what she had just achieved was the projection of solidified sword energy.
It was a technique far beyond simply reinforcing the sword with energy—it allowed one to strike at a distance without making direct contact. It was, in essence, the pinnacle of widely known swordsmanship.
Naturally, its difficulty was extreme. Not only aspiring knights but even veteran swordsmen who had wielded blades for decades often failed to manifest their own sword energy and fell into despair.
Yet, Cecil had already surpassed that wall before even graduating from the academy. Moreover, she was refining it further on her own, a talent that could be counted among the greatest in the entire empire.
"…Hey."
She was well aware of this fact and took pride in it.
"That's not how you use sword energy."
"…?"
At that moment, a voice reached her from the side, making Cecil doubt her own ears.
"That's not how you do it. You have to tighten your core like this! Then, you do this, and bam! It should feel like that!"
"Hmm?"
Frowning at the unexpected interference, Cecil turned her head, tilting it in confusion.
"Who…?"
The blond-haired boy who was speaking so confidently was someone she had never seen before in this mansion.
'But somehow, he looks familiar…'
"Ah."
As Cecil narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his vaguely familiar features, the unknown boy flinched and shut his mouth.
"Uh, well. I mean… um…"
Rolling his eyes nervously, he finally stammered out—
"I'm Sir Whitney's… close friend? I was just invited and arrived a moment ago."
"Close friend…?"
"I'm, uh, from the Imperial Knights. Can't you tell from my uniform?"
Pointing awkwardly at his knightly attire, he forced a smile.
"Anyway, you're using sword energy all wrong. Your method is too inefficient—you'll tire yourself out in no time."
"If you know so much."
Annoyed by his unsolicited advice, Cecil abruptly stood up and thrust her sword toward him.
"Why don't you show me yourself…?"
"Alright!"
Without the slightest hesitation, the boy took the sword from her.
"Hup."
He inhaled briefly and, as if swinging a mere stick, lightly slashed forward.
BOOM!
To Cecil's astonishment, his sword energy roared through the air, unleashing a tremendous shockwave that shot far beyond the courtyard.
"H-How…?"
"See? You just go bam! And then whoosh! Easy, right?"
"..."
Watching in disbelief as the boy casually flung his sword around while adding his incomprehensible explanations, Cecil clenched her lips.
"Try that on me."
"Huh?"
"You never know. It might look impressive but lack substance."
Despite having just witnessed the power firsthand, she deliberately provoked him and picked up a spare training sword.
"Really? Alright! Nothing proves it better than a direct clash!"
Rather than being put off, the boy grinned excitedly and readied his sword.
BOOM!
In the blink of an eye—
"Urgh…!"
Cecil attempted to counter his sword energy with her own, but the overwhelming force knocked her weapon from her hands and sent her flying backward.
"Are you alright?!"
"…Again."
Though she ended up rolling across the dirt, Cecil gritted her teeth, stood back up, and demanded another bout.
"Just one more time…"
"Great! I admire that spirit! Alright, here I go—"
The boy eagerly raised his sword, preparing to strike again.
"No, I think that's enough sparring for today."
"Ah."
Just then, Whitney appeared, grabbing the boy's wrist. His usual warm expression was gone, replaced by a stern gaze as he declared the match over.
"Cecil."
"…Ugh."
"What if you get hurt?"
His scolding tone made Cecil, who had been clenching her lips, momentarily look up with a defiant expression.
"My little sister is destined to become the head of the house."
"..."
"You mustn't disappoint your big brother so soon."
But when she met Whitney's piercing aura and chilling smile, she quickly lowered her head, her voice trembling.
"…I'm sorry."
"Good. As long as you understand."
Though Whitney had unconsciously let his emotions show out of concern for her safety, his expression softened immediately, and a warm smile returned to his face.
"Anyway, Cecil is too kind for her own good"
"That, is that so?"
"She's at the age where she should be a bit rebellious. But for some reason, she always shrinks in front of me."
Whitney began to heap praises on Cecil with a satisfied smile, but the boy who had identified himself as Whitney's close friend could barely pay attention.
"I… I think I know why."
"Pardon?"
"…Ah, no. It's nothing."
He had to swallow back his words with all his might—because if he pointed out that Whitney's chilling aura alone was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine, it wouldn't matter how gentle his scolding was.
"Ah, and Your Highness, please be careful next time."
"Hm?"
"If you ever harm Cecil again, we might have to cut ties."
"Ugh! G-Got it!"
And just like that, the unfortunate recipient of Whitney's next reprimand hastily nodded, forcing an awkward smile.
"Anyway, Cecil, don't let it get to you."
Yet, today again, Whitney failed to recognize his own fundamental problem and instead turned to console Cecil, who stood at a distance, her expression dark.
"From what I saw, you held your own quite well."
"..."
Of course, to Cecil, who had just had her pride crushed by an unknown knight, it was far from comforting.
"There's only one person in the empire—Runiel—who can withstand His Highness's sword aura through sheer swordsmanship."
"…What?"
As Whitney lowered his voice to a whisper, Cecil, who had been staring blankly, finally caught on.
"Wait, then don't tell me that person is…"
"Shh. He's in disguise, so just pretend you don't know."
Only now did she realize that the boy she had just crossed swords with was none other than the first in line to the imperial throne.
"Well then, I need to have a private discussion with His Highness."
Leaving the frozen Cecil behind, Whitney patted her shoulder gently before turning to escort the prince—no, the princess—back into the mansion.
"Shall we head inside now?"
"Ah, uh, yes."
"I've prepared a reception room for Your Highness. Haha…"
Watching their backs, Cecil could only stare in stunned silence.
"Just the other day, an unknown knight…"
Dropping her sword, she muttered in a weak voice.
"And now he's… friends with the imperial prince?"
Contrary to Whitney's intention of revealing the truth to lift her spirits—
"That's terrifying…"
Cecil felt as though the already distant position of family head had grown even further away, and before she knew it, tears welled up in her eyes.
°°°°°°°°°
"Whew…"
Having barely managed to drag Kendrick, the prince—no, Princess Katarina—to my office before a full-blown duel erupted between her and Cecil, I slumped into my chair with a deep sigh.
"Sir Whitney, about earlier… I'm sorry."
"..."
"I-I'm still your friend, right?"
As she peeked at me anxiously, her voice barely above a whisper, I observed her for a moment before replying.
"Yes, of course."
"Ah! Thank goodness!"
"But… why are you sitting beside me instead of across from me?"
I had been wondering this ever since she sat down.
"Well, isn't this normal between friends?"
The moment those words left her lips, I felt a headache creeping in.
"…Your Highness."
"Yes?"
"Forgive me for asking, but… have you never had a friend before?"
"Ah, uh, well, you see…"
At my question, she suddenly broke into a nervous sweat, stumbling over her words.
"U-um. Yes, actually."
In the end, she slumped in her seat, looking utterly defeated.
"It's just, if I got too close to any guys, they might figure out my secret, and for some reason, noble girls never seemed to want to be friends with me…"
"But you were close with Sir Mayer, were you not?"
"That—he was more of a retainer than a friend, really."
She trailed off, muttering in a small voice, "Not anymore, though." There was a shadow in her expression that made me feel a twinge of pity.
Suppressing the growing ache in my head, I decided to offer some reassurance.
"Well, to be honest, I've never had a friend either. So, I can understand."
"Ah, really?!"
"But, Your Highness, sitting beside me like this feels a bit excessive, so I'll take a seat across from you."
Since I had no intention of remaining stuck by her side, I stood up, only to see her expression fall again.
'Is this really the same person who just split the courtyard with her sword energy?'
Come to think of it, Runiel was similar. It seemed like every master swordsman I met had at least one screw loose.
Of course, among them, Princess Katarina was widely regarded as the most hopeless case.
If she had even half as much intelligence as she did swordsmanship, the entire course of the empire's history might have changed.
"Anyway, the reason I called Your Highness here in secret today is—"
"Wait, before that, I have something to ask."
I was about to finally get back to the matter at hand when she interrupted, looking unusually nervous.
"How… did you figure out that I'm actually a woman?"
Her expression was laced with anxiety.
"I've struggled so much since I was a child, you know? I cut my hair short, ahem, I even practiced speaking in a deeper voice…"
I felt a little bad for her, but the truth was, I had only managed to uncover her secret by bluffing, based on the fact that she had a hidden weakness.
And to be fair, it had only worked because she was utterly clueless.
"Was it my body shape?"
"Body shape?"
Of course, I couldn't just tell her the truth, so I tried to come up with an excuse in my head. But suddenly, the princess widened her eyes and raised her voice.
"You know, things like… my waist and arms looking thinner compared to other boys my age? Or maybe my hips being unusually—"
"…That's not it."
What on earth is she saying? I have no intention of getting arrested by the Imperial Knights for sexual harassment.
"Then, it must have been my chest bindings coming loose!?"
"Oh, dear."
"Now that I think about it, my chest has been feeling quite tight lately!"
And yet, as if completely unaware of my distress, Princess Katarina even lifted her knight's uniform to reveal her chest bindings.
"Hmm, but I always double-check my bindings, so this is quite strange indeed."
"…Let's put this conversation on hold for now."
I hurriedly shut my eyes and turned my head away, trying to maintain my composure as I spoke.
"Please, Sir Whitney! This is practically a matter of life and death for me!"
"If you cooperate with me on this matter, I'll tell you."
"…Ah, alright! I'll do my best!"
At least she listens well to commands. It's no wonder she's treated as a pushover both in and outside the game.
"But what exactly do you need from me this time?"
"Ahem. Yes, the favor I'd like to ask of Your Highness is…"
Seizing the opportunity while she was still listening, I composed myself and smiled.
"I'd like you to appoint me as a judge for the upcoming Academy Talent Selection Tournament."
"Hmm, that's not difficult, but why?"
Princess Katarina tilted her head in curiosity.
"Well, you see…"
I lowered my voice for dramatic effect before delivering the crucial piece of information.
"I need to bring the saint there. That way, I can complete my plan—and rescue you, Your Highness."
"R-Really?! If that's the case, I must cooperate!"
Honestly, I had just phrased it in a way that sounded impressive, without actually explaining my plan. But the princess, thoroughly convinced, nodded fervently.
…I feel a little guilty, but this is necessary.
No matter how much I ask her to keep a secret, there's a high chance she'll spill it unintentionally. So, in a way, this is for her own good.
"But one thing to keep in mind—if you go along with my plan, you will lose your fiancée."
"T-That's… um…"
Feeling a prick of conscience, I decided to at least give her some information. I hesitated before carefully continuing.
"Regardless of whether your engagement would have actually led to marriage, politically, it's a significant loss."
Once the saint meets a playable character, she's destined to journey with him to save the world, making it impossible for her to maintain her engagement.
'Especially if the playable character is male, the engagement breaking is inevitable.'
Princess Katarina likely didn't propose to Hestia out of love, but rather for political reasons. I should at least warn her about that.
"…Would you like to bid her farewell in advance?"
"Ugh…"
"Haha, take your time to think it over. Nothing will change either way."
As I smiled gently and waited for her response, lost in thought, it was at that moment—
Crash!
The sound of something breaking rang out from somewhere nearby.
"Ah? Oh no, did I mess up again…? Huh?"
It seemed to be a common occurrence, as the princess instinctively apologized while looking down.
"Hmm."
Since I had deliberately avoided placing anything breakable on the table, I furrowed my brows and turned toward the door.
'…Did Sasha make another mistake?'
She's probably trembling in fear again. I might as well go check on her and give her some comfort while giving the princess time to think.
***
"Hah, Sasha, don't worry too much."
With that in mind, Whitney opened the door, preparing to console Sasha for another one of her blunders.
"Actually, ever since you broke a plate last time, I had you automatically enrolled in the servant insurance policy I devised, so—huh?"
But the one sitting on the floor, surrounded by shattered high-end teacups and plates, was not Sasha.
"Huff, huff…"
"…Oh dear."
Instead of the usual culprit, Lady Hestia, who should have been cleaning his room, was slumped against the wall, her legs having given out beneath her, her face deathly pale, and her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"This is… problematic."
"I-I was just… just passing by…!"
The moment Hestia's trembling gaze met Whitney's, she blurted out a panicked excuse in a breathless voice.
"So."
He crouched down in front of her, lowering his voice as he leaned in.
"How much did you hear?"
Just as the princess had imagined in the garden, his soft-spoken words, paired with his chilling smile, had a devastating effect.
'I'm going to be killed, I'm going to be killed, I'm going to be killed…'
The sheer terror radiating from his expression alone sent her heart pounding with fear.
'Just how much did she hear?!'
Of course, his own heart was hammering just as violently as hers, as if he'd been stabbed in the chest.