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[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 22: Fiancé (1)
Callios felt immensely wronged by the current situation.
In his understanding, credit should go to those who truly deserve it.
The orc champion was no different.
Callios had barely managed to hold his ground; it was Yuren who had actually defeated him.
Of course, since Yuren had requested it, they spread the story that they had taken down the orc champion together, hoping to improve Yuren's reputation.
But this was the reward for his efforts?
“Urgh…!”
Today’s “training session” was more intense than usual.
His wounds from the champion hadn’t even fully healed yet, but he was being hit all over, which made him feel sick to his stomach.
Anyone with half a brain would realize this was personal.
It was unfair, absolutely unfair.
But even more overwhelming than the resentment was another feeling.
‘And yet I can’t lay a finger on him?’
It was a deep despair born from the overwhelming difference in skill.
Yuren’s condition was anything but normal.
He was breathing heavily, his face pale after finishing the sparring.
His body was still feeling the backlash from the extraordinary move he had used on the champion.
Callios had thought he might be able to land at least one hit this time, given Yuren’s internal injuries.
And yet, even then, his own skills fell short, failing to graze him.
Yuren wiped his mouth, and Callios noticed blood on the back of his hand.
How could someone wield a sword with such skill in that condition?
Then, Yuren spoke.
“Your Highness, watch your mouth. Words bring trouble.”
“It was a gesture of goodwill.”
“Who asked you for your goodwill? Ugh, my stomach…”
Yuren gagged as he spoke.
Seeing him like that, Callios felt a pang of guilt—briefly.
“Now, let’s go again.”
“Huh…?”
What did he mean by that?
Callios, not fully understanding, looked up to see Yuren’s intense gaze.
“We still have more sparring to do. I haven’t… I mean, the training isn’t over yet.”
Callios felt despair.
* * *
The founding festival was approaching.
This meant that influential figures from within and outside the country would soon crowd the capital, and the Crown Prince’s workload would increase tenfold.
Naturally, his training would be canceled, and I was planning to use this time to recover from the backlash I’d been enduring.
But then, rumors had spread so wildly that even my sister had collapsed upon hearing them.
As if that wasn’t enough to make my blood boil, some nobles, inspired by the rumor, were now seeking to have their children educated by the Pharos family, which was an annoying distraction.
Did these people think Pharos was a tutoring agency?
The obsession with education was leading them to disrespect one of the empire’s most prominent families.
Though I wanted to take matters into my own hands, my condition restrained me to just disciplining the Crown Prince.
Hopefully, with the nobles being warned, this nonsense would die down.
I sighed deeply, and after finishing the sparring, I asked the prince something that still puzzled me.
“So, what’s with this ‘tragic genius’ nonsense?”
“I have no idea. Sir Drenor didn’t share much.”
“Why is that, I wonder?”
“Don’t know. But it’s certainly unusual. Did you know? You’re only the second person he’s ever praised for their swordsmanship. The first was me.”
Makes sense.
Drenor is currently the empire’s only Swordmaster.
Reaching the master level requires a rare mix of talent and insight, allowing one to recognize profound techniques that others can’t perceive intuitively.
When Sir Drenor saw my swordsmanship, he was seeing the future techniques created by the Grandmaster, the Crown Prince himself.
Of course, he would recognize the value in that.
I understand why my swordsmanship might seem special and impressive.
It’s just how they evaluate it that bothers me.
“A ‘tragic genius’? That makes my skin crawl.”
“Well… The nobles in the capital have been trying to interpret it. Want to hear?”
“Go ahead.”
“They interpret ‘tragic genius’ to mean ‘if he weren’t part of the Pharos family, he could have been the next captain of the imperial knights.’”
“….”
“… And some even speculate that you have a terminal illness or something. Is that true?”
“My lifespan might be shortened by you, Your Highness.”
At least I knew it was all nonsense.
Captain of the imperial knights?
I wouldn’t take that position even if it were offered.
Why would I take a field job when I could simply train the prince as someone of the Pharos family and watch him grow?
And a terminal illness?
Once my body is properly conditioned, I’ll surely become a Swordmaster.
Reaching the master level allows mana to slow down physical aging and greatly extends one’s lifespan.
At a certain point, it can even reverse one’s physical condition back to peak form.
How could I possibly have a terminal illness?
‘Should I bother explaining?’
After a moment of thought… I decided,
‘Forget it. Let them think whatever they want.’
Running around to deny every little rumor would be foolish.
People believe what they see, after all.
Once I show that I’m in perfect health, they’ll understand it’s all just gossip.
‘For now, I should focus on recovering.’
I was thinking this when—
Thud, thud, thud!
A series of light, hurried footsteps sounded in my ears.
When I reached back, my hand was met with a small, light touch.
“Pharos! You’re finally here!”
A cheerful voice spoke, and as I looked over my shoulder, I saw Aria grinning brightly.
“Your Highness, running like that will get your clothes dirty.”
“It’s fine! The princess has new clothes waiting every morning!”
Does this naive kid think little laundry fairies clean her clothes at night?
Anyway, that gaze of hers is making me feel a bit uncomfortable.
“Alright, alright. I brought it, so stop staring.”
I pulled out a well-wrapped cheeseburger from my bag.
Aria’s cheeks turned a rosy red.
“Oooh…!”
She looked like she was about to cry.
It seemed she had really missed the taste.
Well, she was a kid whose identity was basically “the one who enjoyed this the most.”
“It’s even better than last time. Try it.”
“Okay! A new and improved cheeseburger… Aria’s heart is pounding with excitement!”
She held up the cheeseburger with pride and delight, but at that moment, the prince interrupted.
“Isn’t there one for me?”
“There isn’t.”
“And why not?”
Because he’d just keep pestering me for more.
I still hadn’t forgotten the night he barged into the women’s quarters to drag Hannah out.
If a glutton who ate five burgers a day discovered this taste, he’d never leave me alone.
“How disappointing.”
The prince drooped his eyebrows.
It made me want to punch him, honestly.
“Ugh…”
Aria, glancing back and forth between the prince and me, seemed to hesitate.
Her gaze was shaking as if an earthquake was happening in her mind.
‘Ah.’
Was she contemplating whether she should offer it to him?
She didn’t need to worry about that.
“Go ahead, Your Highness. The prince doesn’t mind.”
I said that, but his gaze was still fixated on Aria’s hand and the cheeseburger in it.
In the end, Aria gave in to that stare.
“O-okay, Brother Prince, you can have it!”
Usually, that's how it goes.
A person with common sense would notice Aria’s trembling hands, her tearful expression, or the way her Adam's apple moves as she gazes longingly at the burger, thinking, "Ah, she's just being considerate and offering it to him."
They’d feel touched and say, "I'm fine; you eat it."
But the Crown Prince—what kind of person is he?
From birth, he has been adored by all, surrounded only by people who cater to him.
If you want to give him advice, you have to punch it into him.
Someone like him wouldn't feel touched by such a gesture.
He just takes it as a given.
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[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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"Oh! You’re giving it to me!"
"Uh... yes..."
I didn’t have a chance to stop him.
The Crown Prince snatched the burger.
Aria’s lips trembled as they jutted out, and I couldn't help but laugh awkwardly.
"Princess, are you sure you're okay with this?"
Aria tried to smile through her tears.
"Y-yes, I'm fine. Your Highness Brother needs to eat more because he’s a hard worker…! And delicious things are meant to be shared for happiness! A-and I'm the Princess of Cheeseburgers, so I have a duty to make a happier world by spreading this taste...!"
Her quivering voice had no conviction.
Even as she spoke, she kept glancing at the Crown Prince as he unwrapped the burger.
Her feeble little “Ah, aah…” sounded almost pitiful.
Not that it mattered.
"Thank you for the food!"
The Crown Prince bit into the burger with a bright smile.
His eyes widened.
"This... this taste...!"
He quickly started devouring the burger.
An inevitable outcome.
But I had no intention of making him more.
As I turned away, he shifted his attention to Aria.
"This is truly delicious! The strong flavor hits the tongue, with the juices and cheese perfectly in harmony...!"
"Ugh..."
"I can't believe there’s such a flavor... Incredible!"
"Sniff..."
Aria’s face turned as red as a tomato.
She looked about ready to cry.
The more the Crown Prince praised the taste, the deeper the resentment on Aria’s face became.
But he just kept smiling.
How tasteless it was to steal someone’s food and then describe how good it was right to the one you took it from.
And he wants to get closer to Aria?
I shook my head.
‘What an idiot...’
Forget about getting closer.
* * *
In the end, I made Aria a new cheeseburger.
Since I couldn't cook in the palace, I brought her to my house.
I can't tell you how hard it was to console her on the way over.
Once she had a hot, fresh cheeseburger in hand, she finally understood what I meant by "a blessing in disguise."
"It’s delicious...! You’re definitely the Champion of Cheeseburgers, Pharos!!!"
After her tearful cheeseburger, Aria lay down in satisfaction.
I wondered when she planned to return to the palace when my sister showed up to check on me.
"Young Lord, you should go in and rest as well. I will look after the princess."
Thanks to the rumors spread by that blasted Crown Prince, my sister had found out about my condition and was now constantly doting on me.
Do you know?
You don’t have to shout or pressure someone to hold them back.
Some people can gently slip words into a conversation to impose their will—that’s exactly my sister.
But I felt bad about leaving her with Aria, so I tried to decline.
"Sister, you must be busy. I’ll look after her; it’s not as though we plan to do any rough play."
"No, absolutely not."
My sister cut me off.
She was rarely this firm.
I was taken aback by her unusual tone.
"Isn't your meal with the Lady coming up soon? You must show her a healthy appearance."
Then she said something strange.
"It's not gentlemanly to worry your fiancée, Young Master."
I froze.
‘Did I hear that right?’
I took a moment to gather myself...
"What's an engagement, Cecilia?"
"Yes, Princess. It refers to a promise to marry."
"And what’s marriage?!"
"...Marriage means that Young Master has a woman he’s promised to wed."
…Ah, so I didn't mishear it.
* * *
Three days passed.
It was the day of the meal.
In that time, I managed to remember one thing I'd forgotten.
I, Yuren Pharos, am destined to become the head of a great family.
Naturally, I bear the noble duty to produce heirs, and for that reason, I once had a fiancée.
Yes, I forgot.
As an excuse, I’d say it was because the engagement was annulled when I was imprisoned and since then, life has been a constant struggle just to stay afloat.
But that's not what matters; the problem is my fiancée’s quite a headache.
"Young Master! The Lady has arrived!"
"Please tell me that’s a lie."
"Uh, no, it's true."
Emma, who no longer seemed intimidated by me, delivered the confirmation shot.
I closed my eyes and steadied my mind.
Then I found my composure.
I left the room and headed toward the hall of the mansion.
That’s when I saw her.
"...I greet the Young Master."
A woman stood there.
Her hair was a short, water-like blue, not quite touching her shoulders, and her sharp features gave her a look more handsome than beautiful.
Her eyes were blue, her lips red, and her robe bore the crest of the Magic Tower.
Some say this woman resembles an ice sculpture crafted by a master artisan.
Yes, based solely on her appearance, that might be true.
Right now, her expression showed not the slightest hint of friendliness.
But I knew.
'She's just a lunatic. That’s what she is.'
I really despise this woman.
Why?
It’s very simple.
"...Greetings, Wizard Beatrice."
Beatrice von Gilfur.
The eldest daughter of Baron Gilfur, and the most brilliant magician of her generation.
And she said to me:
"Young Master Pharos, let me ask you something."
"Yes?"
"Did you slap Rebecca for my sake?"
An absurd question.
Still, thanks to handling the Crown Prince, I'm used to this.
Some may have already guessed.
Yes, that’s right.
This woman is one of the cornerstones of the Golden Era, just like the Crown Prince.
A prodigy blessed with talent who threw her life away chasing after some common girl.
"Will you answer me?"
...This is my fiancée and a candidate for the next Tower Master.
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[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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