IHWL 08

chapter 08

“Should I kill him?”

Ruluka thought she heard a hallucination.

The aura of a swordsman like Biaton could instill fear in ordinary people.

In extreme cases, it could even cause them to faint.

A faint, crazed light flickered in Biaton’s eyes.

“Sir Biaton is really bad.”

The madness disappeared.

“Sir Biaton is a coward.”

At those words, Biaton startled and turned around.

Isabel’s voice was heard.

“I don’t like bullies.”

“B-bully?”

Her pronunciation was imperfect, but Biaton understood perfectly.

In fact, the phrase “strong against the weak, weak against the strong” didn’t even exist in this world.

“Your Highness, it’s a misunderstanding. I am strong against the strong and gentle toward the weak.”

“Then you should be nice to me. Why are you angry at the nanny?”

Biaton thought for a moment and then spoke.

“I was wrong, Your Highness.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

At those words, Biaton approached Ruluka and bowed respectfully.

Even for someone as open-minded as him, it was not easy to bow like this to someone close to the Emperor.

“I apologize. I have been rude.”

“T-th-that’s…!”

The nanny was flustered.

Isabel thought there was no need to be confused.

It was only natural that the one at fault should apologize.

“That depends on whether you forgive me.”

“No.”

“W-why won’t you forgive me?”

“If Sir Biaton apologizes, do I have to forgive him?”

At those words, Biaton looked deeply shocked.

It was clearly exaggerated acting, but the shock itself was real.

She hit the mark.

He was right.

Just because he apologized did not mean Isabel, the princess, had to immediately forgive him.

Young Isabel clearly understood her position as royalty—the highest bloodline in the empire.

He thought sincerely:

I was blinded by that dazzling cuteness and forgot for a moment. This child also carries the blood of House Bilotian.

He quickly smiled.

“As an apology gift, I was thinking of giving you peach-flavored jelly.”

“I have five of them. I’ll give them all if you forgive me.”

Biaton opened the jelly packaging.

A sweet peach scent filled the air.

Isabel’s nose twitched instinctively.

“If Your Highness calms down, I will give you this peach jelly.”

Isabel reluctantly reached out her small hand.

Two pieces were placed on her palm.

Nom nom.

She devoured the jelly as if enchanted.

“Do you forgive me now?”

“I will specially forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“But don’t do it again.”

Now that things had come to this, he decided to properly resolve the situation.

“I heard everything. Something about a mark of Narubidal.”

“Who told you that?”

Isabel actually did not understand what killing intent was.

But she could clearly feel that Biaton’s eyes were full of it.

It felt as if his gaze was saying:

I will kill whoever told you this.

A dangerous feeling filled the air.

Isabel answered honestly.

“The midwife grandma.”

Biaton tilted his head.

“You mean when you were born?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember that?”

“Yes. Mommy was crying, and everyone was saying the princess had been born. And Daddy said something like I was something useless that was born.”

It is impossible for someone to remember their own birth.

But Biaton, who was relatively free of prejudice, accepted it easily.

“Oh dear… that must have been painful.”

“Hmm…”

In truth, she hadn’t been sad at all—she had just possessed this body at that moment and was actually quite excited.

Her father’s words had just sounded like a cliché, so she accepted them neutrally.

So she answered calmly.

“It was okay.”

Isabel, who had not been deeply hurt, extended her hand.

But to Biaton, it looked like a fragile baby deer asking for comfort.

Without hesitation, he placed his hand over hers, wanting to share warmth.

“What are you doing?”

“Pardon?”

Isabel clearly remembered something.

He had said he had five jellies.

She had eaten two, and the nanny had one.

That meant two were still left.

He had promised to give them all, so using hand-holding instead of the remaining jellies felt unfair.

“No cheating!”

Other things aside, playing with food was unforgivable.

Meanwhile

“Let’s see, at this time His Majesty must be training.”

Biaton went to the grand training hall.

“Your Majesty, the princess already understands death.”

“A three-year-old understands death?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“And yet she seemed quite calm.”

“She is just composed.”

Ron recalled Isabel’s behavior.

She always seemed to be doing her best.

As if she already knew she didn’t have much time.

“Not only that, she remembers everything said to her since birth.”

“Is that even possible?”

“It seems so.”

Biaton narrowed his eyes.

“Did you really say she was something useless at birth?”

“Did you really say that?”

“So what if I did?”

“Why would you say something like that?”

“What did Isabel say?”

“She said it was okay.”

“Okay? Even though she understood everything?”

“Her tone was so calm it broke my heart.”

Ron’s right hand held a sword.

The blade trembled slightly.

“That child cannot learn the Bilotian sword.”

“Even so, she isn’t useless. Why say something like that?”

“Are you here to interrogate me?”

“I’m just reporting it.”

Ron’s expression hardened.

“Take up your sword. It’s been a while since we sparred.”

“You ambushed me in the middle of the night just days ago!”

Biaton stepped back.

“How can a swordsman retreat?”

“I’m not a swordsman, I’m a teacher! I’m retired!”

“Stop moving.”

“If I stop, you’ll stab me!”

Biaton turned and ran.

A fierce slash of sword energy tore through the air behind him.

“Gyaaah!”

He escaped the training hall at full speed.

But on his face was a faint smile.

He’s regretting it, isn’t he?

Ron’s expression had clearly been one of regret.

Biaton felt both satisfaction and relief.

Regret it more. That is your punishment.

How could someone say that to a newborn child?

Isabel’s calm expression kept coming back to him.

How could that possibly be okay?

He felt like crying. His chest hurt.

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.

Later

As Isabel’s teacher, Biaton visited her room every day.

“Sir Biaton, I have something to show you.”

Isabel was living each day diligently.

She tried her best in everything she could.

Even if she couldn’t learn swordsmanship, there were many other things she could do.

She took something out from her desk drawer.

Biaton’s eyes widened slightly.

“A remarkable drawing.”

“Reeally?”

“Who gave this to you?”

Isabel smiled brightly.

“Guess.”

“Hmm…”

Biaton stroked his chin.

“Surely the princess didn’t draw this herself.”

The child’s body could no longer resist the urge to boast.

She raised her hand proudly.

“I drew it myself.”

“Oh my.”

“Is it good?”

“It feels as if the soul of the great artist Michelian is trapped inside Your Highness.”

In truth, it was difficult to call it an excellent drawing.

It was recognizable as Ron, but closer to abstract art than portraiture.

“Trapped soul?”

“That was a joke. If something like that really happened, the Holy Knights would come with sacred swords.”

“C-cough!”

Isabel coughed.

“H-holy Knights? Why? Did Michelian do something wrong?”

“Any spirit occupying another body would be considered a demon. That’s what possession is called.”

“Po-possess…?”

“Yes. It is a target for extermination by the Holy Knights.”

“Possession is bad…”

Isabel forced a smile.

So possession was something that got you killed.

Her lips twitched.

“S-scary…”

“Don’t worry. The Holy Knights are here. If a demon possessing someone’s body appears, they eliminate it immediately.”

“G-good! Cool!”

“I even have a friend in the order. I’ll introduce you someday.”

“Th-that person must be busy…”

“They aren’t.”

“B-busy people shouldn’t be disturbed…”

Biaton was slightly impressed.

A three-year-old… showing consideration?

This was beyond precocious.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. He’s actually the Grand Commander of the First Holy Order. He has plenty of time.”

Isabel suddenly felt like crying.

A commander who exterminates possessors…

She never wanted to meet such a person.

Cold sweat ran down her back.

Still, she didn’t refuse outright, fearing it would seem strange.

Biaton studied the drawing again.

“When did you start drawing?”

“When I was little.”

In truth, Isabel had once dreamed of becoming an artist.

There wasn’t much to do in a hospital room, and drawing was one of the few things available.

“From when you were little?”

At that moment, Isabel flinched slightly, and Biaton’s eyes narrowed.

I made a mistake.

“From when I was little” was not something a three-year-old should say.

But Biaton’s reaction afterward was very strange.