Chapter 36

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Princess Only Deals in the Real Thing Chapter 42

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“Since you're insisting so much, I guess I have no choice. I'll go fetch the key, so please wait just a moment.”

The third-floor key had been in my pocket all along, but I pretended otherwise and headed to the counter.

Alter furrowed his brow when he saw what I'd pulled out of the safe instead of the key.

“Is that the 'preparation' you were talking about?”

“Yes.”

“Showing him your diligent cleaning to win him over and change his mind—something like that?”

What I'd pulled out was a cleaning spray.

To be exact...

“Uh, more or less.”

It was a spray bottle filled with holy water.

Ayrun stared at the woman who had returned.

She shook the key ostentatiously in one hand while holding two spray cans in the other.

A magic tool? He narrowed his eyes, but she waved it off.

“Ah, this is just for cleaning.”

“Is that necessary for opening the door?”

“No, not at all... um.”

She gave an awkward smile, turned the key, and cleared her throat.

“Um, Sir Knight. You really have to see the attic too, right?”

Unlike when she'd opened the second floor, her attitude was hesitant now.

Ayrun answered firmly without a second thought.

“Yes.”

'This woman definitely has Her Highness the Princess's pendant.'

He could tell even without the tracking brooch.

Her pat answers, as if prepared for interrogation, and the way her expression had stiffened in an instant—all were clues, but the most certain proof was...

“Yes, got it...”

The fact that his headache intensified the closer he got to this woman chewing her lip.

It was exactly the same as when he'd met the Princess who wore the pendant.

Ayrun's headaches had begun three months ago.

He, who had never even caught a cold in his life, remembered the exact moment the pain started.

It was at the swordsmanship tournament hosted by the Regent King, where he'd taken first place.

“We praise the honor and achievements of Sir Ayrun Hugo Radien.”

Princess Catarina—pale-faced with the Emerald Pendant around her neck, seated beside the Regent King—had patted his shoulder.

A horrific pain had flashed through him.

He'd barely maintained his composure. He couldn't let his face twist the instant her hand touched him.

Not in front of the Regent King, who was staring right at him.

Back in his office, Ayrun plunged into confusion for the first time in his life.

“What in the world...”

Poison? A curse?

In his bewilderment, Ayrun quickly reached a conclusion.

He was the Imperial Holy Knight Captain. Ordinary poisons and curses were all nullified by his holy power.

So this was just a simple headache. He needed to train harder to temper himself.

That late night, he headed to the empty training grounds for practice. But...

“Why... ugh, the holy sword...”

The moment he took the holy sword from its case, the headache reared its head again.

The same happened with the holy spear and holy bow. Holy sword, holy spear, holy bow—and the Princess's pendant. There was only one thing they had in common.

Pure holy artifacts.

Ayrun had no choice but to accept it.

The holy power that had sustained his life until now was tormenting him.

But Ayrun couldn't investigate the cause, seek advice from anyone, or request the temple's cooperation.

'The instant this gets out, the Regent King will move to oust me.'

A Holy Knight Captain who couldn't protect himself.

'He might even try to disband the order, claiming it serves no purpose, then fill the vacancies with his own people.'

And besides...

'An investigation would mean analyzing Her Highness's pendant first. But as a knight, how could I dare?'

With no emperor in the palace, his liege was Princess Catarina.

He couldn't put her holy artifact on the chopping block just to cure his headache.

On top of that, the Regent King was after that pendant. What if he swapped it out during the analysis?

In that case, better...

'It's my problem. The responsibility is mine alone. I'll just endure it.'

Ayrun never told a soul about his inexplicable headaches.

No one knew. No one could know. It had to stay that way.

Born to live as a loyal sword, he would close his eyes as one to the end.

“I really don't want to show it, but... no helping it.”

The woman's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

Ayrun looked up.

“It's just... the attic's pretty filthy...”

“...”

“You're in white. That could be trouble. Um, are you going to charge me for laundry fees or something?”

She scratched the back of her neck with an embarrassed look.

So that was why she'd kept dragging her feet.

“...You're saying you hesitated to open the door because it wasn't cleaned?”

“Yes, as you can see.”

All his tension deflated.

But the headache—proof of a holy artifact—persisted.

'She's lying.'

Without a word, Ayrun stepped into the attic crammed with junk and dried flowers.

The woman followed.

“Hate to say it, but can I do some cleaning and tidying? I'll be quiet so I don't get in your way.”

“Do as you like once I've finished searching an area.”

“Hate to say it, but could you be careful with those flowers?”

“That's difficult.”

Hate to say it, my foot.

The woman grabbed some piled-up newspapers from a corner, crumpled them, and spritzed them with the spray.

Then she wrapped up the heaps of dried flowers he'd disturbed, bundling them in the paper.

He glanced over; she shrugged.

“These flowers aren't mine.”

“Pawned goods?”

“No, more like a hobby of the original owner.”

“...Aren't you the original owner?”

Ayrun recalled the rough-looking man leaning against the wall.

A familiar face and manner of speech, but he couldn't pinpoint where he'd seen him.

An illusion? Or the headache?

“Ah, the original owner is my grandfather. He's traveling now, after handing the shop over to me.”

“Then who's the man with the ash-gray eyes outside?”

She tilted her head at ash-gray eyes, then answered nonchalantly.

“Hmm... good question. What do I even call him? ...Surprisingly nice neighborhood neighbor?”

Spray.

Suddenly, the pain stabbing through his mind sharpened.

“Anyway, I get that you're looking for a holy artifact, but you're not going to tell me exactly what till the end?”

“...Ugh. By principle, no.”

“If I knew what it was, I could help you look.”

How had this woman acquired Princess Catarina's pendant? Stolen goods trade?

Either way, the headache was proof of holy power. Holy artifacts radiating that much power weren't common.

The pendant was somewhere here. She hadn't sold it off yet.

'She doesn't seem to know whose it is.'

With the investigation underway, she couldn't just dump it recklessly for fear of getting caught.

No need to tip her off, then, Ayrun thought.

And perhaps...

'A drawn-out investigation might even benefit Her Highness.'

The search had been ordered by Crodil Marquis, not the Princess.

Better for him to hound and pressure me than to grill the Princess for the pendant.

Painful as it was that her holy artifact was in this rundown pawnshop.

“...If you're hiding stolen goods, you'd know what it is without me telling you. If you're innocent, you have no need to know—so even less reason to tell you.”

That was when it happened.

A hollow laugh rang out.

“We don't deal in stolen goods.”

“So you're claiming innocence?”

“Yes.”

“Then how do you explain that tense look just now? If you're innocent, there's no reason to be scared.”

The woman stared at Ayrun for a moment, then closed the open door.

She let out a small sigh and muttered.

“Ah. You've never lived as an ordinary commoner, have you?”

Ayrun froze.

“When you have no power, no connections, and someone's whim threatens your livelihood—talking about shutting you down or whatever...”

She was referring to Crodil's permit.

“...Even the innocent end up scared.”

Her quiet words pierced straight into Ayrun's ears.

As he mulled them over...

Spray. She spritzed again, and the headache surged.

'That spray—it's a magic tool after all...!'

It had been the same during the previous inspection, when she'd touched him.

Pain beyond compare to the usual. Exactly the same sensation.

No time to think—Ayrun hurled his dagger.

Crack.

The spray can shattered, spilling some unidentified liquid.

Clutching his head, he demanded in a rasping voice.

“Still going to claim innocence?”

But the woman's expression, frozen with newspaper in hand, just looked puzzled.

“What are you talking about?”

“You used a pain-inducing magic tool to make me stop the search!”

“Huh? Magic tool? This is holy water.”

She eyed him cautiously.

“You're a Holy Knight, yet... holy water hurts you?”

Ayrun went rigid.