Chapter 4

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Princess Only Deals in the Real Thing 13

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“...Pardon?”

“Why? If the tea’s fine, there shouldn’t be any problem, right? That’s why I’m telling you to drink it. Right now!”

Elisha’s eyes shook like they were dancing.

Just as I thought—there’s definitely something in that tea!

Hugo gripped his sword with a gloved hand and growled fiercely.

“Well, you can drink tea with one hand, after all.”

It was a terrifying threat implying he’d chop her hand off.

Of course, I have no real intention of cutting it off.

There wasn’t any grand reason. Hugo simply had a weak stomach.

To the point where even the air freshener scent wafting through the pawnshop right now made him queasy.

But that girl has no way of knowing that. What, did she slip some sleeping pills in it? Planning to sneak away while I’m out cold?

Sleeping pills would actually make things easier. He could just grab her arm while she slept and force her to sign.

“...All right. I’ll drink it.”

Hugo watched with delight as Elisha finally drank the tea.

Tears welled up in her large eyes after she finished.

“Last time...”

Was she about to apologize for her mistake now?

That’s when Hugo snorted derisively.

“...I got yelled at so much for serving a guest on the street, so this time I prepared tea...”

Huh?

Hugo doubted his own ears.

“What did you say?”

“‘Didn’t I teach you how to treat guests? I told you to always keep a teacup ready so you can splash it in their face anytime things go wrong!’ Or something like that.”

The odd teaching philosophy wasn’t the point.

It was who said it that mattered.

“You got yelled at? By who?”

“Looks like I’m in for another scolding today. It’s because I’m such a softie—I didn’t even splash it on you, Count, I just gulped it all down.”

“Y-Your uncle knows what happened that day? Didn’t you say he was ill? Bedridden? No, more than that—‘another scolding today’?”

Does that mean Uncle’s here?

That’s when Hugo hurriedly scanned the surroundings.

Thud—

A massive noise echoed from upstairs. Hugo jumped in place.

“W-What was that?!”

Another thud followed.

The truly bizarre part was Elisha’s calm demeanor, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

“What’s wrong, Count?”

Hugo’s face turned pale as a ghost.

He knew the source of that earth-shaking rumble.

Back when Michele was the Duke and Hugo just a child.

Intrigued by news of a new weapon, Hugo headed to the ducal training grounds.

Hearing the booms from afar, he thought they’d brought in cannons or something—until he opened the door and froze.

“Who goes there?!”

Michele, wielding an enormous flanged mace, was swinging it at armored knights.

Bam. Bam.

The knights crumpled like paper upon impact and went flying.

Hugo, horrified by Michele’s gleaming eyes turning toward him, fainted on the spot.

Only after waking did he learn those “knights” were training dummies, but the vivid memory lingered.

And that sound...!

It was coming from right overhead!

“I-Is your uncle testing weapons up there?”

“Oh. So Grandpa does that kind of thing too?”

Elisha propped her chin on her hand. Her pale purple eyes turned oddly cold.

“You’ve got ears—figure it out! That’s the sound of a mace clashing!”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re scared of Grandpa? I knew you were a coward, but not the reason. Good info.”

“What are you...!”

Hugo bolted up in a panic.

“Who goes there?!”

Michele’s roar struck his ears.

His legs went weak at the voice identical to his memory.

Collapsing, Hugo blurted desperately.

“Q-Quick, answer him.”

“Hm? Why? What did he say?”

Hugo grew more frantic at Elisha’s feigned ignorance, despite hearing it too.

“He’s asking who it is! Say it’s nothing, quick!”

“But something is happening—you showed up, Count. And didn’t you just tell me to stop lying...?”

Was she truly naive, or a master actress? Elisha tilted her head.

But he had no choice. Michele seemed ready to charge down any second, and Elisha was his only hope.

“Please, I’m begging you. He’ll at least listen if it’s his granddaughter, right?”

Hugo pleaded.

“There’s such a thing as a white lie! Like what you said in the mountains. I won’t press you on your past anymore...!”

“So...”

Elisha cut through his rambling with one line.

“We call it even?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“And you want me to tell Grandpa that?”

Hugo nodded eagerly.

“Fine, Count Hugo Lionet. You proposed it first and delegated the authority to me. Right?”

“I get it! Just cover for me with Uncle—how hard is that? So please, make it work somehow!”

Then Elisha clicked the pen tucked in her apron, as if she’d been waiting.

Hugo, trembling and too rattled to grasp her intent, didn’t notice.

Staring at him, Elisha spoke listlessly.

“It’s fine, Grandpa. Nothing’s happening on the first floor.”

Her soulless tone silenced the upstairs.

As Hugo sighed in relief, Elisha scooted closer.

“You okay?”

“Do I look okay?!”

“Grandpa’s been gearing up for this, you know. I tried to dissuade him, but it’s lucky you didn’t run into him today.”

Her expression seemed concerned, but it was really a warning with no breathing room.

Imagining that mace whistling past his nose, he stammered.

“Y-You held him back?”

“I don’t know the full story, so I just do what Grandpa says. You don’t seem like a bad guy, Count.”

“Huh...?”

“Say what you will, you’re the only relative who’s visited him at his sickbed. Plus, you gave me pocket money.”

His stunned mind finally turned.

So all this mess...

Was on Uncle’s orders?

“Sure, he’s stingy—leaving the gold coins out and giving only silver like a cheap earring... and he yells first, asks questions later... and struts around with a sword he can’t even use properly...”

Nothing after that registered.

So I got played by Uncle, not her? She’s just an clueless idiot, right?

This was a matter of pride.

Not being duped by some backwoods girl he’d dismissed, but by Uncle’s scheme?

Then he wasn’t the fool—he’d been outsmarted by a clever Uncle!

“He even writes scam contracts himself but pins the blame on others—like it’s romance if he does it, adultery if someone else does. Weird mindset, but anyway...”

Hugo looked at Elisha again as she mumbled.

Yeah, no way this girl’s that sharp.

So this innocent, clueless face was the real deal?

“Still, the fact that Grandpa’s coming for you soon doesn’t change...”

“What?! You mean he knows I’m staying at the Second Street inn?”

“Oh, he’d know by now, sure.”

Elisha slyly covered her mouth, glancing sideways.

“‘Unless the Forest of Colonya comes back, I’ll never forgive that punk Hugo!’ He was so furious.”

“...What? The Forest of Colonya?”

Forest of Colonya. It was just some worthless painting.

“Yes.”

“Just bring that back? That’s all?”

“Yep. Why would Grandpa rage for no reason? If that comes back, I can put in a good word.”

Hugo pulled over the Property Transfer Contract he’d brought to make her sign, laid out on the table.

It felt a bit thicker somehow, but he ignored it.

He scribbled out lines with a pen, wrote ‘Forest of Colonya’ and his name in huge letters, then signed with a flourish.

“Here! Give this to Uncle! Send the Forest of Colonya right away!”

Hugo meant to say more to Elisha.

He’d shown too much pathetic side today.

As he opened his mouth, he saw her eyes roll upward.

What the—? Before he could think—

Bam!

The noise from upstairs sent him fleeing in terror.

“I-I’m off!”

Hugo’s aide watched, baffled, as his boss hopped, collapsed, whispered, then bolted out.

“Count?”

He’d brought a sword and all—what happened to that bravado?

“Uwaaaah!”

The aide seriously wondered if Hugo had eaten something bad, fleeing like he’d heard thunder.

The pawnshop was dead quiet, though.

After watching the aide peek around in confusion before leaving.

I lowered the hand covering my mouth.

“I saw it all—Hugo begging.”

The laughter I’d barely held back burst out.

Ah, this is living.

“Emma sis, you’re the best.”

Emma was the mage from Ashen Street.

The security spell I’d commissioned from her was incredible.

“Oh, about that last spell you requested. You know it can only be used once, right? No idea what you planned to use it for.”

The spell I’d requested was none other than “Worst Memory.”