Chapter 22

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 22

Chapter Title: Magic Tower Arrival

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"Princess!"

The duke's startled voice rang out as a warm embrace enveloped my body.

At the same time, I saw a massive bookshelf crashing down behind his back.

Boom!

Fortunately, the shelf toppled onto another one across from it, leaving space below. But the real problem was something else.

Thud, thud.

From the tilted shelf, thick, heavy books poured down like rain.

With each solid impact, pain seemed to ripple through him, making the duke's brow twitch.

'That must hurt.'

Even someone without an ounce of empathy could feel it—the sounds were brutally dull.

The moment must have been brief, but to me, it dragged on endlessly.

When I snapped out of it, I was already lying on my back against the plush carpet floor.

"Ah..."

I stared blankly up at the duke sprawled over me.

This wasn't the time for it, but more than his pain, the shockingly close physical distance gnawed at me.

Our bodies nearly touching, faces so near I could feel his breath mingling with mine—my temperature skyrocketed.

'What the hell!'

This was cheating, wasn't it?

Not some cheesy B-movie drama!

Of course, his face was flawlessly perfect even in extreme close-up, true to form as the northern duke male lead. But with me as the other half? That changed everything.

It was like a historical drama where the king dives to shield some random palace maid.

'He's not going to assassinate me later when reality sinks in, is he...'

Damn.

While silly thoughts raced through my mind, the books finally stopped falling, and the chaos settled.

"Phew, Princess..."

The duke turned his head to check for danger, then slowly pushed up onto his knees.

Books cascaded off his back like falling leaves—I couldn't even imagine the weight or the pain.

'I'm so, so sorry.'

If I'd known, I should've just asked for help.

But as an illegitimate bastard not even treated like royalty, how was I supposed to order a duke around in this ironclad class society...?

I squeezed my eyes shut, mumbling excuses to myself.

Yet the voice that followed left me utterly dumbfounded.

"Blood points or whatever... You said you knew about them well?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm asking if there's no acupoint that dulls pain."

"Ah..."

Flabbergasted and clueless on how to respond, I just gaped at him. Duke Brail stretched languidly, then offered me his hand with a perfectly composed face.

Anyone could tell it meant grab on and get up, but I couldn't bring myself to take it.

"...I'm sorry. I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong and ended up troubling Your Grace."

He said nothing.

Unable to ignore the outstretched hand, I gingerly grasped that large palm and pulled myself up.

In the heavy silence, I whispered even softer.

"Um, and... thank you."

"Then repay me double later."

"Pardon?"

"Didn't you promise to be my devoted unpaid slave? Can't have talent like that dying under a pile of books."

Ha, this man.

...Way more of a ruthless employer than I thought.

After that freak bookshelf collapse, I stopped entering the library altogether.

Naturally, I lost touch with the duke too—but I knew he'd come looking for me soon enough.

Why?

"I've got business at the Magic Tower soon anyway. Think it over until then, Princess."

I hadn't wanted to believe it at the time, but that was as good as an invitation to tag along!

And it was definitely an opportunity.

'I've got a lead on destroying the core...'

The only hitch was sourcing the Partanium needed as material.

These days, finding processed Partanium weapons or tools was like chasing stars.

But then.

"Why wouldn't we have it? Of course we do!"

"A... Partanium weapon?"

"Yep! The duchy has everything. Hohoho!"

The unexpected windfall came from none other than the capable maid, Bonita.

She declared it with total confidence, then returned that evening cradling a box.

And inside? A pristine Partanium hammer.

How'd I know? The certificate tucked in listed every raw material.

"How in the world...?"

Unable to hide my shock, Bonita shrugged proudly.

"Found it in the warehouse. Had a hunch it'd be there. Our duke's residence warehouses have everything. Last time, Marina dug up spare mithril needles she'd lost, and old gardener George swore his one-of-a-kind watering can was in there too..."

"Ah, got it. Th-thank you."

I cut off the rambling praise and slowly hefted the hammer.

It screamed luxury at a glance, and the grip felt incredible.

"But... it looks pricey. Is it really okay for me to use?"

"It's all stuff no one's looking for—totally fine!"

"...What if it belongs to the duke?"

I didn't want to end up a thief pilfering from the duke, so it was a fair worry.

Bonita hesitated a beat, then beamed with assurance.

"Sure, some might be, but most aren't. The warehouses are basically junk graveyards for every random thing."

It didn't sound like a lie, and Bonita—as a duke's maid—wouldn't steal for my sake anyway. So I nodded.

But then.

"Where am I supposed to hide this thing?"

Huhuhuhuhuhu!

A creepy cackle erupted right beside me the second I finished speaking.

"Bo-Bonita...?"

"No brazen inspector dares frisk a lady's body. Uhu huhuhuhu!"

.

.

.

And that's exactly why I was waddling along with this awkward gait right now.

Wobble, wobble.

Like a newborn goat, teetering unsteadily, I inched toward the magic circle at a snail's pace.

'It hurts so much...!'

The hammer, strapped inside my thigh with leather, rubbed raw against tender skin, sending constant prickling pain.

I'd hoped to channel a sleek female spy from a blockbuster infiltration flick, so I hadn't refused Bonita's idea...

But like this? Forget cool—I looked even more pathetic than usual.

"Princess. Why the weird walk today?"

The duke, who'd been watching me quietly, finally spoke.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

His expression—like he'd witnessed the strangest sight—flooded me with mortification.

Still, I couldn't drop the awkward stance or gait.

Pulling the hammer from my skirt now would only make things catastrophically worse...!

Sob sob, I should've just packed a lady's pouch!

'If he finds out, I'm toast.'

No other options amid my gut-wrenching regret.

"...Whatever folk remedy that is, at least stand up straight."

"Why..."

"You're clinging to my right arm for dear life right now."

"Ah, ahahaha... haha! Oh gosh, sorry!"

Only then did I realize I'd been death-gripping his arm. I jolted upright in panic.

'Ugh, mortifying.'

Heat scorched from my scalp.

"If everyone's ready, we'll depart now."

The mage did a final headcount, placed a hand on the magic stone, and blinding light swallowed us.

"Oh, wow... urgh!"

For a moment, I forgot the pain peering down at myself—but I couldn't even finish before doubling over.

Long-range teleports were notorious for nausea, and sure enough, my guts twisted violently as bile surged up.

Like cramming seven hours of motion sickness from a rattling packed bus into one hit.

The light faded and voices announced arrival, but I was out of it for ages.

"Teleport sickness hitting hard?"

"...Seems like it."

Clutching my pounding head, I looked up—and my vision filled with alien scenery.

First came the mana-rich purple sky, then the towering black spire.

The Magic Tower, built of jet-black bricks with pure, intricate mana, showed no trace of age despite its ancient history.

Dazed and overwhelmed by the novel sight, the duke gave my shoulder a light pat.

"Don't tense up."

"Huh?"

"See the national flag?"

What flag?

I finally shook off the haze and scanned around slowly.

Then I spotted it.

'Holy crap...'

Fluttering in the wind... the flag of this body's homeland, the Salt Kingdom.