Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

17 – Sparring (2)

“W..What?”

“I’m asking if you enjoyed playing the crusader.”

“I.. I what now!!”

“Isn’t that right?”

“To ensure villains receive just punishment, to save those tormented by the wicked,

to hold Justice as the absolute standard, and to never compromise one’s principles.”

“Aren’t those the very actions you’ve been taking, Princess?”

The Princess had no response to his sneering words.

His statement, after all, was an accurate description of her own conduct.

“Princess.”

“What is it…”

“Your Highness, what makes you see me as a villain?”

“…?”

Having been silent, the princess scoffed, as if finding the situation absurd, and continued her story.

“The rumors spreading about you, the behavior I’ve witnessed, the testimonies of fellow students!”

“With so much evidence, you still try to deny it? You really are something, aren’t you?”

“So, why does any of that make me bad?”

Concluding that conversation was impossible, the princess unleashed a magic attack to create an opening, but he dodged it with ease and continued to speak.

“I’m well aware of the rumors circulating in the academy.”

“If you know…”

“But do you know *why* I did those things?”

She didn’t know.

She hadn’t even tried to find out.

Everyone condemned him as a villain,

and it seemed obvious that such a person would be evil.

“What if there was a valid reason for me tormenting her?”

“….”

“What if there was a reason for me replacing women like clothes?”

“…Don’t talk nonsense.”

“What if there was a reason for me drinking from midday?”

“Perhaps she was my life’s nemesis,”

“Or perhaps the women were all gold-diggers only after my money,”

“Or perhaps something so heartbreaking happened that I wanted to drink to forget it, wouldn’t that be possible?”

“…Those are all just sophistries.”

“You’re right. It’s all nonsense.”

The princess felt a renewed surge of anger at his immediate admission, but

“But…why did you hesitate?”

Why did you falter?

The princess couldn’t answer that question.

Because she considered the possibility, however slight, that it might actually be true.

“Shall I answer for you?”

“You judged me as a villain without investigating a single thing, and forced your own sense of justice upon me.”

“What if I *did* have a reason, however slight, for my actions? What would you have done then?”

“What would you have given me as compensation?”

“To someone facing such a miserable situation, abandoned by their family and reviled by everyone?”

He, who had been speaking while standing still,

slowly approached the princess.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Jennison, finally reaching her, met her gaze and spoke,

giving weight to each and every word.

“Your Highness.”

“Please, at least consider the position of the wicked.”

The voice was astonishingly cold, chilling.

Since childhood, she was a princess to whom being adored was only natural.

Whatever she said, she was loved.

Everything she desired, she could possess,

and everything she attempted, she could achieve.

There was not a single person who would confront such a princess with such overt animosity.

The princess, a child who, at best, was kind and gentle, at worst, frail,

couldn’t process the shockingly chilling hostility and collapsed, her legs giving way beneath her.

Seeing her fall, Jennison

turned away slowly, his expression an astonishingly cold mask.

Emerging from the thick smoke, Jennison declared his forfeit

to the professor overseeing the match.

“Can you state your reason for withdrawing?”

“Your Highness effortlessly blocked an attack that consumed all of my mana.”

“Hmm… you certainly look exhausted enough to say so.”

Jennison, not refusing the offer to rest in the infirmary if he was tired,

calmly left the training grounds and headed for the infirmary.

In the training grounds, now cleared of smoke, sat a metal sphere, maintaining its massive round shape.

Scattered everywhere were the traces of the battle that had just transpired.

And in the center, the princess was visible, struggling to rise to her feet.

*

It was tiring.

But if I said that much, she’d understand, right?

That the world doesn’t only consist of people as fortunate as she is.

That there are those who yearn for even a single piece of bread eaten with family.

That there are those who receive not love, but only reprimands.

If she could only keep that in mind, and correct her tendency to assert her opinions so readily,

then there would be no problem in the succession to the throne.

The princess possesses that much talent and dedication.

Her words were more than enough to make one angry,

but if you considered the pride that flowed through her bloodline,

it wasn’t impossible to understand.

Even I, being the son of a Duke, was filled with self-confidence, wasn’t I?

Still, the feeling didn’t improve much,

but since keeping it in mind would only be to my detriment, I decided to forget it quickly.

Muttering those things to myself, I entered the infirmary.

A pair of eyes is fixed upon me.

If the Emperor is the most noble in the Empire,

then the person before me could be called the most sacred.

A woman clad in white nun’s habit, a crucifix necklace at her throat.

Her auburn hair gleams beautifully, catching the crimson light of the setting sun, announcing the day’s end.

Golden eyes that shine brilliantly, as if to proclaim her unparalleled sanctity.

Even adorned in the nun’s habit, her form doesn’t feel sacred, but rather, it is further emphasized.

A woman whom even the Empire cannot treat lightly, an emissary of the Gods.

The Saintess, Hildegard.

*

The Saintess looked at me, her face twisting in a grimace,

as if she’d witnessed something she shouldn’t have.

“Why have you come here?”

“The professor told me to rest.”

“…Formal speech?”

“I am now merely a commoner. How could I address the Saintess informally?”

She ran her hands up her arms, as if struck by a sudden chill,

a strange expression flitting across her face before she spoke again.

“It gives me the creeps when you do that…”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“It’s not a compliment!!”

Having no desire to continue the conversation, I simply collapsed onto a bed in the infirmary

intending to rest.

That’s what I was going to do.

If only the Saintess hadn’t started shaking me.

“You!! I asked, why are you here?!”

“…Mana depletion.”

“Mana depletion? Let me take a look.”

“There’s no need for the Saintess to trouble herself with my concerns.”

“I wish I could, but I need to note down what symptoms you have, you know?

Otherwise, the professor in charge will get into trouble.”

“…That’s true. Speaking of which, why are you here? The Saintess should be a student, shouldn’t she?”

“The professor in charge of the infirmary had some personal business to attend to.

He entrusted me with the place for a while, since I can also administer treatment.”

“…So he skipped out on his duties.”

“Skipped? What is that and why did he strike them?”

“Never mind…”

I turned my back again, ready to lie down,

but the Saintess continued to tug on my arm.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“…Just what were you doing?”

“Pardon?”

“From your left shoulder, the inside is gradually being… singed?”

“Oh… Holy Power, perhaps?”

“That’s not the point! What happened to you?!”

How should I even answer?

That I felt the threat of being electrocuted by the Princess’s magic,

and averted the near-electrocution by severing my arm?

Then I remade and reattached it?

Forget it.

I’d undoubtedly be treated like a madman.

“It’s not something you need to know.”

“What kind of talk is that?! First, let’s treat it…”

“It’s fine.”

“…Are you crazy? Doesn’t it hurt?”

Crazy, she says.

What would others think if they heard such uncouth language?

“Believe it or not, I can endure this level of pain.”

“You’re saying you’re *not* okay! Give me your arm, quickly.”

Why is she doing this?

I said I’m fine.

The Saintess, persistent and bothersome, was starting to irritate me. I answered her bluntly, deliberately.

“Saintess. Don’t you dislike me?”

“…”

“You don’t need to worry about someone you dislike.”

“…”

“If I just lie here quietly, I’ll be alright. I’ve always lived like this.”

“…”

“Instead, I hope you’ll permit me to borrow a bed in the infirmary… Saintess?”

Her expression is subtle.

She looks somewhat angry, yet says nothing,

gazing at me with an expression that makes me appear pitiful,

before squeezing her eyes shut again.

“The Lord said to love even criminals as one’s neighbor.”

“…”

“I think you’re a bad person. That won’t change.”

“…”

“But even if you are such a person, I will step forward and heal you.”

“Because that is what the one I serve desires, and the path I must follow.”

“So, your hand, please.”

Righteous.

More righteous than anyone, diligent, and radiant.

That must be why she is being hailed as a Saintess.

She walks her own path, according to her beliefs.

It was something impressive people I’d seen possessed,

And a common trait of people praised by posterity.

“..The Saintess will surely… become a good person.”

Saying that, and offering a faint smile, I held out my hand to her as if granting permission for treatment.

Though I waited quite a while, the healing didn’t commence.

“Sai… Saintess?”

“Ah… Ah!! Yes!!”

“Is something wrong?”

“..You could make an expression like that…”

“…?”

Soon, a warm energy began to overflow from our joined hands.

And the throbbing, searing pain that had been persistent vanished in an instant.

After offering my thanks to the Saintess, I succumbed to a long, deep slumber, my body exhausted.