75. Sudden Turn for a Steamy Romance!
That evening.
Exhausted, Philip trudged toward the study, his steps sluggish as if melting under his own fatigue.
“Back?”
As he entered, Icart glanced at him indifferently.
“What did the repairman say?”
“The same as before. No progress yet. He said it could take at least another month.”
“I see.”
“Aren’t you worried, Your Grace?”
“Not really.”
“…I sometimes wonder, Your Grace seems to have no intention whatsoever of resolving this issue.”
Philip muttered in frustration.
He had tried everything he could think of to overcome this obstacle.
At first, he considered teleportation magic, but the Academy did not have the portal coordinates registered for security reasons.
In other words, there was no choice but to rely on physical transportation.
He could have asked the Academy’s headmaster for help, but sending letters and obtaining approval would take time.
They even considered purchasing a new carriage, but long-distance carriages for trips to the Academy were specialized.
The journey required passing through the Western Mountain monster zone, necessitating protective devices that could withstand the high concentration of magical energy.
Being a special carriage, custom construction took a considerable amount of time.
So, they had no choice but to repair the existing carriage—a task that required no small effort.
Acquiring the large amount of mana stones needed and recruiting skilled artisans to process them was no easy feat.
“Perhaps we could ask His Highness the Crown Prince for assistance…”
“You want me to beg that scoundrel?”
Icart’s tone turned serious.
The chill in the room was palpable, freezing Philip in place.
“No, I just meant it’s an option.”
“Option? Stop talking nonsense.”
Philip’s frustration boiled over.
The main issue, as he saw it, was Icart’s lack of will to solve the problem.
“You don’t seem to care about my desperate efforts to make the schedule work.”
“Is it just the schedule? Or is it because of the promised vacation when we return to the Academy?”
“…That’s really harsh.”
Philip’s resentment deepened at Icart’s indifferent response.
“Honestly, if Your Grace showed even a little will, I’m sure this problem could have been resolved.”
“…”
“But the lack of progress so far proves that you have no intention of fixing this.”
“Stop whining,” Icart dismissed Philip’s argument with a simple wave.
Yet Philip was almost certain of it.
Yes, acquiring the materials would take time under normal circumstances. But if Icart had taken initiative, there would have been no reason he couldn’t have obtained refined mana stones in a short time.
“What exactly is keeping you from leaving the duchy? Is it Miss Roselia again?”
“Shut up.”
“Your Grace—”
Philip pouted.
He truly was the epitome of a tyrannical superior. Even the most loyal subordinate would rise in rebellion if treated like a servant for a month straight. Especially if the ordeal had no end in sight.
The next day, late afternoon.
Responding to Icart’s summons, I entered the reception room to find an array of weapons and ornaments laid out like a market stall.
“Oh, Princess! You’re radiant as ever, like the goddess of the sea herself. Truly a beauty worthy of my angel!”
“….”
Also present was the utterly ridiculous Baron Vermon, spouting over-the-top comparisons.
‘That fiend follows everywhere.’
He was decked out in the flamboyant jewelry of a peacock.
Icart watched him from a distance with a look of utter disdain.
‘Still, I can’t believe she agreed to meet Baron Vermon.’
In this life, Icart had been careful to avoid him entirely. Even now, he seemed to treat Vermon like a contagious disease, yet just being in the same space was remarkable.
“What’s all this?”
“Baron Vermon brought protective magical tools for you.”
Philip stepped forward to explain on Icart’s behalf.
“Protective magical tools?”
I vaguely remembered hearing about this before, but had avoided facing Baron Vermon—it had felt… off.
“Yes, Princess. Come, take a closer look.”
Baron Vermon hurried over, presenting the tools.
“Magical tools are difficult to make and expensive, but they have special effects impossible for ordinary weapons.”
“….”
“The ones we produce are even more special. We offer customized modifications to create the optimal weapon for our client.”
“….”
“Usually, modification costs extra, but for you, Princess, we’ll waive the fees.”
He sneaked glances at Icart while speaking to me, as if daring him to react.
Philip explained, “His devotion is… profound.”
Vermon’s earnestness was exaggerated, almost comically, yet Icart’s expression remained icy, brimming with contempt. Just being in the same space with him seemed agonizing.
Regaining some composure, Vermon continued, “Now, here are some tools suitable for beginners unfamiliar with combat.”
There were three main items:
A cloak enchanted for concealment, able to hide the wearer completely in emergencies.
A pendant that could emit a high-voltage electric current, similar to a taser if thrown.
A poison-tipped rod crafted with magical monster venom. Not lethal, but capable of incapacitating an enemy.
All were self-defense items, safe for anyone to use.
I surveyed the assortment, eventually pointing to a sword that looked like something out of a jungle adventure.
“What’s this? It doesn’t look like a normal sword.”
“It’s a sword whose power depends on the caster’s magic.”
“Depends on magic?”
“Yes. Ordinary swords rely on physical strength. This one channels the caster’s mana. Strong magic can cut anything; weak magic makes it almost useless. In the past, it was called the ‘Soul-Cutting Sword.’”
‘Soul-Cutting Sword’… what a pretentious, fantasy name.
Though I probably wouldn’t use it…
“I’ll take this too.”
Without hesitation, I picked it up.
By the time I finished shopping, the sun had dipped below the horizon.
Surprisingly, Baron Vermon returned to his estate without incident, and I made my way to my room in relief.
Alone, as darkness fully settled, I quietly stepped out.
Knock. Knock.
Crossing the third-floor servant quarters, I arrived at a familiar door.
Rusted hinges creaked as I knocked, and a familiar blonde head peeked out.
“Come in.”
Cayenne’s voice held a playful warmth.
Inside, the room was simple but tidy, lit only by the soft glow of an oil lamp, yet charming in its own way.
“Long time no see. Didn’t you miss me?”
He smiled, sweetly and mischievously, even in the dark night—enough to momentarily steal my breath.
‘…God isn’t fair at all.’
From the crescent-fold of his eyes when he smiled, to his straight, sharp nose and lips like pomegranate seeds, he was blessed with extraordinary beauty.
“Why are your clothes like that?”
Finally noticing him, I saw his poet shirt for outings hanging loose, revealing his chest and well-defined muscles beneath.
“It was hot… want you to help me put it back on?”
“…Such an irreverent creature.”
To reveal such dark thoughts with that angelic face… anyone witnessing this would click their tongue.
“Hurry up and button it.”
“Not fun yet.”
Only when I frowned did he finally fix his shirt.
“Enough joking. Did you get the antidote?”
“This one?”
He shook a small vial in front of me; a pink liquid swirled inside, corked tightly.
Then he clutched it in his hand.
“I got it… but what about my reward?”
“Reward? We already agreed.”
I scoffed at his audacity. Even with a contract, a little sincerity wouldn’t hurt.
“You promised to cooperate and now you ask for payment?”
“When did I ever ask for money?”
He smirked, lightly nudging my shoulder.
Simultaneously—
[Administrator: Oh-ho.]
[Administrator: ( •⌄• )✧]
[SYSTEM: The ‘#MaxLuck’ keyword activates a luck buff!]
[Romance cliché 56. ‘Weak in the Legs’ activated!]
An absurd system window appeared, and I collapsed backward onto the bed.
“What is… this?”
Helpless, I fell into Cayenne’s arms. He looked down at me with a mischievous glint.
“You can repay me with your body.”
XD Admin is oh so helpful