Chapter 11
“…Thanks. I’ll repay the favor. You know me, right? Whatever I receive, I return it double.”
“I know.”
Gilliphus smiled warmly, a gentle curve to his lips.
“Anyway, I’m busy dealing with that issue, so I should get going. If any other information comes up, I’ll contact you.”
“Alright. Take care.”
As the candles that had flared up to the ceiling shrank back down, Raphaella looked around the room and let out a deep sigh.
“Why is there so much to do? Ugh, I’m exhausted.”
She stripped off the dress that had been squeezing her plump body like a ham. From the small wardrobe—so empty it was hard to believe it belonged to a princess—she grabbed a loose blouse and neat black trousers and put them on, then looked in the mirror. Of course, Raphaella didn’t realize that the outfit was an atrocious combination of a temple worship blouse and riding pants.
In the mirror was a round, chubby figure that still looked girlish despite being twenty years old.
“Hm. No matter what I wear, it doesn’t suit me. How long will it take for this body to change?”
A shabby environment. A pitiful body. Sealed powers. And now even the mirror was another problem to solve.
In the silent room, a feeling she had briefly forgotten welled up inside Raphaella. This time it wasn’t explosive anger, but a quiet, soaking sorrow.
It was the first time in her life as a goddess that she had felt such misery.
She shook her head to drive the sinking mood away and tied up her long gray hair neatly.
“No teeth? Then gums will do. In the human world, money is everything. If I don’t have my powers, I should at least secure something all-powerful. That way I can do anything.”
Raphaella began sorting out her priorities in her head.
First, strength. No matter what happened, she had to be able to protect herself. Better yet, strong enough to beat up the four male gods when she met them again.
Next, money. Without money, how could she travel all over the world to gather the scattered fragments?
Once she finished dealing with these annoying tasks, she planned to go somewhere warm with Ferry and laze around to her heart’s content.
As Raphaella was organizing her thoughts, Ferry appeared in midair amid tiny particles of light.
In Ferry’s hands were a small cloth pouch and a tree branch about as long as Raphaella’s forearm.
“Master, I brought them. I picked the freshest branch.”
“The Spirit King didn’t get angry this time, did he?”
“He didn’t get mad at me, but Dad was fuming and tore your letter to shreds, Master. It was a little scary.”
“Still, good job, Ferry.”
When Raphaella praised her, patting her head with a finger, Ferry grinned proudly and handed over the pouch and branch.
Raphaella weighed the pouch—it was smaller than she’d expected—and scoffed.
“This’ll be gone after just a few uses. That guy’s so stingy.”
“But Master, what did you write in the letter?”
“Nothing important. Anyway, when this runs out, I’ll ask again.”
“If you give me cake!”
Instead of answering, Raphaella roughly patted Ferry’s head and headed for the door.
“I’ll be out for a bit. Guard the room.”
“Yes. Have a safe trip.”
When Raphaella flung the door open, as expected, two knights stood outside with bored, sullen expressions.
As she stepped forward, the knights crossed their spears to block her path.
“You cannot leave.”
“What are you doing?”
“Her Majesty the Empress has ordered you to remain confined for the time being. Please go back inside.”
“Ha! Confined, my foot.”
One of the knights lifted his chin and looked down at Raphaella with a disdainful gaze, as if he himself were the empress.
“This is what Her Majesty said: ‘I cannot allow a butcher who doesn’t even know table manners to roam my palace. She is to remain confined until she begs for forgiveness.’”
He then patted Raphaella on the shoulder and shoved her back into the room. Already irritated because nothing was going her way, Raphaella felt a vein throb on her forehead as even these insignificant knights dared to look down on her.
“Go back in nicely while I’m still being polite.”
Raphaella sighed in annoyance. Ever since becoming human, nothing ever went smoothly.
“Do I really have to educate even small fry like you?”
Despite her words, she smiled lightly and reached a hand back into the room.
“Branch.”
A moment later, the invisible Ferry fluttered over and placed the branch in Raphaella’s hand. To the knights, it looked as though a branch had been summoned out of thin air and flown into her grasp. Their eyes widened.
Raphaella brushed off the small leaves and twigs, shaping it as she muttered,
“For idiots who don’t know their place…”
In no time, the branch was roughly fashioned into a club. She gave it a light swing through the air as she continued,
“Discipline is the only cure.”
The club cut through the air with a whooshing sound, but the knights only stared, unimpressed. They had been startled by the flying branch, but what strength could such a small, chubby princess possibly have?
No matter how she swung it, they were fully armored knights with metal spears. To them, it was laughable.
One knight stepped forward, holding his spear crosswise, and said irritably,
“Hey, Princess. Stop being troublesome and go back inside while I’m still—”
Thud!
He couldn’t finish his sentence. Raphaella’s club struck him square in the throat.
“Ghk… kuhk!”
Clutching his neck, the knight staggered backward and collapsed into the corridor, unconscious.
Raphaella clicked her tongue, fiddling with the club in dissatisfaction.
“Ah, still too weak. His head should’ve popped right off.”
The enormous tree that supported the Spirit Realm—the spirit tree—had branches harder than most metals. They also had magic resistance, capable of deflecting even mid-level spells. That was why Raphaella had chosen a branch of it as a temporary weapon.
In truth, she hadn’t had much of a choice.
Still, the princess’s body was weaker than she had expected, so the power fell short of what she’d wanted, leaving her disappointed. She didn’t realize that, for an ordinary human woman, it was already tremendous strength.
‘It can’t be helped. I’ll make do with this until I get my powers back.’
As Raphaella smacked her lips in regret, the other knight—the one who had invoked the empress’s orders—stepped forward, holding his spear horizontally.
“P-Princess! This is unacceptable! If Her Majesty the Empress finds out—!”
But he, too, couldn’t finish. Smiling faintly, Raphaella rushed straight into his space.
She swung the club at his knee.
“Gah!”
Thud. One knee buckled on its own.
Hesitating for a split second over whether he could really use his spear against a member of the royal family—even a discarded princess—he faltered. Raphaella didn’t.
She smashed the club into his other knee.
Wham!
“Urgh!”
The knight dropped to both knees, barely propping himself up with his spear like a cane.
“Now we’re finally at eye level.”
With the club slung over her shoulder, Raphaella looked down at him. The knight trembled as he raised his head.
‘W-What is this…?’
Their eyes met. Raphaella’s golden eyes gleamed—not with killing intent, but with playful amusement, which made it all the more chilling.
If it had been clear malice or hostility, it might’ve been easier. But her gaze—like she was looking at a boring toy—was utterly alien, and far more frightening.
It felt like she was playing with him.
Was this really the same princess who always cowered? The same one who would cry yet still swallow insects when they used the empress’s orders as an excuse to torment her? The same fool who accepted rice mixed with dirt without complaint?
The knight was confused, feeling as though the princess had become an entirely different person. But habits die hard. He chose reflexive defiance over the fear before him and shouted, eyes blazing,
“I’ll report everything to Her Majesty the Empress! You’ll be sent to the punishment chamber!”
“Go ahead.”
Raphaella kept smiling mischievously as she twirled the club lightly.
“If you can.”
As if swatting an annoying buzzing insect, she swung the club without mercy. This time, the blow—far stronger than before—headed straight for the knight’s chest.
Crack!
“Ghk.”
The iron breastplate crumpled grotesquely. Foaming at the mouth, the knight passed out and toppled backward.
Only then did Raphaella gasp in realization.
“Ah, right! I should’ve asked where the Empress’s palace was first.”
She nudged the fallen knights with her foot, half-hoping one of them would get back up. No luck.
“Ah well. I’ll just ask someone else on the way.”
Leaping lightly over the unconscious knights, Raphaella strolled down the corridor—club slung casually over her shoulder.
