What Happens When The Second Male Lead Powers Up [EN]: Chapter 507

#507

Confession and Revelation (7)

“I’m sorry. You’re so popular that I had no choice but to resort to this method.”

Arno moved his lips silently in the darkness.

The soundless voice, carried on a gentle breeze, reached her ear, forming perfect sentences.

Long, ash-gray hair cascaded down like a waterfall, mingling with Elysee’s golden locks.

Eyes, clouded with a murky hue, gazed serenely into the sapphire eyes of royalty.

“Shh······.”

“······.”

‘I have committed a mortal sin.’ Yet, in the man’s eyes, there was no fear.

The Crown Princess quickly realized that he harbored no animosity or murderous intent.

Blood incessantly seeped from the cut her sword had made on his neck.

It was a shallow wound, and neither of them paid it much attention.

Soon, a calloused hand slowly lowered the weapon. ‘Clatter······.’

-Thud

“Thank you. As you know, I am not in a position to freely approach Your Highness.”

The hand that had covered his mouth immediately dropped, and Arno swiftly descended from the bed, kneeling on one knee.

Elysee, adjusting the gown that had slipped down to her elbows, glared at the Cardinal.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.

However, a married man with children sneaking into the bedchamber of the heir to the throne was an entirely different matter.

Had she not recognized his face, she would have had him beheaded and castrated on the spot.

How could he be the Duke’s confidant if he was so reckless?

“Don’t you have a family to protect?”

“······.”

“Next time, I suggest hanging from the ceiling.”

“I will consider it.”

A dry conversation ensued. Elysee discerned that he had completely blocked out any internal noise.

She tilted her chin.

“What is it?”

“I have failed to prepare a birthday gift for Your Highness.”

“······.”

The man’s eyes crinkled into a long line, and his white fingers began to rummage inside his coat.

Elysee, unaccustomed to this kind of jest, remained silent.

Count Arno von Roy was an inscrutable figure.

He had ventured deep into the black market to capture her father, but claimed to have let the criminal slip away right before his eyes.

The Crown Princess had been utterly speechless, as she had been unaware of its existence until recently.

Since then, the two had rarely had the opportunity to meet one-on-one.

The man would occasionally brush past Elysee, secretly handing her notes from Duke Judith Carminha, and would request duels with her during joint training sessions for archbishops and higher-ranking paladins.

But that was it.

-Rustle!

He was an exceedingly busy individual.

As Wilhelmina Schneider’s ‘Apostle’ and the Duke’s spy, the Count was more often absent from the military camp.

Naturally, Elysee was also incredibly busy all day long.

“······What is that?”

The corners of her eyes sharpened.

What Arno held in his hand was a large, shriveled tree fruit, bigger than his two fists combined.

The fruit’s flaxen surface emitted a subtle glow in the dim light.

It was a meager and bizarre ‘birthday gift’ to present to the Crown Princess of a nation.

“As you can see, it is an ordinary fruit.”

A smooth voice replied.

Elysee instantly recognized that it was not ‘an ordinary fruit.’

Arno chuckled and offered her the fruit.

“Do not touch it, but take a brief sniff.”

“Why―”

“It is an item acquired from the black magician’s mansion in the black market.”

The Crown Princess’s blue eyes widened.

The Count scoffed at her innocent reaction.

He still did not fully trust the Duke’s choice.

He wondered how far a naive heir to the throne could go.

A king who possessed both physical and mental strength, as well as outstanding combat and political skills, had always been rare.

However······.

He believed in Elysee’s ‘misfortune.’

Knowing that deep misfortune begets a strong will.

“······It has a peculiar scent.”

“Have you smelled it before?”

He immediately sealed the fruit with wind as he asked.

The man’s gaze was fixed on the warrior’s most vulnerable appearance.

“······.”

Arno von Roy, daring to insult the Chief God with his confession, was a man who wished for the extinction of the Venetian Dynasty.

The man believed that Duke Carminha was the hero who would establish a new country and revive the eastern part of the continent.

He was weary of living as a paladin, so much so that he harbored rebellious thoughts against this entire order, and he sincerely respected the Duke, who had already liberated countless comrades from suffering.

He also believed that she, who had built a paradise on earth in the Duchy, deserved to be the leader of all people.

But she deemed you unworthy.

The Duke’s choice was Elysee Venetian.

And if this royal, and no one else, was the last chance for the cursed theocracy―

“I have definitely smelled it somewhere before. What kind of fruit is it?”

“It is the fruit of the sacred object, the ‘Spirit of Iran.’”

“······Good heavens. You brought such a dangerous object into the military camp without supervision? What if the soldiers are put in danger!”

If that were truly the case, Arno was willing to bet one of his own coins.

“It is sealed, so there is no problem.”

“No, I have heard that ‘Iran’ is a fruit that drives people mad. Is there no danger to your well-being?”

“Am I not already a vessel that has gone berserk once?”

He replied with a bitter smile. Elysee’s expression turned stern.

Only then did Arno slowly lower the corners of his lips.

She resembles the Duke in this regard. Blood is thicker than water, after all.

“There is no problem as long as I have this.”

‘Tap, tap.’ He tapped his forehead with a slow gesture.

A thin golden circlet meticulously encircled his entire head.

The Count elaborated to alleviate his superior’s concerns.

“It is a sacred object from the Carminha Ducal Family that suppresses my madness.”

“Ah.”

“No matter how powerful Iran is, it is the ancient power of a sacred object without an owner. It would be merciless to ordinary people, but it is not enough to break the sacred object’s restriction.”

“······.”

“If you allow it, I will continue to keep the fruit in my possession. The Duke has also advised me to do so.”

“So be it. However······.”

Elysee’s eyes grew slightly clouded. She wore a rare expression of uncertainty.

“I swear by the moon that I have smelled that fragrance before. But my memory is old and does not surface. Are you certain that it is Iran?”

“Shall I remove my coronet?”

“······You have a knack for silencing your superiors.”

She gestured with a sigh-like remark. It was a signal for him to leave.

Arno silently rose from his seat and straightened his attire.

Hiding the wind-wrapped Iran in his arms, he took out a handkerchief to wipe away the blood, and finally met the Crown Princess’s gaze.

The ash-gray eyes, bathed in the soft glow of the brazier, flickered like an omen. ‘Crack, crackle······.’

“The north wind is unusually cold and swift this year.”

“······.”

“I have no additional intelligence to offer, but if you see any suspicious movements in the north, I believe it would be wise to mobilize the troops.”

“I was considering it anyway. Thank you for the advice.”

Elysee replied without wavering.

Arno gave a polite bow before concealing himself behind the rear of the tent, rather than the entrance.

There was a brief sound of thick fabric twisting, which quickly disappeared.

The Crown Princess looked down at her palm, feeling the fatigue from moments ago vanish as if it had been a lie.

The sapphire-like, steadfast eyes were soon filled with confusion.

“······.”

The Cardinal’s senses do not lie. She was certain that she knew the scent of that fruit.

But how?

When had she, who did not even know the location of the black market, seen the fruit of the Spirit of Iran?

“Could it be······.”

The worst possible assumption she could conjure began to mercilessly batter her mind.

Behind her, the shadow of the massive royal castle loomed.

A calloused hand clenched into a fist.

The next day.

The plan to return to the Sea Dragon Military Academy had been thoroughly derailed.

The ‘Operation to Evacuate Righteous Territory Citizens’ was in full swing on the northern coastline.

“Well, I’ll be damned······.”

It had been chaotic since the beginning of the year.

Jibril Diop stared at the ceaselessly crashing sea, crunching on a lollipop.

He sat alone, sprawled out on the unfrozen ground.

Scattered, dark rocks merely watched the man from afar.

-Swish, swish, swish······

-Splash, splash, splash······!

The weather was truly insane. He bit down on the lollipop and clicked his tongue.

He had heard the story that ‘the north wind is suspicious’ so many times that his ears were calloused, but the phenomenon of the coastline freezing over and the sea capsizing small boats in a single day was clearly abnormal.

Moreover, it was broad daylight, past noon.

At the time when the sky was emitting its hottest light, such an unusual climate······.

What is that again?

“Teacher Tess, just a moment······.”

The magician’s red eyes darted around.

Among the chattering third-year students gathered on the coastline, he spotted a man and a woman offering and refusing gloves.

It was Teacher Tess and Count Sem of the Righteous Barony.

The woman seemed reluctant to accept, but the Count was earnestly trying to persuade her.

Eventually, the teacher reluctantly put his gloves over her own.

The scarred man gave an awkward smile with a flushed face.

Tess hurriedly turned her back and grabbed the rope submerged in the seawater.

It was to pull up the boats carrying the territory citizens evacuating from the island to the mainland. Jibril squinted.

The teacher’s nape was flushed red.

“······Well, well?”

She acted like she was going to devour him, but in reality, she was in such a relationship with a Count who was six years younger than her?

“Ha······.”

A long sigh escaped. Everyone except me is playing the romance game.

Though everyone was probably playing the romance game even when I was playing the romance game.

Even when war breaks out and the entire continent is in chaos, there are still things that never change.

“Teacher Tess and Count Sem grew up together like siblings. I heard that the teacher’s father was the Count’s swordsmanship instructor.”

“Your Highness.”

At the explanation from Stanislas, who had approached without a sound, Jibril immediately stirred.

The old man chuckled softly and steadied the young man’s shoulder. It was a sign for him to remain seated.

“Rest a little longer. I heard that you have already saved more than five ships.”

“I didn’t do it alone. It was just a tug-of-war.”

“That’s right. Still, thank you for lending a hand. The territory citizens surely feel the same as your grandfather.”

“······.”

Jibril was vulnerable to this kind of rhetoric.

He awkwardly avoided eye contact and wondered if he should bite down on another lollipop, but decided against it as he didn’t really feel like it.

The staff in his hand occasionally scattered mana like stardust.

Once they were on the mainland, the territory citizens were warming their bodies with tea and soup in the tents of the third-year students.

About half of the students were helping with that as well.

······Everything here is somehow unusual. The weather, the lord, the sacred object.

“Come to think of it, child. Didn’t you also have a young lady with whom marriage was discussed?”

The old man asked casually.

He had a pile of new ropes brought from the tent slung over his shoulder.

There were still hundreds of small boats carrying territory citizens on the horizon.

“I don’t know who you are talking about. There were more than one.”

“Oh, Jibril······.”

The State Preceptor sighed deeply, and the prince was silent for a moment.

Then, he added an explanation that he didn’t necessarily need to say—but for some reason, he wanted to utter today.

Perhaps the day was so cold that his brain had frozen a little.

“I have no intention of becoming the head of the family. So I don’t want to see any descendants. With my personality······. I don’t think I can be a good husband.”

White breath flowed from his lips and flew somewhere.

Jibril silently shifted his gaze, following the flow.

Not far away, a priest dressed like a plump winter animal was waddling toward the sea.

Behind him, the Pink Princess was raising her voice about something.

The magician eventually burst into a hollow laugh. It was quite an ugly sight.

He had warned her several times that her stamina was not up to par, but the Princess Consort did not yield a single word.

She didn’t listen even when he emphasized that it was enough to take care of those who had fallen into the water.

She kept muttering strange things like ‘physical fitness test’ or something.

······’I want to help so that people don’t fall into the water in the first place,’ she had said.

“That rascal.”

Then she came out like that, wearing a pile of the group’s winter gear.

He was so dumbfounded that he let out a snort.

Could she even do a proper tug-of-war with that body?

“Child.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Are you not a member of the Imperial Family?”

“Yes. Well, for now, I am.”

“Then you don’t necessarily need to take a spouse to see descendants.”

“What does that······.”

Jibril, who had been rattling off answers without much thought, paused and raised his head.

Stanislas had his characteristic kind eyes.

His deep wrinkles were filled with affection for his nephew.

“You could meet a compatible priest and make them your religious partner. Finding peace of mind and being happy is more important than anything else in the world.”

“······.”

It was a story he was hearing for the first time.

No—Jibril couldn’t even tell if this was advice, a suggestion, or nagging.

He was well aware that the ‘Liester Imperial Family’ could take in a ‘religious partner.’

That was common knowledge that even the common people knew.

However, until now, no one, including the person in question, had ever thought of applying it to Jibril. It was only natural.

He was the scoundrel of scoundrels, called the playboy of the Imperial Capital, and there seemed to be no excuse in the world to associate such a guy with the sacred religion.

So······.

“Heineken-nim! Like this with your feet! You have to put both feet like this to have strength······!”

-Splash, splash, splash······!

White, chilling droplets splashed everywhere.

As Christel Rambouillet raised her voice, Princess Juliette nodded with a determined face.

The two of them were already holding the rope, standing among the students.

She looked pathetic, with her head and ears wrapped up in a scarf.

It was so pathetic that he felt suffocated.

“······.”

Then he made eye contact with his sixth cousin. Jibril immediately averted his gaze.

“······Damn it.”

Why did I avoid him just now?

His brow furrowed in annoyance at his own actions, and a curse leaked through his teeth.

This was definitely not like him.

The Crown Prince, who had come out of the tent, stared intently at this side before going down with his teacher to pull another boat.

The prince needlessly ground his teeth and shook himself up from his seat.

It was an afternoon when everything suddenly felt unsatisfactory.

“Jibril?”

“I’ve rested enough. I’ll go back to salvaging boats.”

“······It seems this old man said something unnecessary. Let’s go together.”

The old man lowered his eyebrows and took a step closer.

The young man began to walk with his jaw clenched.

“······Your Highness, there is something I would like to ask you as well.”

“Yes. What is it?”

“What is the reason you approved?”

It was a very rude tone that could only have been heard a few years ago.

Stanislas smiled gently and looked back at Jibril.

Sand as sharp as blades scratched their cheeks.

Due to the tireless roar of the sea, it was difficult for the two to hear each other’s voices even at close range.

“What approval are you talking about?”

“Remaining here.”

“······.”

“You have condoned me staying at this military academy to help with the military training of young people, teaching martial arts and knowledge, and even disclosing the secret techniques of the naive Princess Consort.”

“······.”

“I thought that Your Highness, if no one else, should have stopped it. Isn’t this unrelated to the nation’s destiny? Although it is already a past matter,”

It was then.

-Kkirurururu······!

From a distant place, the cry of some beast echoed.

Jibril stopped speaking and looked up at Stanislas.

He felt a chill.

“Just now······.”

The old man had a very pained expression. The young man doubted his ears for a moment.

He must have misheard the scream of the storm―

-Flap, flap!

-Kkirurururu······!

The cry, which had rapidly grown closer, was spreading throughout the coast.

Crimson eyes widened. The moment the young man hurriedly turned around,