[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
[─── ❖ ─── Natsuki Subaru ─── ❖ ───]
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
The problem with being kidnapped by a Hero was that Heroes rarely understood they were kidnapping you.
Three days.
I'd been trapped here for three days.
Three days of fancy food.
Three days of soft beds.
Three days of servants politely asking if I needed anything.
Three days of Reinhard being unfailingly nice.
It was horrifying.
Because none of that changed the fact that Felt was still being held here.
And every protagonist instinct in my body screamed that I was supposed to be doing something.
The plot is happening somewhere.
The heroine is involved.
And I'm stuck eating soup.
I stared out the window.
Far below, the Astrea gardens stretched across the estate.
Beyond the walls waited the Capital.
Freedom.
Adventure.
Answers.
The plot.
Oh, The Plot.
I narrowed my eyes.
Today was the day.
No more waiting.
No more being a guest.
No more being politely imprisoned.
I was escaping.
Step One.
Open window.
Simple.
Clean.
Professional.
I pushed it open.
The morning breeze entered the room.
Good.
Very good.
Step Two.
Survey the situation.
I leaned forward.
Then immediately leaned back.
The drop was much farther than I expected.
...That's fine.
Height was merely a social construct.
Probably.
I examined the wall.
Stone.
Rough.
Climbable.
Definitely climbable.
People climbed castle walls all the time.
Assassins.
Thieves.
Protagonists.
I was at least one of those.
Probably.
I swung one leg over the windowsill.
Then the other.
The stone felt cold beneath my fingers.
For a brief moment, I hung there.
See?
Easy.
Then my arms started shaking.
I frowned.
That's concerning.
I adjusted my grip.
My arms shook harder.
No. No, we're fine.
This is normal.
Athletes probably shake all the time.
My fingers slipped.
My stomach dropped.
The world rotated.
I had exactly enough time to think:
I have made a tactical error.
Then gravity won the debate.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
I woke up screaming.
My hands immediately grabbed my neck.
Intact.
No pain.
No broken bones.
No blood.
No impact.
I was back in bed.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains.
The same room.
The same furniture.
The same horrifyingly comfortable mattress.
I sat there.
Breathing heavily.
For a long time.
Eventually, I looked toward the window.
"..."
The window looked back.
Neither of us trusted the other anymore.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
Okay.
New plan.
The window strategy had flaws.
Minor flaws.
Neck-snapping flaws.
But flaws nonetheless.
Fortunately, I was adaptable.
Very adaptable.
Heroes were known for adaptation.
The wall was the real answer.
I just needed to climb down properly.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Professionally.
Twenty minutes later, I stood beside the outer wall.
I looked up.
And up.
And up.
The wall continued existing.
I didn't appreciate that.
Still.
Stone had handholds.
I had hands.
The mathematics seemed sound.
I grabbed the first ledge.
Pulled myself upward.
Then another.
Then another.
Progress.
Actual progress.
A grin spread across my face.
Take that, architecture.
I climbed higher.
And higher.
And higher.
My arms began burning.
The grin disappeared.
I climbed higher anyway.
Halfway up, my muscles started trembling.
Three-quarters of the way up, I realized something horrifying.
I wasn't tired.
I was exhausted.
There was a difference.
A very important difference.
One could be overcome through determination.
The other ignored determination completely.
My fingers slipped.
I froze.
The ground looked very far away.
...Interesting.
Another finger slipped.
Very interesting.
My entire hand slipped.
The ground suddenly became much closer.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
I woke up screaming.
Again.
The mattress had become my greatest enemy.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
By the fourth loop, I had learned several valuable lessons.
First.
Death hurt.
Second.
Death continued hurting even after it stopped happening.
Third.
Whoever this body's original owner was...
He desperately needed to exercise.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
Staring at my hands.
They weren't weak.
Not really.
Just normal.
Painfully normal.
And I'd spent my entire life assuming my body would always obey me.
Run when I wanted.
Jump when I wanted.
Fight when I wanted.
This body didn't.
It had limits.
Real limits.
The kind you couldn't ignore.
I hated them.
A knock came at the door.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Subaru?"
Felt.
I hurried over and opened it.
She looked annoyed.
Which was her default expression.
"Why do ya look like ya saw a ghost?"
Several, actually.
"Just the dark rings of a warrior fighting invisible battles!" I declared loudly. "My sleep schedule is currently under siege by destiny!"
"Yer weird."
"Heh. As expected, you've recognized my hidden depths!"
"That wasn't a compliment."
She tossed an apple at me.
I barely caught it.
"Today's the big palace thing."
My eyes widened.
"The Selection?"
"Yeah. The Royal whatever. The thing that shiny knight is dragging me to."
Instantly, every thought in my head stopped.
The Selection.
The plot.
The actual plot.
The thing important people attended.
The thing heroines attended.
The thing destiny attended.
Felt groaned.
"Oh no. Yer makin' that face again."
"What face?"
"The stupid one."
"The one that means yer gonna do somethin' dumb."
I pointed dramatically.
I pointed dramatically toward the ceiling. "I'm crashing the palace! A hero always arrives precisely when the plot demands it!"
"No, yer not."
"Felt, you don't understand! This is an unskippable cutscene! I have to be there!"
"I don't know what a cutscene is, but yer stayin' here."
"I am a man who defies his limits! I'm going!"
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
Felt rubbed her forehead.
"Reinhard'll never let ya."
"He doesn't have to let me."
"He absolutely does."
I scoffed, placing my hands on my hips. "Reinhard is a great guy, but even the Sword Saint can't cage a soaring eagle! I'll slip right past him using my flawless stealth!"
She stared.
I stared back.
Eventually Felt sighed.
A deep sigh.
The sigh of someone watching a man willingly walk into a disaster.
"Yer gonna get arrested."
"I've already been arrested."
"Again."
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
[─── ❖ ─── Lady Felt ─── ❖ ───]
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
This dress sucked.
That was the first thing worth saying.
It was yellow.
Way too yellow.
Whoever made it had apparently decided that if one layer of fabric looked fancy, then twenty layers would look twenty times fancier.
They were wrong.
The thing weighed more than some of the junk I'd carried through the slums.
Every step felt like I was dragging around a decorative carpet.
I tugged at one of the sleeves.
The sleeve won.
Naturally.
"Thank you for coming, Lady Felt."
I immediately regretted existing.
There he was.
The shiny knight.
Standing there with that stupid perfect posture.
That stupid perfect smile.
That stupid perfect everything.
I clicked my tongue.
"Tch."
Spinning around, I pointed a finger at him.
"I'm not here because I wanted to be, got it? Don't go acting all friendly after dragging me into this mess!"
Reinhard nodded politely.
"Did the dress not please you? I think it suits you very well."
I stared at him.
Slowly.
"I'm not talking about the damn dress!"
"There's no need to be embarrassed."
I nearly choked.
"WHO'S EMBARRASSED?!"
"Eventually, I'd like to teach you how to behave like a lady."
Silence.
I blinked.
Rom blinked.
Even one of the nearby guards looked uncomfortable.
"...What?"
The throne room stretched out beyond them.
Packed with nobles.
Knights.
Council members.
Way too many important people.
"However," Reinhard continued, completely serious, "that discussion can wait."
I suddenly had a very bad feeling.
"First, we must address the kingdom."
My bad feeling got worse.
A lot worse.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
[─── ❖ ─── The Main Character of this Fanfic ─── ❖ ───]
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
The Royal Palace was exactly as intimidating as I expected.
Which was unfortunate.
Because expecting something did not make it less intimidating.
It just meant I knew exactly how many ways things could go wrong.
Fortunately, I had absolutely no intention of becoming involved.
Historically, that had never stopped anything.
I adjusted my grip on my cane.
A purely aesthetic cane now.
My leg worked perfectly.
Felix had fixed it.
The cane remained because it completed the image.
Wise Strategist.
Mysterious Prophet.
Professional Bullshitter.
Appearances mattered.
Ahead of me, enormous doors slowly opened.
Rows of knights stood at attention.
Nobles filled the chamber.
The Sage Council occupied their elevated seats.
And standing among them...
The Royal Candidates.
The atmosphere in the throne room felt one badly chosen sentence away from becoming a national incident.
Standing two paces behind Emilia, I kept my posture straight and my expression neutral.
Internally, I was updating the disaster forecast.
Current status:
Political powder keg.
Chance of explosion:
Extremely high.
"High Council," Miklotov announced from his elevated seat. "As you can see, the Dragon has acknowledged Lady Felt as a candidate. With her participation confirmed, the Royal Selection may finally begin in earnest."
And immediately, the first explosion occurred.
Bordeaux surged to his feet.
The old man moved with the righteous fury of someone who had personally declared war on modernity.
"Wait! Even if the Dragon Insignia recognizes her, there remains a serious problem! Did our Knights Order truly approve of this?"
And there it is.
The Slum Argument.
Right on schedule.
A metallic clink sounded nearby.
I glanced sideways.
Al was standing behind Priscilla with all the enthusiasm of a man attending his own tax audit.
"Things are getting tense," I muttered.
"Tell me about it, bro," Al replied. "Personally, I don't care, but looks like your boss is already getting targeted."
Understatement of the century.
A shadow suddenly fell across both of us.
"Perhaps the two of you should remember where you are."
Ah.
Julius.
Naturally.
The man somehow managed to look elegant while disapproving of people.
It was honestly impressive.
Al leaned back slightly.
"Whoa, easy there, handsome. Just talking."
Julius looked thoroughly unconvinced.
His gaze shifted toward me.
Evaluating.
Judging.
Probably wondering how Emilia's faction had somehow acquired a second weird foreigner.
I responded with the strongest weapon known to customer service workers.
A blank stare.
After several seconds, Julius seemed to conclude that arguing with us would accomplish nothing.
A correct assessment.
With a quiet sigh, he turned away.
Al waited until he was gone.
"Nice guy."
"That's certainly one interpretation."
"Think he'll stab us?"
"Only socially."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
Before the conversation could continue, Miklotov spoke again.
"Knight Reinhard. Explain how you first encountered this girl."
Reinhard stepped forward.
Perfect posture.
Perfect composure.
Perfect everything.
Honestly, it was getting suspicious.
"I took Lady Felt under my protection in the Capital's slums approximately one month ago."
The room immediately reacted.
"A slum girl?!" Bordeaux practically shouted.
There it was.
The real issue.
Not her qualifications.
Not the Dragon.
Not the Selection.
Classism.
The world's most predictable side quest.
"To bring such a vagrant before this council—"
"What's wrong with that?"
Felt fired back instantly.
No hesitation.
No diplomacy.
No self-preservation instincts whatsoever.
Just pure Felt.
"He dragged me here himself! I didn't ask for any of this!"
Never change.
Priscilla chose that exact moment to enter the conversation.
A mistake for everyone involved.
"This discussion is dreadfully boring."
The room collectively prepared itself.
Whenever Priscilla started speaking, reality usually suffered.
"Only those born beneath notice could concern themselves with such matters."
Felt immediately pointed at her.
"Picking a fight?"
Priscilla smiled.
A beautiful smile.
The kind sharks probably had.
"You should apologize."
"For what?"
"For being born."
Good lord.
Beside her, even Al looked tired.
The insult should have ended there.
Instead, Priscilla's gaze drifted toward Emilia.
And suddenly the room became colder.
"...Silver half-elf."