Episode 120: The Third Princess, Whose Engagement Was Broken, Still Refuses to Give Up Her Dreams—I Won’t Bow to Some Evil Earl!

Sylphirosé stares at Siegfried’s face, half in a daze.

“Just to confirm once more… this engagement annulment… you’re not saying it as a joke, are you…?”

“No, I’m quite serious. Conspiracies, murders, hostages, plundering… I’ve had my fair share of villainous deeds, but breaking off an engagement? That’s one I haven’t had the chance to try. I’m genuinely grateful for this opportunity you’ve given me.”

“So, you didn’t break it off for some reason… the annulment itself was your goal? Is that what you’re saying…?”

Sylphirosé couldn’t fully grasp Siegfried’s intentions, but she chose to interpret it that way.

In response, Siegfried gives a gentle smile and nods.

“Exactly as you surmise. Though, allow me to add one clarification. You are a princess—a princess in every sense. However, the princess slot in my faction is already filled. If you were to become my wife… well, it’d clash with his character. Avoiding that overlap is part of the reason.”

To lead an evil organization, the roster of lieutenants must be diverse and vibrant—that was the vision Siegfried held.

But for Sylphirosé, this was utterly incomprehensible.

“Are you mocking me!?”

She had resolved herself, in her own way, to accept marriage with Siegfried.

To have that annulled for such a frivolous reason—she couldn’t possibly accept it.

“Do you think you’ll be forgiven for breaking an engagement with such an absurd excuse!? My father, Radophilias, and my brother, Garfilia… they’ll never forgive your actions!”

“Hm…?”

Hearing Sylphirosé’s words, brimming with anger, Siegfried tilts his head slightly.

“—I see. So everything you just said was a lie, then.”

“W-What do you mean!? Why would my words be a lie…?”

“You said earlier that you despised this kingdom’s royalty. That you don’t acknowledge your father or brother as true royals… and that’s why you want to become king yourself. So—why bring up their names now?”

“Huh…?”

Siegfried’s words tighten around Sylphirosé’s heart like a vice.

She falters, her thoughts unable to keep up.

“You leaned on their authority. In the end, you cling to the prestige of the royal family. That’s your true feelings, isn’t it?”

“N-No, that’s not…”

Sylphirosé clutches her chest, stepping back as she denies his words.

“That’s not true! That’s a completely different matter…”

She wanted to say it was an entirely separate issue.

But the words catch in her throat, refusing to come out.

Deep down, she knew.

She had clung to the names of the father and brother she claimed to reject.

“Ugh… ah…”

Sylphirosé collapses to her knees, as if crumbling to the ground.

“—And that concludes our conversation. Now, if you’ll excuse me… I’d say ‘get out,’ but this is the royal palace, your family’s property. I suppose I’ll be the one to leave.”

Siegfried heads toward the door, his footsteps echoing coldly.

Sylphirosé, unable to move, watches his back as he departs.

Flooding her mind are memories of the countless injustices she’s encountered in her life.

Since childhood, she had poured her heart into charitable work.

Her most frequent endeavor was distributing food to the poor. It was said that a royal personally engaging in such activities enhanced the prestige of the royal family.

Most royals, however, only showed up for appearances.

Yet Sylphirosé took the lead, going to the sites herself and handing out food with her own hands.

(Back then, I thought I was doing something good… I believed I was showing kindness through my actions.)

But one winter, everything changed.

She was told that a plague had swept through the slums where she’d distributed aid, claiming the lives of every resident.

It was a disease that could have been cured with healing magic from the Church—for a price—or treated with medicine.

But the Serodonia royal family had no intention of allocating funds to save the poor.

They were merely used to promote the royal family’s benevolence… and then abandoned.

(In the end, I was just indulging in self-satisfaction. Unless the system changes… I can’t save anyone…)

And such injustices were countless.

The secret slave trade, the starving poor suffering in the shadow of the royals’ lavish lifestyles, soldiers sent to the frontlines while nobles watched from afar—

Yet her father and brother did nothing to change these injustices.

She wanted to drag them down and transform this kingdom. That was supposed to be her resolve.

“…Wait.”

With a trembling voice, Sylphirosé calls out to Siegfried as he heads for the door.

“What is it?”

Siegfried pauses, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Please… don’t tell anyone about what I said earlier…”

“Oh, about wanting to be king? I won’t tell a soul. It’s of no interest to me. Besides—it’s probably a lie anyway.”

“No, it’s not…”

It’s not a lie. She’s serious.

But—is she really?

Siegfried resumes walking, as if he’s lost interest in Sylphirosé… or perhaps he was never interested to begin with.

“Wait…”

Siegfried doesn’t stop. His hand reaches for the door.

“I said wait!”

Driven by impulse, Sylphirosé rushes forward and clings to Siegfried’s leg.

“I won’t let go! Not until you agree to work with me…!”

Something within her had solidified into certainty.

To achieve her ideals—she needed this man as an ally.

(This man is a lunatic… but that’s exactly why he can shatter Serodonia’s rotten reality!)

“I see, you won’t let go… Very well, then I’ll just have to pry you off.”

Siegfried mutters emotionlessly, raising a crimson-glowing sword.

(Why does he have a sword…!?)

Sylphirosé’s eyes widen in shock.

Within the palace, only those with permission are allowed to carry weapons.

Siegfried hadn’t been carrying a sword.

The blade, gripped in reverse, swings down mercilessly—

“—!”

Yet Sylphirosé doesn’t loosen her grip.

And—Siegfried’s sword stops just before touching her back.

“So, you still won’t let go, even with this. That’s no ordinary resolve.”

Siegfried smiles calmly, almost amused.

(I… I’m alive…!)

Sylphirosé lets out a breath of relief. But—

“Then let’s test that resolve a bit further.”

With those words, Siegfried thrusts the sword downward.

A spray of vivid blood erupts.

“Wha… ah, ah…!”

The shock is so overwhelming that she feels no pain. But she clearly understands that a massive amount of blood is gushing from her back.

The carpet beneath her stains red in an instant—a fatal amount of blood.

(No… am I going to die here…!?)

No—if she lets go of Siegfried’s leg now, the door will open, and her maid, Luana, might notice something’s wrong.

If someone who can use healing magic is called, she might survive.

But—she can’t choose such a rational option.

(I won’t let go of this man’s leg…!)

She refuses to release him. She won’t call for help.

Is it anger at having her resolve trampled? Or is it because she still hasn’t given up on working with him to overthrow the Serodonia royal family? She doesn’t know the reason herself.

She just—doesn’t want to let go. Because if she does… it feels like she’d truly be giving up on her dream.

“Ngh… ugh…”

Tears well in her eyes as Sylphirosé clings desperately to his leg.

Looking down at her, Siegfried quietly speaks.

“—I was rude earlier, calling it a lie, Your Highness Sylphirosé. It seems you were serious after all.”

Siegfried pulls the sword from her back.

—No, that’s not right. Sylphirosé feels no sensation of it being withdrawn.

“Huh…?”

Hesitantly, she reaches back and touches the spot.

There’s—no wound, no pain, nothing at all.

“Why!? I was sure I’d been stabbed…!”

“I didn’t stab you.”

Siegfried holds up the crimson sword in his right hand.

Its blade—abruptly vanishes halfway down.

“This sword is formed by hardening my own blood. The moment it touched your back, I released the hardening from the tip to the middle.”

—Snap. Siegfried snaps his fingers.

In that instant, the blood soaking the floor and Sylphirosé’s clothes is silently drawn back, returning to his sword.

In other words—the blood that gushed from her back was Siegfried’s own, released from its hardened state.

“I have no interest in your ideals. But… that tenacity of yours isn’t bad. Not as a subordinate, nor as a wife—but as a collaborator, you might just be worthy of standing by my side… perhaps.”

“…You’ve got… some nerve talking like that…!”

With tears of relief and anger glistening in her eyes, Sylphirosé glares at Siegfried, refusing to be intimidated.

“Just who do you think you are!?”

“Just a villain, nothing more—Your Future Majesty.”