episode_0003

To sum up the current situation in one word, “checkmate” would probably fit best.

“Draw your sword.”

The face of the person glaring at me was eerily familiar.

Though this was the first time I’d seen her in person, ever since being chosen as a royal instructor, the second thing I’d studied the most—after the art of losing—was the faces of the royal family. So of course she looked familiar.

Princess Hestia.

Among the ten royals, when it came to pure swordsmanship talent, she ranked within the top three.

At the same time, she was the least pretentious of all the royals.

Because of that, she was beloved by many, but she was also a source of concern for the Knight Commander and others.

Notable incidents included the king sighing, “Who on earth is going to take responsibility for her?” and her assigned instructor submitting multiple resignation letters—only to have them all rejected.

Alongside the Third Prince, she was one of the most troublesome figures, so information about Princess Hestia had been seared into my memory.

After reading up on her, I’d thought, “Ah, I should avoid running into this person at all costs!”

But then why is she the one picking a fight with me first?

And worse, I can’t even dodge. The last time I experienced something like this was in my past life, dealing with Pokémo— no, never mind!

Save me!

I silently pleaded with my eyes to the Knight Commander, but the damn old man just shook his head with a pitying look.

I’m screwed.

I’m about to fight someone officially recognized as a prodigy in the Kingdom of Knights.

I’d be fine if I could just lose peacefully, but—

“I can’t entrust my younger sibling to someone who can’t even meet my standards.”

Wide-eyed, she declared that if I was unqualified, she wouldn’t acknowledge me as an instructor.

I glanced at the Knight Commander again, but he averted his gaze.

Damn old man.

With no choice, I raised my sword.

That alone shifted the atmosphere.

A murderous intent so sharp it felt like she’d cut me down any second.

By my past life’s standards, she was barely old enough to have graduated elementary school. How does this make any sense?

Then again, thinking about the kind of elementary school kids who made the news for juvenile crimes, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched.

If kids like that were born in a fantasy world, at least one of them would probably turn out like our dear princess here.

The problem is that I have to deal with this monster.

“Ready.”

Tears welled up involuntarily, and the referee—far from stopping the fight—egged us on, as if oblivious to how tightly my hand was gripping the wooden sword.

Well, she’s probably just messing around, but from my perspective, this is just infuriating.

“Begin!”

The moment the match started, the princess charged like a madwoman, leaving me no time to think about anything else.

Hup.

A short inhale, followed by a flurry of wooden sword strikes.

I vaguely remember hearing in health class that girls develop faster than boys.

Even setting that aside, I knew she was older than me, but the sheer weight behind her blows still caught me off guard—more so than when fighting most men.

Barely managing to block, I met the Second Princess’s eyes and was stunned again.

“You block well!”

Holy hell, she’s insane.

I already knew she wasn’t normal the moment she dragged me into a fight out of nowhere, but now that she’s swinging a sword, it’s clear she’s a straight-up battle maniac.

“Let’s see you block this too!”

“Wait, what—?!”

A faint red aura flickered around Princess Hestia’s wooden sword.

It was weak, but unmistakably mana.

As expected of a prodigy recognized by the kingdom—but at the same time, it seemed all her talent was concentrated here, leaving her lacking in other areas.

Does this woman not understand why we’re fighting with wooden swords?

Hyaap!

A manga I’d read in my past life flashed through my mind—where the protagonist claimed it wasn’t murder because he’d struck with the blunt side of a reversed blade.

They gave us wooden swords for safe sparring, and she’s infusing hers with mana?!

If our swords clash, mine will be the only one reduced to splinters. And if it hits me, I’ll be turned into mincemeat. This is an emergency.

“Have you no pride?!”

So, at the last second, I rolled on the ground to dodge—only to be met with a furious shout.

This is so unfair.

Sure, it’s not very knightly, but shouldn’t survival come first?

“Die with honor!”

“……”

Excuse me, this is just a spar.

The words lodged in my throat, but as an instructor, part of my job was not to argue with royals.

In situations like this, you’re just supposed to go along with their mood, right? Truly, the way of royal education. A mere commoner like me had no choice but to shut up.

-What if the prince is stronger than you expected? Why even ask something so obvious?

So, as the princess charged again, I recalled the Knight Commander’s words.

-Unleash your talent!

-……

-You can do it!

This man is utterly useless.

What good is being a high-ranking knight and a renowned swordsman on the continent if he’s no help to me?

Still, gritting my teeth, I raised my sword.

Well, I did get reincarnated into another world.

Who knows? Maybe I have some hidden talent I never knew about!

Explode, my potential!

Huuup!

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my stance and swung.

One of the engraved, preordained stances of the Defeat Sword—the art of losing honorably in a fair fight.

The problem was that my opponent was overwhelmingly stronger, but if I were the protagonist, wouldn’t things work out somehow?

“Ah.”

Watching the splinters of my wooden sword—not my talent—explode into the air, I became certain of one thing.

I am not the protagonist.

Watching the wooden fragments scatter into the air, Hestia finally regained her senses.

I messed up.

Honestly, the test had been over long ago.

Even among those recognized as prodigies by the kingdom, few could last ten exchanges against her.

Yet this boy, two years her junior—the same age as her little brother—had endured twenty.

That alone was enough to pass, but in her excitement, she’d even infused her sword with mana. And still, he’d defended with optimal movements.

Her outburst over his rolling dodge had just been momentary frustration at her attack missing.

If anything, his determination to fight for victory despite the odds had impressed her.

Some nobles might sneer at the sight of someone gritting their teeth and challenging an overwhelming gap, but Hestia wasn’t one of them.

So she had fought seriously.

Giving her all to someone who gave their all—that was the courtesy Hestia believed in.

But seeing him endure even more exchanges ignited her competitive spirit.

Let’s see if you can block this too. Hah! How about this?

After repeating this a few more times, she ended up attacking with full force.

“……”

And the result was the tragedy before her eyes.

Fragments of a wooden sword scattered across the ground.

A piece embedded in his neck, blood trickling down—a scene traumatic enough to haunt any normal person.

Of course, this was the Kingdom of Knights, so such things weren’t that shocking.

Accidents during training or sparring were common.

But that was only forgivable between opponents of similar skill.

Right now, to any observer, it would look like she’d abused her authority (true), forced a younger promising talent into a fight (true), and then not only beat him down one-sidedly but even used mana to create a bloody mess (also true).

“……”

Even as the boy writhed on the ground and urgent voices filled the air, Hestia couldn’t move.

Because she realized—she’d crossed a line.

And because this was the first time she’d ever seen such a horrific sight.

No, more than that—

I…

The fact that she had caused this with her own hands made Hestia’s eyes tremble violently.

The sword in her hand felt unbearably heavy.

“To become a knight, you must first bear the weight of your sword.”

One of her instructors had always said that.

Back then, Hestia had grinned and swung her sword playfully, saying, “This isn’t heavy at all!”

But now, she understood.

The “weight” her instructor spoke of wasn’t the physical weight of the sword.

Born in Leon, the Kingdom of Knights, she’d picked up a sword as naturally as breathing—and so, she’d forgotten.

A sword is a weapon. A tool for killing.

It could be used to save lives, yes, but its primary purpose was undeniable.

And now that she’d truly felt that, fear washed over her.

The sword was heavy. The weapon she’d once treated like a friend now felt alien in her grip.

“Adam!”

Amid the murmurs of the crowd, the bloodied boy staggered to his feet.

Holding up his half-shattered sword as if declaring he hadn’t lost yet.

Hestia’s eyes widened.

Why was he standing?

He looked like a single touch would send him collapsing.

What could he possibly gain by fighting further?

“Ah.”

At that moment, a memory surfaced.

“A knight is one who raises their sword even when they know they’ve lost.”

Her father’s words, back when he’d first placed a sword in her small hands.

Why had she forgotten?

Why had she only forgotten the things she should’ve remembered?

The sword that had felt terrifyingly heavy now weighed no more than usual.

No—it felt lighter.

But she let it fall from her hand.

Because—

“I lose.”

Today’s match was her defeat.

The moment Princess Hestia conceded, I collapsed.

Because it hurt like hell.

“You alive?”

The Knight Commander asked quietly as I was carried away on a stretcher.

Alive?

“Pretty sure I died.”

“So you’re alive.”

His calm nod made something surge inside me, but—

“Don’t worry about treatment. The royal family will cover compensation.”

“How much?”

At the mention of money, the anger vanished.

Truly, the Kingdom of Knights. Even their compensation is generous.

“Is it really okay to give me this much?”

“Of course. You’ve done a lot.”

Princess Hestia had never lost to someone her own age.

Not just among fellow royals—there simply hadn’t been anyone strong enough to beat her.

So she’d grown arrogant.

To the point where one fall could shatter everything.

And that moment had come today.

“If you hadn’t stood up at that moment, Princess Hestia might never have picked up a sword again.”

Was it really that big a deal? Up until the very end, I’d considered just staying down.

“You did well.”

“It hurts.”

His proud pat on my head sent a jolt of pain through me. Damn it, that really hurts.

“Ow, hey—there’s still a piece stuck in me!”

“Hahaha!”

I spent some time recovering in the infirmary, but in the Kingdom of Knights, injuries were routine, so a few days in the medical ward were enough for a full recovery.

No, more than that—thanks to a royal-grade elixir, I came out stronger.

And as a result, everything turned out perfectly.

I was now the Knight Commander’s greatest protege and the savior who’d reformed the troublesome Princess Hestia.

No one could possibly object to me instructing the Fifth Prince now!

…Or so I’d thought.

“Huh?”

“Whoa!”

Princess Hestia’s eyes widened as the Fifth Prince—her younger brother—pointed his sword at her neck.

The first time he’d ever beaten his sister, and he was just as shocked as she was.

But no one was more stunned than me and the Knight Commander beside me.

“What the fuck?”

A curse from my past life slipped out unintentionally.

But really, how could I not?

After just one year of training, the Fifth Prince—a boy with no prior experience—had defeated Princess Hestia, one of the kingdom’s top talents.

The only way to describe it was monstrous genius.

And the problem?

I was supposed to be the pacemaker for that monster.