episode_0073

73. Return

We headed toward Redmain by carriage.

Erica, who had just finished negotiations, announced that the war was over.

Though I wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, simply knowing we were going home was enough to make me happy.

Still, curiosity got the better of me, so I asked Erica, who was riding in the same carriage.

“What did you say?” “About the negotiations?” “Yes.”

When I confirmed, she let out a stifled laugh.

Her mockery carried the nuance of, *Would you even understand if I told you?*

Yet, it wasn’t purely condescending—there was a hint of fondness, as if she were indulging a child.

Even though she was only two years older than me—technically my noona—her petite, cute demeanor made me feel like I was being teased by a brat…

My pride stung, so I pressed again.

“I was just wondering what you said to stop the war… Might come in handy for me later, you know?” “…….”

Erica remained silent as she listened to me.

Her dark blue eyes stared intently, sending a shiver down my spine.

It was unsettling, almost as if those cool, piercing eyes could read my thoughts.

And sure enough, as if she *had* read my mind, Erica asked,

“Why are you so anxious?”

Damn. She had noticed my unease.

I thought I’d hidden it well, but I guess true geniuses see things differently.

Not like hiding it would change anything anyway, so I scratched my cheek and answered honestly.

“Because this time, I was completely useless.” “Useless?” “Yeah. I went through all that trouble to make a cannon…”

It was the first time.

From explosive arrows to light bulbs, stoves, pencils, movable type, hot air balloons, pianos, canned food, chicken coops, concrete—and everything in between.

Some were whipped up easily, but others required immense effort.

And the results were always top-notch.

People marveled, gasped, and whether they liked it or not, my inventions shook the world.

Sure, I still desperately wanted to quit sometimes… but I was always confident in what I produced—until now.

“This time, I failed.”

The gunpowder cannon.

Even the steel-reinforced barrel and shells—a siege weapon powerful enough to smash through fortress walls in a single blow.

Yet, they were effortlessly destroyed by a single woman.

Her halberd swung with the precision of a baseball bat—clean, decisive swings.

The result? A 40-kilogram steel shell was deflected right back into the cannon, disabling it in one hit…

What the actual hell… Thinking about it now, it’s beyond absurd.

Either way, being rendered useless by just one person… and my invention making little difference left me disappointed.

“Our fox.”

Erica gently stroked my sulking head.

Then, in a warm voice, she comforted me.

“The cannon you made is a revolutionary weapon that will redefine siege warfare.

Once cannons become commonplace, tactics like starving enemies into surrender will vanish into history.” “But it was blocked effortlessly by one person?” “That’s only because Reina is insane.” “Ah.”

I reached an epiphany.

*(X) The cannon got batted back like a damn baseball?!* *(O) Ah, Reina’s just batshit crazy.*

This was the correct way to frame it.

Somehow, thinking about it this way eased my worries a bit.

Seeing my expression soften, Erica let out a small chuckle.

But soon, her tone turned serious, almost interrogative.

“Actually… if you think about it, all your inventions defy logic.” “That’s science—” “No. That’s not the issue.”

Erica raised a palm to cut me off.

Then, she meticulously laid out what puzzled her.

“Typically, first iterations of inventions are full of flaws. You test their potential, refine them over time, then commercialize them.

But every single thing you’ve made starts off flawless… Don’t you think that’s odd?”

A chill ran down my spine.

There’s a reason the term *prototype* exists.

When ideas become reality, inherent flaws emerge—structural defects, design issues—not just from technical limitations.

For example, the first internal combustion cars were garbage.

Terrible fuel efficiency, barely hitting 16 km/h.

Yet, through refinement by geniuses, they evolved.

They shaped the skeletal frames into actual designs.

They redesigned the engines until they could hit 100 km/h.

They added extras—steering wheels, gear shifts, wipers, headlights, windows—until it was complete.

*That’s* the normal flow of invention and commercialization.

But I was recreating things from memories of my past life.

I wasn’t thinking or designing—just replicating what already existed.

Like knowing the answer to a test question without needing the complex formulas.

My face must have given me away—even a child could tell I was panicking.

But Erica didn’t press further, patting my shoulder reassuringly.

“It just means our fox is a genius. And honestly? That makes me happy.”

Erica smiled.

She must have noticed something strange.

But as if treating it as our little secret, she shifted the topic back to cannons.

True to her genius, she shared all sorts of new ideas.

“First, miniaturization wouldn’t be bad. Carry several small cannons and fire them in different directions.

Or instead of massive shells, fill them with small metal pellets?

Right—instead of siege weapons, repurpose them to mow down enemy troops in bulk…”

Erica brainstormed designs purely from her own creativity—ideas that would’ve naturally appeared later in history.

The more she spoke, the more awe-inspiring her brilliance became.

We spent our time together like that—me listening as the *real* genius talked.

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The carriage bound for Redmain.

And the three generals escorting it.

Among them, Vivian glanced sideways at Adele, who was riding alongside her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” “…What was that conversation a few days ago?”

Back when Cain’s group returned with the cannons.

Adele had been giving Vivian’s soldiers a hard time during identity checks.

Vivian told her to go bother her sister instead, but…

*‘I’m a bit on edge right now, okay? Stop bothering my soldiers and go see your sister.’* *‘Why? Feeling a little lonely at night?’* *‘…Wait, what?’*

Adele’s remark had been loaded—as if she knew something.

Vivian wanted to interrogate her then and there, but the war left no time to breathe.

Now though—

With Lady Erica inside the carriage (and safely out of earshot), Vivian seized the moment.

She radiated intimidation that would make an ordinary person’s knees weak, but Adele just smirked.

“Your butt is *really* firm, huh? Like, when we bump into each other, it doesn’t jiggle—just sort of bounces back all chewy and—” “Wait—you *saw*?!” “Obviously.”

Vivian covered her face in shame.

She had committed an unforgivable betrayal—tasting the man her liege had claimed before she could.

Yet, she’d acted oblivious while Erica poured her heart out about romance…

She wanted to draw her sword and impale herself on the spot.

But Adele simply grinned and said,

“Don’t worry. I did it too.” “……What?” “Yeah, I did it. It was *insane.*”

Adele left it at that—just a casual review.

Vivian *wanted* to gossip, compare notes, dissect every detail—

But the horrifying reality looming over them kept her in check.

“You—you goddamn degenerate!! Do you *realize* what Erica-noona would do if she found out?!

Even if we’re blood sisters, she’d *kill* us! Decapitation would be *merciful* compared to—” “Relax, Vivian.” “But—!” “You’re not really in a position to preach, are you?”

Vivian shut her mouth.

Even with ten tongues, she had no rebuttal.

Still grinning, Adele asked,

“Vivian, do you *want* to live?”

Adele’s question.

Vivian *did* want to die.

She’d defiled her liege’s man—played with him like putty.

She was ashamed, mortified—but she also *wanted* to live.

Not just out of self-preservation—but because dying would mean no more of those euphoric nights.

She wanted more blissful days with the one she affectionately called *Softie.*

So after a brief pause, she answered firmly,

“…Obviously.”

Adele nodded and unveiled her plan.

“If we’re caught, we’re *both* getting executed, right?” “Probably skinned alive…” “Why do you think *that’s* possible?”

Vivian pondered as Adele cut to the answer.

“Because even if we die, the army can still function *without* us.”

Understanding dawned on Vivian.

Put simply—even if she and Adele were executed, Luna remained.

Not to mention Second Army members like Penrose, Lukarion, or even tactician Aris.

But *if—*

Just *if—*

She didn’t even want to imagine it, but…

“…You don’t mean—” “Yeah.”

Adele smirked.

Well, despite the cold sweat on her cheeks, she *forced* that smirk.

Their lives depended on this gamble.

“Let’s drag Luna into it too.”

Would she really execute *all three* of her army’s core commanders?

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This brings me joy.

Just me and our fox—conversing alone.

Mostly trivial chatter, yet it’s exhilarating.

No need for roundabout words or mind games—just pure, pleasurable talk.

I babble ideas—he considers them.

I tease—he reacts visibly.

When he’s lost in thought, I can even grab his hand unnoticed—his guard is *that* down.

Is this love? Happiness?

An emotion I never even *imagined*, growing up surrounded by politicians.

“…And then earlier, I *held his hand*. Did you know—when he’s deep in thought, you could probably *kidnap* him and he wouldn’t notice?! That part’s just *too* adorable… Pfft—”

A laugh slipped out.

My proud cousin Vivian—ever-loyal, yet raised in the same stifling environment as me—had zero experience with men.

“Sorry, Vivian. I’ve been rambling.” “…N-No, unnie.”

Her flustered response bordered on disrespect—unbecoming before her liege.

But given my gushing veered closer to bragging than consulting, she’d understand.

Especially since Vivian wouldn’t know how *solid* and *firm* our fox’s hands are.

Enough bragging.

I confided my worries.

“Vivian. There’s something I wanted to ask.” “Huh? Oh… sure, go ahead.”

Vivian nodded, shifting to attentive-listener mode.

I wore a serious expression as I laid out my concerns.

“What if our fox has another woman? I got this… *hunch* he’s hiding something…” “Pfft—!!”

Vivian spat out her tea mid-sip.

She hastily wiped her mouth, eyes darting as she blurted excuses.

“Th-That’s impossible! That guy’s never even *touched* a woman!” “Vivian… how would *you* know that?” “Uh—isn’t it obvious?! Look at his face! That *harmless* look—does it scream ‘experienced’?”

Her logic was oddly persuasive.

Sure, he wags his tail like a fox, but not *calculatingly*.

But that was just Vivian’s *assumption*…

The thorn of unease festered in my heart.

Yet my beloved cousin genuinely worried for me.

She panicked *on my behalf*—like it was *her* problem.

“What made you suspect that?!” “Well…”

I told her honestly.

During our carriage ride, I’d asked him one question—

*Why do your inventions work flawlessly from the start?*

“…That’s unrelated?” “No! Doesn’t it seem *off*?!” “Huh?” “Geniuses don’t emerge in isolation.

Even the most skilled artisans need tools to master their craft.

Yet he knew nothing about mana-infused stone or the Emperor’s lands…”

Vivian hummed, arms crossed, finally grasping the weirdness.

“There *must’ve* been a gathering of geniuses.” “Huh?” “And where men and women gather, *romance* follows, no?

If he was in a room alone with a woman even *once*—” “Uh…” “Vivian, hear me out—when left alone together, *instinct* overcomes reason.

With barely any magic, our fox could’ve been *forced*…

Say, stranded in a secluded cabin—just the two of them…?” “Ughhh…”

Vivian groaned—either agreeing or overwhelmed.

Even an outsider might’ve found my theory plausible…

“Oh, unnie! That’s ridiculous!”

Right as Vivian froze like a deer, Adele cut in.

We *were* talking a short distance from the resting troops during the march.

But Adele had a knack for sniffing out money—or sensitive info—so her timing wasn’t surprising.

Except her words *stung*.

“Why do you think that’s impossible…?” “Isn’t it obvious? If geniuses *that* level existed, they’d have been drafted by now.” “Ah…” “Plus, I *already* dug into it. He’s just *stupidly* smart.”

Her confident assertion washed away the pain in my chest.

If Adele said so, it *had* to be true.

I’d been a fool—frightened by monsters of my own making.

“Right… I was being foolish.

If someone asked *me* how I mastered art, I couldn’t explain.

Some things are just… innate.” “Exactly. So stop worrying, unnie.”

I nodded.

It was a dull topic, yet Vivian listened patiently.

And Adele, though barging in abruptly, *crushed* my anxieties.

Without them, I’d have spiraled into madness.

I truly have the best sisters.