The banquet hall was brightly lit.
Holding her wine glass, the Second Princess leaned back in her cushioned chair, looking at the wheelchair sitting in the corner with a gaze bordering on pity.
“I heard your knight broke the training ground's gatepost again?”
“That's already the third time, isn't it?”
The Third Princess giggled, covering her mouth.
“A human serving as a knight in our Blood Hunter Domain is ridiculous enough in itself. And to top it off, he's a vulgar fellow who doesn't even know basic etiquette.”
The Fourth Princess did not respond.
She simply stared quietly at the teacup in front of her with her gem-like red eyes.
The tea inside had already gone cold.
“Dear sister, don't you find it painful?”
The Second Princess walked over with her wine glass and squatted in front of the wheelchair, speaking in a tone one might use to comfort a pet.
“With a knight like that, you'll be laughed at whenever you go out. I can talk to Father for you and have him replace him with someone decent.”
“...He is indeed very stubborn,”
the Fourth Princess finally spoke.
“Sometimes he's even quite impolite, which makes me a bit unhappy.”
The Second Princess showed an expected expression, preparing to follow up on her words.
“But he is still my knight.”
The Second Princess's expression froze in surprise.
“He is the one who tells me stories, allowing me to dream here.”
The Fourth Princess raised her head, her red eyes meeting the Second Princess's gaze directly.
“So, I have never once felt pain because of it.”
The Second Princess's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second.
Beside her, the Third Princess set down her wine glass and raised an eyebrow.
“Then why haven't you ever asked him his old name? Do you really care about him that much?”
The Fourth Princess lowered her gaze, her fingers gently brushing the armrest of her wheelchair.
“Because I gave him his name. Aberrant Blood is his name.”
“...What are you talking about?”
“Even if the whole world thinks it's an ugly name, it doesn't matter. Because he is my knight. A knight named Aberrant Blood.”
“His past doesn't matter. He is my knight now, and he will always be my knight. So as long as I think his name sounds good, that is enough.”
The banquet hall fell silent for two or three seconds.
The Second Princess stood up, shrugged, and turned to walk back to her group. She muttered something under her breath, likely along the lines of, “What a weirdo.”
The Fourth Princess lowered her head again, looking at the completely cold tea in her cup.
She had never cared about her sisters' opinions from the very beginning.
After the gathering ended, a servant pushed her wheelchair through the corridor.
The evening breeze swept in through the windows, carrying the mixed scent of soil and fresh grass from the courtyard.
The wheels emitted a soft creak as they rolled over the gaps in the stone tiles.
The courtyard door was pushed open.
And then, she saw the boy named Aberrant Blood.
He was leaning against an old tree in the courtyard, his arms crossed and his head tilted in a doze. An old book, flipped halfway open, lay on his lap. The wind rustled the pages loudly, yet he did not wake.
Looking at him like that, the corners of the Fourth Princess's mouth curved up slightly.
“My knight.”
The boy grunted, not opening his eyes.
“...Your knight is sleeping.”
“I see that.”
“Then don't call me.”
“But I want to talk to you.”
The boy finally cracked one eye open, glanced at her, and closed it again.
“How was the gathering?”
“Same as always.”
The boy was silent for a moment. He closed the book on his lap and pushed himself up against the tree trunk.
He walked over to the front of the wheelchair and squatted down.
His eyes were level with hers.
“...How about I go beat up those princesses?”
“No.”
“Just one.”
“No. You can't beat them. Even if they're girls, they are still royal descendants of the Blood Hunter Domain...”
“Then I'll go steal their jewelry and hide it.”
“...That's very childish.”
“And they aren't? I'm childish too, let's see who blinks first.”
The Fourth Princess couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Aberrant Blood waited with a sour face for her to finish laughing before sitting cross-legged next to the wheelchair.
“What are we talking about today?”
The Fourth Princess turned her head to look at him.
“Hmm... where did we leave off last time?”
“We left off at the foolish Hero chasing a dragon for three days and three nights, only to find out that the dragon was actually just a really big, fat chicken.”
“Right. Did he roast that fat chicken afterward?”
“No, he didn't. He brought the fat chicken back home to raise as a pet.”
“Why?”
“Because he was too stupid and thought chickens were a type of dragon.”
The Fourth Princess laughed again.
She watched Aberrant Blood spout nonsense with a perfectly straight face.
This was enough.
As a princess of the Blood Hunter Domain, she was unable to use magic, nor could she stand up to learn dance and deportment.
She couldn't even stand up at a banquet to propose a toast to her sisters.
Laid out before her was only the cold reality that there was no future to look forward to.
Yet, there was a boy willing to sit beside her wheelchair and tell her all these ridiculous stories.
Saying that one day she would be able to stand up and run. That when the time came, they could run around wild on the grass, climb trees, and catch fish by the river. Saying that one day she would also master magic and awaken an Authority comparable to a Blood Hunter's, knocking all the princes and princesses flat on their backs.
She knew it was impossible.
She had known from the very beginning.
But it didn't matter.
Just being able to dream this dream was enough.
She gently closed her eyes.
Under the blue sky of her dream, the grassland stretched to the edge of her vision, without end or boundary.
She was standing.
Her feet stepped on the soft blades of grass, her toes feeling the dampness and coolness of the soil.
There was no wheelchair, no powerless legs.
As the wind blew past, the hem of her dress fluttered gently.
The boy stood in front of her, tilting his head to look at her, his expression as unserious as always.
“What are you looking at? Let's go.”
His eyes reflected that boundless blue.
And then, she reached out and took the boy's hand.
“Thank you.”
The boy blushed, but he squeezed her hand back without saying a word.
The girl led the boy, running toward the end of the sky.
In this boundless world, the boy wove a tattered dream for the girl, using spider silk as thin as hair.
But even if it was only such fragile silk, it didn't matter.
For her, nothing more was needed.
As long as they had each other by their side, it was enough.
“...What a wonderful dream indeed.”
...
A red gemstone fragment lay in the crack of a stone slab on Hart Town's main street.
The morning sunlight shone upon it, refracting a few scattered beams of light.
A gentle breeze blew past.
The luster of the fragment gradually faded, as if some lingering warmth had finally dissipated.
(End of Volume 2: Pulling Out the Holy Sword)
Rate on N.U.
