The Reincarnated Princess Has a Discussion

I heaved a sigh and stared at the sentences written on discolored paper, though I wasn’t actually reading.

I didn’t know what Michael had discussed with Miss Irene on the day of our meeting. Though I was curious about whether he’d asked for her advice regarding his magical powers, confronting him directly didn’t seem like a good idea. I’d find myself in a bind if he were to turn around and ask me how I knew that he was a magic user, and I didn’t trust myself to weasel my way out of that question properly. And, as a more fundamental problem, I hadn’t encountered either of them since that meeting, so I’d simply had no opportunity to ask.

Even in Hidden World, information regarding Michael’s life prior to being taken over by the demon lord had been exceptionally scarce. I had no idea what he was thinking, or what he was planning to do.

I exhaled a second sigh and felt infuriated by the extent of my own worthlessness. I’d basically lived my life up until this point with a strategy guide. My course had been simple; since I had foreknowledge of the traps, all that I had to do was avoid them.

But that had changed. Breaking flags and sidestepping one ill-omened future after another had resulted in a present situation with some fairly large differences from Hidden World. My knowledge from the game would no longer be enough—I needed to learn how to walk without the aid of a compass.

“Hey.”

“Huh?! Oh!!!” I jumped when I heard a sudden call from behind me. Simultaneous to my surprise, a hand reached over my shoulder and snatched the book that I’d rested on my lap. I twisted my body, turning around to snatch it back, but then I froze.

I was pierced with a glare from pale-blue eyes that were squinted in displeasure.

“Nobody is forcing you to read if you don’t want to.” His tone was unfriendly and devoid of all warmth.

I’ve messed up. I muttered this in my mind while trembling at the feeling of cold sweat dripping down my spine.

He sat upright on the large chaise lounge and slammed the book shut in irritation. I wanted to reprimand him for handling such a historically valuable tome so crudely, but that would’ve been hypocritical; when I’d had that precious book open in front of me, all I’d done was daydream.

I dropped down from the end of the chaise where I’d been sitting and planted my feet on the floor. After taking a deep breath, I tensed my abdomen, adopted a serious expression, and stood with straight posture.

“I’m terribly sorry, father.”

He knitted his brows deeply upon seeing me bow my head.

“For what?” he asked in a sharp tone of voice. His young daughter’s sincere apology hadn’t lightened his mood one bit.

On my end, I was disappointed in myself; I’d allowed my mind to wander aimlessly despite knowing what my father was like.

This was my fourth nighttime visit to the king’s room. Between us, we’d exchange little to no conversation, and perhaps the tranquility that I’d felt while reading books in silence had slackened my guard somewhat. Of course, that was no excuse for acting like an idiot.

I chewed on my lip, at a loss for a proper response. My father had lifted one leg and was resting his chin on it. He shot me a chilly look.

“I’ve asked you to tell me what you’re apologizing for,” he repeated once more.

“F-For...” My voice trembled nervously. I kept my head fixed forward, resisting the urge to stare at my feet. “For o-opening the book when I didn’t plan to read it,” I managed to finish saying, all too honestly.

I seem to remember something like this happening the first time I visited my father’s room. When he’d asked me whether I could read the book, I’d told him, “I can’t, but I will.” What a stupid thing to say... I’m still stuck at the same level.

But what else could I do? I don’t have the brains or the guts to devise some clever excuse, so I’ll just have to face him with what I do have.

“For wasting my opportunity to read this valuable book by daydreaming and concentrating on other matters.” I bowed my head again. “I’m sorry.”

My father sighed, sounding exasperated. “You’re gravely mistaken if you’re under the impression that honesty will get you off the hook.”

Though his words were harsh, his tone and facial expression had softened a little. He’d been holding the book beyond the range of my reach, but he now shoved it back to me.

I was stunned at how simple it’d been to convince him to return the book, but once I came back to my senses, I grasped the tome with both hands and held it tightly against my chest.

My father grabbed a bottle from the table and poured the entirety of the remaining wine into a glass. I watched him chug the drink without stopping to savor the taste, and then he curtly muttered, “Sit.”

I cleared enough space to fit myself in and then sat down beside him. My heart was beating rapidly, so I exhaled softly to slow the thumping in my chest.

I pledged to myself that I’d concentrate on the text this time so that he’d have no excuse to kick me out. I went to open the cover, but when I noticed him looking at me from my side, my hand stopped. As much as I wanted to pretend that he wasn’t there, ignoring him and reading on would’ve taken more courage than I could muster. I glanced at him timidly.

“What was distracting you?” he asked.

“Ummm...”

“You’re concerned about something, are you not? Tell me.”

His words took a little while to comprehend. My eyes shot wide open, and I stared at my father’s face.

It sounded like he’d prompted me to talk with him about my concerns... Am I hearing things? I must be. He’d never ask for that, right?

“I-It’s not such a severe concern that I should trouble you for advice, fa—”

“I said nothing about giving advice. I’ll listen, and that’s it.”

“Oh, right.”

Yep, of course!!!

His words had aggravated me, but I felt relief as well.

Haughty. That’s the father I know. Phew.

For a second there, I thought that I’d slipped into a parallel world. It’s a load off my mind, but what do I tell him now? I can’t let him know about Michael’s magical powers. There must be something less explosive that I can bring up...

After some time thinking, I began to speak. “I’m concerned about my lack of adaptability.”

“Adaptability?”

“Yes. I have trouble reacting to unforeseen situations. I’ve become solely accustomed to preparing myself for events that are, to a certain extent, foreseeable. However, I’m insufficiently flexible in my responses to the unforeseen.”

My father neither denied nor confirmed what I’d said. He simply turned his gaze to me, urging me to continue.

“In every respect, I’m not good enough,” I said. “I’m not quick-witted in a pinch, and I’m not decisive. When confronted with the unexpected, I just panic and achieve nothing. I can’t stay like this.”

Even if the future from this point onward were to fundamentally diverge from Hidden World, I couldn’t afford to falter in indecision. “I didn’t know” would be no excuse; “I didn’t understand” wouldn’t work as a defense.

I gripped my hands together even tighter above the book on my lap.

“I want to be able to respond appropriately to any situation whatsoever.” I blurted this out as I watched my nails dig into my skin.

After a period of silence, my father whispered, “I see.”

I turned my head toward him and then shuddered. His all-too-perfect face was much closer to mine than I’d anticipated. My eyes opened as large as they could. He heaved a heavy sigh while watching my reaction at close range.

“It turns out that my daughter is as stupid as they come.”

I sat stuck in place for a full five seconds before my father’s words at last registered in my brain.

“What?” I let slip in a low tone of voice. A vein throbbed on my forehead.

What did this bastard just say? First, he twists my arm into spilling my concerns, then he goes and says that?

My face was contorted in rage, and he watched me glare at him. He then tilted his head as though puzzled. The silken threadlike strands of his platinum-blond hair swayed smoothly, casting shadows on his fair skin. Even small gestures like that looked fit for a work of art.

This pissed me off all the more.

Can you stop being so beautiful for one minute!!! I almost screamed nonsensically.

“Father, what did you just say?”

“I said that my daughter is as stupid as they come,” he repeated slowly, as though he were teaching a child.

You have quite the talent for rubbing people the wrong way, you rotten old man.

“You want to be able to respond to any given situation?” my father snarled, not deigning to hide his frustration. “You, who’ve been alive for just ten years? Who do you think you are?”

Uhh, maybe a princess?! I felt like saying. But in reality, all that I could manage was to bite down on my lip as my face turned scarlet from anger and embarrassment.

He’s got me riled up, so much so that I feel about to burst, but I don’t have anything to answer back. The truth is readily apparent; I’m a powerless and ignorant kid, and that’s an unmistakable fact.

“In the first place, what person could react perfectly to an unpredictable situation?” he mused. “You might as well be asking to become a god.”

“But you and Chris can, can’t you?” I felt compelled to argue against my father’s insistence that it was impossible.

I recalled the sorcerer abduction plot. I’d had foreknowledge of the scheme from the character backgrounds in Hidden World, but unlike me, my father and Chris had no prior information. Despite that, and despite me having cheat powers, they’d uncovered the plot at the same pace as I had. And as a result, the abduction had come to a peaceful conclusion and war had been averted.

From my standpoint, that was practically miraculous. If my father and Chris had the ability to detect and prevent pitfalls that lay in wait for them, then I wanted to learn that trick for myself.

However, my father wasted no time in shooting down my counterargument.

“That’s why I called you stupid.”

“Oof...” I grunted and grasped at my chest.

He’s cut me. He’s diced me with his words.

Exhaling a frustration-ridden sigh, my father lifted one leg onto the chaise and swiveled his body to face me. I looked up reflexively and met his gaze. Surprisingly, neither his expression nor his tone was as harsh as his words.

“Now listen,” he instructed. “Reconsider what is truly unpredictable.”

I hadn’t expected those words, and I felt turned to stone. I’d braced myself for a scolding, a remonstration of my imperfections. And yet, what he actually said to me was more like guidance or advice, delivered in a matching tone of voice. It would’ve been impossible to stay composed.

“What do you mean...?” I asked.

“Most occurrences are preceded by what you could call a ‘sign,’” he explained. “You simply haven’t noticed them. In short, what makes a difference is whether you can detect those signs.”

“Signs.” I whispered the word back to myself, and my father nodded.

After appearing to mull something over for a second, he pointed at the book I was holding. “Let’s take that tome you’re clinging to so carefully as an example. Say that it were left on this table for an hour, and during that time it became damaged. What would you conclude was the cause?”

I blinked my eyes a few times, startled by the sudden hypothetical. Though confused, I glanced down at the table as he’d said.

On the tabletop was an empty bottle, a glass half-filled with wine, and a candlestick.

I pinched my chin and considered the possibilities, then began to speak. “I’d say that either the candlestick was knocked over somehow, causing the flame to spread and incinerate the book, or perhaps the glass tipped over, spilling the wine onto the pages.”

I’d contemplated my options in earnest before giving my response, but he just laughed at me scornfully.

“Not the most interesting answers.”

“Is that so?” I replied in a flat tone of voice, even while shaking my fist at him in my mind.

“Fine,” my father continued after making light of my hard work. “So we’ll say that the candlestick toppled and incinerated the book. In that case, were you powerless to stop it?”

“No. It would’ve been enough to blow out the candle flame, or take the candlestick out of the room with me.”

“Exactly. The same goes for the wine. If you’d drunk it all, or cleared it away, it would’ve been simple to prevent the book from coming to harm.”

As though to demonstrate this, my father picked up his glass and finished the rest of the wine.

In a roundabout way, I was beginning to understand why my father had brought this topic up in our conversation. The idea was simple and easy to grasp—books were flammable and prone to water damage, so it was exceptionally dangerous to leave them unattended next to water or open flames. That wasn’t a conclusion that had to be drawn retrospectively; it was readily surmisable.

The fact that my father and Chris had stopped a war hadn’t been a miracle. And they hadn’t needed godlike powers of insight.

“We can implement proactive countermeasures if we have prior information. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” I mumbled.

He didn’t reply, but I sensed a slight, amused narrowing of his eyes, which reflected my image like a pool of water.

My answer might’ve fallen short of perfect, but it hadn’t been entirely off the mark either. With that optimistic interpretation in mind, I reflected on the Lutz abduction plot.

Even for a sorcerer, Lutz possessed a power that was rare in this world where magic was beginning to fade from existence. The possibility of a foreign country attempting to get their hands on him was easily imaginable. Moreover, Skelluts—the kingdom that had ordered the abduction—was a hostile nation run by a warmongering king.

Both Skelluts and Lutz had unmistakably been characters of interest. Once I realized that I tilted my head.

Given that, why had Lutz’s abduction been successful in Hidden World?

Chris and my father were exactly as competent as they had been in Hidden World. And Lutz’s and Teo’s entry into the palace had probably taken place in the same way and at the same time as in the game.

Both the book and the candlestick were under vigilant guard, so how had the book caught fire?

“Father?”

“What?”

“If I’d kept a careful eye on both the book and the candlestick, but the book still caught fire, then what did I do wrong?”

“That would indicate a problem with your eyes.”

What an ass, I snarled in my mind.

“I’m being serious,” I said.

“So am I,” my father replied, expressionless, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

My sigh was a vent for my swelling anger. I expelled carbon dioxide, and in its place, cool air filled my lungs. I started to feel ever so slightly more composed, and that’s when it struck me. What does he mean by “a problem with your eyes”?

My two eyeballs alone would not suffice as a method of accurately determining the moods of all the various countries around us or even my own country’s agenda.

Well, duh. I’d have to be a clairvoyant, and seers don’t exist. That goes for my father as well, however superhuman he may act. At least, I think it applies... Probably.

Therefore, to make up for what he can’t see himself, there are people from whom my father receives information—subordinates around the world who gather intel.

If there’s a problem with my eyes, then that means...

“So you’re saying that there’s a problem with the people I choose to delegate duties to?”

Come to mention it, didn’t this cross my mind while I was investigating the Lutz abduction plot as well? If I recall correctly, it was the idea that Sir Leonhart’s speedy promotion to captain had enabled the royal guard to sniff out the plot more quickly.

One of the underlying reasons why they’d failed to prevent Lutz’s abduction in Hidden World...had probably been the identity of the game’s royal guard captain. Their fatal mistake had been the inability to notice the suspicious behavior of one of the perpetrators—a knight in the royal guard, Nicholas von Buro.

“I suppose that’s a passable answer,” my father murmured quietly after placing his empty glass on the table. “I’ll let you have a bird as your reward.”

“What?”

He’s lost me. What’s he going on about now?

I stared at my father with a blank expression, confused by the sudden change of topic. My inner thoughts were probably written all over my face.

However, my father continued unabashed. “You don’t want it?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying...” I complained.

“It’ll prove useful to you, I expect. Accept my gift, if you know what’s best for you.”

This is making no sense. Is he even trying to hold a conversation?

I forcefully swallowed back the sigh that threatened to escape my lips and then lowered my eyes.

I’m dealing with someone who was born to be king; arrogance is in his nature. If I were to lash out at him without thinking it through, he’d run circles around me, and I’d only succeed in making my life harder.

As I was telling myself that, I heard him mutter to himself.

“I was ready to leave you be, if you’d turned out a little more shoddy.”

“Huh...?”

His voice had been quiet, but I couldn’t let that comment slide. I opened my eyes reflexively, sensing an ominous change in mood. His gaze, like a pair of glass beads, was pointed directly at me.

“What...do you mean by that?” My voice trembled.

“Consider our neighboring countries—which do you think most deserves to be treated with caution?” He didn’t answer my question, but rather, asked one of his own.

I bit down on my lip and glared at him, but he didn’t flinch. In fact, he didn’t seem the least bit affected. I was worked up, but I repeatedly told myself to calm down, and then spoke.

“Lapter.”

There were four countries neighboring Nevel: Vint, Schner, Grundt, and Lapter.

The Kingdom of Vint was a friendly nation that had an alliance with Nevel, so I crossed it off the list.

The Kingdom of Schner, located to our northwest, had entered an alliance with Nevel after the breakout of war with the Kingdom of Skelluts, and we’d maintained amicable diplomatic relations afterward. Even in the hypothetical event that the alliance broke down and we became enemies, Schner would have to invade Nevel through the treacherous mountain passes which hindered access, and it would be a difficult undertaking.

Nevel had no alliance with the Kingdom of Grundt, but we were tied together with strong trade links, and commerce between our countries was booming. Besides, Grundt was a small country; it had less than half of the landmass of Nevel, so there wasn’t much chance of them picking a fight with us.

From my knowledge of the game, I was aware that Lapter was a hostile nation demanding our attention, but even without that information, I’d have come to the same conclusion by process of elimination. Lapter was located to Nevel’s northeast, and one-third of its land consisted of frozen wastelands. It would come as no surprise if they were to envy Nevel for its fertile land expanses.

“Then what would you say if Lapter were currying favor with Vint?” he asked.

“Huh?”

Lapter was? With Vint?

That was news to me, and my eyes widened in shock.

“Nobody’s...”

Nobody’s ever told me that, I almost said, but I stopped myself partway through and shut my mouth. It didn’t make much of a difference whether I’d known about it, because my father was privy to a whole world of information that was inaccessible to me. If his information was accurate, then what mattered most was the future I envisaged.

“I’d find that...inauspicious,” I said.

In the unlikely event that Lapter, which viewed Nevel as an enemy, joined forces with Vint, we could face an attack on two sides. Simultaneous invasions from the northeast and the west would compel us to divide our armies.

“But the Kingdom of Vint has an alliance with Nevel,” I continued. “I can’t imagine them betraying us just like that.”

“Alliances aren’t permanent,” my father responded indifferently. “In the long history of the continent, you will find examples of unilateral terminations of alliances before their terms were through. Although you might say that this is something of a last resort, as that act damages the faith of your neighbors.”

I groaned quietly. It pained me to admit, but he was right. Even in the world of my past life, there’d been occurrences during wartime of military alliances being broken in response to the state of the conflict. However unlikely it was, it was necessary to keep an eye on the situation.

“I’d like to strengthen our relationship with Vint in preparation for the worst-case scenario,” he said. “That being the case, the simplest method is to forge marital ties.”

When I heard that, I grimaced and froze. Cold sweat ran down my spine. I couldn’t play dumb and ask, Who would be the lucky couple? Vint’s royal family had two princes and no princesses. In other words, Chris and Johan were out of the picture.

That just left me.

In my mind, I saw letters cascading to form the phrase “strategic marriage,” and my vision shook from the heavy shock of realization. Having been born a princess, I should’ve accounted for this possibility. But I’d turned a blind eye to it my whole life.

Because now...what am I supposed to do with my feelings of love for Sir Leonhart?

If you’d been nothing more than a pretty-faced but mindless drone then I wouldn’t have put much thought into your husband. You wouldn’t have been wed to anyone that mattered one way or the other, and certainly not a foreign royal—a mindless drone in another kingdom’s court would be more likely to sabotage our interests than to serve them. However...you may be somewhat dumb, but you do have a mind of your own.

A second bout of shock hit me when he said that.

Does this mean...if I’d acted “mindless,” and if I hadn’t meddled in the affairs of the kingdom, then my father wouldn’t have wanted to force me into a political marriage? In that case, I might’ve had a little choice in who my partner was. While Sir Leonhart does strike me as someone who matters, if the king had no hopes for my intellect, and no big plans for my marriage, then the chances of getting with my knight might not have been zero.

It seemed that I had unknowingly tied my own noose.

“You seem displeased,” he remarked.

“Yes.”

“Then make yourself indispensable to me.”

My father narrowed his eyes as he watched my jaw drop. There was no smile on his face, but I got the impression that he was enjoying himself. His sadistic nature was plain to see; he was a beast toying with a small animal. Although, my victim complex might’ve been clouding my judgment.

“The crown prince of Vint turned thirteen this year. Two more years and he’ll be an adult. Prove your worth to me before then,” my father stated with utmost delight.

Fuck you, father, I raged in my mind.