The Reincarnated Princess Negotiates

The man before me was slouched on an exquisite chaise. As his fingers stopped turning the pages of documents in his hands, he whispered, “This is a surprise.”

Despite his words, his statuesque and handsome face seemed to be not the least bit shocked, and he simply sported his usual deadpan expression. He looked me up and down, then returned his gaze once more to the documents in his hands.

“I had assumed that you’d avoid me for the time being,” he asserted. “Incorrectly, it seems.” His eyes scanned the letters on the page, and the motion was accompanied by the sound of crumpling paper.

It felt like he was trying to hint that he was busy working, but I ignored that. I had to. As someone who’d lived her previous life in a country where transgressing boundaries was frowned upon, I would’ve preferred to say, “I’ll come back later,” turn around, and leave. But if I were to make an exit now, I’d have nothing fruitful to spend my time on.

And I only had so much time left. He’ll just need to spare me a few minutes, I reassured myself. I stood up straight.

“I’m here because I have a request for you, father,” I announced. At that moment, his fingers stopped rifling through the documents.

“A request?” He repeated that word back to me in a chilly tone of voice.

My father had changed the atmosphere in the room without the slightest alteration to his expression. I felt like my spine was about to freeze. To be honest, he was scaring me.

“You have a request for me?”

A child without a single accomplishment to her name dares to pester me for something? I could almost hear that frightening voice overlaying his words.

This isn’t me being overly self-conscious; I’m sure that’s a pretty accurate transcript of what’s in his mind.

I wanna bolt. I wanna get away, but I have to hold my ground. Fleeing now won’t solve anything, and I definitely don’t wanna come back and start this conversation again from square one.

I fought off the grimace that almost appeared on my face and put on a smile instead. “Yes,” I confirmed audaciously.

My father locked me in his gaze. Although I almost shivered at the stare from his pale-blue eyes, I didn’t look away. After we’d exchanged silent glares for about thirty seconds, my father lowered his eyes and sighed.

He carelessly flung the documents away, and they slid across the marble table. He gestured with a finger toward the chair opposite himself, and it took a few seconds for me to realize that he was telling me to sit down.

The champagne-gold chaise with cabriole legs was a delight to sit on. It was a touch firmer than the chaise in my room, but that suited me perfectly and I savored the comfort as I brought up the main topic.

“A few days ago, you told me that you’d give me a bird.”

“I did.”

“In exchange for returning that bird, I’d like for you to make the necessary arrangements to allow me some freedom of movement.”

Upon hearing my request, my father raised one eyebrow. “It’s bold of you...using a gift that you haven’t yet received as leverage.”

I couldn’t summon a reply. It was true that the bird wasn’t yet in my possession, but I had no other options; there were no other bargaining chips at my disposal that I could use to broker a deal.

“Are you sure you won’t regret letting go of the bird before you’ve seen it?” he asked.

I nodded in response to my father’s question, looking meek.

Honestly though, receiving a bird would do me no good. If it was an actual bird for me to keep as a pet, then, well, I had Nero in my room to worry about. Even if “bird” was just a metaphor and the gift was something else entirely, I knew that I was too inexperienced to use it properly. I couldn’t imagine someone like me being able to control a bird, especially one that had flown around the world acting as my father’s eyes.

Whether it was a bird with gorgeous plumage or a clandestine agent with a superior skill set, I wouldn’t be able to utilize the gift to its full potential. It would be happier staying with my father than finding itself stuck with someone like me who didn’t understand its value.

“I think that a bird amazing enough for you to call ‘useful’ would be too much for me to handle at my current level.” I offered an honest expression of my true feelings, and my father’s eyes widened a little.

He placed his elbow on the sofa’s armrest, cupped his chin with his hand, and crossed his long legs. Even his slovenly actions looked fabulous, but I was too mentally preoccupied to be beguiled by the sight. He stared at me appraisingly, and I sat up straight.

“Right.” That single word was my father’s only answer.

That all? I quibbled in my mind, dumbstruck. I felt all the more let down because I’d prepared myself for a scornful glare and an interrogation about whether I’d lost my nerve.

“Aren’t you disappointed in me?” I asked.

“Disappointment is only possible where there has been hope.”

“Is that so?!” I clenched my fists and swallowed my anger.

“I’m joking,” my father said matter-of-factly, keeping a straight face.

I felt like I wanted to kill him.

I also wanted to mirror his expression and respond, “Jokes are supposed to be funny.” It took every ounce of my effort to resist that urge.

“Those in positions of responsibility must sometimes be willing to wield powers that are beyond their capabilities,” he explained. “But bravery is not the same as recklessness. There is no reason to scorn those who know their limits and pursue more roundabout routes to their goals.”

He’s dressing his words up and making it hard to understand, but I guess “Do what you want,” is what he’s getting at.

He’d decided the time limit for me but had let me choose the methods and processes that I wanted to use to achieve my objectives. I couldn’t decipher my father’s plan; he could’ve been trying to make this a learning experience, or he could’ve just been testing me. Either way, I decided to take him at his word.

“So,” he began, “let’s say that you’ve given the bird back to me and have attained freedom of movement. What possible benefit could there be for you?”

My father’s words were as pointed as ever. I felt like I’d been stabbed in the heart, but at the same time, I was a little scared of how acclimated I’d become to this treatment.

We both knew that I wasn’t of much use. Rather than taking action myself, it’d be wiser if another person did it for me. Maybe someone like that “bird” I’d just relinquished a moment ago. But would it really be reasonable to rely entirely on someone else while doing absolutely nothing by myself? Accepting help was in no way equivalent to wholesale delegation.

“Unlike you, I can’t make decisions based solely on reports,” I said.

I was inexperienced, so I couldn’t properly internalize any information, except for what I’d seen or heard directly. Because of that, my response would be inevitably delayed. After all, I’d had foreknowledge about the sorcerer abduction plot, and that had still turned out far from perfect.

I wasn’t deft enough to make things happen by giving orders to others while I locked myself up in the palace.

“I can’t decide anything without venturing out on my own two feet...” I explained. “I think that what I’ve been missing is resolution.”

Even before my father had set this task for me, the course I was to follow had been clear: there was a future that I wanted to avoid, and I had no intention of slacking. I’d do my utmost to prevent it.

And yet, I’d felt intimidated by the scale of the objective that I had to accomplish. This late in the game, the craggy terrain of the path I walked had started to snag at my feet. I hadn’t tried to foist my burden onto somebody else, I hoped. But at some point, I had probably presumed on the help of others.

A part of me had assumed that somebody would fix things even if I made a mistake, as had happened during the abduction of Lutz and Teo. I’d held onto some tiny, irresponsible expectation that others would sort out my problems.

Make myself indispensable... The king probably hadn’t given me this task as a kind, fatherly gesture. He’d most likely write me off if I failed, and I wasn’t so conceited as to interpret that as strictness born of love.

Even so, I was grateful to him for one reason. Thank you for plainly revealing my own unfair nature, which even I hadn’t noticed about myself.

Had I not been confronted with this threat, I might’ve only half-heartedly pursued my goals. If my inaction were to result in failure and the loss of countless lives, I wouldn’t deserve to say, “I’ve done all that I could.”

Would I tremble at the prospect of the world ending? Would I next go running, tail between my legs, to the shrine maiden?

Over my dead body!

“You’ll be culpable for whatever happens as a result of your actions,” my father stated. “Knowing that, will you persist?”

“Yes.” I nodded, tightening my expression.

I couldn’t quite manage to stop my hands and voice from trembling, but I think I should be forgiven for that. After all, I had no idea what would happen to me now. I could fall ill with plague. I could even die. There was no way that a princess—especially one who’d lived her whole life safely behind the protection of the palace walls—would be ready to face that challenge.

But if I’m the one culpable...does that mean that nobody else will have to shoulder the responsibility for my actions anymore? If so, then I’ll take that challenge.

My father heaved a single sigh. “You’re always unpredictable, aren’t you?”

When I saw a touch of unconcealed exasperation in his expression, a wry smile formed spontaneously on my lips. “I’ve decided to work hard to find happiness.”

“Right,” he said briefly, and his gentle tone surprised me.

(Continued in the next volume)