Beguiling the Enemy’s Patriarch - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 10
For eight months since Yerenika’s body had become my vessel, I’d felt perfectly fine—until everything suddenly fell apart all at once.
Why did I understand now why that fish, the one that dies from intense morning sunlight, felt this way?
Rosel wore a pained expression from across the distance.
“I only… I merely lit the fire…”
He was right. Rosel bore no fault whatsoever. The Belgot Guerrilla Force had halted briefly to make camp while marching toward the capital, and when Rosel, the mage, stepped forward to kindle the flames, the minute magical energy released in that process had reduced me to this pathetic state.
My head spun violently. Yet the headache vanished as though washed away. My condition had been forcibly restored. I found myself whole once more.
A crisp, refreshing scent lingered at the tip of my nose. I drew it in deeply with an open breath. This bizarre occurrence marked the third time. And only then did I comprehend the truth: the strange one wasn’t Rosel. It was me.
Rosel spoke with careful hesitation.
“It appears, Your Highness, that you may be magically incompatible…”
“Magically incompatible?”
“Yes. Though uncommon, humans are occasionally born who cannot accept magical energy—either physically or mentally. The probability is extraordinarily rare, however.”
The Emperor seemed to nod slowly. A large hand patted my back in steady rhythm. I hung limply in his embrace, thinking. No, wait. This was a far more fundamental problem. Unless I wasn’t truly Yerenika, and this world wasn’t my world.
Magical incompatibility. Such a condition didn’t exist in the original work’s lore. Of course it didn’t. The original could never feature someone like me, transmigrated from another world.
Rosel had mentioned earlier that such reactions could occur if one weren’t exposed to magical energy.
I grasped it instinctively. One of the most fundamental differences between the world within “Brizni Wants to Be Happy” and the twenty-first century Earth where I’d lived was the existence of magical energy itself. Magic—a mysterious force inexplicable by modern science. Growing up in an environment unexposed to magical energy could only mean one thing: I didn’t belong to this world.
This was a world where magic was not miracle but mundane. Tens of thousands of magical stones were mined daily across the western continent, yet here I stood, a magically incompatible person. What an anachronistic diagnosis this was.
A calm, commanding voice reached my ears.
“For now, Rosel, refrain from using magic. Given that she cannot withstand even minor spells, we must be cautious.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
What I found most incomprehensible was this: why did my agony vanish in an instant whenever this man touched me, even when moments before I’d seemed on death’s door?
The same phenomenon had occurred three times now—once when passing through the magical circle, once when Rosel attempted magic to treat the wounded, and now when lighting the kindling. At this point, dismissing it as coincidence seemed impossible.
As my breathing normalized, Auredhian set me down from his embrace. This man handled me with such ease, lifting and lowering me as though I were weightless. I was nineteen years old, after all. Whether because Yerenika was small and slight, or because this man possessed excessive strength, I couldn’t say.
In any case, I found myself unceremoniously separated from him, blinking as those crimson eyes fixed directly upon mine.
“Did such incidents never occur in Lebovni, Princess?”
“They never did…”
Not in the past eight months. Yet thinking about it, that made perfect sense. Lebovni had no court mage, no mage tower. Magical stones were used only for border defense, not woven into daily life. When even the border guard relied on mages hired from foreign lands, magical stones could hardly be prevalent in everyday use.
As direct proof of this, I’d encountered my first mage only today since arriving in this world. But Belgot, which lay beyond the Sezan Mountains, was different.
Though Belgot lay in the eastern continent and produced no magical stones, it was renowned for systematically and extensively cultivating mages. There was even a saying: “The quality of magic comes from the west—Azekien; the quantity from the east—Belgot.” Even dark magic thrived in the shadows there.
So regardless, Belgot was a nation far more open to magic than Lebovni. And I had a rejection response to it.
This wasn’t a joke—I’d truly become that sunfish.
“Ugh.”
Yet we couldn’t afford to waste more time. Because I collapsed whenever I was exposed to even the slightest magic, four knights followed us without their wounds being treated. The injuries weren’t fatal enough to threaten their lives, but still. Still!
Rosel could heal them with a single gesture!
And there was another delay caused by me. One more passage through a magical circle would bring us directly to the gates of Belgot Imperial Palace.
Oh no. What should I do? I finally opened my mouth.
“Um, couldn’t you just… knock me unconscious instead…?”
“What?”
“If you just gave me one good blow to the back of my head to knock me out, you could quickly move to the Imperial Palace while I’m under.”
Even as I spoke, I glanced nervously at the Emperor’s expression. He looked utterly dumbfounded.
“So, you’re asking me to lay hands on you?”
“Well, the pain only lasts a moment, and waking up in a bed would be wonderful….”
“Rejected.”
The Emperor dismissed my proposal outright, his tone brooking no further discussion.
“I cannot permit laying hands upon foreign royalty in such a manner. Rejected, I say.”
“Ugh. For a kidnapper, why are you being so considerate?”
The thought tumbled straight from my lips before I could stop it. Once I’d started, I couldn’t help but pour out a torrent of words.
“You can’t even light a fire. That man over there has his arm slashed like that, and that one has his leg…. Without fire, there’s no food. It’s still early spring, so it’s cold, and you can’t sleep while shivering. But I can’t keep clinging to you either—I mean, Your Majesty….”
The man before me was none other than the Emperor of Belgot. For a princess of a small kingdom like Lebovni, merely being held this close to the master of an empire was overwhelmingly humbling. For him, it would be faster to simply cross through the magic circle to the Imperial Palace rather than continue the bother of holding me. I squeezed out what little strength remained and pressed my case with renewed vigor.
“If you’re uncomfortable laying hands on me, you could simply pass through the magic circle like before. I’ll lose consciousness anyway.”
“And what if something truly goes wrong?”
“If something goes wrong….”
I hesitated and glanced at the Emperor’s expression once more. His stern face suggested he would hear my final argument.
“If you’d just hold me again like you did a moment ago….”
“….”
“I think it might… work….”
This absolutely wasn’t me being selfish. Not at all.
Auredhian exhaled lightly. As he wrapped his cloak snugly around me, he replied.
“That’s not a difficult matter. However, I’m afraid I must still reject it.”
My carefully harbored hope shattered. The Emperor continued with rigid, austere precision.
“You can light a fire yourself.”
“….”
“And you are weak—you can’t even properly hide your own body, much less wield a sword. They are the elite of Belgot. There’s no comparison whatsoever.”
“That’s… true, but.”
“I asked for your cooperation, not your sacrifice. Did I not promise to guarantee your safety?”
“….”
Wrapped in the violet cloak, I gazed up at him blankly. His expression was as serene as if he were stating the obvious. The hand holding me was large, reassuring, and tender, yet remarkably restrained—a manner etched into his very being, maintaining precise boundaries.
“If you don’t wish to make the master of Belgot a man of broken words, we should end this conversation here.”
And above all, those languid, half-lidded eyes. Those crimson irises that seemed to harbor composure no matter what transpired.
Auredhian Belgot’s eyes widened slightly. With his silver hair catching the light across his brow, he was nothing short of breathtakingly beautiful.
“Still, just to be safe, don’t stray far from me. Belgot’s borders are protected by mana stones.”
And in that moment, I made a decision. Yes. A man whose very existence illuminates the world—for him to be murdered by his own son at such a young age, to become a test subject for dark magic—it would be an immeasurable loss to this world.
Tears of emotion welled up and spilled over. How could such a virtuous ruler fall to his son’s hands and become corrupted by dark magic? Never. I wiped my eyes with the edge of the cloak and sniffled softly.
“Father… I will save you, I promise.”
“No, why do you keep calling me that….”
“Just trust me!”
Let him think me strange if he must.
I would save this man and ensure he brings light to the world!
-I didn’t know then. That Auredhian Belgot was a man who wielded an utterly impenetrable fortress of will.
* * *
Regardless, the journey that followed proved remarkably smooth. I remained glued to the Emperor’s side, perpetually vigilant lest magic ignite around us—and the effect was immediate and undeniable. No matter how I analyzed it, Auredhian Belgot’s very being radiated an enigmatic, almost sacred vitality that seemed to shimmer through his flesh.
Belgot’s lands, by and large, carried a weightier presence than Lebovni—yet the moment I drew near him, my breath came freely, as though invisible chains had shattered. The air itself transformed within his proximity, crisp and luminous. He moved perpetually cloaked in an immaculate, crystalline fragrance that clung to his form like morning mist.
And it was not long before I discovered the reason why.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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