Beguiling the Enemy’s Patriarch - Chapter 9

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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 9
I held a handkerchief up to my face, leaving only my eyes visible as I studied the Emperor. Now that I’d recovered, the trembling expression from moments before had vanished entirely. Those languid, violet-tinged eyes had returned to their usual state.
“Ah…”
I couldn’t formulate a response, only stammering uncertainly. Sensitive to mana? What on earth was he talking about?
“I… I’m not aware of anything like that.”
“Not aware?”
The Emperor’s eyes widened sharply. I flinched, my body instinctively shrinking back. The lazy, cat-like languor that had suffused his gaze in the spring sunlight transformed in an instant into something razor-edged. The shift was momentary, but it seared itself into my mind with crystalline clarity.
Indeed, an Emperor remained an Emperor. He was the master of Belgot, the eastern power of Laigar. I cowered further and shook my head vigorously.
“This has never happened to me before.”
When I said “before,” all I truly knew was Yerenika from the past eight months. I had no way of knowing whether she harbored some hidden chronic ailment. Yet nothing of the sort had occurred during these past months…
“Rosel, what is the meaning of this?”
The Emperor turned his head toward someone, posing the question. I followed his gaze and was startled to see an elderly man—the very one who had touched me earlier. My pain had intensified after he made contact. Definitely! My eyes had narrowed into slits of suspicion.
The elderly man named Rosel, receiving the full force of my pointed glare, began gesticulating defensively with his hands.
“No, Your Majesty. If one possesses heightened sensitivity to mana compared to ordinary people, such a reaction is entirely plausible.”
“Could the person themselves be unaware of this?”
“If they were raised in an environment with minimal mana exposure…”
Rosel glanced sideways at me. I immediately let out a low growl. Why, what—!
“Then why did she suddenly recover?”
“That, I confess, I am uncertain of. A more thorough examination of the Princess might reveal the answer, but it seems… difficult to make contact at present.”
Rosel lowered his head, at a loss. It appeared this elderly man was a practitioner of magic.
I found myself struck anew by the reality of it all. Yes. The world within “Brizni Wants to Be Happy” was a fantasy realm saturated with mana—an inexplicable natural force. In Lebovni, mages were exceedingly rare, and the land itself was not abundant in mana stones, so I had simply failed to recognize what was happening.
I heard the Emperor exhale a low sigh.
“In any case, using magic circles again will be impossible. Since we’ve already crossed the border, we’ll proceed on horseback from here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Ah… you weren’t accustomed to riding either, were you? Well.”
Those crimson eyes turned toward me once more. I suppressed the hiccup rising in my throat and shook my head.
“I can ride.”
“You certainly looked terrified enough.”
“I… can’t do it alone, but…”
I buried my face in the handkerchief, stealing a glance at him. Somehow, I felt like I was becoming an enormous burden. Suddenly falling ill. Unable to ride a horse. Wait—did I really need to worry about being a nuisance to my kidnapper?
The Emperor delivered his response as though the matter were trivial.
“Then the Princess will ride with me.”
This is all because that man is far too kind. No matter how I think about it, he’s far too gentle for a kidnapper, isn’t he? Did Tezebia receive such courteous treatment as well…?
I frantically searched through my memories of the original work.
[Tezebia sat dazed inside a rattling carriage. The moment they passed through the magic circle, crossing the border became instantaneous. The Emperor of Belgot, immediately upon crossing the border, placed her inside a carriage used for transporting prisoners. While it was better than having her continue riding a horse in her pregnant state, being kidnapped meant nothing could truly be comfortable.]
I tilted my head uncertainly. That alone didn’t tell me much. In “Brizni Wants to Be Happy,” the previous Emperor of Belgot received as little narrative focus as Yerenika. There was no way his personality had been described.
“We can reach our destination by tomorrow evening if we ride all day. Get up.”
Yet this man, who would become the father of the villain Dekarbé in the future, might actually be kinder and more considerate than I’d assumed. I stared blankly at the hand extended toward me. I had thought Dekarbé’s father—marked by severe emotional deprivation and obsessive tendencies—would be cold and distant. But it seemed he wasn’t entirely that way. At least, not so far.
“…Thank you.”
“…Thank you.”
With stiff fingers barely moving, I grasped that outstretched hand. I didn’t understand how it had happened, but regardless, this was the hand that had liberated me from that hellish agony mere moments before.
A firm, reassuring hand lifted me effortlessly to my feet. My legs trembled with weakness and threatened to buckle, but after what felt like an eternity, I finally stood upon solid ground under my own power. And for the first time, I faced the Emperor of Belgot directly. Of course, given his impressive stature, I still had to crane my neck considerably to meet his gaze. After a moment of hesitation, I gathered my courage and spoke.
“You have no intention of sending me back to Lebovni, do you?”
“….”
The strikingly beautiful man offered no response. Yet his silence conveyed his intentions perfectly. No matter how kind and gentle he appeared, he was the man who had held Tezebia captive for a full decade in the original narrative.
Oh no. I really shouldn’t have let myself be kidnapped. Seeing my face crumple into tears, the Emperor spoke slowly.
“If negotiations with Lebovni conclude successfully.”
Yet his tone remained so gentle, so soft, that I found it impossible to reconcile with the image of a heinous kidnapper—the father of a future villain.
A strange sensation washed over me in that moment. Plan B had certainly deviated in unexpected ways, but wasn’t this man one of those who met an unjust fate in the original story?
A man who would be brutally murdered by his own son before even reaching forty.
“I guarantee your personal safety. By the name of Belgot.”
His languid eyes curved attractively as he smiled. A handsome man’s smile was always effective, certainly. But what I felt now transcended mere aesthetic appreciation—it was something far more profound. A peculiar sensation, both wistful and aching. Perhaps it was what only someone in this world who knew the ending of his life could feel. It resembled a sense of responsibility, much like what I’d felt toward Tezebia and Fernandis.
The Emperor smiled loosely.
“So might I ask for your cooperation until then, Princess?”
“….”
“Well, if it sounds like coercion, there’s nothing to be done about it.”
As I remained silent, he shrugged. But my silence stemmed from an entirely different reason. A startling realization had struck me like lightning.
I didn’t even know the name of the man I’d decided to save. It hadn’t appeared in the original work. The thought bypassed my mind entirely and tumbled from my lips unbidden.
“Um, Father.”
“Fa—”
“What is your name?”
He looked utterly bewildered. Yet I didn’t immediately recognize my slip in address. Instead, with eyes burning with determination, I stared at him so intently that he answered reluctantly.
“Auredhian.”
“Auredhian….”
“Auredhian Lu Soledor Belgot.”
It was a name with a gentle resonance. Auredhian. I repeated it over and over in my mind. It rolled off my tongue smoothly, without any awkwardness—the sound of it was pleasing.
I sniffled through my blocked nose and opened my mouth. An inadvertent nasal quality colored my voice.
“I am, *sniff*, as you likely already know, Yerenika Shushbia of Lebovni.”
Since we would see each other frequently going forward, a proper introduction was only fitting. I felt an overwhelming certainty that I would find it impossible to separate from this man. Why was that? Perhaps I had already sensed it instinctively then—the strange circumstances that would unfold before us.
“I look forward to working with you.”
“…The pleasure is mine.”
I attempted a smile with tear-stained cheeks. I hadn’t considered that the sight might appear somewhat unsettling. The Emperor’s expression had grown oddly rigid—likely for precisely that reason.
* * *
The Belgot Guerrilla Force moved swiftly. Remembering my complaints about the pain, the Emperor had removed his rigid armor, and thanks to that, I was able to travel more comfortably—
Or so I wished!
The Emperor spoke in an awkward tone.
“Relax your body a bit, Princess. If you keep your upper body so rigid, you’ll only strain your back—”
“No! It doesn’t hurt at all!”
I cried out, my expression clearly betraying my distress. I was certain that even if I died and returned to life, I could never allow myself to be cradled in this man’s arms. Without the rigid armor, the distance between our bodies had become far too intimate. In fact, there was virtually no space between us at all. This meant that with every stride of the horse, I felt every movement of his body directly against mine.
Through his thin black tunic, I could feel the firm musculature beneath. The mere sensation was enough to make me want to die of embarrassment. And his scent—clean and refreshing—filled every breath I took. This man apparently didn’t even sweat.
“….”
Yet somehow, merely breathing in this scent lifted my spirits. Energy seemed to bloom within me of its own accord. I inhaled deeply, marveling at how crystalline and refreshing the fragrance was. After repeating this several times, I found myself profoundly flustered.
Was I really such a cheerful woman?
Heat flooded my face. Riding on horseback with an unrelated man, our bodies pressed flush against each other. For someone who had spent twenty-five years and eight months in complete solitude, this situation was far too mortifying.
Yet when I tried to fan my crimson face and nearly lost my balance, I was forced to lean against his embrace instead. My entire body trembled with embarrassment.
This was simply too shameful!
But the world held far more variables than I could have anticipated. Hours later, I was groaning as though on death’s door.
“Hah…. Ugh….”
My head throbbed as if bound by an invisible crown, the pain returning with a vengeance. A dizzying migraine threatened to crush my skull, and my vision swam. I stretched out my hand desperately, barely managing to remain upright.
“How peculiar.”
The Emperor murmured as he grasped my outstretched hand. The moment his touch reached me, the headache vanished in an instant. I exhaled sharply and crawled toward him on my knees, desperation overriding all shame—I felt as though I would perish if I didn’t bury myself in his arms immediately.
“Hah….”
“Isn’t this sensitivity excessive, Rosel?”
And the Emperor, with remarkable kindness, did not reject me. Strong arms wrapped around me with practiced ease. I breathed heavily against his warmth, my entire body still reverberating with the aftermath of that terrible pain—goosebumps trailing down my spine, my limbs trembling faintly.
At this rate, I would die before I could even save my villainous father.

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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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