How to Replace Your Dad - Chapter 232

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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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How to Replace Father
Episode 232
* * *
‘I did it. I actually did it.’
I succeeded in bringing the statue from the Central Exhibition Hall.
Of course, it wasn’t the original.
There was only one genuine statue, supposedly carved by a legendary artist whose name lived in history.
I couldn’t have brought the genuine one, which stood four meters tall.
I hadn’t done anything so insane as to remove the exhibition’s one and only artwork for the Concubine Selection Competition.
‘So I prepared a replica instead.’
Cradling a Statue Replica no larger than a grown man’s fist, I returned to the Gilrose Royal Palace with a satisfied smile.
“You of Ilfarm. You’ve passed.”
The examiner verified the replica of the statue.
With that, I had truly passed the First Trial.
“….”
“….”
But something felt off.
All through the rest of the exam and back to my seat, the other candidates’ eyes followed me.
When I tilted my head quizzically, Griann—that is to say, the nun from Benesa—whispered from behind me.
“Word is you laid waste to the exhibition hall?”
“Not quite that badly.”
“So I hear you trapped the leading candidates inside, threatening not to let them out until the test ended unless they surrendered their statues?”
I fell silent for a moment.
Strictly speaking, it was accurate.
“…you might call it mutual aid.”
“Thanks to you, all the candidates are watching your every move now. Wondering what reckless thing you’ll do next.”
I glanced around surreptitiously.
The candidates were observing me with peculiar expressions.
The leading candidates who’d been trapped watched me with hostile eyes.
And the candidates from lesser families who’d entered thanks to me wore expressions of keen interest.
Griann smiled broadly.
“Thanks to you drawing all the attention, I was able to obtain a statue quite easily. They let their guard down.”
“Speaking of which, how did you get your statue?”
I didn’t see him at all in the exhibition hall.
Griann smiled gently.
“By the grace the gods blessed me with.”
“Grace?”
He held up his fist with a serene expression.
“Grace that works anytime, anywhere.”
…In other words, he’d seized it by force.
‘For someone claiming to be clergy, he seems quite far removed from that vocation.’
Griann said he’d intercepted a Statue Replica that some noble house had been trying to deliver to their own daughter.
And word of Griann’s methods had spread; the surrounding murmurs grew louder.
“What on earth are those two?”
“Has some plague swept through Ilfarm?”
“One locks up the other candidates to find the statue, the other beats up the administrators from a candidate’s household to steal one.”
“How vulgar….”
I listened to the flood of gossip alongside Griann and remarked:
“Perhaps I was too conspicuous from the very first trial.”
“Apparently so.”
I murmured:
“But being eliminated while keeping quiet and failing to enter the Inner Palace would be worse.”
“That’s also true.”
Either way, I had passed the First Trial.
Which meant I could now enter the Inner Palace.
‘How can I slip into the Great Palace, where the Fragment of Divine Grace lies?’
Thinking such thoughts, I gazed at the distant Great Palace.
* * *
The First Trial had created quite a number of eliminations.
Since there were replicas prepared for half the candidates, exactly half were eliminated.
The Gilrose Royal Palace provided lodging for the candidates.
It was three to a room, and the leading candidates—daughters of the nobility—let out cries of despair.
“This is absurd. Is this a storeroom?”
“It’s unbearable….”
“If Father knew I was sleeping in a place like this…!”
For a room within the royal palace, it was admittedly quite worn.
‘It seems they’ve intentionally given us these quarters.’
Perhaps it was a test of perseverance.
As I was setting down my belongings, my roommate—the leading candidate Michiya—was making a fuss.
She’d grabbed a palace maid and was shouting at her.
“Is this really the room? How am I supposed to sleep in a place like this?!”
My other roommate, Isis Sanponse, looked positively ashen.
“Is it true that only cold water comes out after 8 p.m.? It’s past 8 already. How are we supposed to wash?”
The maid spoke with difficulty.
“I’ve only been instructed to show the candidates to these quarters.”
“Go tell them at once. I cannot possibly sleep in a place like this!”
“Not only is the food inadequate, but cold water for bathing? My health will suffer before the Second Trial even begins.”
Michiya and Isis, the two most prominent candidates in the Concubine Selection Competition, ganged up on her.
The maid was perspiring heavily.
“I’ve checked several times already, but I’ve been told room transfers are impossible….”
“How is anyone supposed to sleep in this?”
The moment Michiya shrieked, the maid’s eyes landed on me.
More precisely, on me—who’d washed off in cold water the moment I arrived, then climbed into bed with a perfectly serene expression, curling up contentedly on the hard mattress.
“…Hah.”
“….”
Michiya and Isis stared at me with expressions of utter disbelief.
They looked as though they couldn’t fathom how anyone could feign such tranquility.
But I truly was comfortable.
‘Ah, at least there’s no rust in the water. Clean sheets too.’
To me—expelled from Andres and forced to labor through every manner of hardship—this place was nothing short of paradise.
The maid began backing away cautiously.
Michiya threw her bag down with such force it was a wonder it didn’t burst, then shot me a glare.
“I don’t like this. Not one bit.”
“….”
Isis looked equally displeased.
Whether they liked it or not, I slept soundly.
The next morning.
The candidates looked thoroughly unwell.
The leading candidates, certainly.
But so did the daughters of lesser families.
While it was only relative to the prominent families, they were still noble ladies who’d never known hardship.
“I think I’m coming down with a cold….”
“Wasn’t the bed too hard? My back….”
“Why is the food like this? Yesterday at least they served something edible.”
The dining hall rang with complaints.
I alone sat contentedly scraping up my oatmeal porridge.
An exhausted candidate set down her spoon with a clatter and pressed her fingers to her temples.
“I wish the Second Trial would start soon. I want out of this hell as quickly as possible.”
“…Agreed.”
But the announcement of the Second Trial never came until evening fell.
I watched the grounds from my lodging while eating the dry pasta that had been served for dinner.
‘Hmm.’
Something felt decidedly strange.
* * *
The fourth morning.
“I can’t take this anymore—!”
A candidate hurled her breakfast tray away and screamed.
“This is worse than cattle feed! I can’t eat this! I’m leaving. Forget the competition, I’m going home!”
The candidate stormed out of the dining hall, fuming.
The others were briefly stunned, but soon nodded in agreement.
A thin broth with not a morsel of substance.
And a few strips of jerky.
The quality of meals had grown progressively worse.
“This is a matter of our family’s honor. We cannot endure such humiliation any longer.”
“Yes, let’s lodge a complaint.”
“We must find someone above the administrators of this dormitory.”
“Michiya, you’ll join us, won’t you?”
The candidates turned to Michiya, one of the two most leading contenders.
Her face, hollow from fasting since yesterday afternoon, was frozen with determination.
“Let’s go.”
She rose from her seat.
It was then.
“Excuse me? You’re leaving?”
You of Ilfarm—that is, Yustea—opened her eyes wide and looked at them.
The other candidates’ attention turned to Yustea.
Michiya’s brow furrowed.
Yustea was adapting uniquely well to these dreadful quarters.
“Whether miserable conditions feel familiar to you or not, they’re miserable for the rest of us.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m just….”
“You needn’t advertise your familiarity with degradation. We can tell just by looking at your face.”
The dining hall fell silent.
The candidates tittered, watching Yustea.
The candidates who’d received help from Yustea in the First Trial whispered while keeping an eye on Michiya.
“Stop, Yustea.”
“Don’t provoke Michiya. Nothing good will come of it. Besides, this treatment really is insulting.”
“And postponing the Second Trial task while treating us like this is truly incomprehensible.”
Yustea blinked.
“But this is the Second Trial, isn’t it?”
“…What?”
Michiya’s expression went slack.
The other leading candidate, Isis, watched Yustea with an unreadable face.
Yustea set down her spoon and continued.
“I think they’re testing how well we can endure hardship and survive wisely.”
“That’s absolute nonsense!”
Michiya shouted, and Yustea pressed on.
“The candidates haven’t refrained from complaining until now. Surely some of you have lodged complaints through your families to the palace?”
The others shifted uncomfortably.
Yustea smiled as if to say ‘I thought so,’ and looked up at Michiya.
“Yet the treatment keeps worsening. As if we’re being penalized each time we complain.”
“What are you saying?”
“If you go seek out someone higher up directly, another penalty will come down. They might stop providing food altogether.”
Michiya let out a cold laugh.
She walked over and stood before Yustea.
Michiya spoke.
“Did you accomplish something so remarkable in the First Trial?”
“Pardon?”
“The First Trial seems to have inflated your sense of self-worth. When I see you spouting nonsense as if it were some grand revelation, it’s painfully obvious.”
“….”
Michiya picked up Yustea’s spoon and poked her shoulder with the handle.
“If you don’t understand, keep your mouth shut and be grateful. Stop talking drivel.”
With that, Michiya swept out of the dining hall.
The other candidates followed her, giggling.
“Did you see her sitting there speechless?”
“She was so full of herself, but couldn’t say a word in her own defense.”
“Of course. She’s just realized what a foolish delusion she’s been living in. This as the Second Trial? Ridiculous.”
Michiya’s red lips twisted.
They went and found the Palace Official, a high-ranking official, and lodged a complaint about the treatment of the candidates.
The Palace Official nodded.
“I see.”
“I was certain you would understand our suffering and hardship, sir.”
Michiya smiled sweetly.
“Yes, I understand your meaning. Go back to your quarters.”
At the Palace Official’s smile, the candidates’ faces brightened.
‘Of course. The Second Trial nonsense….’
The candidates giggled, thinking of the absurdity Yustea had spouted.
Tomorrow, Yustea would realize just how lost in fantasy she’d been.
And so, the next day.
The candidates, approaching the dining hall with smug expressions, froze.
“…What is this?”
Even Michiya’s face went rigid.
Yustea, following them into the dining hall, let out a sigh.
“I told you—if you complain to someone higher up, there won’t be any food at all.”
…And indeed, there was no food.
* * *
Afternoon.
I shook my head, watching candidates throughout the dormitory clutching their empty bellies.
“They haven’t eaten anything since days ago.”
I’d warned them not to go, but they’d brought this trouble on themselves.
It was then.
Griann, the nun from Benesa, approached me.
“So they’re truly not providing meals?”
“Not even the warm water from before 8 p.m. that used to come.”
“My, the young ladies must be suffering terribly.”
“More than that…”
I glanced around and lowered my voice.
“Can you make progress infiltrating the Great Palace?”
Griann had been watching the Great Palace ever since we entered the Inner Palace.
He whispered to me.
“It will take time. There are four layers of Barrier, and the sentries are formidable.”
“We’ll have to hold out. At least the Second Trial buys us time.”
“But if there’s no food, I’m not sure how many more days we can survive.”
“I’ll prepare meals for you.”
“Is that possible?”
I nodded with a confident smile.
Surviving by any means necessary.
That’s my specialty.
* * *
A day had passed since meals stopped coming.
The candidates, who’d been going hungry since before, now had ashen faces.
While a few days without food wouldn’t kill anyone, having no meals at all created a different kind of pressure.
The candidates who’d gone to complain to the Palace Official received mocking looks from both the other candidates and the palace staff.
“What do we do? If people look at us this way, won’t we be eliminated in the Second Trial?”
“Elimination isn’t even the problem. We might end up leaving of our own accord!”
The candidates groaned in distress.
And they looked at Michiya.
“Is there any way…?”
Michiya clenched her lips tightly.
‘This is insane. How can this possibly be the Second Trial?’
She couldn’t grasp how the evaluation would work.
If she were eliminated…
“…It’s that girl’s fault.”
“What?”
“You of Ilfarm! She must have evidence for that claim about the Second Trial. But she only acted like she was guessing before we complained—she didn’t show any proof.”
“That….”
“If she’d revealed her evidence, would we have gone to complain?”
“….”
“She deliberately acted superior and withheld the proof. To make us look foolish.”
“And to stand out herself in the Second Trial!”
The candidates’ expressions turned cold.
“Where is Yustea?”
“I’m not sure. But… something’s odd.”
“Odd?”
“She looks far too healthy. Like she’s eating something in secret.”
The candidates’ faces twisted with resentment.
At that very moment.
Yustea was holding a Pickaxe, scouring the grounds.
“Where… where is the mugwort….”
Yustea’s eyes widened as she searched.
She’d found it.
Food!
The moment Yustea crouched down by the mugwort.
“Eating weeds?”
Someone’s jaw rested on her shoulder, and a beautiful male voice spoke.
When I turned my head, I saw a young man with red hair.
Yustea, quick as lightning…!
Thwack.
…grabbed his face.
“Do you know I’m a candidate in the Concubine Selection Competition, yet you dare mock me?”
The man’s eyes went wide.

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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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