I Was Just Having Fun With The Time Limit - Chapter 112

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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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It was strange.
Viscount Biatonn’s eyes seemed inexplicably sorrowful.
That radiant, beautiful smile of his felt somehow melancholic today.
Without thinking, I grasped Viscount Biatonn’s hand firmly between both of mine.
His hand, which had always been warm, felt terribly cold today.
“Your hand is cold.”
The moment I held it, an inexplicable sadness washed over me.
It seemed as though the emotions imprinted within Viscount Biatonn’s mana were being transmitted to me.
My body began to tremble.
“….”
“…Your Highness?”
I could sense it clearly.
Viscount Biatonn’s heart was now filled with sorrow.
Though only fragments of emotion carried through his mana reached me, even those fragments felt unbearably heavy.
The depth and magnitude of the emotions Viscount Biatonn was experiencing were so profound and vast that I could not even begin to fathom them.
‘What am I supposed to do…?’
Tears welled up in my eyes without my realizing it.
Because I felt so sorrowful.
It was as though all the world’s misfortunes had descended upon my shoulders, and the weight was unbearable.
The fragments of emotion transmitted from Viscount Biatonn threatened to consume me entirely.
‘Only fragments of his emotions were transmitted.’
Merely that.
Yet my entire world seemed to be crumbling.
The mental fortitude I had cultivated over twenty years of life felt as though it would shatter into dust in an instant.
‘Then what extent of suffering is Viscount Biatonn himself experiencing?’
Things invisible to the eye began to become visible.
Viscount Biatonn was in a truly precarious state.
He seemed like someone who had lost the most precious thing in the world.
“Your Highness?”
There was nothing I could do.
No words I knew could comfort Viscount Biatonn’s heart.
I could not claim to fully understand that heart and its sorrow.
That would be a lie.
As tears appeared in my eyes, Viscount Biatonn knelt on one knee and met my gaze.
“Your Highness. What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did you have a frightening dream? Or did Prince Kaman treat you harshly?”
“….”
I simply stepped closer to Viscount Biatonn.
His mana and mine resonated, and a strange vision appeared before me.
Viscount Biatonn’s mana was recording something, and it transmitted it to me.
-Would it be so wrong to hold me just once?
That couldn’t be right—he was always such a composed person, yet that’s how it sounded to me.
—Please, just hold me once.
It was an irresistible whisper that I couldn’t refuse.
Something compelled my body to move of its own accord.
I spread my arms wide and embraced Viscount Biatonn tightly.
A flinch.
His body trembled ever so slightly.
Viscount Biatonn’s frame was far larger than mine.
Yet today, for some inexplicable reason, it felt small.
I patted his back gently.
I couldn’t control my emotions.
I tried desperately not to cry, but it was all in vain.
Tears streamed from my eyes, falling in droplets.
Viscount Biatonn said nothing.
He didn’t hold me tenderly as he usually did.
He simply remained rooted in place, his body rigid as stone.
I still didn’t know what to say.
I simply opened my mouth and spoke from the heart.
“I admire you, Teacher. You are far greater than I am.”
“….”
“But today, it’s all right to be a little smaller. I, the Princess, permit it.”
“….”
“Let me hold you.”
I wasn’t sure how much comfort this would bring, but I had to embrace Viscount Biatonn.
The whisper asking to be held was too desperate to ignore, carrying a longing too profound.
Drip. Drip.
Something warm fell onto my nape.
They were large teardrops.
‘Huh?’
I lifted my head to look at Viscount Biatonn.
He was crying like a child.
Like a child who had lost his mother.
* * *
Kaman, who had returned to his barracks, couldn’t sit still for a long time.
‘What was that just now?’
From a rational perspective, it made no sense whatsoever.
Isabel had approached the smiling Biatone, suddenly wept about being allowed to be smaller, and in response, Biatone wept alongside her.
What was strange was that he himself had felt a lump in his throat.
It was nothing but incomprehensible.
‘Why did I…?’
Why had I nearly shed tears?
‘Why did my chest feel so heavy?’
I still couldn’t understand the reason.
I lay in bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.
After a very long time had passed, as dawn began to break, I recalled one thing.
‘I used to keep a diary.’
That diary I had burned away.
I had consciously forgotten its very existence, but now I began to remember its contents one by one.
Things I had buried deep in my heart and turned away from surfaced to the top of my mind.
Things I had forgotten.
Without anyone teaching me, I naturally recalled certain truths.
‘How to treat people with warmth. How to share one’s heart.’
If you treat people with kindness, they take advantage and climb over you.
There is nothing more useless and draining than sharing one’s heart.
Cracks began to form—crack, crack—in my hardened convictions.
‘What I saw was….’
Perhaps it was the very image of sharing hearts that young Kaman had so desperately longed for.
Young Kaman too had desperately wished for someone to understand him.
Wanting someone to know my heart, I wielded the sword I despised so much with such dedication.
Living that way, I lost everything from my past.
I pulled a small notebook from the drawer.
Like young Kaman once did, I began to write in my diary.
[One thing I have now come to understand for certain.]
But I couldn’t be as honest as young Kaman was.
I couldn’t write down all my emotions, and I could no longer move the quill.
Wanting to write something, I set down the quill.
‘I wish you would stay a few more days.’
Isabel finds the forgotten heart I once had.
With Isabel by my side, it felt as though I could find the ‘me’ I had forgotten.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, tears fell when I saw Isabel embrace Biatone.
After much deliberation, I completed my diary in my own way.
[That woman is quite useful after all.]
I still have a long way to go.
* * *
Isabel visited Zirdel Palace with Biatone, Narmore, and Yuri.
Since Biatone’s role was supportive, he remained in the back, with Isabel leading and Narmore and Yuri positioned behind her on the left and right respectively.
‘They said he looks like a kind-hearted grandfather, and that description fits perfectly.’
Balkio, the King of Zirdel.
He was fundamentally one of the gentler among the 7 Kings and was generally a man of virtue.
A man with a rather portly frame and a benevolent expression.
‘He’s quite a sensible person and relatively kind, but the character setting was that he excessively loves old dad jokes and constantly says “back in my day”?’
Balkio spoke.
“I apologize for the delayed schedule. The Transportation Gate broke down, and then the carriage broke as well. I’m sorry once more for wasting your precious time.”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks to that, I was able to have a wonderful time.”
“You mean with Prince Kaman?”
“Yes.”
“You truly have a kind heart.”
She was even trying to comfort him with another lie like that.
She was truly a child with excellent character.
Balkio smiled benevolently.
“I should certainly repay such a pure heart.”
The expressions of the attendants lined up on both sides suddenly stiffened.
Isabel sensed all of those signs clearly.
‘Please, no!’
‘That’s not it!’
‘That’s not what he means!’
It felt as though she could hear their desperate cries.
“Do you know what it’s called when a king doesn’t want to enter the palace?”
Sigh.
That’s not it.
The attendants wore expressions of half-resignation.
Isabel tilted her head.
“Hmm.”
Oh.
I think I’ve seen this before.
“You don’t know? Should I tell you?”
“Wait. I can figure it out.”
Isabel became serious.
The phrase “you don’t know” greatly stimulated the young child’s mind and pride.
Oh, I think I know this.
It was on the tip of my tongue but wouldn’t come to mind.
“Ah, I don’t know.”
“Should I tell you?”
“…Yes.”
“A reluctant king.”
The attendants’ bodies went rigid.
They generally liked Balkio, but they could not accept such jokes.
However, there was one person whose reaction was different.
There was one person laughing brightly.
It was Isabel.
“Isn’t this fun?”
“Yes!”
At eight years old, she was at an age where even falling leaves rolling by could bring joy.
In truth, even Isabel herself felt a bit of wounded pride.
That such a simple joke could be this amusing.
Watching her reaction, Balkio was deeply satisfied.
‘See? You lot. The Princess enjoys it so much, doesn’t she?’
He wanted to say this to his subordinates, but he held back for the sake of propriety.
“Your Majesty. Shall I pose an amusing riddle as well?”
“Heh heh. I look forward to it.”
“What is the word office workers love most?”
“….”
Balkio thought hard but ultimately failed to guess the answer.
“What is the answer?”
“The weekend.”
A kingdom characterized by Monday-through-Friday-Friday-Friday.
In other words, a kingdom that had grown wealthy by grinding up office workers.
The expressions of the attendants brightened subtly.
After all, except for a few with true ambition, they too were civil servants forced to forfeit their weekends and report to the Royal Palace.
In any case, Balkio seemed to find interest in Isabel’s story.
“Heh heh heh! What a curious and delightful tale!”
“There’s more!”
The scheme that Isabel, the true master of Narmore Corporation, had prepared alongside the strategist Narmore, was beginning to unfold.

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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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