I Was Just Having Fun With The Time Limit - Chapter 7

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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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Should I kill her?
Luluka heard a phantom voice.
The aura of a swordmaster of Biatone’s caliber naturally instilled fear in ordinary people.
In severe cases, they would even lose consciousness.
A glimmer of madness flickered in Biatone’s eyes.
“Viscount Biatone is terribly wicked.”
The madness vanished.
“Viscount Biatone is a coward.”
At those words, Biatone startled and turned around.
Isabel’s voice reached him.
“The strong prey on the weak.”
“The strong prey on the weak?”
Her pronunciation was rather poor, but Biatone understood perfectly.
In fact, that phrase didn’t even exist in this world.
“Your Highness, there is a misunderstanding. I am strong against the strong and weak against the weak.”
“Then you should direct your anger at me. Why are you angry at my Midwife?”
Biatone paused in thought before speaking.
“I apologize, Your Highness.”
“You shouldn’t apologize to me.”
At those words, Biatone approached Luluka and bowed respectfully.
No matter how unbiased one might be, it was not an easy thing for someone of the Emperor’s standing to do.
“I am truly sorry. I was discourteous.”
“That… that… that is…!”
The Midwife was greatly flustered.
Isabel thought there was no need for panic.
It was natural for someone who had done wrong to apologize. Because it was natural.
“Will you forgive me now?”
“No.”
“Why… why won’t you forgive me?”
“Just because Viscount Biatone apologized means I have to forgive him?”
Viscount Biatone’s expression showed he had received a great shock.
Of course, there was a hint of theatrical exaggeration, but the shock was undeniably real.
‘She strikes at the heart of the matter.’
That statement was correct.
Just because he had apologized did not mean that Isabel, as Princess, must immediately forgive him.
Young Isabel clearly understood her dignity as Princess—the highest bloodline in the Empire.
He thought sincerely.
‘I had forgotten for a moment, dazzled by that radiant charm. She too carries the blood of the Vilotian Royal Family.’
He smiled readily.
“As a token of my apology, might I offer you peach-flavored jelly?”
“….”
“I actually have five of them. If you’ll forgive me, I’ll give you all of them.”
Biatone unwrapped the jelly’s packaging.
A sweet peach fragrance wafted through the air.
My nostrils flared involuntarily.
“If Your Highness will forgive me, I shall gift you this peach-flavored jelly.”
I pretended to resist and stretched out my small hand.
Two pieces were placed in my palm.
Nom nom.
I devoured the jelly as though enchanted.
“Does this mean you forgive me now?”
“I’m forgiving you specially.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t do it again from now on.”
Since things had come to this point, I decided to handle the situation properly.
“I heard everything. I heard you have the Narubidarae mark.”
“I wonder who told you that?”
I didn’t actually know what killing intent was.
But I could sense that Viscount Biatone’s eyes were brimming with it.
It felt as though he was whispering: if I find the culprit, I will surely kill you.
A dangerous aura emanated from him.
I spoke honestly.
“The Midwife grandmother.”
Biatone tilted his head.
“You mean from when you were born?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember that time?”
“Yes. Mother was crying, and everyone kept saying a princess was born. Father said I was born useless.”
Having memories from the moment of birth was truly impossible.
However, Biatone, being relatively free of prejudice, accepted it easily.
“My, that must have been truly sorrowful.”
“Hmm….”
In truth, it was right after my possession, so I wasn’t particularly sad. Rather, I was delighted about possessing this body.
I had simply thought my biological father’s words were too clichéd.
So I answered indifferently.
“It was fine.”
Isabel, who hadn’t been truly wounded, extended her hand.
But to Biatone, she looked like a helpless baby deer gazing up with pleading eyes.
He immediately placed his hand over hers.
Wanting to share his warmth with her.
“What did you say?”
“Pardon?”
I remember it clearly.
I said I had five jellies.
I ate two, and the Midwife has one.
That meant two still remained.
I distinctly said I’d give them all, yet instead of handing over the two remaining jellies, she was trying to get away with just placing her hand on mine—how infuriating.
“Not so fast!”
I could forgive many things, but not playing tricks with food.
* * *
‘Let’s see, at this hour His Majesty should be practicing sword techniques.’
Biatone found the Training Grounds.
“Your Majesty. The Princess already understands death.”
“A three-year-old understands death?”
“Yes. Quite clearly.”
“Yet she seemed far too carefree about it.”
“She’s composed.”
“….”
Ron recalled the moments of Isabel.
Isabel appeared to be doing her best in every moment.
As if she already knew time was not abundant.
“Moreover, she remembers every word she has heard since birth.”
“Is such a thing even possible?”
“Indeed. It seems it is possible.”
Biatone’s eyes narrowed.
“You said something useless was born back then?”
“….”
“Did you really say that?”
“And if I did?”
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“What did Isabel say about it?”
“She said it was fine.”
“Fine? When she understood every word?”
“The way she conveyed those words was so composed that my heart felt as though it would break.”
In Ron’s right hand was a sword.
The tip of that blade trembled ever so slightly.
“That child cannot master Villorian swordsmanship.”
“That doesn’t make her useless. Why would you speak such words?”
“It seems you’ve come to interrogate me.”
“It’s not an interrogation. I simply came to convey this to you.”
Ron’s expression hardened into a rigid mask.
“Draw your sword. It’s been too long since we’ve sparred.”
“You ambushed me in the dead of night just days ago!”
Biatone retreated backward.
“Why does a swordmaster move backward?”
“I’m not a swordmaster—I’m a teacher. I’ve retired!”
“Stop moving.”
“If I stop, you’ll run me through!”
Biatone spun around and fled.
A fierce blade aura shot from Ron’s sword, cleaving through the air.
“Ahhhhh!”
Biatone escaped the Training Grounds with all his might.
A smile lingered on his face as he ran.
‘You must be frustrated, aren’t you?’
Ron’s expression that Biatone glimpsed was unmistakably one of regret.
He could feel Ron’s expression becoming richer with emotion.
Part of him was delighted, yet another part felt strangely satisfied.
‘Regret deeply. That is your punishment.’
How could he have said such things to a newborn child?
Isabel’s face, speaking so matter-of-factly that it was fine, kept haunting him.
‘How could that possibly be fine?’
Tears threatened to spill. His heart truly ached.
He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep tonight.
* * *
Biatone, who had become Isabel’s teacher, visited her room every day.
“Viscount Biatone. I have something to show you.”
Isabel lived each day with earnest dedication.
She gave her all to everything she could do.
Even though she couldn’t learn swordsmanship, there was much she could accomplish.
She pulled out something she had hidden in a desk drawer.
Biatone’s eyes widened slightly.
“Remarkable artwork.”
“Really?”
“Who gave this to you as a gift?”
Isabel broke into a bright smile.
“Can you guess?”
“Hmm.”
Biatone stroked his chin thoughtfully with his finger.
“Surely the Princess didn’t draw this herself.”
The child’s body could no longer contain itself and boasted proudly.
I lifted my right hand up with a flourish.
“I drew it.”
“My goodness.”
“Did I draw it well?”
“It’s as though the very soul of Mickelian, the artist of the century, has been trapped within Your Highness’s body.”
In truth, it was difficult to call it an exceptionally skilled drawing.
I understood that I had drawn Ron, but the picture was closer to abstract art than a portrait.
“A soul trapped in a body?”
“A jest, Your Highness. Should such an absurd thing occur, the Holy Knights would surely take up their holy swords and march forth to vanquish it.”
“Cough, cough!”
Isabel coughed.
“T-the Holy Knights? Why? Did Mickelian do something wrong?”
“A soul that seizes another’s body would surely be a malevolent spirit. Such a thing is called possession.”
“P-possession?”
“Yes. They are targets for the Holy Knights to eliminate.”
“P-possession is bad.”
Isabel laughed desperately.
Possession was a target for elimination.
My lips twitched involuntarily.
“S-scary.”
“Do not worry, Your Highness. The Holy Knights are there to protect us. Should any wicked spirit attempt to seize another’s body, they will swiftly strike it down.”
“H-hehe, s-stop! P-please!”
“I have a friend among them. I shall introduce you later.”
“S-such a person must be very busy.”
“He is not busy.”
“He is busy, definitely. Bothering busy people is wrong.”
Biatone was somewhat impressed.
‘Is she showing consideration?’
How could a three-year-old child display such thoughtfulness?
It was not merely precocious—she was genuinely mature beyond her years.
“There is no need for concern, Your Highness. That fellow is the Captain of the First Holy Knight. Since he holds such a high position, he should have time to spare.”
Isabel felt the urge to cry.
The Captain of the Holy Knights who eliminates possession…
He was someone I did not wish to meet even in my dreams.
Cold sweat trickled down my back.
Yet refusing too strongly would seem strange, so I held my tongue.
Biatone examined the drawing for a long while before asking.
“When did you begin drawing?”
“Since I was little.”
In my childhood, I harbored a dream of becoming a painter.
There were few things I could do within the confines of the sickroom, and drawing was one of them.
“Hmm. Since childhood?”
In that instant, Isabel flinched, and Biatone’s eyes narrowed.
‘I made a mistake.’
Since childhood.
It was not something a three-year-old child should say.
Yet Biatone’s reaction that followed was decidedly strange.

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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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