Let the Whales Fight, This Shrimp is Leaving! - Chapter 57

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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 57
Deyan hiccupped as he accepted the handkerchief, then scrubbed at his tears with the heel of his hand.
“Th-thank y-you.”
It was a strange feeling, altogether new.
Watching a full-grown man weep like a child was novel enough, but what astonished me most was that this blubbering figure was someone I’d dreaded meeting above all others on the battlefield.
‘……Did he hurt that badly?’
I did strike rather hard.
I glanced down at my own stinging palm.
In exchange for slapping Deyan’s cheek with all my strength, my hand had reddened in kind.
Naturally, my handprint was still visible on his cheek as a stark red mark—
‘—but it’s already faded.’
For a brief moment, I found myself envying his healing power.
“That’s enough now.”
I spoke with a hint of exasperation, and Deyan nodded obediently.
“I’m s-sorry. I’m t-trying to stop—”
Fresh tears spilled from his eyes as he trailed off.
He really did cry a lot.
When I saw that ten handkerchiefs were already damp with his tears, I peeled away another from the stack and handed it to him.
‘That makes eleven handkerchiefs now.’
The washerwomen would have quite the load today.
I made a mental note to send the servants something special in return for laundering so many handkerchiefs soaked with Deyan’s tears and snot.
I glanced at the clock.
‘Just five more minutes. I’ll grant him that.’
After all, I was the one who made him cry.
Five minutes later, Deyan was still hiccupping.
“Stop crying already. How are you managing to cry even more than I did?”
Even my patience—ocean-deep as it was—had its limits, and I’d reached them.
“Stop!”
“St-stop……”
At my stern voice, Deyan flinched, his shoulders trembling.
Watching him stumble to repeat my words, he looked exactly like a seven-year-old child.
“Blow your nose.”
“……Sniff.”
“And drink some water.”
He obediently took the water cup I offered and drained it in one gulp.
“Are you calmer now?”
Nod.
Deyan nodded, though somewhat awkwardly.
Having soothed this massive twenty-seven-year-old man through his sudden regression into infancy, something suddenly struck me.
‘Wait. He cried?’
I’d made an Immortal cry.
“You take a beating like that and still weep over a single slap to the cheek?”
Over just that one blow, no less.
Much as I had burst my emotional dam before him, Deyan seemed to have released a torrent of long-suppressed feelings.
The fact that I was the cause of that release gave me an oddly satisfying sense of superiority.
A kind of revenge, perhaps.
‘I’m going to tease him about this for ages.’
That he cried after being hit by me.
As I smiled widely, Deyan sensed something amiss and protested with a stubborn huff.
“I didn’t cry because the Ducal Princess hit me.”
“Liar.”
“I cried because of what you said to me.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Sure it is.”
“For some time now, I’ve thought of myself as no longer human. Injuries that should be fatal heal instantly—”
“Did you feel like a monster?”
“Yes.”
“You are somewhat monstrous.”
I spoke plainly, and Deyan gave me a sidelong glare.
His eyes held a resentful accusation—as if to ask whether I really had to say such a thing in this moment.
‘What do you want from me?’
But it was the truth, wasn’t it?
I felt no remorse for merely stating fact.
I shrugged brazenly, and watching that gesture, Deyan’s expression darkened.
Yet he soon relaxed his features and continued speaking, idly working the damp handkerchief in his hands.
“There were times I thought death would be preferable to the suffering. But since I couldn’t die, I chose to stop thinking, to avoid going mad.”
“Did that bring you peace?”
“Yes. I needed only to move dutifully as others directed me. I tried to suppress unnecessary thoughts and focus solely on what was required.”
He nodded curtly, seeming to retrace the path he had walked.
“You were right when you said I lack a self. I’m a fool.”
At his candid admission, I smiled quietly.
Most people would have offered kind words of reassurance at such a moment—
“Well, now you know better.”
But I saw no reason to do so.
‘Why should I be kind to an enemy knight deserving of death?’
It would be better for him, too, if we didn’t grow close.
Because eventually, he would have to die by my hand.
Human desire and expectation are endless—entangle us in bonds of attachment, and complications would surely arise.
What if I promised him death, moved to kill him, and he suddenly wanted to live, feeling betrayed by me?
At my answer, Deyan’s mouth fell open in confusion, and his gaze sharpened once more.
“I’ve felt it before, but you are truly singular in your strangeness.”
“I know. I’m aware I’m mad.”
“You act in ways others wouldn’t, and speak unexpectedly.”
“Are you complaining right now?”
What, did you expect comfort?
As I looked at him with a cheerful, playful smile, Deyan let out a hollow laugh—a tentative chuckle.
It was the most natural smile I’d seen from him.
The sharp, hardened impression that usually defined his features softened at once, and suddenly he looked like a different person entirely.
“I merely wanted to say that it feels…refreshing.”
“That’s just part of my natural charm.”
I casually turned my face away from him, shielding my expression.
I suddenly wasn’t certain what my own face was revealing.
I worried something vulnerable might show through.
‘I cannot afford to show any more weakness now.’
I quickly changed the subject.
“Giselle mentioned you were curious about where she conceals her weapons?”
“Ah, yes. But when did she tell you? There hardly seemed to be time for that.”
“Right after I brought you to the office.”
“……?”
Deyan blinked, clearly confused.
“We had a conversation with our eyes.”
“Is such a thing possible?”
“Yes.”
I nodded casually and lifted my tea cup.
Whether he believed me or not was his own affair.
“If you’re interested in Giselle’s Hidden Weapon Technique, would you like to spar with her?”
“Pardon?”
“A duel. After all, you’ve been wandering about restlessly with that sluggish feeling, haven’t you?”
Now his expression read: how do you even know that?
Having wept freely, something that had been knotted inside him seemed to have loosened, and his face had grown more expressive.
Though admittedly, it amounted to little more than his eyebrows moving slightly and his eyes shifting in tone.
“I’ve decided to exile Joaquin Perez to Cordi. He agreed readily enough to leave.”
“He’s come to his senses?”
“He came to his senses long ago. I simply locked him in the Prison for a few days while he was raging.”
“Can you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I shrugged casually, brazening it out.
“Besides, it was my order.”
I made certain it would be attributed to his command.
So don’t worry.
“……Ah.”
Deyan released a rather dim sound of understanding, a beat late in grasping my meaning.
“In any case, Joaquin Perez leaves for Cordi tomorrow morning. He was more compliant than I’d anticipated, which makes me somewhat uneasy, though I can predict how he’s likely to move going forward……”
As I trailed off, I turned my head to gaze at the map that occupied one wall.
Deyan’s eyes naturally followed mine to the map.
“In the meantime, there’s something I’d like you to do for me.”
“Simply command me.”
“I’ve already told you.”
“Pardon?”
I turned back to Deyan and smiled faintly.
“Spar with Giselle.”
And with the other knights as well.
Now that I knew he wouldn’t rampage at the sight of a little blood, I intended to begin extracting from him everything he had to offer.
“I want to see firsthand just how formidable the Swordsmanship of the Immortal is—the technique that turns the tide of war.”
Foolish as he might be, prone to tears as it seemed, he remained a knight spoken of as the strongest on the continent.
Accumulating strength against unforeseen trials—he struck me as the perfect opponent for such preparation.
Besides, Holdin’s errand would take considerable time to complete.
In that interval, I intended to use Deyan as a tool to sharply elevate the skills of my knights.
And train myself in the bargain.
* * *
Now she wants me to spar with the female knight.
Standing face to face with Idir in the Training Ground, Deyan released a low groan.
Today, Idir wore not a dress but a tunic and trousers, with boots that climbed to her calves.
Her hair was bound tightly back, and a sword hung at her hip—unmistakably the bearing of a knight.
‘I always knew she was no ordinary woman, but to think she’d wield a blade herself.’
Moreover, she intended to demonstrate their first sparring match personally.
Before all these gathered spectators.
Deyan looked uneasily at the crowd that had assembled.

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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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