SSS-Class Sui**de Hunter - Chapter 91
—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————
Episode 91. Falling In (1)
1
Last year.
There were two noble ladies upon whom the Emperor bestowed a Bestowed Name.
…Sylvia Evanail, Baron’s daughter…….
…In the midst of the yellow garden, a thread of golden light bloomed…….
…From this day forward, the people shall call you thus…….
The Golden Silk Plum, noble lady.
The female protagonist of this world.
…Labiel Ivansia, Duke’s daughter…….
…A flower gilded in silver, lest she lower her head…….
…Child. The subjects of The Empire shall henceforth…….
The Silver Lily, noble lady.
The villain lady of this apocalypse.
Noble daughters typically receive a Bestowed Name when they hold a Debutante Ball, where royalty or high nobility who hosted the ball gifts them a new name.
The prestige of a lady’s Bestowed Name shifts depending on how exalted the giver is. A name gifted by a Baron carries different weight than one from a Count.
The most colorful Bestowed Names are naturally those bestowed by The Empire’s Emperor. To receive a name from His Majesty is the glory of one’s house and the honor of oneself.
With two such ladies in the same Academy, a tempest was bound to descend.
‘And yet.’
I looked at the Crown Prince. He held the Heresy Inquisitor—my colleague, who had taken on the role of the Golden Silk Plum lady—pressed against his chest. He held her so tightly that the fabric of her dress clung to his fingertips like fish scales.
‘For a crown prince of a nation, isn’t he being far too frivolous?’
Something about it didn’t sit right with me.
Our eyes met. I was about to look away—his gaze struck me as rather absurd—when I noticed something odd in his expression too.
Contempt. Fury. Disdain.
Negative emotions lurked beneath his gaze.
“…You survived as well.”
Huh?
Was he speaking to me? I was the only one holding his eye at the moment, so apparently so. But his voice sounded like someone chewing spinach three days past its expiration date. It reeked of bad luck.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
I mimicked a formal tone, drawing on historical dramas I’d seen.
“I have safely preserved my life.”
“Fortune smiles on you.”
“How could a humble servant’s fortune be anything but a reflection of Your Highness’s grace? This too is the blessing of the Crown Prince.”
…….
The Crown Prince’s finely drawn brows slid downward. I had just subtly suggested: [You orchestrated the assassination attempt yourself, didn’t you?] Like a thief with guilty feet, he had no choice but to flinch at an otherwise ordinary greeting.
“Your words exceed measure. Would you suggest that my grace extends to all happenings in this world? That you preserved your own life, that you protected Sylvia from the assassins’ blades—these are your own fortunes. I offer my thanks.”
Wow.
He appeared to step back and offer praise, but listening closely, it was anything but. He was downplaying my actions not as ‘skill’ but as mere ‘fortune.’ I wanted to think otherwise. Could it be that the Crown Prince was gauging my threat right now?
“The Golden Silk Plum lady is my master.”
In that moment.
“And I am hers.”
My lips moved without my consent.
“Your Highness. How can a single blade protecting its master be ascribed to fortune? A tool merely performs its function. I beg you to withdraw such excessive praise.”
I was flustered. Truly, genuinely—I had planned to brush it off and retreat. What good would come from a crown prince and a household steward quarreling? And yet my tongue had moved so smoothly, so readily.
‘Wait. Have I finally lost my mind?’
Just as the fog began to cloud my thoughts, a voice sounded.
[Your Immersion in this character deepens.]
What?
[Your current Immersion Rate is 1%.]
Insane?
“…Truly, I would sew your lips shut if I could. You talk far too much.”
While I was internally cursing myself over and over, the Crown Prince’s face contorted. Humiliation. Shame. The very picture of barely restraining an outburst.
I wanted nothing more than to let loose a torrent of profanity myself. Because seeing the Crown Prince’s expression crumple brought a strangely refreshing satisfaction to some corner of my heart. The impulse to savor his discomfort came before the thought to stop. Insane. This is insane.
“It seems noble houses of Baron rank these days hire servants based on their tongues rather than their character. His Majesty would truly lament such times, were he to know.”
Wait.
Hold on. You blonde ramen noodles—Crown Prince of this world, whatever. Stop provoking me. Please don’t touch [my] emotions. This Stage, this one…….
“That cannot be so. How could the Emperor’s vision ever grow clouded? As Your Highness continues to flourish and accumulate virtue here at the Academy day by day, surely His Majesty’s affection only deepens.”
In other words: I hope your father learns you’ve been employing assassins. But parsing that interpretation hardly mattered now.
I had grasped the trap of this Stage.
And I understood why the Holy Paladin, the Count, and the Hunters who managed this Tower’s economy and security had struggled so and failed to clear it.
‘As time goes on, those two—they seem to get swallowed whole by the concept!’
[Your Immersion with this character deepens.]
This can’t happen.
[Your current Immersion Rate is 2%.]
This is madness.
“Hmph. Enough. To trade words with you is beneath my dignity. Regarding what transpired this evening, I shall conduct a thorough investigation.”
“Is there anyone at this Academy more trustworthy than Your Highness? I implore you—please uncover the masterminds behind this attack and mete out Exemplary Punishment.”
“Of course.”
Ah.
‘So that’s what it was!’
This was the Stage’s defining feature!
The Crown Prince glanced sideways at me, his gaze sharp as a blade.
“You seem quite shaken by tonight’s attack, despite not being in Sylvia’s company. There’s no telling if more conspirators might still be lurking about. For tonight, I shall personally see to her protection—see that you understand.”
“Your Highness.”
My tongue had evolved into an automatic responder.
“Forgive my presumption, but in times of crisis such as these, one must seek rest in the place where the mind feels most at ease. My mistress would surely prefer to spend the evening in her Private Quarters as usual.”
“…Are you suggesting that my presence does not bring her comfort?”
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I merely speak the truth as I know it.”
Save me.
Please, just save me from this.
[Your Immersion with this character deepens.]
[Your current Immersion Rate is 3%.]
Help me! Help me!
-Hey, you… what are you doing?
Sword Master! Or rather, Master Sword Master!
-Huh? Have you lost your mind?
I’m about to actually lose it—please, do something about this!
-Uh… what exactly am I supposed to do?
I don’t know. Just snap me out of it somehow, I’m begging you!
-Hmm. So I can say anything at all, no matter how crude?
Say whatever you want—just make me focus again, please!
-Alright then.
The Backhoe Spirit let out a snicker.
-Zombie, you seem to hate Viper, but the moment you get the chance, you’re doing embarrassing things like you’re the protagonist in her fantasies….
Wait.
‘That’s enough. I’ve regained my senses. Don’t say another word.’
-Fine.
At the Backhoe Spirit’s shameless jab, my mind snapped back into focus. What kind of devious ghost acts like this? Even though he said anything was fair game, the wretch actually meant to unleash a torrent of pure verbal chaos. At least the Immersion Rate that had been climbing like wildfire screeched to a halt because of it.
“…….”
Meanwhile.
The Heresy Inquisitor, her face buried in the Crown Prince’s chest, was equally far from normal.
“……? Mmm……?”
The Heresy Inquisitor tilted her head, shaking it back and forth. For the first time, I glimpsed an expression of bewilderment on her face. The universally acknowledged number-one lunatic, pure natural psychopath—she did not understand the feeling coursing through her now.
Thud.
So the Heresy Inquisitor pushed away from the Crown Prince’s chest and broke free from his embrace. The Crown Prince, who had been locked in a staring contest with me, looked startled and turned to regard the Golden Rose Young Lady—no, the Heresy Inquisitor.
“Sylvia. What’s come over you?”
“Hm? …Uhhh? O-oh?”
The Heresy Inquisitor tilted her head once more.
“How curious.”
“What strikes you as curious, Sylvia?”
“For the first time in my life, I am experiencing an unfamiliar emotion.”
The Heresy Inquisitor laughed softly.
“My heart is racing!”
“…….”
“It throbs, it pounds. Oh. Ah yes. Indeed! How truly wondrous…….”
The Heresy Inquisitor closed both eyes and pressed her hands to her chest. The Heresy Inquisitor—the Golden Rose Young Lady—wore a faint smile, as though listening to a beautiful piece of classical music.
“It seems my heart genuinely cares for you!”
“S-Sylvia…….”
The Crown Prince’s eyes welled up. His expression was that of one who had poured emotion as broth over gratitude as rice.
Had I not hurried to break my Immersion then, I might have felt jealousy at that moment—but fortunately, mercifully so, I did not. I came to my senses, belated though it was.
“My lady.”
I spoke with emphasis, drawing out the words. The Heresy Inquisitor’s closed eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me.
“Let us return to the Dormitory. His Highness the Crown Prince has graciously vowed to uncover the truth behind this assault himself. The hour grows late, and you must return to your quarters to rest. Tomorrow, after all, your life must continue as before, must it not?”
We possessed not merely a “role” but also a “purpose.”
The purpose of Stage Clear.
We could not afford to forget this.
“Ah. Right. Indeed, I had.”
The Heresy Inquisitor blinked. She grasped my meaning at once. She gathered the hem of her skirt and bowed toward the Crown Prince.
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness. However, I shall return to my quarters with my attendant.”
“What?”
“May you have a pleasant evening, Your Highness. I shall take my leave now!”
Leaving the bewildered Crown Prince in her wake, the Heresy Inquisitor turned and strode from the Warehouse without hesitation. Her footsteps were light, almost buoyant.
Behind us, the Crown Prince called out, “Sylvia! Wait, Sylvia?” but the Heresy Inquisitor simply walked down the Corridor with a serene smile, never glancing back.
“…This has become rather complicated.”
I fell into step beside the Heresy Inquisitor and muttered under my breath.
“Immersion, of all things—I never anticipated such a trap. Blast it.”
I had wondered why the Count and the Holy Paladin had failed. Now it made sense.
“Aha-ha.”
The Heresy Inquisitor wore a smile whose meaning escaped me. Tap. Tap. Our footsteps echoed in the Corridor where moonlight cast pale shadows. A human’s footfall, I thought, resembles a beating heart.
“This is certainly an unforeseen complication. Sa Wang, how much did your Immersion Rate climb just now?”
“It shot up three percent before I could stop it. I barely managed to contain it.”
“Remarkable! Mine spiked to ten percent immediately!”
I was speechless.
‘Ten percent? 10%?’
Dread washed over me. A mere brief encounter with the Crown Prince—and already a tenth of my self had been infected.
The situation was far graver than I had supposed.
This was why even ordinary daily life was nothing more than walking through a poisonous mist. Contaminated slowly, imperceptibly—and once you came to your senses, escape was already impossible. A Poison Mist that corrodes from within.
If one lost focus for even a moment.
One would be swallowed whole by this world’s Romance in an instant.
“…We cannot proceed like this.”
I opened my mouth. My voice came slow and measured. Yes—I was afraid.
Of losing myself. Of the possibility of losing myself.
Because that has always been the thing I fear most.
“We must establish a Safety Mechanism between us.”
“A Safety Mechanism?”
“Yes.”
I carefully caressed the hilt of my Short Dagger. The texture of the Blue Tape wrapped around it brushed against my fingertips. The familiar sensation brought a measure of calm.
“We establish a keyword. No matter the circumstance, no matter how dire, when this keyword is spoken, we can regain our senses. For instance—if I say peach, you respond with carrot. A simple exchange.”
“Ah. A secret code between the two of us!”
The Heresy Inquisitor laughed.
“I agree completely! I’ve seen something similar in a drama. So which words shall we choose as our code?”
Tap-tap.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the Corridor. Heels—a woman’s heels striking the floor with a precarious rhythm. Behind them came the heavy tread of multiple servants following in her wake. A single figure, attended by a retinue, drew near.
Moonlight fell.
Sharp heels trampled the moon’s reflection on the stone.
Hair as silver as moonlight itself. The Daughter of the House of White Lilies.
The Duke’s daughter approached, her retainers in tow. Anger clouded her brow—she was furious about something. Her eyes narrowed, fixing upon us with unmistakable hostility.
“Oh.”
The Heresy Inquisitor let out a sharp breath.
“Sa Wang.”
The Heresy Inquisitor rose onto her toes to whisper directly into my ear.
She parted her lips.
“…I believe I rather dislike that woman.”
Whisper.
Her voice was, at first blush, exactly as it always was.
“…….”
I turned my head slowly to regard her.
“Mm.”
The Heresy Inquisitor spun, and her long Dress billowed outward, stirring a small whirlwind. A breath of warmth brushed against my chest.
“I’m curious, Sa Wang.”
Tsk. The Heresy Inquisitor stopped in his tracks and spread both hands wide, folding all fingers except his index fingers, which alone remained bare and exposed.
“Ah, but I am most curious.”
He pressed his two index fingers to the corners of his mouth, lifting them upward, his smile as constant as ever.
“Tell me—what expression am I wearing at this very moment?”
And yet.
His eyes were not smiling.
[Your Immersion with this character deepens.]
[Current status.]
[Your Immersion Rate is now 4%.]
S-Rank Hunter: The Dead Must Live (Serialized)
Author │ Shin Noa
Publisher │ Kim Ju-hyung
Publishing House │ J Plus Media Co., Ltd.
Marketing │ Han Jae-hyuk
Address │ 204, 288 Digital-ro, Guro-gu, Seoul (Guro-dong, Daelung Post Tower 1st)
Email │ [email protected]
Website │ www.jayplemedia.com
ⓒ Shin Noa 2019
※ This work is published by J Plus Media Co., Ltd. under contract with the copyright holder. The contents may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the publisher and author.
Violation of this will result in criminal and civil legal liability.
—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————