The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 50

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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 50
A place soaked in the sweat and tears of knights. And yet utterly foreign to her, this Training Ground.
At its center, Cecilia stood motionless, gripping a single gun.
Dressed, moreover, in loose men’s clothing.
There was only one reason she found herself in this state, caught up in this ordeal.
‘Damn the Emperor! I hope lightning strikes him dead where he stands!’
Even knowing the odds of lightning striking a person were one in two hundred eighty thousand, Cecilia genuinely wished for it.
‘Or turn back time. Better yet, go back to when I faced the Emperor—no, before the banquet even started.’
Clinging to an even more futile hope, she recalled what had happened at the banquet.
After Lien had brought her near the Banquet Hall and vanished, by the time she returned to the hall alone,
the Emperor, now standing on the dais once more, had begun his momentous announcement.
“It seems you have all enjoyed the banquet sufficiently, so now I should like to make an announcement.”
…….
“And that is—I shall hold a Hunting Tournament!”
At last, the succession declaration. The faces of those who had been waiting for it grew strange.
But the Emperor pressed on, undeterred.
“Do you recall the previous Hunting Tournament? Last year, the Crown Prince’s Swordsmanship tutor won. The year before, the Crown Princess’s guard captain.”
‘What’s this about a Hunting Tournament, out of nowhere?’
She had planned to rush through the succession approval and slip away the moment it was declared.
Cecilia, having lost interest, was casting about half-heartedly for Miguel, when the Emperor suddenly proclaimed in a loud voice:
“I am inclined to grant the victor of this Hunting Tournament a single wish—any wish whatsoever. Why, even one that shapes the very future of this Empire.”
The implication of his words was unmistakable.
He was saying he would name the winner of this Hunting Tournament as his Heir.
“Since the prize is so grand, I am thinking of conducting this tournament by teams. What do you all think?”
A thin smile crossed the Emperor’s face, but the mood in the hall froze in an instant.
‘Teams, he says.’
If the Crown Princess’s team won, the Crown Princess would be victorious. If the Crown Prince’s team won, the Crown Prince would triumph.
In other words, all manner of dangerous sabotage would soon unfold.
Immediately after the Emperor’s shocking pronouncement, the Crown Princess contorted her face in dismay. The Crown Prince’s expression was unclear, but it was certainly not a positive reaction.
And there, standing in more shock than either of them, was another person.
“Once your Heir is determined, come to me directly. I shall approve you at once. Though I do hope you will attend the Coronation Ceremony.”
In other words, she would have to attend the Hunting Tournament where the Heir would be decided.
‘Why did I agree so readily? So this was his plot all along!’
‘And a Hunting Tournament, no less. He’s telling me to go to that dangerous place now?’
It wasn’t the animals that would be hunted—it was Cecilia, in a situation perfectly arranged for her to be prey.
“Ah, and since this may well become a numbers game, I shall limit teams to five members or fewer. Furthermore, as in the previous tournament, Magic will be restricted.”
He had even placed a cap on the number of knights.
‘This is essentially his way of giving me permission to die.’
At this point, it was as though the Emperor had simply laid the stage for her demise.
And so, one week before the hastily scheduled Hunting Tournament,
she found herself in the Training Ground behind the Mansion, gun in hand.
Since she had never lifted a blade in her life until now, and could hardly suddenly wield a sword or bow for the tournament, the only weapon she could reasonably choose was a gun.
‘I suppose I should be grateful the gun exists at all.’
A gun was a precious weapon that required imperial approval to obtain, given its reliable destructive power, but it was hardly superior to swords and bows in every respect.
This was because guns in this world had very severe drawbacks.
‘Loading takes forever, and if you make a mistake during loading, the thing can actually explode.’
And that was not all. After firing once, the weapon became useless.
It was inferior even to what was commonly called an old-fashioned muzzle-loading musket.
She was examining the long, heavy iron barrel with displeasure when a voice even more displeased fell upon her head.
“I must advise you to reconsider this plan.”
Miguel, dressed in training clothes, was furrowing his brow.
From the moment she had said they ought to prepare for the Hunting Tournament, he had been voicing his firm opposition.
“Not only your intention to use a gun, but the Hunting Tournament itself is dangerous. This is the Monastery—not the Holy Land, not Weberdine. Who knows what threats may arise.”
“I know that well enough. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve already made a promise to His Majesty the Emperor.”
‘If I don’t attend, he won’t give me his approval.’
Cecilia, who wanted to go least of all, laughed with forced brightness.
“Besides, you know what my Divine Power is like! With this much defensive capability, I won’t be easily harmed, will I?”
Her earnest attempt at cheer finally made Miguel concede.
“Then we should at least raise your offensive power.”
Still sighing despite his surrender to her resolve, he carefully rolled up the long sleeves that hung down over her hands.
“I expected it wouldn’t suit you, Holiness, but the garment seems far too large. Shall I have new clothes brought for you at once?”
The only practical outdoor dress a noble woman could wear was a riding habit, and since she hadn’t brought one, she’d hastily commissioned a designer to make one.
Even the maid’s more practical outfit was a skirt, so she’d been forced to borrow Miguel’s training clothes.
But his frame was so imposing that the trousers dragged along the floor at the cuffs and required the waistband to be cinched multiple times, while the shirt hung loose at the shoulders. She looked rather like a child who’d raided her father’s wardrobe.
Yet she’d insisted on this outfit precisely because it felt good to shed a dress for the first time in ages and wear trousers again.
“The fit is loose, but I like how comfortable it is.”
“Still… I did wash them thoroughly, but since they’re something I’ve worn, it seems rather improper for you to wear them, Holiness.”
“Improper? They smell wonderful. They always smell so fresh—like you.”
Cecilia buried her nose in the sleeve cuff and murmured contentedly.
There was no trace of sweat—only the cool, crisp scent of forest timber.
‘Do beautiful people even smell different?’
Lost in such thoughts, she belatedly noticed an odd silence between them.
“Miguel?”
Remarkably, his cheeks had flushed a deep red.
‘Oh, perhaps that was a touch forward for such a chaste knight.’
It seemed flirting had become second nature to her—she did it as readily as breathing, even with Lien.
Miguel cleared his throat softly, collecting himself, then quickly changed the subject.
“Now then, let me show you how to grip the rifle.”
As Cecilia awkwardly pressed the stock against her shoulder and curved her finger toward the trigger, rough fingers brushed against hers.
Miguel adjusted her hand position precisely, then stepped behind her, drawing quite close.
“A rifle is a dangerous weapon—capable of taking prey’s life in a single shot—but its recoil is severe enough to make aiming itself difficult.”
“I understand.”
“So you’ll want to spread your legs about shoulder-width apart, and hold your shoulders firm like this to steady the barrel. Just a moment—forgive me.”
His solid chest pressed firmly against her back. In a posture that was nearly an embrace, he adjusted the rifle’s position.
‘This is rather close.’
She couldn’t tell whether her shoulders were stiffening because of the heavy rifle or because of Miguel.
“Once you’ve memorized this stance, you’ll be ready.”
At the soft voice that fell near her ear, Cecilia finally flinched and ducked her neck away.
‘He’s dangerous.’
Miguel was just as dangerous as Lien—perhaps more so, since where Lien’s advances were deliberate, Miguel’s were entirely unintentional, making him all the more hazardous.
“Your Holiness?”
“Oh, it’s nothing at all.”
‘Focus. Your life is on the line.’
Cecilia rebuked herself sharply and gathered her wits.
After Miguel taught her how to load and aim, the rather exacting knight promptly suggested live practice.
“Shall we try firing at the target board now?”
“Yes!”
About ten meters away sat a target board the size of a man’s torso.
‘Even if I can’t hit the center, I should at least graze the edges.’
Gripping the rifle as he’d shown her and adjusting her stance, Cecilia curled her finger around the trigger.
And pulled.
Bang!
A tremendous report rang out, and acrid gunpowder smoke billowed outward.
The recoil was far more violent than she’d anticipated, and Cecilia’s body lurched backward.
Thud!
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, her head struck the chest of Miguel, who was standing behind her in preparation for exactly such a contingency.
“Ow…”
“Are you hurt?”
Startled, Cecilia tilted her head back reflexively.
And found herself eye to eye with Miguel, who was looking down at her.
From a very close distance.

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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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