WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
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◈ The Protagonist of a Romance Fantasy Only Likes Me ◈
Chapter 23: Saintess Marigold. (7)
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14.
“Winner: Lancel Dante!”
The first, second, and third rounds of the main tournament.
Having witnessed Lancel Dante’s unstoppable advance with their own eyes, the people of the Empire no longer doubted him.
Lancel Dante dominated every match. Naturally, word spread that betting on him would make you a fortune.
“Bet on Lancel Dante, and your silver coins multiply!”
Around that time, the pilgrimage party began keeping their heads down in the streets of the imperial capital.
People who had never been disregarded by anyone were now busy avoiding others. Even they had to be cautious of the nobles furious over losing money.
Duke Mayril Dun’s shouts rang out every day.
“You couldn’t even beat one man and let things get this bad? And you call yourselves knights who serve the gods?!”
“Get Lancel Dante eliminated at once!”
At first, the knights of the pilgrimage party had eagerly followed those orders. Now, however, they were gradually realizing something.
That it might be impossible to defeat him by normal means.
“Win by any means necessary. Any means!”
The knights of the pilgrimage party eagerly put Duke Mayril Dun’s words into practice.
‘So he means no matter what it takes?’
A petty victory was better than an honorable defeat. That was the shared opinion of the pilgrimage party’s knights.
They tampered with the things Lancel Dante would use in a match, making them flimsy. They deliberately blocked the carriage carrying him to delay his arrival at the arena.
Of course, none of that affected him in the slightest. Having lived for several centuries, Lancel had grown inured to this sort of thing.
Eventually, they did not hesitate to make genuine attempts on his life.
In the imperial capital, there were plenty of people willing to put a crossbow bolt through a nobleman’s knee for enough money. Requests flooded the Thieves’ Guild, asking that Lancel Dante be made unable to hold a sword or walk for a while.
Of course, those attempts achieved nothing, either.
Lancel Dante always appeared perfectly unharmed, toyed with the pilgrimage party’s knights like children, and went home.
“Today’s winner is Lancel Dante once again!”
==========
Fame Event: The eightieth church has been built!
Marigold’s Karma decreases by 1 point.
==========
The number of statues of the Saintess erected in the imperial capital had finally exceeded eighty.
It was clearly good news, but Lancel had noticed something strange.
‘The trend is moving much faster than I expected.’
Building statues of the Saintess was not difficult if one put their mind to it.
But it was not easy to make worshippers gather at every statue and pray every day.
That was why, during the previous Iteration, Lancel had failed to lower Marigold’s Karma by even fifty despite spending ten whole years on it.
But there were already eighty now. After only two years.
No matter how he thought about it, it was fast.
Far too fast.
‘Why is this going so well?’
Before long, Lancel found the answer in Marigold.
* * *
“Go after Lancel Dante!”
“Grab that bastard already!”
It was the day of the fifth match in the Knight Tournament’s main round.
Thanks to the people whose creativity was impressive in one particular respect, the arena resembled a ship’s deck. The knights were tangled together in a chaotic melee, fighting until only one person remained standing.
The swords had not been sharpened, but a proper blow could still draw blood and break bones.
“Aaagh!”
“M-My finger!”
As cries of pain erupted from all around, Lancel sensed something different.
Among the endlessly clashing knights, one man in a silver helmet that concealed his face was quietly watching Lancel.
“Lancel Dante. I bear you no grudge.”
A familiar voice.
“Nerp?”
The man visibly flinched.
“How do you know my name?”
“Well... there are ways of knowing things.”
“...?”
Lancel brushed it off with an awkward answer. He could hardly say it was because of the previous Iteration.
‘Why did someone who should be beside the First Imperial Princess crawl out here?’
Nerp, the Silver Knight.
He was one of the people who had learned swordsmanship from the same master as Lancel. In other words, he was Lancel’s senior disciple.
Of course, Lancel was the only one who remembered that.
“I didn’t think you were the sort to enter a place like this. What brings you here?”
“...I was asked to make you withdraw from the tournament. Do not resent me. It is all for the Empire.”
“You’re honest, at least.”
Lancel quietly stroked his chin.
The First Imperial Princess would not have ordered this. Someone must have asked her. Perhaps the Imperial Household Archbishop or the captain of the pilgrimage party. There were so few suspicious candidates that he almost wondered whether there was someone else behind it.
“Lancel Dante. I will break you without causing you too much pain and send you home.”
Nerp drew his gleaming blade from his waist.
‘It’s been a while. Let’s see what you can do.’
As they walked toward each other, both men vanished in an instant.
Clang!
Sparks flew amid the sharp crash. Compressed air burst into a shockwave around their blades as they collided in midair.
Lancel felt his hand tingle. This was strength on an entirely different level from the fakes he had met so far. Good. This was what a real knight should be like.
“So you’re not entirely a fraud, Lancel Dante, just as I heard.”
“You aren’t either.”
Nerp’s blade thrust toward Lancel like an awl.
As he deflected the blade that seemed to curve in like a snake, Lancel gave a bitter smile.
‘Even the way watching him makes me sick is the same.’
It was the Nerp from his memories. His swordsmanship and temper had always clashed with Lancel’s.
The man had been born with an extraordinary talent for cutting and stabbing people. It was doubtful what he would have become if not a knight.
In the past, Lancel had struggled against Nerp’s sword every time. But now...
“...!”
Lancel charged straight in.
He barely slipped past the path of Nerp’s blade.
Grabbing the man by the collar, he hurled him to the ground with all his strength. The deck’s wood shattered, scattering splinters.
“Urgh!”
Nerp, who had landed on his back, hurriedly tried to rise, but it was already too late. Lancel’s blade was pointed at his throat.
“I’m bleeding. What are you going to do about this?”
Frowning, Lancel pointed at his chest. Nerp’s sword tip had grazed it, leaving a long cut.
His helmet had fallen off, and Nerp could only stare at him in disbelief.
* * *
“Does it feel like it’s getting better?”
“Maybe?”
“How about now? What about now?”
“Hmm.”
Marigold had rushed over when she heard Lancel was injured. For thirty minutes already, she had been straining with all her might to squeeze out a Heal.
“Nngh!”
As Marigold desperately tried to bring out her healing power, Baron Evil Shen, seated on the driver’s box, spoke up.
“The more I think about it, the more miraculous it seems.”
“...?”
“Miss Mary, I mean. I don’t think she’s an ordinary person. You have no idea how many people gather whenever she prays at dawn these days.”
So she had become popular?
Lancel had never been diligent enough to accompany Marigold to her dawn prayers, so he listened with only half an ear.
After all, Baron Evil Shen’s worship of Marigold had begun months ago.
“They say sick people feel a little better just from listening to Miss Mary pray. I was doubtful at first, too, but seeing how the rumors have spread, I’m starting to think it’s true. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”
“...That sounds like some kind of cult.”
Marigold’s morning prayer was nothing special.
She simply entered the Saintess Church in the center of the imperial capital, muttered the prayers she knew, and left.
In fact, she seemed short on variety. After hearing it a few times, anyone could tell that she kept repeating the same lines.
And that alone made people feel better?
If it was true, Marigold really would be a Saintess descended upon this age.
Lancel dismissed it as Baron Evil Shen’s usual fussing.
“Not long ago, I twisted my ankle, but after I went to watch Miss Mary pray, I think it got a little better. Ah, I’m telling the truth.”
“Who said you weren’t?”
“You should go see it when you have time, too. It’s truly miraculous.”
Lancel quietly watched Mary, who was pouring all her strength into using Heal before him.
‘One hundred and twenty left, then.’
* * *
When he returned home and began taking off his clothes, he noticed something and froze.
“What is this?”
Lancel ran a hand over the wound Nerp had left.
His chest, which had been stinging, was now almost completely healed. Only a faint bloodstain remained on the clothes he had been wearing.
It had not been a deep wound, but it was not something that should have vanished in half a day, either.
Lancel took a dagger from his coat and hurried to find Marigold. He shook awake the girl sleeping on the bed.
“Huh?”
“Forget ‘huh.’ Want to try using Heal?”
Lancel pointed to the small wound on his palm. He had just made it by cutting himself with the dagger. Half asleep, Marigold stretched out her arm toward the direction of Lancel’s voice.
“Mmm...!”
She narrowed her brow and began to concentrate. Marigold thought using Heal simply meant forcing out every ounce of strength.
Naturally, the wound showed no change for a while.
But after about three minutes...
“...!”
The bleeding slowly stopped, and the wound began to close.
The pace was painfully slow, but it was clearly healing.
‘It’s Heal.’
Of course, the effect was minuscule.
It was very different from the Heal in the game, where a flash of light could make even someone on the brink of death perfectly healthy.
But it was Heal.
It was unmistakably Heal.
For the first time in two hundred years, Lancel had witnessed the existence of white magic.
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