WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

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◈ The Pushover Young Lord in a Romance Fantasy Won't Take It Anymore ◈

Chapter 22: Get Lost

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"I hated one person unilaterally."

His voice trembled despite his attempt to sound calm.

Lucia held her breath as she stared at the man before her.

"I was steeped in self-pity, cursing and blaming that person... I shoved all the responsibility onto them. I said it was all your fault that we ended up like this."

Astin von Cardenos.

The Empire's infamous wastrel, a man said to be arrogant beyond measure and brutally violent.

Yet none of that could be seen in Astin now.

He looked so fragile, as though he might shatter at any moment.

"I realized it much, much too late. Every fault and every responsibility belonged to me."

His jaw trembled faintly as he swallowed and looked away.

To Lucia, the man called the grand duke's son looked unbearably small.

She wanted to comfort him somehow.

"You realized it and reflected on it, even if it was late. You just need to sincerely apologize to that person. If it's you now, Young Lord, I'm sure they'll accept it."

"I can't anymore."

"...What?"

"I can't apologize."

Lucia's lips parted slightly.

It wasn't stubbornness. It was resignation.

Guilt kept buried in one's heart only hardened into a knot.

This man had no hope left, only regret.

The heaviest shackles were not forged from iron, but from regret.

Astin, as he was now, was a frail man shaped by regret.

Someone who had hated and maligned a person, only to be parted from them by death and realize their worth.

Someone who had lost them forever, unable to tell them how he felt no matter how much he regretted it or struggled.

Lucia's crimson eyes wavered faintly.

She wanted to ask whether he had once had a lover he had lost to death. But she closed her mouth.

She couldn't understand the depth of Astin's loss.

What sort of person had wounded him so deeply?

A thought flashed through Lucia's mind.

Could the reason he had become obsessed with Azelin and gone astray have been because of that person?

Someone who made him see that person in others, someone who made him feel endlessly small...

Why he treated people in such twisted ways, why he had drifted apart from his family and constantly acted like a wastrel.

That person had seeped into Astin's world, whether he realized it or not.

Lucia didn't dare let pity show in her eyes. She steadied her voice.

"That person..."

Her voice trembled ever so slightly.

"What kind of person were they?"

A complicated look passed through Astin's eyes.

He pulled back his wandering gaze and barely managed to speak.

"They are a good person, difficult to put into words. Since I hated someone like that, I'm a pathetic person."

Only after losing a good person did he regret it bitterly and suffer alone.

The man's true self, hidden beneath all the scandals surrounding him, was so unbearably sad that Lucia spoke her mind without realizing it.

"You poor thing."

Astin turned his head at her careless remark.

His face showed surprise. He looked frustrated at having exposed a weakness he hadn't wanted anyone to see.

"What about me is pitiful?"

Lucia pressed her lips together.

His act of indifference looked like a sulk meant to hide his hurt.

It pained her to see him push away even comfort.

Lucia shook her head, but spoke firmly.

"No. I just mean... don't keep everything bottled up from now on. You look pitiful."

Lucia sincerely wished this wounded man could hurt a little less.

The cool night breeze passed between them.

* * *

"Not here either."

"Where on earth did she go? She didn't leave the ballroom already, did she?"

"Lady Sia! Where are you?!"

The master of the Patrian Merchant Guild, Raven, the second son of House Winterhardt, and Crown Prince Zenon.

The three men swept their sharp gazes through every corner of the ballroom.

There was no need to say whom they were looking for.

"Oh my, look at them. They're still looking for Lady Lucia."

"Goodness. From His Highness the Crown Prince to the young lord of Winterhardt, they're all so desperate to find her."

The young ladies covered their mouths with fans as they watched with interest.

Their faces, filled with envy and jealousy, soon sparkled with anticipation.

"Aren't you looking forward to the debutante ball that's about to begin?"

"Exactly. Lady Lucia will undoubtedly be the star. Who do you think she'll choose as her partner?"

The debutante ball, called the highlight of the Founding Festival.

Officially, it was a debut stage for young ladies entering high society for the first time.

But everyone who knew anything knew the truth.

Among the nobility, the debutante ball was regarded as a ceremony for choosing one's future spouse.

The marriage rate between men and women who became each other's first partners at past debutante balls was overwhelmingly high.

The first partner at a debutante ball is a future life partner.

Statistics accumulated over countless years had solidified into an unshakable tradition.

Lady Lucia, the acknowledged star of high society.

Whose hand would she take and promise herself to for life?

It was only an old tradition, but that was precisely why the young ladies were so interested.

"The deputy tower master of the Sirius Mage Tower? Or perhaps the master of the Patrian Merchant Guild?"

"I think it'll be the young lord of House Winterhardt. Lady Lucia seems like she'd like the strong, masculine type."

The young ladies laughed and fussed as though it were their own affair.

The Empire's most prominent men were desperate to win one woman.

It was the sort of development one only saw in romance novels. The young ladies' cheeks flushed pink.

"But isn't it already decided? No matter how impressive the candidates are."

"You're right. His Highness the Crown Prince is searching for her so desperately. What young lady in the world could refuse his hand?"

In the end, the young ladies' attention settled on one person.

Lucia would naturally choose Crown Prince Zenon.

His face, wealth, authority, dignity, affection, and his overwhelming status as the Empire's next ruler.

Even a star of high society could not simply ignore him.

Lady Lucia and Crown Prince Zenon's debutante ball would become the romance of the century, remembered throughout the history of high society.

The young ladies were thrilled as they imagined the romance that would soon become reality.

"...Lady Lucia!"

The young ladies turned at Crown Prince Zenon's shout.

Beyond the arched doorway leading to the balcony, the hem of a red dress fluttered. It was Lucia.

As if they had planned it, the three men rushed toward her.

The young ladies squealed behind their fans.

"Lady Lucia. Where on earth have you been? We've been searching for you for quite some time!"

"You disappeared from sight, and I was terribly worried. Nothing happened, did it?"

"Lady Sia. I missed you so much. I was so anxious that you might have already gone home."

A barrage of questions and sighs of relief poured over her.

Lucia put on a deliberately polite smile. The black uniform had already been returned to its owner.

"I just stepped out for some air. It was stifling with so many people inside."

The three men's stiff expressions relaxed, and they sighed in relief.

Their gazes were fixed solely on Lucia.

Looking into her ruby-colored eyes, they each believed they were meeting her gaze.

"......"

Lucia's gaze was actually fixed beyond their shoulders.

As though spellbound, it had settled on the handsome blond young man standing there.

* * *

The walk back to the ballroom was short.

The terrace's cool, silent air was instantly replaced by heat and noise.

Lucia gave me a slight bow, then disappeared into the crowd.

Back in her splendid dress, she vanished among the countless noble young ladies.

"Brother! Where have you been?"

Celine, who had been lingering near a pillar, hurried over. I gently placed a hand on her head.

"I went out for some air. Nothing happened while I was gone, right?"

"No! I was alone, though."

Celine nodded with a bright smile.

The longer I looked at her, the more my hand moved on its own.

"You adorable little thing."

"Mmph? Everyone's watching..."

"Let them watch."

"Mmm..."

I kneaded both of Celine's cheeks like soft rice cakes.

Ah, this was healing. It felt as though all my useless thoughts were drifting away.

There was a grounding technique for stabilizing the mind, wasn't there? From now on, I should squeeze Celine's cheeks whenever I was bored.

When I let go, Celine rubbed her cheeks with both hands. She looked up at me with faint resentment.

I hadn't even squeezed that hard. What a fuss.

Suddenly, Celine's eyes lit up.

"Oh, right, Brother! You know the debutante ball is starting soon, right?"

"Yeah."

The finale that would close out the Founding Festival was the debutante ball.

Lucia was obviously the star. It wasn't really an event that had anything to do with us.

According to the original story, Lucia would pick the Crown Prince out of her four men.

"What should I do? I don't have a partner to dance with..."

"It's better if you don't. Whoever that bastard is, he'll die by my hand."

I felt relieved inside.

Rather than let her dance with some man who had crawled in from who knew where, it was better for her to watch.

Of course, keeping Celine a mere spectator at her debut would only mean I was imposing my will on her.

I gently stroked her little head.

"You don't have to worry. You can dance with me."

"With you, Brother?"

"You don't want to? I don't have anyone to dance with either."

"No, no!"

Celine vigorously shook her head.

"I'd love that! Absolutely!"

"Ahem!"

Someone cleared their throat right beside us.

Only then did I notice an unwelcome guest standing next to Celine.

A guy who made my fists clench just by looking at him. Damian, the deputy tower master of the Sirius Mage Tower.

He had his hands neatly clasped together, and his cheeks were red like those of a shy boy again. He was fucking unbearable to look at, seriously.

"Young Lord Astin."

Damian bent at the waist in a crisp ninety-degree bow.

"Please forgive my rudeness earlier. I believe I went mad for a moment."

"What are you doing?"

"I humbly beg the truly noble young lord to consider my earnest plea, my prostrate entreaty, my request that you graciously permit me the first dance with the radiant Lady Celine, and I strongly urge you to give that request favorable consideration and kindly grant it!"

"This guy's completely insane."

It was too much to dismiss as a joke.

The deputy tower master had cast aside his dignity and bowed just for the chance to dance once. His eyes were more serious and earnest than ever.

So I answered immediately, without even one second of hesitation.

"No. Get lost."

"...!"

Damian's body stiffened completely. His lips trembled, and his pupils wavered wildly.

Of course, that was none of my concern.

"Celine, let's go."

"W-Wait!"

Damian suddenly grabbed my wrist.

I barely held back the urge to punch him immediately.

"Truly noble Young Lord Astin! Please, I beg you! It is the wish of my lifetime! Please let me hold Lady Celine's hand, if only once!"

"What if I let you hold her hand once in exchange for cutting off your wrist?"

"Gladly!"

"This guy really is a lunatic. Get lost, you woman-crazy bastard."

"Th-Then what about asking Lady Celine? Isn't the opinion of the person involved the most important? You and I, Young Lord Astin! Have her choose which of us she likes better."

What was this, Produce 101?

Still, I was curious, so I looked down at Celine. Damian's gaze followed mine and fixed itself on her.

Celine flinched, then looked between us and hesitated for a moment. Obviously, even that hesitation was only out of politeness.

Even if Damian offered her a fortune, Celine would choose me.

After a brief moment of thought, Celine pointed at someone with her fingertip.

Not me, but Damian.

"...Celine?"

"Kyaaaaaaaaaah!!!!! Lady Celine!! I knew it! As expected, you also have feelings for me-"

Flick!

Celine raised the finger she had been holding sideways toward Damian straight up.

It wasn't her index finger.

It was her middle finger.

"Please get lost!"

Footnotes:

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