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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: No More Mistakes
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"Yes. I won't make the same mistake again."
Prince Steven, head bowed, answered without realizing it was only for him.
Did that response please her, at least?
"The training grounds are fine and all, but the dust is too much. Shall we head inside for another cup of tea?"
Imperial Consort Isabel took the lead in changing the mood.
"Ah, sure."
"May I have something cool instead?"
The frozen nobles began to chatter lightly.
"Of course. Let's go inside. Espin, it was a pleasure seeing you today."
Imperial Consort Isabel led the nobles away.
I started to leave the area too but paused when I spotted one person.
The spirited Prince Steven from earlier was gone.
He looked just as downcast as Luciano, who had lost the match.
Steven's cowed demeanor tugged at me, but Luciano mattered more to me.
I simply turned away.
Yet as I walked off, leaving Prince Steven behind, a thought crossed my mind.
Was Imperial Consort Isabel keeping Prince Steven close because he was her beloved son?
Or was she merely seeing him as her tool?
'If that's the case, then he...'
* * *
"Prince!"
I arrived at Luciano's palace and searched everywhere.
"Prince!"
I'd given him a little time, thinking he'd have sorted out his intense emotions, but apparently not.
"Hey! Luciano!"
There was no sign of Luciano inside the palace.
He must have known I was looking and was deliberately avoiding me.
I understood his desire to be alone.
I got that he didn't want to face me right now.
But in moments like this, I couldn't bear to leave Luciano by himself.
He'd just sink into dark thoughts again if I did.
So I tracked him down in the end.
I found him huddled in a corner of the garden, knees drawn up.
'You can run, but it's still within the palace.'
I approached deliberately making noise with my footsteps, but he didn't lift his head.
"Prince."
Only after I plopped down right next to him did Luciano finally respond.
"I want to be alone."
"I know."
It was a plea to leave, but I didn't budge.
Luciano was always so mature, but every now and then—very rarely—he'd show this childish side.
I stared at his small, round head.
Even the back of it was pretty.
Must be because he was the male lead; nothing about him was unattractive.
"Go away. I said leave me alone."
Ah, there was one unattractive spot.
That naughty mouth of his, talking like that.
"No."
Only then did Luciano raise his head.
His slightly teary eyes glared at me irritably.
"I said go."
"And I said no."
Luciano's breathing grew ragged.
"You're too insensitive."
Look at this kid.
"No, I'm being kind."
I'm here to comfort you, after all.
"......"
What? Why?
Luciano turned his head away like he didn't want to talk.
"Are you upset about losing? Embarrassed?"
Whether there was a specific right answer or he just hated the question itself, Luciano shot me another glare.
Push any further, and he'd snap.
Before this already fragile kid could twist up even more inside, I got to the point.
"You did well today, Prince."
Luciano's shoulders twitched slightly.
He clenched his fists again, clearly still fuming no matter how he thought about it.
All sorts of thoughts must be swirling in his head.
Indignation.
Misery.
Even resentment.
He knew better than anyone that the match hadn't been fair.
"I lost. I didn't do well at all."
Unable to contain his anger, Luciano dropped his head again.
Even in those few words, I could feel the lump in his throat.
And it wasn't just about today's match.
It probably included last year, when he'd been denied the chance to learn swordsmanship.
If he'd kept training under proper knights, not just the knight commander...
The thought that he absolutely wouldn't have lost must be looping endlessly in his mind.
And that was the truth.
Luciano's talent was that exceptional.
"Prince, winning isn't everything. You put in the effort, and that's enough. You really did great today."
I praised him as clearly and deliberately as I could.
"I wanted to win..."
His mood seemed to lift just a tiny bit.
But the gloom lingered.
Last year, when the knights refused to teach him, Luciano had been the same.
Disappointed by reality, completely listless.
"I get that you wanted to win. You can win next time."
Just as the gloom in Luciano's eyes started to clear a little, it darkened again.
"Winning isn't everything."
"You like winning too."
He was leaving me speechless.
I'd tried so hard to beat him more than once or twice; I had no ground to argue.
"Of course I like winning too. But when I lose, I accept it gracefully."
Luciano pressed his lips tight and let his eyes do the talking.
Liar.
Hmm, he's getting more honest lately.
"Anyway, you're going to lose sometimes in life!"
"...Still, I wanted to win."
"Why do you want to win so bad?"
"...It's cool..."
Luciano's mutter was so quiet I could barely hear it.
"Huh?"
"...It's cool..."
This time it was faint too.
Why does he always speak so softly?
"What?"
I asked him to repeat, and Luciano glared at me.
Ah, why?
You spoke too quietly for me to hear, so why get mad?
"I didn't hear. Say it again."
"It doesn't matter."
Luciano replied coldly.
He laid his arm across his knees and rested his cheek on it.
Then he clamped his mouth shut again.
Better if he kept sulking outright.
Seeing him so utterly deflated was heartbreaking.
That's when Imperial Consort Isabel's words from earlier echoed in my mind.
-Don't make the same mistake next time.
Next time.
Meaning there'd be more abuse disguised as sparring.
"Don't worry. You'll definitely win next time."
"It's impossible."
Luciano's voice lacked any strength.
It wasn't like him at all.
He was someone who'd always carried the pride of royalty, striving to be confident at every moment.
Now he just looked empty, like it was all over.
'How hard must it be for him...'
Luciano had been like this last year too.
He'd swallowed his despair upon hearing he couldn't learn swordsmanship.
Back then, I hadn't done a thing.
I'd offered some light comfort from the sidelines, but if I was honest, I'd just watched.
"No, it's possible."
But not this time.
'I knew something like this would happen, so I shouldn't have sat idle back then.'
It was a regret I'd been nursing since earlier.
Was I too firm?
A puzzled look flickered across Luciano's face.
But it quickly turned to resignation.
"Training alone has its limits. The gap will only widen from here."
"I'll make sure you can win."
I looked straight into his eyes as I said it.
'I don't want to repeat the same regret.'
Had his pent-up sorrow reached its breaking point?
Or had my words touched some raw nerve inside him?
Luciano's once-calm eyes began to cloud over.
It was like tears were pooling up, ready to spill.
His hand reached for mine and gripped it tight.
I could feel the desperation in that grasp.
"You won't abandon me... you'll help?"
Luciano mumbled.
He'd spoken softly up front so I didn't catch it all, but it felt like he'd hurriedly changed what he was going to say.
Either way, his eyes were pleading.
Help him?
Without even knowing how I could.
Without being sure my help would even make a difference.
And yet Luciano clung to me.
It must be that desperate.
Like grasping at straws.
He wasn't truly believing I'd make him better and asking for my help.
It was just a desperate plea for anyone to be on his side.
A raw expression of his anguish.
But Luciano.
I wasn't saying empty words.
"Yeah, I'll help you."
This time, I won't stand by.
"So believe in me."
Because I know the way.
* * *
The next day, I went to see Delia.
"Please find someone for me."
She paused briefly at my sudden visit but soon responded smoothly.
"Who shall I look for?"
"Drunkard Karl."
He's probably called that.
"And?"
"That's all I know. Oh, he's somewhere in the capital."
"As expected, a tricky request."
"Focus on the taverns. Ask around, and he'll turn up."
A drunkard would be holed up in one.
"...You're really asking me to find a drunkard?"
Delia asked, sounding baffled.
She must have thought the nickname didn't mean an actual drunk.
If we found the real Karl like that, it'd be chaos.
He was a total wreck from booze.
But he hadn't always been "Drunkard."
Not that he still was, even now—though he was pretty bad.
He was the man who would become Luciano's swordsmanship master in the future.
After wrapping up our talk yesterday...
Luciano had regained his composure.
-I'm fine now. Go back.
-Really fine?
-Yeah. Don't worry about me too much. Go rest.
He'd acted like nothing happened.
That's how I realized he'd brushed off my promise to help as empty talk.
He didn't truly believe I had a way to help him.
Then I'd just have to shove the solution right in his face.
Even if it was too early and Drunkard Karl hadn't sobered up yet.
"Please find him. As fast as possible."
If he's still a drunk, we can beat the sense into him.
I'd twist the original story's flow to let Luciano meet his swordsmanship master.
I Thought I Was the Protagonist
