I Blue : Reincarnated as a Cursed Crit-Based Swordwoman

Selection.

This single word froze Spinel. She knew what it implied and all the struggles that this simple word would bring once it left her father's mouth. But it was too early—she was only 14 years old, and her father was in good health. Why start the selection now?

"And here you go rambling again, dear brother," replied Alpis. "Verhaal, does that name ring a bell, or shall I hand you a map? Although I doubt you could even read it."

The mention of this eastern kingdom calmed Spinel. Of course, Verhaal—the prince slapped and insulted by a Muddy Tongue. The war had barely ended, and now such a scandal occurred during a reception.

Moreover, public opinion favored the infamous Muddy Tongue. Surely, their father had summoned them to provide guidance on handling this issue. Uzalil, once again, displayed his foolishness with the pride unique to him.

In any case, he remained adamant. To him, their father had summoned them for the selection.

"Hmph. Mock me all you want, but…"

Uzalil stopped short. He recognized the footsteps behind him, even after so much time without hearing them.

"I see the young ones are already here."

With these words, a man in his early thirties, with blond hair and small glasses, entered. He pulled out a pocket watch for a moment before reconsidering and putting it away.

"I don't see… Oh…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. In a pillar of light appeared a tall woman with long white hair and strange pink eyes. She was dressed entirely in white, wearing the most ornate gown Spinel had ever seen and a large hat.

"You were watching me, weren't you?" asked the man.

The woman smiled.

"Come now, you're making me sound like a voyeur! I only read a map just as you did!"

The man simply nodded and moved to one of the seats near where their father was supposed to sit. The woman sat opposite him in the same silence.

"…"

The room fell into absolute silence.

For a moment, Spinel barely dared to breathe. Even Uzalil didn't dare utter a word, as if he feared violent retribution for breaking the sacred silence.

Übelbarth and Padparadscha, respectively the first prince and princess of the Berattelse kingdom. They were also the eldest of the Coldhearts family and geniuses in their respective fields. Even though these two were of the same blood as her, the aura they exuded made them entirely unapproachable.

"Oh, Lapin, you're here."

Padparadscha turned her head toward Uzalil with a smile.

"I've heard some interesting things about you in my absence. So? Tell me one of those adventures you're so famous for."

"Oh… You know, not much happened during your absence, big sister."

At these words, the woman's smile grew strangely wide, and her eyes opened fully. Uzalil knew it was a warning—if he didn't satisfy her, only God knew what this "witch" would do.

"Well, there is that story about Mr. Peterson's wife in Kuwa."

"Oh! Go on, I'm listening! Tell me everything!"

Clearing his throat, Uzalil recounted the story of Mrs. Peterson. A simple tale of a neglected woman falling into the arms of a handsome, enterprising young man, but the twists and feats accompanying it seemed to satisfy Padparadscha.

"Ah, as usual, your stories are fascinating, Lapin. Tell me, wouldn't you like to come to Dwin with me after this? I'll speak to Father if you want."

"Um… It's just that… I feel good here. Kuwa isn't so unpleasant, you know?"

"Ah, your second refusal," she said with a wide smile.

Spinel thought she saw Uzalil trembling. A legend about her sister came to mind—nothing had ever been refused to her three times. On the third time, she always got what she wanted, one way or another.

"Well, now that the time for jokes has passed, it's time to start the meal."

It was Übelbarth who had spoken, ringing the bell to signal the servants outside. This was his task as the eldest, ensuring their father could focus solely on the essentials.

It was then that a peculiar noise drew their attention.

"He's here."

It sounded like metal being dragged across the floor leading to the dining room—a sound they all recognized.

Padparadscha abruptly stood from her chair and ran toward the hallway, holding up her dress.

"Father! Into my arms!" she cried.

The man opened his arms as if to embrace his daughter, but his posture quickly changed. To Spinel, the man disappeared for an instant and then reappeared behind his daughter. With a swift strike of his sword's sheath, he broke her neck.

Padparadscha's body immediately fell to the ground, her gray HP bar dropping to 0.

Ignoring the muffled cries of the servants, the man stroked his blond, salt-and-pepper beard and addressed his eldest son.

"Bell, spare my old bones from these jokes between you and your sister. The next time she sends a homunculus in her stead, I'll raze Dwin and strip you of the mines."

The old man's threats were spoken in a tone both cold and mocking, making it unclear whether he was serious. Regardless, another column of light appeared in the room, and from it emerged a new Padparadscha, all smiles.

"Well, well, you truly can't be fooled, Father! Ah! My day has been made!" she said, making a deep bow to the man she acknowledged as the sovereign of Berattelse.

As she spoke, her "body" lying on the floor took on a strange appearance. It eventually revealed jointed fingers like a porcelain doll.

"Come now," the man continued wearily, walking to his chair, his sword's sheath scraping the floor. "Aren't parents the ones who should assess their children's success? These tests are too much for me, Padpa. Oh, and Bell, don't pretend you didn't notice!"

"It was obvious," Übelbarth replied, also bowing.

Padparadscha let out a small laugh. "Oh, look at him praising himself!"

While the three conversed, Alpis, Uzalil, and Spinel once again found themselves cast as silent spectators. What could they possibly say in the presence of their father and older siblings?

Spinel particularly felt even more inferior. If even Alpis, who had some success as a researcher at Novel, didn't dare involve herself in this discussion, what could she say, she who had no status to her name?

"Well, enough talk, you two. I have things to tell you, but that can wait until I've had a few of these horrible sweets your mother adored."

With these words, the eldest siblings took their seats with their father at the table, and breakfast began.

It was never a pleasant moment for Spinel when her elder siblings were present. Out of politeness, she had to finish eating before them because they shouldn't have to wait for her, but not too far ahead, so as not to seem like she was waiting on them. Striking the right balance was even more complicated when the two eldest were present—after all, it meant syncing her rhythm with people who themselves aligned with others.

But she was experienced. Her timing, as usual, was impeccable.

Soon, she was followed by her siblings; only their father remained, finishing the last pastries on his plate.

"Well. It's time to begin," said their father, wiping his mouth and placing his sword between his legs. "You must have guessed that if I called you all here today, it wasn't just to share such a light meal."

"Yes, a feast like the one for the forty nights to come would be more appropriate here," said Padparadscha, freezing the assembly.

"Forty nights? Don't tell me—"

It was Alpis who had spoken, daring to voice the question everyone else kept to themselves. The "forty nights" was the term for the long mourning period following the death of a royal family member. To mention such a thing in front of their father was something only the witch who had sold her sanity to the moon would dare.

"Padparadscha," intervened Übelbarth, but their father gestured for him to stop.

"Why concern yourself with such things, Bell? My nights are not near. Let your sister have her musings."

Hearing this relieved Spinel. Of course, her father's days weren't numbered! Now that she thought about it, he had probably mentioned the selection just to unsettle her when it came time for her report on the reception. What other reason could there be for his face to show such calm while his theory was publicly dismissed?

"Vermin!" she thought, clenching her fists under the table. To toy with their father's death like this—he was sinking ever lower.

No. She needed to keep calm and focus on the responses she had prepared. It would take more than this to destabilize Spinel Coldhearts.

"Let's rather talk about the more important matter, Verhaal."

As Alpis had predicted, the reason for this gathering was indeed the diplomatic incident at the reception.

"I will go straight to the point. The old one is demanding the execution of Vaan's daughter. Should we refuse, war will be at our gates again."