I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

“Ah.”

“Young Lady. I can feed myse—”
“Ah. Do it.”
“⋯⋯.”

Carlyle quietly opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful of porridge Gray held out to him.
Having spoon-fed him the porridge she herself had cooked, Gray grinned.
To Carlyle, it looked exactly like a mugger pressing a knife ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) to his throat while flashing a kind smile.

“Is it good?”
“⋯⋯.”
“I asked, is it good?”

“⋯⋯Yes.”
In truth, it was just so-so. But in this atmosphere, saying it tasted bad felt like it might earn him an immediate beheading on the spot.
⋯⋯Truly the world’s worst caretaker. Just having her nearby made his condition feel like it was deteriorating faster.
“Really?”

But whether she realized his thoughts or not, Gray only kept smiling.
As though simply being able to help him in this way made her happy.
“⋯⋯.”

Why was she even doing this?
The Hero suddenly entering the Imperial Palace had already become a big issue, but surprisingly, few had voiced complaints.
Likely because the demon attack during the banquet had left a deep impression—her presence actually reassured people.

So no one minded her arrival in the palace.
The problem was what she had been doing since she arrived.
Declaring she would take care of Carlyle while he was bedridden, she had barged into his chamber and settled in for days now.

Her motives were a complete mystery.
[⋯⋯She’s probably trying to repay him in her own way.]
Repay him?

[Well, after what she overheard, she must have been moved. This is likely her way of returning the favor.]
⋯⋯Admittedly, she had gained a special ability and their trust-level had changed.
But still, this was so far off the mark.

His body had long since recovered enough not to need a caretaker.
If anything, Gray’s “care” was exhausting him further.
Her massages alone—supposedly for his health—felt more like a new kind of torture. Each time she left his body battered and broken.
⋯⋯No, thinking about it, it really was torture. Saying his whole body shattered with every massage wasn’t just metaphor.

So really, she’s just pretending to nurse me while finding new ways to torment me, isn’t she?
As he thought up what felt like the most plausible theory yet, the Holy Sword’s Hero spoke in his head, sounding like she had a headache.
[What if you thought about it differently?]

Hm?
[That this unruly, disobedient girl is doing all this simply because she cares. Couldn’t you feel at least a little moved by that?]
⋯⋯.

[⋯⋯Clumsy, and maybe more absorbed in the act of caring than in actual consideration for you, but still, the intention was good⋯⋯ or⋯⋯ something⋯⋯]
Her voice trailed off into a mumble.
She must have realized mid-sentence that what she was saying made no sense.

Carlyle glanced down at the bracelet form of the Holy Sword wrapped around his wrist.
It’s hard, isn’t it?
[What?]

Being trapped in that form all the time.
[⋯⋯.]
You sound pissed off, so instead of spouting bullshit—just say it out loud—

A familiar jolt of electric backlash shot through his body, the Hero’s counterattack.
He twisted slightly in his seat, only for the girl beside him to push him back down by the neck, pinning him to the bed.
A caretaker who choke-slams her patient—surely a world first⋯⋯

[If we merge consciousness again, you’ll see.]
⋯⋯Come to think of it, nothing much happened the last time we merged, did it?
At first, he had been wary they might blend together, but over time, the aftereffects had lessened.

Last time she had even claimed she gleaned hints about Carlyle himself—but now, she barely brought it up.
Yet her sulky voice immediately snapped back.
[Perhaps you feel that way. The perpetrator rarely notices.]

What?
She bit back her words, clearly finding it humiliating to voice them.
[⋯⋯Each time we merge, I feel like I’m losing something. Like I’m being drained by you.]

Drained⋯⋯? What’s that supposed to mean?
[Not telling. Think of it as a surprise for later.]
⋯⋯.
[Just know this—your mind wasn’t as weak as I hoped. Be proud of that.]

Don’t give me a headache too⋯⋯
As if the humming, “nursing” Gray wasn’t already the main cause of his splitting headache.
Now she was wringing out a wet towel to put on his head—though he didn’t even have a fever.

“Young Lady, don’t wring it so hard, just gently, gently⋯⋯”
Before he could finish, the towel shredded apart in her hands with a loud crack.
Not like cloth tearing, but as if it had exploded under pressure. The sight sent chills down his spine.

“I’ll take care of it, Young Lady.”
“Uh-uh. Patients stay still.”
“⋯⋯.”

“After the new towel, I’ll give you a massage.”
Save me. Please, just let me live⋯⋯
But fortunately, the world wasn’t entirely heartless.

As though in answer to his prayer, someone entered the chamber.
Someone Gray wouldn’t dare act so freely around.
“Holy Saint above⋯⋯!”

“I’m a Cardinal, not a Saint. Watch what you say.”
Felix dryly corrected his outburst. Meanwhile, Gray frowned, annoyed at the interruption.
“⋯⋯Why are you here?”

“Stop tormenting the boy, Gray. He’s going to be busy soon.”
“Busy?”
“If I don’t drag him out soon, things will get out of hand.”

Felix yawned as she tossed something onto Carlyle’s bed.
A suit. Its quality screamed high-class, clearly tailored to his exact size.
“You do know you’ve become quite the hot topic, don’t you?” Felix scratched her head.

“If you don’t show your face soon, people will riot. Time you got out and showed them who you are.”
“⋯⋯.”
Carlyle fiddled with the suit.

If it were just nobodies clamoring to see him, Felix wouldn’t have bothered. Gray could suppress such things easily enough.
But for Felix to come personally⋯
“⋯⋯High officials, then?”

“The First Prince and Second Princess are calling for you.”
“⋯⋯.”
“If anyone else asked, we could ignore them. But if those two demand you at the same time, then even I can’t refuse.”

Carlyle’s face hardened.
⋯⋯Of course it had to be the most troublesome ones.
Together, their pressure would be impossible to deflect.

“It’s all right. You’ve already helped me before. I can’t trouble you again, Cardinal.”
“Can you stand?”
“Yes. More or less.”

Not completely.
He still felt the lingering drain from summoning the Hero into his body. His strength hadn’t returned enough for a serious fight.
But better to face those obnoxious royals than lie here being tortured by Gray.

“Well then, you’ll be going with a companion.”
“A companion?”
“You weren’t the only one summoned.”

***
“Sir Carlyle!”
“Your Highness, it’s good to see y—”

Before he could finish, Illia was kicked away by Gray.
She had been about to leap into Carlyle’s arms with delight, when Gray’s foot sent her flying.
“⋯⋯.”

“⋯⋯.”
“⋯⋯.”
Not only Illia, but even Felix and Carlyle—who were well used to Gray’s antics—stared blankly at her.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”
“⋯⋯.”
Even Gray herself looked flustered.

Her eyes shook as she pointed at Illia and stammered an excuse.
“It’s just, seeing her try to hug you like that suddenly pissed me off⋯⋯”
“⋯⋯.”

Why?
Why on earth?
A child hugging an older friend in delight—why would that piss her off?

And shouldn’t “sorry” come before the kick?
Such thoughts flitted through everyone’s mind, but none spoke them aloud.

Like the sky being blue, her unreasonable violence was a law of nature.
“The one at fault is the person hugging a patient too hard.”
“⋯⋯.”

“I did nothing wrong.”
Exactly. Like a law of nature.
“⋯⋯⋯⋯Ah, anyway!”

And even at her young age, Illia seemed quick to understand that truth. She dusted herself off and stood again, undaunted.
As expected of the Princess. Remarkably resilient.
“Sir Carlyle, did you also receive a summons from the First Prince and Second Princess?”

“Yes, it seems so.”
“Oh, I don’t know the reason, but I’m relieved you’ll be with me!”
“I too am honored to accompany Your Highness—”

Carlyle stopped mid-sentence.
He had noticed Illia’s hand trembling as she spoke.
Clearly, she was afraid.

Different from her unease when entering the palace under demonic miasma.
“I-I just hope nothing bad happens⋯⋯”
And then Carlyle realized.

Ah. Of course.
To her perception—
The First Prince and Second Princess were “monsters.”

He himself had nearly forgotten, lulled by their seemingly favorable behavior this cycle.
But in every iteration, those siblings had devoured the Empire like demons, dragging it into ruin.
He must not forget.

He was walking into a tiger’s den.
“Yah-ho! Carly-Carly, you’re here!”
⋯⋯And then.

The tiger leapt right into his arms.
A flood of pink hair filled his vision as someone hugged him tightly.
“I heard you were sick! I missed you so much!”

That voice he remembered well.
The Second Princess—Bellatrix Ordo Lionheart.
The moment she saw him, she embraced him without hesitation.

“⋯⋯.”
And with that realization came a chilling thought.
Carlyle glanced sideways in horror.

Gray’s head was twisted at an unnatural angle, her legs twitching violently.
“⋯⋯.”
No.

No, this couldn’t happen⋯⋯!
If she caused a scene here, it would be catastrophe.
“⋯⋯! ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯!”

Carlyle flailed desperately.
Surely she couldn’t kick a Princess, could she? Please, just hold back⋯⋯!
“⋯⋯Huuu⋯⋯”

Thankfully, perhaps thanks to the “practice run” with Illia, Gray took a deep breath and steadied herself.
Unaware of the danger, the Second Princess only clung tighter, her voice brimming with passion.
“You’re the star of today’s meeting, Carly-Carly! I’ve got so many proposals and questions for you!”

“⋯⋯I-I see?”
“Yes! I’ll make you mine, absolutely! Now come on, let’s go in!”
“⋯⋯.”

⋯⋯Still incomprehensible.
Such extreme goodwill from someone he’d never met—he couldn’t understand it.
But more pressing was the person beside him.

“Young Lady.”
“⋯⋯What.”
“Young Lady. No.”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯What.”
Gray answered half-heartedly, veins bulging across her face.
What on earth had made her this furious⋯⋯?

“It’s not like I’m that mad.”
“⋯⋯.”
“It’s just that some bitch dared slobber over the patient I’m looking after. That fucking—no, that weird person. That weird person, hm.”

“⋯⋯Yes.”
“I just want to kill her a lit—no, what I mean is, just a little⋯⋯ just a little kill that fucking bitch—”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯Young Lady.”

This meeting.
He already had the sinking feeling—it would not be easy.