The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

"Indeed, even if the Crowfield territory is right next to the border, considering its history, it’s not exactly the kind of place one can freely travel to," I said.

"Yes..."

Mia nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly.

I wasn’t sure whether she had a genuine affection for Belvur itself or if she just wanted to indulge in their cuisine.

I suspected the latter, but I had enough tact not to say it out loud.

"You don’t need to worry so much," Charlotte said as she entered the student council room and took a seat in an empty chair.

"At the border, plenty of people might recognize the name Crowfield, but where we’re going—the capital, Lutetia—nobles there won’t pay much attention to it."

Or perhaps they’ll simply pretend not to.

It was only natural. Unless someone was the Countess of Crowfield herself, there was little to gain from criticizing a daughter who essentially knew nothing. If anything, doing so would risk being labeled as ungentlemanly. After all, nobles often preferred to handle sensitive matters through wives or daughters. Alice and I were the exceptions, not the rule.

"Really?"

Mia perked up slightly at Charlotte’s reassurance.

While nationalism was beginning to sprout, it hadn’t yet fully bloomed. It was still limited to intellectuals and some nobles, and even among the latter, it hadn’t completely taken root outside royal and imperial circles.

Many countries still clung to remnants of medieval feudalism. Even if people claimed to be "fellow Belvurians," those who had deployed armies against each other mere decades ago weren’t about to suddenly embrace each other as kin.

This meant Mia would likely be safe.

"Of course. The customs of hospitality are universal, no matter the country. I’ll do everything I can to ensure you have a safe and enjoyable stay in my country—not just you, but all the Imperial students," Charlotte said with a warm smile.

If she said so, there was no reason to argue.

Of course, I had my own preparations to make as well.

The weapons I had been secretly preparing would all be loaded onto the train with us.

While I didn’t plan to raid Belvur itself, there was a mountain of information to gather from the church knights stationed there.

Still, seeing Charlotte’s cheerful face might make me feel guilty. Maybe I’d rewind time before seeing her.

Watching Charlotte laugh and chat with Mia, I entertained these treasonous thoughts.

During my last visit, I’d noticed how close the Azernian Empire and the Kingdom of Belvur were. There was no sea or lake dividing them—it was as simple as boarding a train.

The fact that two countries with such strained relations shared fully compatible railways was remarkable.

It was a clear sign that even Belvur, despite its deep mistrust of the Empire, had no viable alternatives to Imperial weaponry and steel technology.

Still, as Charlotte had pointed out, cultural dominance was another story entirely.

For example, Belvur’s music.

"Wow..."

A soft murmur of awe escaped someone’s lips.

As soon as we disembarked from the train, we were greeted by a grand welcome.

Though it wasn’t a full orchestra, a line of musicians played various instruments, all proudly representing Belvur’s culture.

The melody was familiar. It was the Belvurian national anthem.

Composed by a celebrated musician, it was far more refined than the anthems of my own world, which often felt outdated and rigid. While Belvur drew inspiration from France, it wasn’t modeled after post-revolutionary France, so its lyrics weren’t as bloodthirsty as one might expect.

Above us, small pieces of confetti rained down. Though the buildings weren’t as tall as those in Lindbergh, citizens standing atop four-story structures cheered and scattered vibrant paper over us.

It was a festival atmosphere, quite literally.

Even knowing this spectacle was Charlotte’s doing, I couldn’t help but feel a little elated.

The sky here was a clearer blue than in the Imperial capital, and the air was refreshingly clean.

I could see why Charlotte loved her country so much.

"Welcome."

Standing before us was an elderly gentleman in an impeccably tailored suit.

"It is an honor to welcome the students of Azernian Imperial Ronderium Academy to Lutetia."

Though I couldn’t discern his exact title, his demeanor exuded so much elegance and dignity that it almost felt oppressive.

Unsurprisingly, the students following his lead seemed even more excited.

"Haaa..."

Alice let out a long sigh as she entered our shared room.

Being invited here was an honor, but it also meant Alice had to take on the role of student representative.

Given her noble status and consistent top-ranking academic performance, she was always the one chosen for such roles.

If students from other grades had joined, the student council president would’ve taken on the responsibility instead.

"Tired?" I asked as Alice kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the bed.

"And what if I am? Are you offering to take over for me?"

She mumbled her response into the mattress.

"No, I just thought I’d remind you that the next event involves meeting the King of Belvur."

"...Can’t you go instead? You’ve already met him, haven’t you?"

Hmm...

Our last meeting hadn’t exactly ended on a positive note.

Alice referred to him as "His Majesty," out of respect for her friend Charlotte’s father. But when I met him, I’d deliberately addressed him as "Your Highness."

In the Empire, my title was "Her Highness," so by calling him that, I’d effectively dragged him down to my level.

He probably wouldn’t be thrilled to see me again.

Honestly, it was a miracle Charlotte hadn’t shown open hostility toward me after our first meeting.

And it wasn’t like I could rewind time to fix things now. With the masked woman involved, attempting to rewind time would result in massive complications. I’d probably end up unconscious for months afterward.

"..."

I didn’t respond right away, lost in thought. Alice lifted her head slightly, resting her chin on the mattress, and squinted at me.

"You look like you’re hiding something," she said.

Hmm...

Should I tell her?

After a moment of deliberation, I decided to come clean. Alice was going to meet the King soon anyway.

And as a result, I succeeded in getting Alice up.

Not that it was intentional.

She glanced at me, opening and closing her mouth as if trying to find the right words. Eventually, she gave up and began pacing the room in frustration.

Then she looked back at me, pressed her palm to her forehead, raked her fingers through her hair, sighed heavily, and finally blurted out,

"What were you thinking when you said that!?"

Uh...

Should I tell her the truth? That it was a mix of rebellion against being sent into that situation without any support from the Emperor and a petty desire to mess with the Holy Nation?

"I thought it was the best course of action at the time," I replied instead.

Of course, I couldn’t admit the real reasons. No matter how open I was with Alice, there were limits.

"The best—"

She started to say something but then shut her mouth. Her expression could best be described as ‘Forget it, let’s not even go there.’

"If I apologize, that’ll probably just make things worse, won’t it?" she asked after a pause.

"If you apologize now, it would likely be perceived as a provocation," I confirmed.

"..."

Alice groaned, clutching her head, before throwing herself back onto the bed.

Now that I thought about it, she’d been pacing barefoot this whole time after kicking off her shoes.

"Ugh, whatever. You deal with it. You made the mess, so you fix it."

"I’m sorry, but the Empire’s rightful heir is none other than you, Your Highness," I said curtly.

"..."

Alice didn’t respond, but the menacing aura radiating from her as she lay on the bed was impossible to ignore.

So... this is what killing intent feels like?