Wounded Paladin – Chapter 270

Chapter 6: Prince Ryuguin IV

I should have just opened the door and said, “I came to help.” If carrying a single kettle could earn me some favor, it would be a small price to pay.
But I didn’t do that. I heard Itsuki Saki calling my name from inside the break room.
The girl I was currently most interested in, someone who was respected even among our grade, was talking about me in a space where I wasn’t present. I couldn’t let that slip by. I was instantly swept away into a world of imagination, wondering how she would praise me…

But that was the crux of the matter.
There was a possibility that I could be denied, yet that thought had completely slipped my mind. Ryuguin, who had never faced a painful failure in relationships with women, hadn’t considered that.

As a result—

“I hate stupid people.”

“Ryuguin-kun is an irredeemable fool.”

“In the end, he thinks everything revolves around him.”

“He believes everything is under his control.”

“It’s clear he thinks that as long as he can move others, he can enjoy himself without lifting a finger—”

“Even when it comes to words of appreciation. As long as he doesn’t suffer any harm or loss, words are cheap to him.”

“With just a word, everyone—especially girls—will happily move for him.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

With each word she uttered, beads of sweat, though it wasn’t hot, appeared on my forehead, and I trembled from deep within, though it wasn’t cold.

But—if that was all, I could have brushed it off as the nonsense of a foolish girl.

What was she saying that was so off-base? She must be envious of me, a popular and successful guy. This gloomy girl, who only had her studies to boast about and couldn’t even belong to a social caste, was just spouting meaningless drivel. She should save her nonsense for when she’s asleep.

Once the switch flipped, I could come up with countless excuses.

Unconsciously, I had lived my life that way until now. I thought this time would end the same way. Yet,

“Do you have someone you like?”

Motegi asked her that ridiculous question. I froze at the unexpectedness of it. But in the corner of my mind, I was certain, “It must still be me.”

However—

“My crush is… Yamada-kun from Class 2.”

Who the hell is that?
This was truly a bolt from the blue.
I had never seen or heard of anyone named Yamada. I had checked all the candidates. If he had slipped through my radar, he must be a worthless mob character with no value. Yet, to think she would choose him over me… At that moment, I felt a mix of confusion and a boiling sensation in my veins.

While my face turned a sickly shade of mixed red and pale, she continued her ridiculous ramblings.

She went on about how “a scary guy hit on me, and he pretended to be my boyfriend, saying, ‘Sorry for the wait! This is my girlfriend!'” and “I thought he was a robot,” and “we were chased afterward, but we escaped together,” and “when I thanked him, he pretended to be brusque and said, ‘Don’t worry about it,'” and “I think that was just him hiding his embarrassment,” and “after that, I found myself looking for him wherever I went…” and “he doesn’t seek anything in return,” and “his subtle kindness is nice,” and “he has a strong sense of justice”—endless, useless stories that felt like they belonged in a brainless girl’s fantasy.

I couldn’t take it anymore and fled the scene.

The emotional wound I carried that day was far deeper than I realized.

The girl I had gone out of my way to care for had betrayed me, kicking sand in my face like an ungrateful wretch, and she chose “him” instead of me, the “insignificant mob character.”

I absolutely did not want to acknowledge the truth of that day.
So, perhaps it was a strong unconscious push. Whenever I was fawned over by the girls I got along with, I quickly forgot about that day’s events.

However, the name Itsuki Saki was erased from my subconscious, while the name Ichiro Yamada was etched into my mind with a fierce intensity.


I woke up.
I dreamt of a scene from that day, a scene I had hardly recalled. It was a nightmare.

My body was drenched in sweat.

“Get off me!”

Without caring for the girl snoring beside me, I shoved her aside and got out of bed. I poured water from the pitcher into a glass and gulped it down in one go.

“Yamada!”

Even in death, does he still get in my way?

Thinking back, Yamada had always been a nuisance to me even when he was alive. A talentless, mediocre fool obstructing my path…

Now that I think about it, that day was the same.
I remembered myself standing in front of the break room. It was a pitiful sight.

That’s why Yamada’s pained expression was a sight to behold. The time I spent traveling with him was the best entertainment I had ever experienced in my life.

Yamada’s face flushed when he lost something precious.

Yamada turned pale when something he cherished was flaunted in front of him.

I wanted him to know that what he treasured was now mine, that it would never return to him, and he cried.

Each time, in my mind’s eye, I defeated Yamada, trampled him, and felt superior over him.

That’s why his expression of despair, having lost everything, was a masterpiece. And then, Yamada’s desperate face flashed in my mind.

“Ah!!”

I quickly placed my hand on my neck. It’s fine; there’s not a single scar left.

“Damn… Yamada.”

It was a low, growling voice.

That day, I took everything from Yamada.
Crushed by despair, he fled the party like a defeated dog.
Considering that expression of despair, Yamada was likely no longer living in this world.
Whether he was devoured by beasts, starved to death, or killed by bandits, I didn’t know.

Even if by some chance he had survived, nothing would change in this world.

I had spread his bad reputation throughout the country, and it must be difficult for him to even find a meal. Time had passed, and his death had become more certain.

I had ensured that the slightest chance of survival for someone on the brink of death, connected to a respirator, was reduced to zero—what he did after returning from the Blade Labyrinth was precisely that.

“Yet—does he still haunt my dreams even in death?”

I gripped the glass tightly in my hand.

“Does he still get in my way even after dying?”

With all my might, I slammed it against the wall.
A deafening sound echoed through the room.
The sleeping women woke up, screaming. But I didn’t care about that anymore; I simply couldn’t suppress my anger toward him.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *