The False Princess and the Keen-Eyed Elf

Jimi the Cruel’s dominant persona asserted itself.

She decided to stay.

The decision settled in her stomach like a cold, heavy stone.

That foolish dog, Wawalde, fixed his gaze upon the elf who introduced herself as Linalia, his eyes reflecting the reverence one might hold for a sacred icon.

His features were etched with pity, reverence, and a subtle flicker of masculine desire.

Sovenia was assailed by a sharp pang of nausea, not due to the burgeoning masculine desire, but rather from a peculiar, vicarious sense of betrayal.

It was akin to her own well-trained hunting hound, upon catching the scent of a more alluring morsel, forgetting its master entirely and eagerly wagging its tail as it trotted closer.

With Wawalde’s steadying hand, Linalia regained her footing.

She offered a slight bow, her movements imbued with a poetic grace.

As the tattered cloak slipped from her shoulders, she deftly caught it, cradling it in both hands before returning it to Wawalde.

What might have been a simple gesture was imbued with a ceremonial gravitas, as if she were bestowing a knight’s investiture.

Taking a step forward, she inadvertently drew even more attention to the captivating sight revealed beneath her ragged skirt.

The black stockings adorning her slender thighs, slightly creased from her recent fall, stretched taut over her shapely curves.

The delicate lace trim of the hosiery peeked tantalizingly from beneath the torn fabric, and with each graceful step, the silken-clad skin seemed to breathe, exuding an almost lethal allure.

“Thank you, brave warrior.” Her voice was as soft as it was sincere. “Linalia shall never forget your kindness. However, this cloak—you are in greater need of it than I.”

Sovenia observed with a detached gaze, yet her eyes involuntarily drifted to the legs sheathed in black stockings.

‘Damn it,’ she thought, ‘who invented these things? They offer less protection than any armor, yet possess a deadlier impact than the sharpest weapon.’

‘How could this foolish dog, this veritable virgin, possibly resist? It’s an unfair advantage! Paired with such a piteous demeanor, she seems almost crafted solely to ensnare the hearts of men.’

‘For a young virgin, such an assault is simply too potent.’

Sovenia’s suspicions, as it turned out, were well-founded.

Wawalde, flustered, accepted the cloak, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

“N-no, it’s no trouble, Your Highness,” he stammered, “it was simply my duty.”

A clever stratagem for deception suddenly occurred to Sovenia.

‘The true Elf Princess has no idea that I’ve been deceiving Wawalde into believing *I* am an Elf Princess.’

“Very well,” she declared, “let us depart. I shall lead the way.”

Wawalde suddenly recalled something. “Ah, Your Highness, I bring you joyous tidings! Your sister is also safe and sound; she, too, has been liberated from her captivity!”

‘Sister?’

Sovenia’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.

She remained rooted to the spot, her face devoid of expression as she observed the woman known as Linalia.

Yet, deep within her, a torrent of exasperated thoughts erupted.

‘Is that foolish dog’s brain truly filled with straw?’ she fumed inwardly. ‘Since when did the Demon Lord’s Palace moonlight as a family reunion center? Are we to be issued numbers and queue up for a grand family recognition? This is hell, a veritable slaughterhouse, not some saccharine melodrama!’

‘This foolish dog has now utterly extinguished any hope I had of bluffing my way through,’ she mused darkly. ‘Perhaps I should simply take the risk and kill the true princess? No, that won’t do; it’s far too perilous.’

Sovenia forcibly quelled the burgeoning urge to draw her blade.

A creeping tension, like a suffocating vine, coiled around her heart, tightening with each passing moment.

Following Wawalde’s pointed gesture, Linalia’s gaze settled upon Sovenia.

A flicker of curiosity danced in her golden eyes, swiftly giving way to keen scrutiny.

Barefoot, clad only in her remarkably fine black stockings, she glided across the crimson carpet, deftly sidestepping goblin corpses and their spilled blood.

Her steps remained impeccably elegant, betraying no hint of her recent ordeal.

Taking a few steps forward, her figure swayed with a subtle grace, her tattered skirt fluttering gently with her every movement, akin to a dark butterfly flitting through a field of blossoms.

She paused at the foot of the steps, directly below Sovenia, and subjected her to a thorough appraisal.

Sovenia felt Linalia’s gaze sweep over her repeatedly, lingering on the ill-fitting helmet that adorned her head.

For reasons she couldn’t quite articulate, her mood soured considerably.

‘Could you perhaps cease your scrutiny?’ she thought irritably. ‘I am well aware this helmet is dreadful, yet it serves its purpose…’

“Hmm…” Linalia hummed, a sound heavy with implication, before turning back to Wawalde with a sweet smile. “Indeed, she appears to be of my kin. Yet, brave warrior, I possess no sister. I have but one younger brother.”

Wawalde’s smile faltered, freezing on his face.

His gaze darted between Linalia and Sovenia.

Sovenia’s mind raced, desperate to conjure a plausible lie from a skill set she notoriously lacked.

As if by some twisted reward for her frantic mental exertion, Sovenia’s mind delivered a singular, decisive conclusion: ‘Kill!’

At that moment, Wawalde’s gaze swept over Sovenia’s slender waist and chest, prompting a dry, nervous chuckle from him. “Could it be… Miss Sovenia, given that elves are typically quite slender… that you are, in fact… Her Highness’s younger brother?”

Sovenia nearly choked, a mouthful of blood threatening to erupt from her.

‘Brother?’ she scoffed inwardly. ‘Has this foolish dog’s imagination truly been entirely dedicated to the discerning of familial relations?’

‘Still… if this true princess were willing to acknowledge me, perhaps I could grudgingly accept the role of a younger brother, and perhaps even secure a noble title. Alas, she appears far less easily swayed than that foolish dog.’

Sovenia remained silent, yet her grip on the Moonbright Blade unconsciously tightened further.

Linalia’s presence weighed heavily upon her, for that authentic aura of “nobility” emanating from her very being was something Sovenia, as a mere impostor, could never hope to replicate.

Every additional word uttered by this woman amplified her risk of exposure.

Killing intent, like molten magma beneath the earth’s crust, began to churn within her heart.

‘Once she is silenced, all my problems will be resolved.’

With that thought, Sovenia descended a single step.

Linalia appeared utterly unfazed by Wawalde’s whimsical conjectures.

She simply regarded him with her innocent golden eyes and softly inquired, “This… lady, what is her name?”

Wawalde, suddenly cognizant of his impropriety, hastily cleared his throat, endeavoring to salvage the situation. “Ah, please forgive my impetuosity. My name is Wawalde, and I am… a human hero.”

He gestured towards Sovenia. “This is Miss Sovenia. We escaped from the deepest reaches of the Demon Lord’s Palace together. She claimed to be an Elf Princess, which led me to mistakenly believe… Of course, it’s also conceivable that Miss Sovenia has suffered memory loss and simply cannot recall that she is, in fact, your younger brother…”

Linalia let out a soft burst of laughter, her mirth as clear and melodious as a silver bell.

“Hero,” she chuckled, “you are truly amusing.” She blinked, her long lashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “My younger brother is merely twelve years of age this year, and he is certainly not so… statuesque.”

Her gaze pointedly lingered on Sovenia’s long legs for a telling moment.

Wawalde’s embarrassment deepened. He scratched at his helmet. “Perhaps… the prolonged captivity caused a sudden growth spurt?”

“What I mean to say,” Linalia interjected, her smile gradually fading as her tone grew markedly serious.

She looked directly into Wawalde’s eyes, enunciating each word with precision, “this so-called ‘Sovenia,’ she is not an Elf Princess.”

Wawalde turned his head, his gaze now sharply focused on Sovenia’s face.

Sovenia felt a cold sweat begin to prickle her back.

Her mind raced, desperately attempting to weave a plausible falsehood, yet her thoughts were a chaotic tangle.

‘What am I to do? Confess I am not a princess? How then shall I explain all the preceding deceptions?’

‘Will this foolish dog immediately turn against me? The trust I so painstakingly cultivated now teeters on the brink of utter collapse.’

‘No, I cannot confess!’

‘I cannot afford to lose this foolish dog, at least not until I reclaim my head!’

“I…” she heard her own voice emerge, dry and strained.

Steeling herself, she forced out, “I… I *am* indeed the princess, it’s merely that—”

“You lie.”

Linalia’s voice was not raised, yet her words carried an undeniable weight.

She subtly adjusted the delicate crown upon her head, a gesture imbued with unquestionable authority.

Sovenia’s mouth parted, yet no sound escaped her lips.

‘How was she to respond? Confess? Deny? If she uttered another word, who knew what chaos might unfold. Damn it, when would the fighting commence? The simplest act in the world, she mused, was undeniably beheading.’

Just as the atmosphere congealed to an icy stillness, Wawalde stepped forward, positioning himself squarely between the two women.

“Princess Linalia, I implore you, do not speak thus.” His tone, though gentle, was imbued with an unyielding firmness. “Miss Sovenia… she may merely have suffered memory loss. Or perhaps, she is simply too terrified, fearing that I would refuse to lead her from this dreadful place, and thus resorted to claiming the title of princess.

“Regardless, she remains a courageous lady, a pitiable victim, and a companion worthy of entrusting one’s back to.”

Sovenia gazed at Wawalde’s broad back, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.

‘This foolish dog… is actually defending me?’

Linalia’s delicate brow furrowed almost imperceptibly:

“But… brave Hero, do you not find it rather peculiar? How could an amnesiac Elf ‘Princess’ suddenly manifest in the very heart of the demon stronghold? Have you not considered that certain demons possess the ability to perfectly mimic our elven appearance?”

These words struck Sovenia with the force of a lightning bolt.

‘Danger!’ she inwardly screamed. ‘This Elf Princess has actually seen through my true identity! No, if this continues, my head will surely roll.’

Sovenia’s body instinctively tensed, and killing intent surged within her once more, unchecked.

She advanced another step, her gaze locked onto the pale, vulnerable curve of Linalia’s neck.

The distance was now ideal; a sudden, swift swing of her sword, coupled with a forward lunge, would allow her to strike Linalia’s head with lethal speed.

As her thoughts flashed like lightning, the Myriad Manifestations card deck deep within her soul began to hum.

She was prepared to gamble, hoping to draw [Blazing Strike +3] as her opening move, thus stacking the odds for this fatal blow.

‘Once the princess is dead, I will be safe, and this foolish dog will have no choice but to listen to me.’

However, Linalia seemed to sense the imminent danger.

Like a startled fawn, her body trembled almost imperceptibly, and she subtly retreated half a step, perfectly sheltering herself behind Wawalde.

She extended a hand, lightly grasping Wawalde’s arm, and leaned slightly into him, her golden eyes brimming with tears:

“Brave Hero, I… I am a little afraid…”

This action was flawlessly executed, simultaneously conveying her fragility, cleverly using Wawalde’s body as a shield, and opportunistically closing the distance between them.

Sovenia watched, gnashing her teeth inwardly, marveling at the princess’s formidable self-preservation instincts.

Wawalde, as expected, was instantly overcome with a surge of protectiveness.

He patted Linalia’s hand, offering reassurance. “Do not fear, I am here.

“Moreover, Your Highness, you are overly concerned. Miss Sovenia could never be a demon. Throughout our journey, we have fought side-by-side; she is an exceptionally skilled warrior and has never once held us back. Furthermore, she is remarkably familiar with the paths within the Demon Lord’s Palace, always guiding my way. She, like you, is a truly pitiable soul.”

“Guiding your way?” Linalia’s keen ears caught the crucial words. “Are you both attempting to leave the Demon Lord’s Palace?”

“Yes,” Wawalde affirmed.

Linalia’s face adopted an expression of innocent curiosity.

She tilted her head, asking, “Then why… would you find yourselves in the central area of the Demon Lord’s Palace? This vicinity is exceedingly perilous.”