The princess’s face contorted at his response. Jens stared at the trembling royal before him.

She was small and young—just sixteen years old. Whatever she might say, a child should rightfully be with their guardian.

Even if she found the prospect of being paired with the 3rd Prince—her half-brother—revolting, there was still time, and minds could always change.

Besides, marriages between royals were common in the Imperial family to maintain bloodlines with magical abilities.

Even in the Republic, where royal and noble families had disappeared, powerful families secretly married among themselves to preserve the blood of former nobility. This was common knowledge, albeit unspoken.

Even though the revolution had succeeded 200 years ago establishing the republic, it couldn’t interfere with individual marriages.

Once she matured a bit more, the princess would accept her fate. Just as he had done.

But the young princess sharply retorted. Yet her words surprised him. Rather than threatening him with his inability to shoot—however she had learned of it—the princess spoke of his emotions.

“Why? Do you love her?”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

“You don’t care about Lüse or Schedel.”

“Enough.”

Jens shook his head and reached for the recorder switch. This had merely been personal curiosity; there was no need to continue this conversation. She would be sent back to the Empire anyway. Once she left this ship, she would no longer be his concern.

Let’s forget this interrogation. Jens deliberately tried to let her words slide past his ears. But the princess’s characteristically bold voice, bordering on arrogant, lodged firmly in his ear canal.

“You don’t love anyone.”

His hand froze over the switch.

“Not your country, not your parents, not your wife.”

“…”

“When I proposed marriage, you didn’t say no because you love her. Marriage means nothing to you, does it?”

“…”

As he remained silent, the princess continued. Though her tone wasn’t heated, to Jens her words sounded like accusations.

“What kind of soldier can’t shoot a gun? Can’t you handle a sword either? Why would someone incapable of basic self-defense join the military?”

“…”

“Commanders don’t need to shoot? Nonsense. Regardless of whatever other abilities you might have, such a person shouldn’t be in the military. But your stubborn insistence on staying isn’t for your grandfather’s sake either.”

The princess raised her purple eyes to look at him.

“You don’t even love yourself.”

Jens was taken aback by his own reaction—a violent impulse to cover the mouth of this small, expressionless girl sitting demurely before him, to tie her up and leave.

His elbow brushed against the clipboard he had used to strike Schaefer’s arm. Tsk. Perhaps that had been unnecessary.

No—if Schaefer had killed the princess there, her military career would have ended. Jens didn’t want to lose a capable subordinate. He flipped the recorder switch with a click.

“The first Servolang Armistice Agreement has taken place.”

Purple eyes narrowed. Some might say purple was a noble color befitting the Imperial family who supported the Empire, but to Jens, facing those eyes directly, they resembled wildflowers rolling across a field.

Like violets.

“Your situation was discussed there. The Republic government offered to hand you over in exchange for an additional 300 million dikars in reparations.”

“…Would I be worth that much?”

“The 9th Prince, Gair Dominic von Tilrsimrod der Anarchia, rejected this offer.”

The princess’s face showed slight relief.

Not violets, but… bluebells?

“The second agreement will be in four days.”

“…I see.”

“The representative for the second armistice agreement will be Jorge Enad von Tilrsimrod der Anarchia. The 9th Prince is being recalled to the Empire.”

The princess froze. Then she shattered, revealing sharp, jagged fragments.

This time, thistles. Still wildflower colors, regardless.

“Jorge…?”

“Four days from now. I’ll inform you of the results after the second agreement concludes. Well then.”

Jens clicked off the recorder and stood up. The interrogation had been meaningless anyway.

Jorge Enad. The 3rd Prince had hurriedly announced he would settle the Empire’s internal strife and attend the armistice agreement. The Republic leadership wondered why a crown prince candidate would come to clean up the 9th Prince’s defeat, but Jens was certain.

It was to retrieve this princess. No matter how much the Republic demanded, he would pay it and take her back.

Within the Republic, opinions were divided between accepting the princess’s asylum request and using her as propaganda, versus returning her for compensation.

The decision to send her back was ultimately due to Jens’s conviction that the 3rd Prince would never give up on this princess.

While he wasn’t without sympathy, people belonged in their proper places. This was simply the choice of an immature princess betrayed by her subordinates. If she sought asylum in the Republic, she would surely regret it someday.

“You will soon be transferred to the Republic flagship, the Ceres. I’ll send Schaefer—no, Yuvil…”

Thud.

He should have at least kept her in handcuffs. Jens nimbly dodged the clipboard the princess had thrown at him. It hit the interrogation room wall and fell to the floor.

“I won’t consider this level of action as hostility toward a Republic soldier. Please return quietly to your quarters.”

“You should have let me die.”

“If you died there, my subordinate would have been hurt.”

The princess raised her head. Her expression was strange, somewhere between crying and laughing.

“You know what will happen to me when I return.”

“I understand you dislike marrying the 3rd Prince. But that makes more sense than marrying me. You’re not even blood-related.”

“…”

“Stop acting like your life is over when you’re only sixteen.”

Jens took a step back.

“You have plenty of time. We’ll acknowledge your contribution and return you safely, so find another solution in your homeland. The Empire is your parent and your roots, isn’t it?”

“…”

“If you truly despise the 3rd Prince, there’s always Evighkeit Palace.”

“Jens.”

Jens frowned at the princess casually using his name. He wanted to be angry that she’d used it without permission, but was also disconcerted by how natural it sounded.

“Don’t do that next time.”

“Next time?”

The princess raised her wrist, free of handcuffs. Yet it moved heavily, as though still shackled. And then—

“!”

Light appeared in her hand.

Jens instinctively rushed forward and grabbed the wrist of the girl who had seized her slender neck.

“Ugh.”

“Let go!”

Blood spurted from Jens’s hand as he gripped her glowing wrist. With all his strength, he pulled her hand away from her throat.

A trickle of blood.

Though shallow, cut-like wounds appeared on both the princess’s neck and his hand. Seeing the princess’s shocked face and the magic glowing in her hand, Jens groaned.

“Has your magic manifested?”

“…You’re strong.”

Jens looked incredulous.

“What did you take me for?”

“I thought you were just intelligent with no physical strength…”

Unrefined words spilled from the princess’s mouth with a bewildered expression. He tightened his grip on her wrist.

The magic glowing in the princess’s hand cut deeper into his palm, causing quite a bit of blood to flow down her forearm. The princess, perhaps from the pain of her wrist in his powerful grip, winced and subdued her magic.

Even after the magic disappeared, Jens didn’t release her hand. With his right hand, he rummaged in his pocket and offered her a handkerchief.

The princess took it and pressed it against her bleeding neck, looking at him with curiosity.

“You’re left-handed?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

What did she know or not know? Jens clicked his tongue and spoke.

“When did it manifest?”

“…”

“Is that why you came to the Republic? To avoid being immediately confined in Evighkeit Palace?”

“…”

“Even if that’s the case, if the 3rd Prince ascends to the throne, he could free you. You weren’t there when you were younger, were you? You’d only need to wait until marriage.”

The princess bit her lip hard, seemingly disliking this idea even more. But Jens ignored this and continued.

“Even if he hasn’t been officially named crown prince yet, the 3rd Prince has a higher probability of ascending to the throne than the 4th Princess—in terms of both ability and influence. Return to the Empire and endure for a few years.”

“Jens.”

Jens wished the princess would stop calling him by name. What was with that voice from a mere sixteen-year-old?

“It’s Lieutenant.”

“Jens. I spoke carelessly about marriage without knowing everything, but I wish you wouldn’t speak further without proper understanding either. And…”

The princess raised her eyes. Her wrist, which he still held for fear she might attempt suicide again, grew hot.

“The egg has already cracked.”

“!”

Jens flinched in surprise and released her hand. But instead, the princess grabbed his retreating wrist with both her blood-covered hands and whispered:

“A born baby cannot return to its mother’s womb, and a bird that has broken its shell cannot go back inside. I have already emerged from my shell. It’s already irreversible.”