Chapter 43: Pride vs Pride (Patreon)

Desire had arrived.

Subaru Natsuki sat ramrod straight, his eyes locked on Priscilla Barielle and her insolent, outrageous mouth.

He had suddenly developed a very strong desire for this woman. Of course, it wasn't the desire to pound her savagely.

She was undeniably gorgeous, and in figure and mature-woman aura, she was roughly on par with Emilia, Anna and Cru-Cru, each beautiful in her own way. But in terms of what men generally like, there were surely far more who preferred Priscilla's type than the other three's.

But that trick wouldn't work on Subaru Natsuki!

I'm a man who's going to be king. Women just get in the way!

Ahem. Unless she was willing to become his queen consort. But no, his opinion of her was already plunging below the passing line. Even if she were willing, he'd never make Priscilla his primary wife. Rather than let her take that seat, he'd sooner grab anybody at random and make do.

Even Felt. Hell, even Felt would be better than letting this woman get on top.

She had openly mocked him and slandered him, treating a future ruler as a clown. A man with a bright future, who would rise by his own effort and sweat to become the peerless, greatest king of all ages. Priscilla, you've earned your own death!

He wanted it. He really, really wanted it.

Right now, Subaru Natsuki badly wanted to see Priscilla lose her composure. He wanted to see her cry in frustration, pounding the ground in agony as her logic failed to close its loop, tears and snot streaming down her face. He wanted to watch her go from someone who saw everyone else as a clown to a clown herself, with a crowd watching.

Emilia said with worried concern, "Shopkeeper..."

She herself didn't mind being looked down on, and she didn't mind being feared. Those were things she could endure, and she never felt the need to retaliate. But one glance at the shopkeeper's expression told her he definitely cared.

She wasn't good with words, though, and had no idea how to help him hit back at Priscilla. After turning it over in her head, all she could think to do was say a few kind words to him.

But Emilia had barely started to speak when Subaru, serious and brimming with fighting spirit, solemnly waved her off. "Hold on, Emilia. I know you mean well, but from this moment on, this place is called Subaru Natsuki Plaza!"

"From here on, it's a one-on-one showdown between me and a certain talented but unscrupulous, big-chested woman!"

An extreme provocation called for an extreme declaration of war.

Yet faced with it, Priscilla merely arched an eyebrow. The corners of her mouth curled up in delight as she fluttered her fan. "Is that so? Even a fool with useless eyes turns over a new leaf once he has basked in my radiance, and is forced to admit my incomparable virtue and ability?"

"How astonishing. Every day, I am delighted anew by my own power and perfection. How far above all things do I stand? Even I am amazed. That, too, is one of life's pleasures, I suppose."

Priscilla had twisted black into white and turned his attack into praise, but Subaru held his composure and didn't waver in the slightest.

He grinned. "Yeah, you've got talent, and naturally I'll admit it. After all, if the opponent I defeat had no talent or ability at all, like some ordinary nobody, how would I show off how great I am, the strong man who's definitely going to beat you and climb to the top over your corpse?"

"Oh? What bold boasting, commoner."

A flicker of interest stirred in Priscilla's eyes. For the first time since her arrival, she looked at Subaru not with that supremely arrogant, refuse-to-look-directly gaze, but took in his entire face. "You are still rather dull, and I will likely have forgotten you by the end of tonight. Still, I must admit your nerve in deliberately courting death has caught my attention."

"It's not yet known who'll take the deer."

Subaru leaned back in his chair and chuckled.

This was where it paid off.

As the shopkeeper, he had a chair. He could lean back, cross his legs and sit in comfort. Because he hadn't prepared any chairs for customers, no matter how haughty Priscilla was, standing was all she could do.

However arrogant her attitude, since she could only stand, she was one step lower in treatment.

Subaru made a point of emphasizing this, provoking her every moment.

The old him would probably have flushed with rage the moment Priscilla threw the first couple of taunts. He'd have lost his temper and gone berserk, only able to snap back with his own pitiful, threadbare, fragmented words, with no reason or sound logic behind them. Everyone watching would have thought how weak he was, and how useless, a comeback that only made him furious at himself.

But now was different.

Who would wear the crown must bear its weight. He had read so many little tales of emperors and even had a friendly exchange with Aragorn, the Human Emperor, so he had come to understand a few things.

For example, kings come in many kinds. Some stand high above everyone, others share joy with the people and put on no airs. But whichever kind of king you are, you must firmly control your own emotions.

You don't have to hide your thoughts or conceal your true heart. But if you want to become a qualified, even outstanding ruler, there's one thing you absolutely must do: never let anyone lead you around by the nose. Your emotions have to be yours to command.

Flip that around, and it means making your enemy follow you!

His grasp of all this was still fairly shallow, but he'd at least picked up a few ways to use it. He'd let Priscilla be his first practice run, his stepping stone. Heh heh.

"...?"

Priscilla looked at Subaru and the chair beneath him, and her gaze grew hazy, as if faintly puzzled. She seemed to be wondering why that chair hadn't splintered with a crack, sending Subaru's backside splitting in two.

But before she could get curious and investigate, Subaru turned something over in his head, thought of something, and asked with a smirk, "Hey, why are you bragging so wildly about yourself?"

"Look in any direction. Who doesn't know the Sword Saint is the strongest? You're not even the strongest, yet you dare boast that you stand above all things. Where's the logic in that? If the Sword Saint ever decided to cut you down one day, could you beat him? Could you even run away?"

Oooh!

Puck and Ram had taken Emilia a couple of steps away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, and both of their eyes were sparkling.

It's their favorite bloodthirsty segment, nya!

The two of them weren't as self-absorbed and arrogant as Priscilla, but deep down they were far more self-centered than ordinary people. Naturally, Priscilla's attitude of looking down on everything equally irritated them.

It was just that Ram, without an order from Roswaal L. Mathers, would never rashly speak up and make an enemy on Roswaal's behalf. And Puck took his cues from Emilia. Since Emilia had no intention of doing anything, Puck could only put up with it.

But merely putting up with it was deeply unpleasant.

And now, good heavens, he had stepped forward! The shopkeeper was a real man, the shopkeeper had guts. He stepped up, held up the sky, and was going to face Priscilla head-on, nya!

Could anyone else do something like that?!