At last, the moment had arrived.
The Lexenil Kingdom buzzed with festivity.
The Northern Magic Beast Front had come to a close—and once again, humanity had emerged victorious.
News of the victory reached the kingdom two days late, and ten days later, it was decided that a victory festival would be held. Today was that day.
A parade marched from the triumphal arch toward the royal palace, with soldiers and adventurers who had distinguished themselves in battle processing through the streets. From the sidelines, the crowd showered them with cheers and applause. From the windows, a blizzard of confetti and blowing kisses from the ladies rained down.
When King Murad himself declared victory, the excitement reached a fever pitch, and the celebration continued into the night with the victory ceremony.
While the capital city buzzed with festival energy, the royal palace remained quiet.
There was an air of celebration, to be sure—but if anything, the streets were simply too loud. For the servants, who had been busy preparing for the victory ceremony since morning, there was no time to join in the revelry.
As servants hurried back and forth through the corridors, one girl's footsteps echoed with an awkward, clunky sound.
"Still not used to the heels?" Hashiry asked.
"Sh-shut up!" Reminia wailed. "Who the hell made these impossible shoes anyway?!"
Beside her, Hashiry shrugged with a resigned air.
The latter was dressed in the formal military uniform issued to kingdom officers, while the former wore a blue cocktail dress. Reminia had sworn she'd never wear a dress again, but she'd fallen for the lie that "dress code means you have to wear a dress"—and was still being deceived by it even now. Watching the country girl struggle with her heels as usual, Hashiry felt a small pang of guilt—but given that she was usually on the receiving end of Reminia's unreasonable demands, this made for a perfectly satisfying bit of payback.
Besides—Reminia looked far better in a dress than she ever would in a military uniform.
As long as she kept her mouth shut, she possessed a beauty that would put any princess to shame. It would be a waste not to dress her up.
As they passed through the entrance to the venue, the sweet scent of perfume hit their noses. Hashiry was used to it by now, but beside her, Reminia's face twisted in obvious distaste.
The ceremony hall was already lively. Guests in formalwear, military uniforms, and an array of dresses gathered around buffet tables, chatting with drinks in hand—wine and fruit water alike.
When Reminia entered, every gaze stopped.
"So that's the Great Hero?"
"She's just a child, isn't she?"
"But they say she single-handedly took down a Grand Dragon."
"Huh? By herself?"
"What a monster."
"Though I heard it took her five days."
"General Zehes would have done it much faster."
The looks were cold.
Reminia's position in this kingdom was a delicate one. She was far too powerful—and far too young. What if her power ran out of control? That vague unease had dragged down her reputation.
They'd thought her defeat of the Grand Dragon would raise her standing, but it seemed to have backfired instead.
"Don't worry about them, Reminia," a voice said.
She turned toward the voice—but the person in question wasn't there.
"Hashiry! This is amazing! You've gotta try it!" Reminia shouted, gripping a whole roasted pheasant with both hands and waving it in her direction.
At best, one might call it innocent and carefree. At worst, it was behavior that exceeded the bounds of ladylike decorum. Hashiry's face flushed red. The cold stares only grew sharper.
The ceremony proceeded without incident.
One dignitary after another took the stage, delivering solemn congratulations. It was dreadfully boring—but when King Murad finally stepped up, everyone straightened their postures.
Then came dance time.
Reminia and Hashiry lingered at the edge of the hall, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres as they watched the nobles enjoy themselves on the dance floor.
"Reminia," Hashiry said. "You really should—how shall I put this—learn a thing or two about proper ladylike conduct."
"I don't care about any of that," Reminia replied. "Papa never taught me. And Uncle Lazail didn't know either."
"Who is that uncle?" Hashiry asked.
"The smartest man in the village. He knows stuff like the easiest way to catch a rat-rabbit."
Hashiry sighed.
Well, it couldn't be helped. Until just the other day, Reminia had been living in a backwater village on the frontier.
"Look over there," Hashiry said, pointing toward the center of the hall. "That's the daughter of Grand Duke Rifalas dancing."
A girl around Reminia's age was dancing, her abundant golden hair swaying. Their eyes met briefly. Then, she suddenly broke away from her partner, curtsied, and stepped out of the dance circle—heading straight toward them.
"Pardon me," the girl said. "Might you be Reminia-sama?"
"Yeah, that's me..." Reminia replied.
At her response, the girl's eyes lit up. As if steadying her own excited heart, she placed a hand on her chest, grasped the hem of her dress, and curtsied. It was an elegant greeting. Her smile was as radiant as a garden of roses blooming all at once.
"Forgive my intrusion," she said. "I am Anri, daughter of Grand Duke Rifalas."
"Uh... yeah..." Reminia mumbled.
"Actually," Anri continued, "I have a letter here from your father, Wolf-sama."
"From Papa?!" Reminia exclaimed.
Reminia shot up so fast Hashiry half-expected her to hit the chandelier. Anri produced the letter from where she'd tucked it between her ample breasts. Beside them, Hashiry stared with envious eyes.
The moment Reminia received the letter, she tore it open without so much as a word of thanks. Like a child who'd just been given a new toy, her eyes sparkled as she silently devoured her father's handwritten words.
"Pardon me, Anri-jousama," Hashiry said, stepping in to handle the formal greetings on Reminia's behalf. "I'm Hashiry Wart, Reminia's secretary. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"If you don't mind," Hashiry continued, "I'd like to confirm the circumstances of your meeting with Wolf-sama."
"Oh, gladly!" Anri replied.
Anri launched into the story with visible delight. It began with a disagreement with her subordinates, led to the princess herself crossing swords, and ended with them taking down a dragon together.
As Hashiry listened, he gradually froze solid.
If Reminia—with her fiercely protective obsession over her father—had heard this, she would have flown into a rage: "What?! You made my Papa do something dangerous?!" But the girl in question was currently absorbed in savoring her father's letter. She seemed completely oblivious. She reread the short message over and over, clutching the paper that undoubtedly carried Anri's perfume, insisting "it smells like Papa" with her ears bright red and a dreamy expression on her face.
To put it bluntly—she looked like nothing so much as a pervert.
"Anri-jousama," Hashiry asked carefully, "in your eyes, what sort of person is Wolf-sama?"
"Wolf-sama is an exceedingly powerful man," Anri replied, gazing into the night sky like a maiden in love.
No, not like—she was genuinely smitten, it seemed. Anri's infamous weakness for falling for strong men was well-known in high society.
"Right?!" Reminia suddenly cut in. "Papa is super strong!"
(Says the one who made him that way...)
Hashiry was half-dumbfounded.
Wolf had overwhelmed Anri—who was B-class—and taken down a dragon, all thanks to Reminia's enhancement magic.
Just how many people here were actually aware of that fact?
He could only pray that the girl herself wouldn't let it slip.
"Yes," Anri continued dreamily. "And when he saved me from the dragon, Wolf-sama was incredibly gallant. Even his sword sparkled with light."
(That moment! Of all moments!!)
Hashiry reflexively covered his face.
He'd thought it was just the overprotective daughter spouting nonsense—and yet he'd apparently been supporting Wolf at the exact moment Anri was talking about.
"Yep," Reminia said matter-of-factly. "Papa's weapons sparkle when he holds them."
(You're just saying whatever comes to mind too!)
With no one to deliver the straight-man retort, the conversation continued. Centered around a man who wasn't even there, their discussion both aligned and completely failed to align. The only point of agreement they reached was that Wolf sometimes went without changing his underwear.
The two had been chatting amiably enough—but their friendship fell apart sooner than expected.
"Sigh," Anri sighed dramatically. "If only I could be with Wolf-sama. How happy I'd be..."
"Not gonna happen," Reminia shot back. "I'm the one who's gonna marry Papa."
"But Reminia-sama and Wolf-sama are father and daughter," Anri pointed out.
"Love conquers all," Reminia declared. "Besides—like some random girl of unknown origin like you could ever be good enough for my Papa."
"Wh-what are you saying?!" Anri sputtered. "You're the one who's filthy—wanting an eternal bond with your own father!"
"What did you say?!" Reminia yelled.
"You want to settle this?!" Anri shot back.
"Hey! Reminia! And you too, Princess!" Hashiry shouted desperately.
The party hall erupted into commotion. Nobles and retainers alike began turning their attention to the quarrel between Reminia and Anri.
And somehow—it was decided that arm wrestling would settle the matter.
One table was cleared, and Reminia and Anri sat across from each other. The spectators, hungry for entertainment, surrounded them. They cheered on the fierce girls' duel, and in the corner, secret bets were being placed.
"R-Reminia! Please stop this!" Hashiry begged.
"Go bother someone else!" Reminia snapped, ignoring Hashiry's protests and rolling up the sleeve of her blue dress.
Meanwhile, Anri's side was equally frantic. Her father, Hairyl—who'd accompanied her—had gone pale as a ghost, looking like he might faint at any moment.
"Anri!" he exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Don't stop me, Father," Anri replied firmly. "This is a battle between women that cannot be avoided!"
She bared her arm, just as Reminia had. A referee appeared from somewhere and positioned the two girls' arms on the table. They glared at each other, faces close enough to almost touch.
"Don't worry," Reminia said. "I won't use magic."
"Nor I," Anri agreed. "To go all out against such a young girl would be against chivalry."
"What?! You said it! You thieving cat!" Reminia snarled.
"Shut your mouth, you little brat!" Anri retorted.
The tension between the two was explosive even before they started. Hashiry had given up. Hairyl had his hands clasped in prayer.
"A're..." the referee's voice rang out.
"Vald!"
They began.
Their arms didn't move.
Not for lack of effort—their faces were twisted, their breath held. It was a perfect dead heat.
"N-not bad at all," Reminia grunted.
"Hmph," Anri panted. "Is that all you've got? I haven't even—hah—gone all out yet."
It was a good match. The crowd's excitement swelled higher. Casting aside their sheep's clothing, the noble spectators roared like pirates. Even Hashiry found herself tensing up. Meanwhile, Hairyl had finally fainted and was being carried away by his attendants.
"Ugh... hngh... ah... haa..." Reminia groaned.
"Guh! Haa haa... hnnngh... ahhh..." Anri gasped.
Amidst the uproar, the two girls' cries—nearly indistinguishable from moans—rang through the hall.
"T-take... this!" Reminia panted. "...Just give up, Princess!"
"Not a chance..." Anri gasped back. "Ah, you're the one... haa haa... who should give in!"
"Eek! Ah, wai—it hurts..." Reminia squeaked.
"Aha ha ha haaah!" Anri laughed breathlessly. "I'm at my... li—mit...!"
The breathless exchange was embarrassing just to listen to. Some nobles held their breath, leaning in to listen.
"Aaahhh! I can't take it anymoreee!" Reminia screamed. (It's arm wrestling, folks.)
"Hawww..." Anri whimpered. "Me too, I can't... anymooore..." (Also arm wrestling, folks.)
A loud crack echoed through the hall. A beat later, the crowd roared.
Reminia and Anri had collapsed, still gripping each other's hands.
Perhaps it was due to the violence of their match—the table had given out, snapping cleanly from its supports.
"Not bad for a princess," Reminia said, catching her breath. "I'll give you credit for guts. ...But I'm not giving up Papa."
"Impressive," Anri replied, her voice equally strained. "Truly a daughter worthy of Wolf-sama. You possess considerable strength. ...But Wolf-sama is mine."
"What did you say?!" Reminia snarled.
"What was that?!" Anri shot back.
"What is all this commotion?" a voice boomed.
A voice descended upon the two snarling wolves. Looking up, they saw King Murad watching from the royal box. Hastily, everyone prostrated themselves. Reminia and Anri also corrected their postures and bowed their heads.
The king said nothing further and withdrew into the back. With the atmosphere thoroughly chilled, a slow dance melody began to play again, and the gathered spectators resumed their chatter.
Hashiry breathed a sigh of relief.
It wasn't so much that they'd been saved—more that King Murad himself had stepped in to quell a situation that had spiraled out of control. According to those close to the king, he was apparently quite a unique individual. Perhaps he'd been watching from somewhere in secret all along.
"The letter..." Anri said, smoothing her golden hair as she lifted her head. "I did deliver it as promised."
"I'm grateful for that," Reminia replied stiffly. "Thank you."
"After the victory ceremony," Anri continued, "I'll return to Nikaras. If you wish to send a letter to your father, bring it to me as soon as possible."
"Huh?" Reminia blinked. "You'll deliver it?"
"Not for your sake," Anri said coolly. "For Wolf-sama's. Now then—"
With one final, graceful curtsy, Anri took her leave.
(After all that... maybe she's come to accept Reminia?) Hashiry thought.
After all, she was a grand duke's daughter. You never knew what she might say later. Hashiry could only hope.
"Hashiry..." Reminia said quietly.
"Yes, Reminia?" Hashiry replied.
"Send that princess some flowers," Reminia instructed. "Ones she'd like."
Hashiry was a little surprised. So she could be thoughtful sometimes.
"Understood," she said.
"And..." Reminia hesitated.
"Yes?" Hashiry prompted.
"...Sorry," Reminia mumbled, her voice gruff. "For always causing you trouble."
The apology came out gruff and utterly lacking in grace. Hashiry took a comb from her pocket and murmured softly.
"I don't mind."
She began combing the girl's tousled red hair.
Summary:
Reminia and Hashiry attend the victory ceremony, where Reminia's rustic behavior draws cold stares and Hashiry struggles to maintain decorum. Anri, daughter of Grand Duke Rifalas, approaches them and delivers a letter from Wolf to Reminia, then recounts her adventure with him. A fierce argument erupts between Reminia and Anri over Wolf, escalating into an arm-wrestling match that ends in a draw when the table collapses, and King Murad intervenes to restore order—leaving Hashiry to wonder if Anri has accepted Reminia, and whether Wolf's romantic fate remains undecided.
Trivia:
Reminia is known as the Great Hero who single-handedly defeated a Grand Dragon, but her reputation is damaged by fears that her youth and overwhelming power might spiral out of control.
Reminia's father Wolf was originally B-class, but his strength was massively enhanced by Reminia's magic, a fact few at the ceremony are aware of.
Anri carries a letter from Wolf to Reminia, which she delivers from between her breasts, causing Hashiry to stare with envy.
Reminia was tricked into wearing a dress by Hashiry's lie that "dress code" literally means you must wear a dress, and she's still struggling with her heels.
Anri has a well-known weakness for falling in love with strong men, which is why she's developed feelings for Wolf after he saved her from a dragon.
King Murad is described by those close to him as quite an eccentric character, and he may have been secretly watching the entire arm-wrestling commotion.
The arm-wrestling match ends when the table itself breaks from the force of their struggle, not when either combatant yields.
Wolf apparently sometimes goes without changing his underwear, a detail both Reminia and Anri agree on during their conversation.
Reminia's father Wolf wrote a letter to her, which she reads obsessively, claiming the paper "smells like Papa" and blushing deeply.
Hairyl, Anri's father and Grand Duke Rifalas, faints from stress during the arm-wrestling match and is carried away by his attendants.
Notes:
• Murad - Job: King of Lexenil Kingdom; Relationship: Brother-in-law to Hairyl; Note: Ruling monarch.
• Hashiry - A 24-year-old A-class mage and researcher at the Royal Magical Research Institute, she is Reminia’s tall, slender, white-haired advisor and secretary. Sporting a white and gold jacket, boyish features, and pale blue eyes, she balances professional, patient service with a playful, teasing dynamic. Often exasperated by Reminia’s overprotectiveness, she observes her superior's magical feats with disbelief.
• Reminia - Fifteen-year-old Great Hero of Straval and researcher of the Double World Theory, this willful, intelligent girl sports striking red hair, amethyst eyes, and a slender build. A dedicated protector of her father, Wolf, she balances a tomboyish exterior with immense, limited-use magic—including holy relics and teleportation. Her speech shifts between analytical precision and deep devotion to him.
• Zehes - Graf's family name. The Fierce general of Lexenil Kingdom.
• Lazail - The smartest man in Reminia's village, known for practical frontier knowledge like catching rat-rabbits.
• Rifalas - Job: Grand Duke title holder; Relationship: Henri's family; Note: Noble house.
• Anri - A beautiful half-elf princess knight and daughter of Grand Duke Hairyl, she is a B-rank adventurer, Captain of the Blue Brigade, and frontier vigilante. With blonde hair, pale skin, and a slender, muscular frame, she carries an aristocratic bearing. Recently rescued after being carried off by a dragon, she is Wolf’s devoted fiancée, possessing absolute confidence in his strength.
• Wolf - A 42-year-old former A-rank adventurer now operating at SSS-rank levels, he retired to Nicalas Village to raise his daughter, Reminia, as a humble farmer and craftsman. Though soot-stained and calm, this protective, curly-haired father possesses immense, beyond-human strength. A pragmatic, understated mentor, he leads by example, balancing quiet devotion with the quiet authority of a seasoned guardian.
• Hairyl - Grand Duke and Lord of Rifalas, older brother to King Murad and a powerful mine operator ruling 15% of Lexenil. A formal, extremely busy royal, he is the devoted father of Henri and Anri. Driven by genuine concern for his daughter’s safety, he arrives with private soldiers to execute a desperate rescue mission, balancing his heavy political responsibilities with deep paternal instincts.