Chapter 151

Chapter 151: Sad or Happy

The fierce battle between the Count of Tread and us over the trading port, Mudside.

The war had ended in Daphne’s victory, but the process of recovering from it was far from beautiful.

“Waaaah! Daaaaddy!”

“Come here, sweetie!”

Countless bodies had been buried in graves.

“Aaaagh!”

“Put a cold towel on his forehead! Get this one rinsed and bring it back! Also, fetch the medicine!”

Even more people than the dead came and went from the temporary infirmary—healers and townsfolk alike tending to the wounded.

Others were busy repairing the defensive lines and the harbor, clearing debris from shattered ships and discarded weapons that littered the coastline.

Thanks to the efforts of all these people, Mudside was slowly returning to its former state.

Then one day, around lunchtime when everyone should have been busy with their own tasks—

“…Do we go this way?”

“Looks like it.”

“Daddy, this way!”

Dozens of people were hurrying along Mudside’s road in one direction.

Some held children’s hands, others walked with friends, and some were supporting the injured.

Though they'd been through such misery, everyone had smiles on their faces, bright with anticipation. Their steps were light.

From all directions—east, west, south, and north—people gathered toward the plaza in front of the town hall. The murmuring grew louder.

And then, as I stepped into the plaza—

“Wooooah!”

A small child holding their mother's hand entered and gazed into the plaza with sparkling eyes.

“Alright, come get your food!”

“Please come in order! We've prepared plenty for everyone!”

Dozens of tents had been set up, and beneath them were dozens of Daphne’s servants cooking food.

“Move these over here! Milton! Go get more carrots from the storehouse!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Turn this line around to the other side!”

“Understood, my lord.”

Gadolph was dashing around, shouting orders and overseeing everything, desperate to ensure the distribution went smoothly.

He had run around so much that his hair was drenched in sweat and stuck to his scalp in clumps.

And that wasn’t all.

Near the plaza, clowns were putting on performances to liven the mood, and people played games like stickball and catch.

It was like stepping into the middle of a festival.

“Ooh, this tastes amazing!”

“Heheh. Thank you, my lord!”

“There’s a clown over there, Daddy!”

Apparently, the townspeople didn’t mind the cheerful atmosphere either—their faces were blooming with laughter.

While everyone was caught up in the excitement—

Near the wide wooden platform set up at the front of the plaza—

“Alright, stand where we discussed earlier!”

“Yes, sir!”

Dozens of Daphne’s knights in neat uniforms suddenly appeared and lined up in perfect formation as if it had been rehearsed.

“Beryl, that outfit suits you well.”

“Is that so? Ahem. Mikkelsen, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Perhaps pleased with their attire, the members of the Maw Unit, lined up in formation, blushed slightly and exchanged compliments with one another.

At that moment—

“Save the compliments for later.”

“Huh?”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on our duty right now?”

Manton glared at Beryl and Mikkelsen and threw out a gruff remark.

“Ah, right, right. My bad.”

Beryl responded with an awkward chuckle, while Mikkelsen pouted and muttered under his breath.

“Geez, he’s really nagging today. Bet it’s because of the Princess again.”

“What was that, Mikkelsen?”

“Huh? I didn’t say aaaaanything?”

Just as the two were bickering—

“They’re coming!”

A servant came running and shouted, prompting the knights to shut their mouths and snap back to attention.

Moments later, a group of people approached from the distance.

“Hm, looks like quite… a crowd has gathered.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Malion, adjusting his glasses, and Viscount Cobalt, clad in a uniform with an awkward smile, walked together.

“……”

Princess Medeia walked behind them, surveying the area with a blank expression, followed by Hardin, who kept a step behind her.

As the group stepped up onto the wooden platform surrounded by the knights—

“Ooh, it’s the Princess!”

“Where? Where?”

“Hey, don’t push!”

The townspeople filling the plaza all turned to look, and murmurs swelled into a commotion as people surged forward.

Considering Medeia was not only of imperial blood—descended from God Faeron—but also one of the “Empire’s Four Beauties” thanks to the yellow journal’s rumors, this reaction was only natural.

“Don’t push!”

“Stay behind the line!”

The knights at the front began to sweat as they struggled to hold back the crowd.

A little later, once the plaza had somewhat calmed down—

From atop the platform, Princess Medeia turned her head slightly and glanced at Viscount Cobalt.

In response, Viscount Cobalt took a bold step forward, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

“Thank you all for answering my call.”

His voice echoed powerfully across the plaza.

The murmuring from the townspeople faded, and all eyes turned to Viscount Cobalt.

“This victory festival we hold today is to commemorate House Daphne’s triumph over the Count of Tread and our successful defense of the trading port, Mudside.”

The townspeople nodded, and scattered applause followed.

Turning to his side again, Cobalt extended his arm and spoke.

“First, before the festivities begin, it is only right that we express our boundless gratitude to Fourth Princess Medeia, who greatly contributed to this major victory in the war.”

“……”

Medeia gave a small nod in response.

“Thank you! Princess!”

“Princeseeeeeess!”

Cheers and cries erupted from all directions as the townspeople called out to her.

Medeia gave a slight wave of her hand in return, and as the cheers began to settle down again, Cobalt resumed speaking.

“Also, as the Lord of this House, I offer my sincere gratitude to the knights of our family, the conscripts, and their families who dedicated themselves to this war. Today’s victory celebration is meant to express a small portion of that gratitude. So please—enjoy yourselves to the fullest.”

And the moment he finished speaking—

“Woooooooaaah!”

“Long live House Daaaaaphne!”

Thunderous cheers burst out from all around, loud enough to tear through eardrums, with no end in sight.

The knights, as well as the Lord and Malion watching this scene, couldn’t help but smile—faces filled with overwhelming joy and emotion.

Meanwhile, Medeia shifted her gaze slightly to the side.

‘……’

Strangely enough, amid all the cheering and laughter, only one person—Hardin Daphne—wore a bitter expression on his face.

It was such an unfamiliar look for Hardin that Medeia's eyes took on a subtle gleam.

Just then—

“Shall we go, Your Highness? A banquet has been prepared separately. Lieutenant Benjamin should be waiting there as well.”

“…Very well.”

Responding to Viscount Cobalt’s call, Medeia nodded and began walking alongside him.

---

Second floor of the Mudside town hall—Main Conference Room.

A space typically used for meetings about port affairs or receiving important guests had taken on a very different appearance today.

A crimson tablecloth covered the meeting table, and atop it were fish, meat, fruits, and a variety of gourmet delicacies alongside wine.

A feast fit to break the table’s legs—rarely seen at the Daphne Viscounty.

“Hahaha! If Her Highness hadn’t appeared at that moment, we would’ve been in serious trouble!”

“Indeed! Absolutely right!”

Gathered at the table were Daphne’s kin, Former Commander Mulgybson, Unit Commanders Manton and Beryl, Lieutenant Benjamin, Princess Medeia, and other key figures who had played crucial roles in the recent war. They sat together eating and drinking.

Their faces were flushed, voices loud and boisterous—clearly the banquet was well underway.

“Hohoho! Beryl, watching you lead that chicken-head into battle was quite the sight!”

“Hey, it’s not chicken-head! It’s Kkokko, Kkokko!”

“Kkokko, chicken-head—same thing! Hahaha!”

Even Lieutenant Benjamin and Beryl had their arms around each other’s shoulders, drunkenly laughing and making a racket.

No matter what anyone said, laughter kept pouring out—no end to the chatter.

If there was anything strange about it…

‘That’s not like him.’

Gulp.

As Medeia swallowed a sip of wine, she cast another quick side glance.

Hardin sat with his head slightly bowed, staring blankly at the table.

It was hard to describe in words, but there was a subtle bitterness in his expression.

So much so that—

“Brother, why are you so quiet? Come on, eat up!”

Malion, seated across from him with a nose red like a strawberry, lifted his wine glass and tried to strike up a conversation.

“Ah, sorry. My stomach’s not feeling great.”

“Oh, come on! Stomach upset? You’ve got to overcome that with discipline, tenacity, and grit! Especially on a day like this!”

“He’s right, Young Master!”

As everyone egged him on in high spirits, Hardin gave a faint, bitter smile and downed the wine in front of him in one go.

Then—

“I’ll just go get a bit of fresh air.”

“Please come back quickly!”

He stood up and walked out of the conference room.

Several more minutes passed.

“Ahahaha! I really thought I was going to die back then.”

“Man… that wasn’t easy. The one we were up against was Commander Pattinson, after all.”

While everyone remained swept up in the festivity—

Medeia quietly rose from her seat.

“I shall go get some fresh air as well.”

“Ah, then I’ll come with y—”

“It’s fine. I’d like to be alone.”

“…Understood.”

As Lieutenant Benjamin began to stand, Medeia raised a hand to stop him, then left the room.

“Ah!”

One of the waiting maids saw Medeia stepping into the corridor and gasped, quickly bowing deeply.

Medeia approached her quietly and spoke.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Please give the order!”

“Bring me a robe. Something I can cover myself with.”

“Ah, yes!”

Zoom!

The maid dashed into another room and promptly returned, handing Medeia a black robe.

Covering her entire body and head with it, Medeia asked,

“Where did Hardin go?”

“Y-you mean the Young Master?”

“Yes. He just left a moment ago.”

“I believe he headed toward the northern district…”

Without a word of reply, Medeia turned and strode swiftly down the corridor.

‘Why the sudden change? Did something happen?’

Tilting her head slightly, the maid watched Medeia’s retreating figure with a puzzled look in her eyes.

---

Step, step.

Cloaked in her robe, Medeia walked through a northern alley of Mudside.

Thanks to the festival drawing everyone toward the plaza, the only things she passed along the way were the occasional wandering dog or an old woman out for some air.

As Medeia glanced around, keeping an eye on her surroundings—

“Hm?”

She spotted Hardin in the distance, standing in front of a house at the far end of the alley.

Narrowing her eyes, she slowly approached in his direction.

Knock knock knock.

“Who is it?”

Hardin knocked on the door, and someone inside came out to greet him.

A freckled woman with sunken cheeks.

With a look of sorrow etched across her face, the woman spoke with Hardin for a brief moment before they both disappeared inside the house.

Medeia walked up to the front of the house and leaned against the wall beside the window, peering inside.

And then…

“Huuuh… huuh…”

She saw the woman sobbing, her shoulders trembling.

Hardin stood there, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your husband. It may not be much, but please take this.”

He offered her a small pouch, but the woman refused.

“That’s alright. You really don’t have to… huuh…”

“Take it anyway. It’ll help you raise your child.”

Hardin gently took her hand, opened it, and firmly placed the pouch into her palm before turning and walking back outside.

Medeia quickly hid deeper into the alley.

Creak. Thud!

Once outside, Hardin walked down the alley again and repeated the same act at another house.

“Please take this money. Your son’s death… it played a great part in protecting this port, and this house.”

“Y-Young Master…”

As he repeated this again and again, Medeia finally realized what Hardin was doing.

‘He’s… visiting the families of the fallen.’

He was seeking out the bereaved families of the Daphne conscripts who had died in the recent war—and giving them those pouches.

Some time passed like that.

Step.

While walking through the alley, Hardin suddenly stopped and turned his head back.

“If you’ve got something to say, come out and say it, Princess.”

“……”

Medeia stepped out from where she’d been hiding on the opposite side of the alley and pulled back the hood covering her head.

“What do you think you’re doing out here, Hardin Daphne?”

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