If You Take the Enemy Prince as Your Knight Chapter 67

Her groans turned into a low wail, filling the pavilion with a pitiful echo. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

 

Marquis Osbond stepped in to bring order to the situation. “Since you have been eliminated from the competition, Princess New Moon is no longer eligible to participate in the game. My condolences.”

 

Marquis Osbond called for a maid to forcibly lift her up and escort her out of the pavilion. It was practically no different from being dragged away.

 

“With this, the last place in this competition has been decided. Congratulations to the remaining princesses, as you must feel a bit more at ease now.”

 

The princesses, including myself, all maintained expressionless faces in response to the scornful mockery.

 

“Now, let’s proceed with the final game.”

 

The identities of knights number 1 and number 4 were still undisclosed. One of them was Yulis, and the other was Ciel.

 

I lowered my eyes. Honestly, judging from the two knights’ capabilities, the answer was obvious. The one who’s maintained a top rank, number 1, is Sir Yulis. The one who fell from mid-ranks to the bottom, number 4, is Sir Ciel. Everyone should have guessed as much.

 

It was as expected. Even Shumel, who usually preferred to conserve her mental energy, seemed to have figured it out, her green eyes brimming with tears. Excluding Sir Heinz, who had already been eliminated, Ciel was in last place.

 

I glanced at Marquis Osbond. That cunning man wouldn’t bother continuing with such an obvious, boring game.

 

As I anticipated, there was a twist in the final question.

 

“Let us return to the basic premise of horse racing. Predict the winning horse of this competition.”

 

“If that’s the question, we won’t know the answer until after the race. What’s the point of this game for us?”

 

“An excellent point, Princess Amethyst.”

 

The reward prepared by Marquis Osbond was truly extraordinary.

 

“The knight of the princess who answers correctly will be granted immunity from the penalty in this competition.”

 

“…!”

 

The gazes of my sisters changed.

 

The bottom three would have to face penalties. Even though the last place had already been determined, there were still two more who would have to endure the punishment.

 

The sisters leaned closer to the board game, their faces filled with contemplation. Currently, the order of the black knights was as follows: 2, 7, 1, 6, 3, 4. In order, they were Bellinger, Kilieon, Yulis, Noah, Regen, and Ciel.

 

It was the time for the broadcast. As the princesses watched nervously, the servants rearranged the knights’ positions.

 

“Second and third place keep switching back and forth.”

 

“Oh? Sir Regen just overtook Sir Noah. He’s already climbed up to fourth place.”

 

“Shushu, stop focusing on the ones in the back. Shouldn’t you be paying more attention to the knights in the lead? Aren’t you the one who needs immunity most desperately?”

 

“W-Well, Sir Bellinger has been in first place the whole time anyway! I’m sure it’ll be the same at the finish line!”

 

Indeed, except for the very beginning, Bellinger had consistently held onto first place. The other sisters didn’t seem to have any objections to Shumel’s exclamation.

 

“Well, the gap between first and second is pretty big…”

 

“The track is almost over. The finish line is near.”

 

Lilliana chimed in. “If it stays like this, Sir Bellinger will take an overwhelming first place. Congratulations in advance, Sister Vivi.”

 

I glanced at Marquis Osbond. His lips curled with a languid, sly serpent’s smile.

 

This competition isn’t over yet.

 

✦

In the hedge maze garden, a man in a black uniform strode out with long, confident steps. His jet-black hair, which slightly covered the nape of his neck, and his olive-colored eyes gave him the appearance of a strikingly handsome knight. A confident smile adorned his face. He was none other than Bellinger, the personal knight of Vivian, who was dominating the competition.

 

As soon as he stepped into the clearing, he sensed a presence closing in from both sides. Bellinger immediately raised his sword, slashing wide to fend off the ambushing soldiers. Before they could even regain their stances, he followed up with another strike, swiftly subduing them.

 

“How dare you.” He swept his hair back, looking at the fallen ones as if they were insects.

 

Several knights playing the role of gatekeepers and soldiers pretending to be assassins had charged at him, but they were no match for Bellinger. There would never be any unexpected twists in such an easy flow. Bellinger anticipated that the competition would end with his rank firmly secured. The mere thought of it brought a natural curve to Bellinger’s lips.

 

Surprisingly, he was genuinely enjoying the competition. Bellinger was a knight who had rarely experienced defeat in his life, and his innate competitive spirit made him well-suited for a competition filled with rivalry and struggle. His mindset going into the competition wasn’t so much about representing the survival battle of the princesses, but more about showcasing his own superiority.

 

It’s a bit disappointing though.

 

The one thing Bellinger lamented was that the person who had chosen him was Princess Blue Wave, Vivian. Though she held the position of the eldest princess, she was too frail and unsuited for competition.

 

Princess Blue Wave is a decent master. But being decent isn’t enough. Bellinger’s desire to win in the competition was so intense that he dared to entertain disloyal thoughts, even after being bonded. On top of that, he was quick-witted.

 

This sword probably wasn’t sponsored by Princess Blue Wave.

 

The servant hadn’t specified which princess had provided the support, only vaguely stating it was from a princess. Bellinger wasn’t one to miss such a subtle concealment. When he first received the potion, he even suspected poison and tested it on a bird.

 

Who could it be? Who’s showing me this favor?

 

He thought things through, but in the end, Bellinger picked the candidates in his own arbitrary way. His criteria weren’t based on which princess might favor him, but rather on which princess he favored. The first one that came to mind was Sasha. The remarkable performance of Princess Silver Bird in overturning the game during the last competition had left a strong impression on him.

 

Recalling that time, Bellinger’s eyes lost focus. Even more disloyal thoughts grew in his mind. If only Princess Silver Bird had chosen me… If a princess who knew how to play the game and a knight like him joined hands, the synergy would be tremendous. Every competition’s first place would be theirs.

 

But Princess Silver Bird’s judgment was seriously flawed. She’d chosen someone named Regen, who seemed to have nothing better than his face. Choosing a knight, whose role was to risk their life as a sword and shield, as if picking a decorative trinket to wear on her chest, made Bellinger even angrier.

 

There’s nothing right about any of this. In fact, by Bellinger’s standards, the only proper scenario was all the princesses fighting to have him as their knight.

 

Suddenly, a stabbing pain made Bellinger frown. His imprint, which forbade betrayal, was sending him a warning through pain. Annoyed, he refocused on the competition.

 

“I can’t just let them pass.”

 

He turned the signpost indicating the garden’s name in the wrong direction and damaged the velvet ropes marking the track. This was to create confusion for the knights following behind him, making it harder for them to find the path. It was his secret to widening the gap between himself and the second and third places. He felt no guilt. On the contrary, he admired himself for being not only strong but also cunning.

 

Just one more garden to go. He stepped into the garden, where colorful zinnias were in full bloom. As he tensed his leg muscles to sprint through quickly, a sudden ambush struck Bellinger.

 

“…!”

 

His instincts saved him. Barely dodging the blade by a hair’s breadth, he turned to identify his attacker. A knight in a blue uniform greeted him with a smiling face.

 

“Heyyy, Sir Bellinger. True to your sneaky nature, you made it here first.”

 

“Sir Dominic?”

 

Despite his sun-bright blond hair, there was darkness deeper than light in that knight. Anyone with honed senses would instinctively be on guard upon seeing him. He was the most trusted sword of the emperor, Dominic Mizekal.