Otherworld TRPG Game Master

12 – S1. The Prince, the Flower, and the Resistance -2

Warmth.

Where the girl’s hand led, there was warmth. For you, who spent nights homeless wandering the streets, it was a long-missed sensation of warmth.

Crackle. Crack. The quietly burning logs inside the fireplace and three slices of bacon sizzling on the frying pan suspended above it. Your mouth watered at the scent and the tantalizing sound.

As you were transfixed by the bacon, the female mercenary who had been cooking in front of the fireplace tapped the frying pan with a spoon.

Wavy, flame-like red hair, a big scar across her face. Her eyes fiercely stood out. Light but firmly armored leather garments too.

You remembered the combat power evaluation method you learned from a young knight. Whether they are armed with a dagger, and if so, how worn the handle is.

The female mercenary had her dagger loosely sheathed at her waist, and the handle was quite worn. According to the young knight’s estimate, she was about ‘the main force of the roaming mercenary band’.

In the days when you were the second prince, you wouldn’t even glance at such a person, but it was quite a significant threat in your current state lacking power and money. Even more so if the person is hostile.

As you were tensely gathering your magic, the girl who led you stepped forward first.

“Lonya, I’m here!”

“Senra, who is this guy next to you. Did you bring another stray?”

“Calling him a stray! That’s rude to a person!”

“While wrapped in rags and starving, it’s a stray. You, give me your name.”

You hesitated for a moment.

A name that should have been proudly declared. However, you knew what that name meant in this world.

When you bit your lip and maintained the silence, the female mercenary named Lonya began to put hostility in her gaze. If someone cannot even clearly state his name, that person must be suspicious.

Then, someone gently touched the back of your hand.

Despite being startled, you acted nonchalantly and turned your eyes. Senra, the girl who had shown you kindness – moreover, was currently showing kindness – her hand was lightly touching yours.

Despite the slight contact, you somehow felt encouraged.

It felt like she was saying, ‘it’s okay’.

“…I am, Irith.”

“Irith? Disgraced Emperor Irith?”

“……”

“That makes sense why you hesitated. Anyone would look unfavorably upon hearing that name. Bad luck for you to have such a name, huh?”

Lonya laughed with a snicker, then lowered her voice to warn you.

“Don’t cause trouble and just leave peacefully. Senra may pity the unfortunate and wish to help, but I don’t. Rather, I feel like killing.”

“I’ve never been taught to repay kindness with enmity.”

“I’ve never been taught not to kill a stray.”

From Noble mtl dot com

“Stop!”

Senra jumped forward to stand between you and Lonya.

“Thanks for your concern, Lonya. But this man named Irith seems to be a good person. You don’t have to be overly cautious!”

“On what grounds?”

“When I jumped from the third floor… you gentlemanly turned your head away. Come, Irid! Ah, may I call you informally? Come this way, we’ve really got a great stew today!”

You were once again drawn in.

By her gentle touch, her radiantly sunny smile, and the faint scent of rosemary brushing past your nose.

The position of the imperial prince encounters and leaves behind many people.

Of course, this includes women. Especially in the imperial family, which actively uses strategical marriages.

Prince Irid, the second prince, has met many noble women and understood their nature. The strong scent of perfume, the mask of hypocrisy, the interior craving for power, and the calculated feigned mistakes to initiate physical contact.

Irid solemnly swore there was never a moment his heart fluttered.

Because their intentions were too blatantly clear in their gazes. Those eyes that saw Irid as a treasure chest.

One day, Irid would have to have a strategic marriage. But he did not think that a ludicrous emotion called love would bloom in the process.

··· So, the minor fluttering sensation he felt now must be an illusion.

“How is the stew?”

Centra was looking at Irid eating, holding her flower-pattern dish with both hands. In her clear eyes, which were round like a chestnut, there was no sign of artifice.

“It’s delicious. A wonderful ··· dish.”

Irid somewhat couldn’t bear her gaze, which had neither intimidation nor sharpness. His heart raced, he felt his emotions jumping in odd directions.

Maybe he was overreacting to such simple kindness because his heart was shaken by his first life-experience of homelessness for three days. Prince Irid constantly reassured himself.

“I’m glad. I was worried you might not like it!”

“I’m not in a position to be picky, whatever you give me. And, I don’t want to ask for more from someone who is helping me.”

“I knew it, I said I have a good eye for people! Ronya keeps telling me ‘you’re too off-guard-‘, but I have my own thoughts. See, Irid turned out to be a good person, didn’t he!”

Centra seemed pleased with Irid’s response, boasting her judgment gleefully.

Being considered a good person just for having manners, Irid felt this strange feeling. Receiving praise for something so natural was embarrassingly new to him.

Irid was eating the stew while listening to Centra’s chatter. The taste naturally fell short compared to the delicacies he had tasted before, but the warmth felt good.

There seemed to be a good amount of meat inside. There was a greasy aftertaste. And something seemed to have been added to mask the gamey smell, wild chives? Or perhaps…

“By the way, you really didn’t peek under my skirt, right?”

“···Cough, cough, c-cough···!”

Irid, who was savoring the stew, choked at her unexpected remark.

“Oh, dear, s-sorry! I just asked…Here, water!”

“Cough, c-cough-cough… such a, thing, is…cough…said considering…cough…social norms!”

“Drink first, here. I’ll pat your back. Or, was I supposed to pat your stomach?”

Centra patted Irid’s back. The impact had his whole body shaking. Drinking water in this condition would make him choke again, so he refused to drink by raising his hand.

Irid energetically consumed water, calming down Sare.

“Huff, phew…”

“So, you didn’t see it, right?”

“…Didn’t you directly ask in front of the mercenary named Ronya?”

“I wasn’t sure but I asked anyway. I thought Ronya would kick me out again. So, what’s your answer?”

“I didn’t see it. I swear.”

“Whew, if you didn’t see it, that’s fine. I thought you had noticed my underwear.”

“No, it was definitely black…”

“You saw it after all!”

Falling prey to Sare’s persistent questioning, Irid bowed her head quietly.

Black color. Frills. A small, precious red ribbon in the center. Slightly transparent.

It was a sight she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to.

With a faintly reddening face, Centra stammered out,

“I didn’t ask for no reason, you could…you could misunderstand things, right? Like, a person wearing undergarments like this would be involved in such and such affairs…that kind of thing! I wanted to argue that it’s a misunderstanding.”

“I never had such a misunderstanding.”

Even a unicorn wouldn’t conclude that ‘Because she was wearing s*xy underwear, she must be a flirtatious woman’.

For Irid, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. The aggressive advances of noble ladies were always followed by bold underwear. But she had never been this embarrassed before.

“I don’t have much money, but I wanted to wear pretty clothes. Like dresses or accessories…Something like that! So, underwear has the smallest fabric area, so it doesn’t cost much…?”

“Stop, stop!”

Irid halted the flood of TMI with a distressed expression. She was afraid of how much this innocent girl would spill.

She then understood why the mercenary named Ronya was all over Centra.

————-

“Azzzzahhhhh-!!”

“Is it such a big deal that the prince saw your panties…?!”

I didn’t care if Martabju stared at me like I was crazy.

I had protected my sense of self-worth regarding my story!

While patting my head in a victorious pose, Martapju said,

“Hmm, so…you intend to reel in the prince and snatch the dragon heart?”

‘Are you really gay?’ His eyes flashed a season 2 gaze. It was an unacceptable insinuation.

I firmly shook my head.

“Nope.”

“So, what are you going to do next?”

He’s asking about the next development, looks like Matapju is finally starting to take an interest in TRPG.

I dutifully laid out my plan.

“First, the initial plan has already failed.”

“I see, it failed.”

It failed.

I raised the white flag at the event avoidance that even Academy Extra would cry at.

The timing was not good. Even if I try to play territory now, time is running short.

Wasn’t it originally a three-hour trial? After finishing the basic construction and spreading the bait, I planned to end the session, maximizing the effect of the cutting doctrine.

The defense of the Second Prince was very strange and mysterious, which made the time short.

That being said, I had no desire to end it aimlessly pouring out attacks. There was no romance in that.

Nor was it worthwhile. ‘The attack was fun, but the early part of the session was trash. Die.’ I could say that. I needed a hostage.

I had to quickly build up in a short time / progress the event / make the session fun and satisfying. Make it so they want to do it again next time. From the beginning, I only had that thought.

Fortunately, in the midst of bad luck, I now have the reins. The Prince, he is quite weak to touch.

It wasn’t as if I had fired a hypnotic brainwashing beam, but it was clearly seen that Centra’s brain was bleached when he touched it.

If it goes wrong, grab the prince’s hand right away!

“The liking is still lacking. After loosening the character of Centra a little more and solidifying the bond with the player, then the event has to explode. Maybe after two more sessions.”

“I wouldn’t know, even if you told me so… But, listen.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“I’m talking about Centra’s modeling. Was it okay to use the heart?”

“…Well, what could be the problem?”

I thought for a moment and then shrugged it off.

Is there really a problem, though? The second prince has never seen a heart.