Father, I Won’t Do Anything

“Well now, young master, you can be on your way. We won’t be troubling you.”

“Right, our business is with this girl, so quit putting on airs and scram. One hit and she’ll probably burst into tears with that baby face of hers.”

The mercenaries dismissively addressed Rosian. Yet they remained oblivious.

Rosian was no delicate young master who would cry from a single strike, his chiseled features belying an icy intensity in those eyes.

“Instead of prattling about titles, why not simply speak with our blades?”

With those words, Rosian drew his sword from its sheath, leveling it towards them in a flawless stance.

“While I’m aware of Miss Jaina’s prowess, it may be best if I handle this situation.”

Jaina’s eyes widened at Rosian stepping forward to defend her.

‘But even the slightest misstep could escalate into greater conflict…’

As if sensing her apprehension, Rosian casually reassured her:

“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity to showcase my swordsmanship to you, Miss Jaina?”

“What’s this brat rambling about?”

“So we’re meant to simply stand here while he boasts of his skills?”

Dismissing him as a mere child, the mercenaries gestured for what appeared to be their youngest member to step up.

“No need to make a big fuss, just subdue that lad while we take the girl.”

“Leaving me with the troublesome tasks as always. Hey kid, it’s not too late to reconsider.”

“No, it’s far too late. Even groveling for forgiveness won’t spare you now that you’ve angered me.”

“We’ll shut that insolent mouth of yours…!”

The enraged mercenary swung his sword sheath like a bludgeon towards Rosian.

Hired by Count Newin, these mercenaries dwarfed the average man in stature.

Woosh!

Yet Rosian effortlessly evaded the strike with a few deft steps backwards.

“Too slow.”

“You bastard…!”

The mercenary continued relentlessly swinging his sheath at Rosian, who evaded each blow with minimal movement.

Swish!

Goading the man further, Rosian mockingly whistled, clearly entertained.

“This is amusing and all, but surely you don’t intend to end it like this?”

“Grrrr!”

Despite the cramped store interior, Rosian deftly maneuvered around obstacles, deftly evading every attack.

As the mercenaries watched Rosian’s effortless evasions, frustration began creeping into their gazes.

“What are you doing? You’re still going easy on this brat?”

“Finish him off already!”

“Damn, this kid’s faster than he looks!”

Shring!

Chastised by his comrades, the mercenary furiously unsheathed his blade in a rage.

“You forced my hand, brat. Now you’ll get a taste of blood.”

Yet Rosian merely flashed an amused grin.

“If you couldn’t even graze my clothes with that sheath, how will drawing your sword change anything?”

Observing the blade glinting lethally under the sunlight, Jaina muttered:

“Perhaps I should intervene now…”

“Moew!”

However, Izren restrained her with a firm paw.

Jaina stared quizzically down at him.

“You’re stopping me? But…”

“Meoww!”

“Of course I trust the Crown Prince’s capabilities. I was simply unaware he could move with such agility. But even a slight graze could inflict grave injury. And I lack any ability to heal others.”

“Meow.”

“…You knew?”

Jaina’s gaze shifted as she peered intently into the cat’s violet eyes.

As if realizing something, she remarked:

“You have faith in His Highness, don’t you, sir Izren?”

No sooner had Jaina finished speaking than a loud thump resounded – the mercenary had tripped over his own feet.

“Oops. Why draw that scary blade when you’re only facing a child?”

Seizing the opening as the man fell, Rosian delivered a powerful kick to his face.

“Ugh, urrghh…”

Rosian then slid his sword from its sheath with a metallic rasp before instantly bringing the tip to the mercenary’s throat in a blink.

Crimson droplets spilled from the gash, staining the mercenary’s neck.

While Rosian’s blade had merely pierced the floor, the man fainted, evidently mistaking it for a killing blow aimed at his jugular.

“Boring. Shall we continue?”

Twirling his sword dismissively, Rosian’s tone dripped with nonchalance.

“By the way, Miss Jaina, do you understand what those ruffians meant about provoking a young master and young lady…?”

“Ah, about that.”

Jaina briefly recounted her entanglements with Chloe and Albert Newin to Rosian.

After hearing the circumstances, Rosian tilted his head, his impassive expression contrasting with the uncharacteristically scathing words that followed:

“So Count Newin and his wife dote excessively upon their children to the point of deploying mercenaries over such childish affairs…”

“Oh, Your Highness!”

It was at that moment, as Rosian’s attention lapsed, that the humiliated mercenaries seized their chance to attack.

“Grooaarrr!”

With savage roars, the remaining men charged Rosian en masse.

“Stay back, Miss Jaina.”

Lightly leaping towards the doorway, Rosian lured them outside.

In a disadvantageous numerical situation, the confined space proved unsuitable for combat – he sought to relocate to more favorable terrain.

“Where does this little brat think he’s going?”

Realizing his intent, the mercenaries desperately tried to apprehend Rosian but failed.

“You’re all too sluggish.”

Smoothly spinning around, Rosian seamlessly channeled his mana into a powerful uppercut, viciously snapping upwards into the closest mercenary’s jaw.

Puwack!

“Huaargh!”

Stunned by Rosian’s prowess, the man could only bite his own tongue, collapsing without even a proper scream.

Simultaneously, Rosian struck another approaching mercenary’s solar plexus with his elbow before sweeping the legs out from under a third with a low kick.

“Damn it, stop that brat!”

This was no chivalrous knightly combat.

Nobles prioritized honorable one-on-one duels over brawling.

Yet Rosian’s mentor Elia emphasized pragmatic battlefield tactics above all else.

Renowned as the Empire’s most unorthodox noble, her sole flexibility involved actual combat.

Having fought for her life against the Demon King, she valued efficiency over empty honor.

Chaang!

With a casual wave of his mana-charged hand, Rosian shattered an incoming sword strike.

The stunned mercenary cried out in dismay:

“Wh-what sorcery is this?!”

“I merely broke your fragile blade. Against an ordinary weapon, striking a weak point will easily shatter it.”

Rosian offered a cordial explanation.

By now, he had dispatched three opponents, leaving only the most distant mercenary remaining.

“Y-You insolent brat…!”

The final mercenary shakily drew his sword, but his trembling limbs betrayed an unsound state of mind.

“A mercenary reduced to quivering before a child…”

With breathing room now, Rosian calmly addressed the man:

“I won’t bother with you specifically. You must remain able to return to Count Newin and deliver a message – Rosian El Ciphos Delaide will be paying him a visit soon.”

“Wh-What was that…? Surely not, Crown Prince Rosian?”

“But first, there is the matter of punishing those who threatened an innocent child.”

As the remaining mercenaries struggled to their feet, supporting their fallen comrades, they inwardly screamed in terror. Count Newin and themselves had provoked an even greater personage.

“Though my mother instructed me never to draw my sword without her permission…”

Muttering about her eventual understanding, Rosian unsheathed a brilliantly gleaming white blade from its scabbard.

The mercenaries’ faces drained of all color.

“At the very least, I should sever your tendons to ensure you never rise again – that would be fitting recompense for threatening Miss Jaina, would it not?”

With an expression of outright glee, Rosian began slowly, menacingly advancing step by step.

* * *

Later, as Jaina emerged from the store, she clicked her tongue at the sight of the strewn mercenary bodies.

‘Truly befitting the main protagonist’s ludicrous talents.’

Since Rosian had preemptively removed the mercenaries’ cloaks to conceal any bloodstains, Jaina remained oblivious to his use of an actual blade as she approached his cheerfully beaming, innocent countenance.

His demeanor resembled a newborn calf, prompting Jaina to gaze at him in a daze.

“It seems this was your first real combat experience, as opposed to simple sparring…”

Suddenly, Rosian gently leaned against Jaina’s smaller frame.

With their considerable height difference, he practically nuzzled against her shoulder.

Thus, Jaina found herself acutely aware of aspects she had never noticed before.

The rapid heartbeat. The ragged breathing.

The flushed cheeks. The long lashes.

Having grown accustomed to the often surreal appearances of those around her in the Magic Tower, she had become desensitized to outward appearances. Yet beholding Rosian up close, she couldn’t avert her gaze.

‘Come to think of it, His Highness Rosian is rather handsome…’

As he leaned against her, Rosian softly whispered:

“I was at least somewhat helpful to you just now, wasn’t I, Miss Jaina?”

His voice carried an uncharacteristically husky tone.

Jaina nodded.

“Indeed. By intervening on my behalf, a greater conflict was averted. You have my gratitude, Your Highness.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Then grant me your hand.”

“…Like this?”

Taking Rosian’s hand, Jaina was enveloped by his warmth.

Despite his outward nonchalance, he seemed inwardly tense – perhaps explaining his uncharacteristic behavior while leaning against her so intimately.

Feeling an inexplicable pang of compassion, Jaina raised her arms to soothingly pat his back.

“…?!”

Startled by her tiny hands’ touch, Rosian’s body jolted before a wave of sheer elation washed over him.