Taming The Villainesses

A man draped in a golden silk cloak was lost in thought.

Meanwhile, people simply watched his expression.

The middle-aged man with deeply etched lines around his eyes stroked his neatly trimmed platinum beard and finally spoke, as if he had reached a decision.

“Let’s discuss this at the court meeting tomorrow. Now, everyone, please leave.”

At the words of Reinhardt, the court’s Prime Minister, everyone began to disperse back to where they came from.

━Finally, it’s time to leave.

━There’s overtime every day. I actually prefer when the Queen was still around.

━Hey, remember that back then, you wouldn’t know when you might have to leave the world.

As the mutterings of the people faded away, the Prime Minister’s office turned calm at last.

‘It’s finally quiet.’

Reinhardt, who was tapping his finger on the luxurious ebony wood desk, had to admit that the constant chattering of the day had left him quite agitated.

“Petty bastards…”

For a man who had lived his entire life on the battlefield, the affairs of the palace were generally trivial and boring.

Dealing with self-important individuals – who liked to exaggerate mundane matters, and sycophants – who only cared about their own self-interest, was not exactly entertaining.

Seureuk.

His eyes, seeking a peace of mind, drifted from the now-dark sky outside the window and the ornate wallpaper of the Prime Minister’s office, before landing on a painting hanging on the wall.

His grown daughter and still-young son, sitting in chairs, with himself standing behind them – a quintessential family portrait.

Still, looking at it gave him strength.

The notion that he could pass on a better future to his children. It was the reason why Reinhardt managed to endure mundane days like today, time after time.

Before long, his son would sit on the throne.

Richard I (the 1st).

No, it also wouldn’t be bad to name him Lioness XVI after his ancestors who ruled the West.

Although he was but a fragile boy right now, when he grew up, he’d surely become a splendid and exhilarating young man.

He’d be beloved by people and became a knight in shining armor for women everywhere, a King of Kings.

Just like Reinhardt himself in his youth…

‘No, no.’

Reinhardt thought there might be a better analogy. In truth, Reinhardt was more of a warrior or a general than a king.

Then, a name came to mind.

A man full of confidence like a young prince, exuding the presence of a king.

“…….”

After Reinhardt made sure that no one was around, he opened the locked office drawer with a key and took out something inside.

It was a small piece of paper. A ‘painting’ with people’s faces vividly captured. It was one of the few high-quality portraits taken using a device called a ‘camera,’ obtained from beyond the cracks in the barrier.

Was it called a ‘photo’?

The square photo showed a young Reinhardt. Next to him was Aleister, his comrade and rival.

Who had already left this world.

“That frail bas†ard…”

Having survived until the end, this could be seen as another victory in the wager with the Draco Family.

Lost in these thoughts, he continued to gaze at the photo. There were a few faces that he had long forgotten.

“Stella.”

There was the face of the elf who found everything bothersome. When he heard she became a professor, he almost laughed out loud. Not only her, but also John, Dito. Irnar, Veldarel, Banz…

The days of youth, filled with mysteries and adventures.

Amidst them all, there was the face of a man, beaming with a smile, shouldering everyone.

A face full of fiery pride, with shoulders held high and a sturdy build that matched his own.

‘Isaiah Gospel.’

His old friend…

Suddenly.

He began to think that his face resembled someone else’s, yet he couldn’t quite place who.

“I must be getting old.”

He was probably just being sentimental after more than a decade of not seeing the photo.

Deureurek.

He placed the photo back into the drawer and locked it once again. He had come to realize that sometimes, ‘it’s best to leave things from the past in the past.’

But not all knew that yet.

Seuk.

Reinhardt retrieved his daughter’s letter from his pocket and unfolded it once more.

「Dad. It’s me. For now, I’m doing well─.」

The writing that started out casual, ended with an unexpected question.

「Is it true that you knew about the Angmar Family’s descendant? Please reply quickly.」

Someone was digging into something that had been painstakingly buried in the world.

Perhaps, one could say that she was like himself.

No, his daughter was not really one to be interested in things like this. It was probably that little Half-Fairy.

That peculiar kid would definitely read his letter. He was someone who was not afraid to say anything even in front of him, so it should be him.

Could this be the reason he wanted to go to Ark?

To dig into the past?

He was still an enigma, and it was unclear what kind of schemes that punk was up to…

• Edited by: faker