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Chapter 9: I Don’t Want You to End Up Like Me (1)
“Um… Brother,” Charlotte spoke before the trial began.
“If, even after this, it isn’t accepted… may I step in?”
“What are you planning to do?”
“This,” she whispered.
Charlotte leaned close, her voice so soft that Wesley was startled.
“…Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Yes! There’s nothing more certain than this!”
“It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine!”
Charlotte beamed brightly.
“If I’m in danger, you’ll save me, won’t you?”
“I swear on Lady Justitia’s honor! Brother… no, as Wesley Vicious von Liechtenstein said, this is my suggestion!”
Charlotte stepped forward with bold confidence, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of Wesley’s lips.
What audacity.
“Why would you take on such a dangerous task, Princess Charlotte? You could die…”
“That may be true, but it’s fine. If anything happens, Brother… no, Wesley will save me.”
“Even so, I don’t think this is something you should be doing.”
“No! This is a place where I must step forward!”
Slowly, Charlotte walked to the center of the courtroom, each step resolute. Then, standing tall, she declared:
“Only Charlotte can vindicate Count Diesel!”
A hush fell over the courtroom. Even Marquis Benimaru, who had been challenging them at every turn, fell silent. Douglas, observing Charlotte, rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought.
After a tense pause, Judge Marco glanced at Douglas. Douglas closed his eyes quietly.
“I will render judgment.”
The long courtroom battle was finally at its end. Marco raised the gavel.
“This court will begin the verdict for Count Runard Diesel and his heir, Ruff Diesel, accused of the attempted murder of Princess Charlotte.”
His voice resonated through the hall.
“Based on the circumstances of the incident, and the verification by Wesley Vicious von Liechtenstein, there is no evidence of intent on their part.”
As the outcome became clear, some couldn’t help but smile.
“Furthermore, the victim, Princess Charlotte Aisa von Liechtenstein, does not seek punishment, which this court duly considers.”
Others managed only a bitter smile.
“As the representative of the Law and the God of Judgment, Justitia, this court finds the Diesel family not guilty.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gavel struck with a crisp, resounding sound. Count Diesel lowered his head and wept, while Ruff’s icy face betrayed streams of hot tears.
It’s done.
Watching the scene, Wesley allowed himself a smile.
“Tch.”
Among the departing crowd, Marquis Benimaru clicked his tongue in frustration.
“Brother! We won!” Charlotte’s voice rang out, full of joy.
“Thank goodness. Princess, Count Diesel’s name has been cleared.”
As Charlotte and Emily celebrated their victory, Wesley quietly interjected:
“Charlotte, Emily… I’m afraid I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Where are you going?”
“Emily… take care of Charlotte for me.”
“Ah… yes!”
He departed, following behind Marquis Benimaru.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Benimaru muttered under his breath.
Why did the princess suddenly step in?!
The victory was practically within reach. If Wesley hadn’t intervened, or if Charlotte hadn’t sacrificed herself, it would have been a perfect triumph.
Sighing, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Marquis Benimaru.”
“…Your Highness?”
“You did well in the trial.”
Wesley smiled and extended his hand; Benimaru forced a polite smile in return.
“You too, Your Highness. It must have been a difficult defense, but you handled it admirably.”
Though they had clashed in the courtroom, there was no need to remain hostile now. Not close acquaintances, yet civility demanded a parting smile.
Or so he thought.
“It wasn’t really that difficult. The real challenge… was discovering that you poisoned the juice.”
“…What?”
Wesley leaned in and whispered. Benimaru’s pupils trembled.
“You… you poisoned it? Are you saying I did?”
“If I had pursued the matter to the end, we would have known the truth. But time ran short.”
“Even if you investigated, nothing would have come to light! And I… poisoned it? Do you have proof?”
“You’re in the peach business, aren’t you, Marquis?”
Thump!
Benimaru felt as if his heart had dropped.
“…What… do you mean?”
“Come now. I know you intended to make insecticide from the poison in peach pits.”
He stifled a hiccup, shoving it down with his hand.
How did he figure it out?
Benimaru had no way of knowing that in the future, Wesley would be holding the very poison derived from peach pits in his hand.
Thanks to that, it became clear.
The forty-second ruin ending, Bloody Wednesday: Wesley had used the poison given by Marquis Benimaru to kill his father and attempt a coup to claim Marilyn, but Benimaru had eventually betrayed him, leaving a lonely conclusion.
Still…
“I don’t quite understand what you’re saying, Your Highness.”
“Really? In Liechtenstein, where no peaches grow, you and Count Diesel are the only ones who could know that the pits contain poison.”
Thanks to that knowledge, the case was resolved with ease.
“Ah… Count Diesel was planning a beverage business, so perhaps he wouldn’t have known either.”
“Do not rely on circumstantial reasoning! This is a clear threat! Evidence! Bring proper evidence that I poisoned it…”
“Marquis.”
A chill ran down Benimaru’s spine at the calm, sharp tone.
“Do you really wish to see me bring evidence?”
It was clear he had been caught. One more misstep and he’d share Count Diesel’s fate.
“…What do you want?”
Finally, Benimaru relented.
“Shall we have a quiet cup of tea?”
Wesley smiled and led him away.
In the guest room, they sat across a sofa, a delicate table between them, a teapot steaming beside a plate of cookies. It was a negotiation disguised as tea.
“Please, enjoy. A famous tea from the East.”
The green tea steamed gently, leaves floating vertically atop the surface.
“It’s slightly astringent, but pairs perfectly with the cookies.”
“…What are you really saying?”
“Marquis.”
Clack. Wesley set his teacup down.
“Do you know how much it costs to maintain a crown prince’s dignity each month?”
“That would depend on your Highness’s spending, I suppose.”
“Exactly. Depending on me. And so…”
Wesley leaned back, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, feigning thoughtfulness.
“I will soon return to the academy. And I may fall short of funds to maintain my dignity…”
He wants money.
Benimaru caught the subtle implication.
“…How much do you need?”
“What are you talking about? Marquis, I never asked for money.”
Wesley feigned offense, though his face smiled.
“I simply wish to know if you would consider a small sponsorship.”
The sudden formality sent a shiver down Benimaru’s spine.
“Ah… a sponsorship. I see. How much would you require?”
Wesley held up three fingers.
“Three years. I want you to cover all my activity expenses for three years.”
“…Three years?”
Why three? It didn’t matter—it wasn’t a bad deal.
Three years…
Better to cover expenses for a wandering crown prince than to funnel tens of thousands under the guise of maintaining dignity. The king wouldn’t entrust Wesley with anything truly critical anyway.
“Very well.”
Benimaru agreed readily.
“And you swear on the Promise of Faith and the God of Trust?”
Wesley handed over a sheet of paper. It looked like a contract; Benimaru glanced at it and signed without question.
“I swear.”
With the signature and thumbprint, Wesley hid a sly, almost wicked smile.
As planned.
Born a crown prince, wealthy yet restricted—now he had discretionary funds he could truly use.
“Heh heh heh heh.”
Startled, Benimaru flinched at the unsettling laughter.
“Let us end our discussion here.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Very well.”
Wesley left the room, content.
But just as he turned to leave,
“Wesley.”
Douglas, waiting for the conversation to end, called after him.
“Wait. Let’s talk.”
That night, after an additional discussion with Douglas, Wesley finally returned to his room.
“What a long day.”
He collapsed onto the bed, staring at the status screen.
[Current CRP points: 30]
Three ruin endings prevented already.
The first three had been like hidden Easter eggs—events that occurred before the story officially began. He had only the dialogue texts of the characters to guide him.
A sigh of relief.
Had he arrived even slightly later, these endings would have been impossible to prevent.
“Ugh.”
Feeling lighter, Wesley rose from the bed.
Let’s see…
He checked the calendar on the wall, flipping from January to February.
About a month left.
The scenario proper would start with the academy entrance. Though Wesley was a senior, the story revolved around Marilyn.
I’ll likely meet her around February 6.
He circled the date. Handling as much as possible beforehand would help him manage future events.
Three years should suffice…
Thinking of the sponsorship he secured from Marquis Benimaru, the first love timeline of the saint would span roughly three years—from academy entry to graduation, and ultimately marriage.
First, I need to take care of a few things…
A knock at the door interrupted him.
“…Sorry to bother you so late. It’s Ruff Diesel.”
“Ruff?”
What could he want at this hour?
Did he come to kill me?
Even if he disliked Wesley, he had defended him in court—surely not.
It should be nothing…
Wesley opened the firmly shut door to find Ruff kneeling, a sword at his side.
“…What are you doing?”
Perhaps he had come to show gratitude, but…
“I came, risking rudeness, because I had a question.”
So it wasn’t thanks after all.
“You came at this hour just because of curiosity?”
Ruff remained silent, bowing his head. Wesley, arms crossed, waited patiently, giving him space.
Minutes passed. Just as the wait was becoming tedious,
“When did Your Highness realize our innocence?”
Ruff’s eyes, glistening with tears, lifted to meet Wesley’s.
Couldn’t he ask this tomorrow morning?
Still, seeing him so earnest and tearful, Wesley couldn’t speak the words in his mind.
“Well… quite some time ago.”
He spoke casually. Ruff bit his lower lip, holding back tears.
“No one tried to defend us. Why did Your Highness protect us?”
“Well… that is…”
Wesley hadn’t anticipated being so moved. He pondered how to answer.
“And so I ask.”
Ruff sprang to his feet, locking eyes with Wesley, sword in hand.
“What was going through your mind when you shielded us?”
“Why did you save us?”
