How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

“Master Vinny, so you’re saying you and your classmate from Carillian Academy were fishing in the wild when you suddenly ran into an attack by a group of unidentified black-clad men. You hooked one of them out of the lake, then the rest came one after another and assaulted you?” Back at the Camella capital garrison, the officer—hat off—looked down at the report in his hand and asked.

“Yes. That’s roughly it,” Vinny answered.

Just then, a guardsman walked over and handed a form to the officer.

“Our camp physician has examined your elf classmate. No major issues—just a temporary faint. He’s awake now. What he described is mostly consistent with what you said.”

“We’re only following protocol,” the middle-aged officer added, as if to stress he wasn’t discriminating against Vinny or doubting him—they were simply doing their jobs. “Given an incident like this near the capital, we have to pursue it to the end for the safety of the people and the royal family.”

“I completely understand your work, Officer,” Vinny replied. “But what I’ve said is factual and objective—no falsehoods.”

“The broad outline, we more or less have. The better news is we caught one assassin alive,” the officer suddenly said.

“That couldn’t be helped. I already told you my roommate’s mental state is unstable—easily triggered under stress. It’s tied to the environment he grew up in. But I don’t think he committed any crime, right? Those assassins were trying to kill us first. Camella’s laws clearly state assassins trained in secret aren’t protected by the code.” Vinny even cited chapter and verse.

“You’re right. But this kind of matter still has to go through the proper process,” the officer said.

Hearing that evasive official tone, Vinny understood.

They were in for trouble.

His expression twisted a little. “Officer, this case is obvious. You separated us and asked us the same questions and got the same answers. He was emotionally unstable before—there’s no way we had time to collude and unify our testimony.”

“And there were eyewitnesses who saw us leave the city with fishing gear. I didn’t even bring a weapon. So what exactly are you still doubting? That my classmate and I plotted to murder that batch of black-clad men who didn’t look like good people to begin with?”

“What decent person goes out in broad daylight with a veil over his face and wrapped head to toe in black?” Vinny shot back.

Right—he was a notorious capital delinquent, and his companion was a non-human. Of course there’d be trumped-up suspicions.

He had a decent sense of his own reputation. In the capital he was pure “designated villain;” citizens were one step away from blaming “that capital delinquent Vinny” whenever anything bad happened, large or small.

Sure—everything became his fault.

Even if it wasn’t, wasn’t there always someone eager to step on him?

Sometimes the truth stopped mattering. What mattered was that, in Camella’s capital, with Vinny’s name, even a dog could come over and give him a stomp—and happily so.

“Officer, if you suspect hidden angles in this incident, shouldn’t you consider whether the two of us even have a motive?”

“We’re both enrolled students at Carillian Academy. Do we really need to ruin our futures to scheme up this nonsense?” Vinny asked.

“You misunderstand me, Master Vinny. I get where you’re coming from. But as I said, we’re running a standard process. We’re not targeting anyone. Please cooperate.”

“Frankly, if I were you, I’d investigate those black-clad men first. We’re the victims. However you look at it, they’re far more suspicious than we are.”

“I’ve got another issue. We were attacked in the suburbs of the capital, and only after all that time did capital soldiers arrive. To be honest, the response speed to emergencies is worrying,” Vinny said, face oddly neutral.

“Master Vinny, as we said, this is standard procedure. We’re not investigating you; we’re investigating the entire incident,” the officer frowned.

“Fine. What do you want us to do?” Faced with this, Vinny could only chalk it up to bad luck.

“Report to the garrison tomorrow, both of you.”

“Officer, you don’t actually think we’re the problem, do you?” Vinny frowned.

“Don’t overthink it, Master Vinny. We’ve said this is a routine investigation,” the officer reiterated.

Right. That kind of emphasis only made Vinny more certain.

The less direct they were in speech, and the more they refused to let them go, the clearer their meaning.

Routine?

They’d told them everything—what they knew, they said; what they didn’t, they couldn’t. What else could be “investigated” by ordering them to report to the garrison? What investigation result was supposed to appear just because they showed up?

“If it’s just to cooperate with follow-up questions, why do we need to report tomorrow? If you have developments, call us. It’s not like we’re refusing to cooperate,” Vinny asked, brows drawn.

“By the way—are we supposed to spend this whole break at the garrison?”

“That... depends on progress.”

There it was again—no straight answers.

At that point Vinny understood completely.

This officer didn’t trust him at all, figured the infamous delinquent was dirty, and that there had to be more to the case.

Judging by the posture, they meant to lock them up—or put them under soft detention.

Suspecting him was one thing—but suspecting Shicodale too?

Handled like this, wouldn’t that girl’s psychological shadow get even larger? He already kept humans at arm’s length.

He’d been the one to bring Shicodale back; now look where they were.

“Alright. We can go home for now, can’t we?” Vinny said.

“You can. Your classmate is with the camp medic. You can take him home,” the officer said.

“Good. No need to see us out.” Vinny didn’t stand on ceremony, left the garrison, and found Shicodale at the medical post where a female army doctor was on duty.

He had already returned to that timid look.

“Classmate Vinny!” The moment he saw Vinny, Shicodale hurried over, as if everything nearby made him deeply uneasy.

“How do you feel? Are you alright?” Vinny asked.

“This elf young lady is fine—just frightened,” the army doctor replied after the exam.

“Doctor, he’s male,” Vinny added.

“Is he? My apologies.” The doctor pushed up her glasses without further doubt.

After all, elves and humans differed significantly in physique.

“You’ve been through enough bad things for one day. Come on—let’s go home.” Vinny led Shicodale out of the garrison and said nothing about what would come next.

Shicodale followed behind him without a word along the road.

Vinny also kept quiet, giving him time to settle. In truth, he was wondering whether Shicodale remembered any of it.

One behind the other, they reached the gate of the Facilis residence. Vinny was still pondering how to shake off the clingers-on when he noticed a familiar, well-mannered maid standing at his door.

“You are... Miss Karin?” Vinny recognized her.

“Master Vinny, Her Highness the Princess asked me to bring you these fruits.” Karin bowed politely, then handed the small case she carried to Vinny.

“Thank you. Please thank Mirexia for me,” Vinny said, taking the basket.

“In addition, Her Highness asked me to inquire about your current condition.”

“Condition? Physical or mental?” Vinny asked.

“I believe Her Highness means both,” Karin replied.

“Physically, excellent. Mentally... probably awful,” Vinny shrugged.

“May I ask why?” Karin said.

“Today, I went fishing with Classmate Dale and we ran into an assassin attack.”

“Assassins? Near the capital?” Karin grasped the severity at once.

“That’s right—right outside the capital. I didn’t even bring a weapon. If not for...” Vinny glanced at Shicodale, who stood behind him with head lowered. “We might’ve been in real danger.”

“And then? Aren’t there patrols near the capital? Didn’t they arrive?”

“They did. After we’d finished killing the assassins. And when they arrived they didn’t speak like people—they insisted we were the problem and wanted to investigate us,” Vinny said, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind them running a process. But asking us to report to the garrison tomorrow, with wording that suggests we’ll spend most of the break there—and who knows what comes after. Tell me that isn’t rotten luck?” Vinny complained.

“...You don’t intend to inform Her Highness?” Karin asked, her expression shifting after she heard him out.

“You know Mirexia’s busy. I can’t trouble her over trifles like this,” Vinny spread his hands helplessly.

“Master Vinny, I don’t believe Her Highness would consider this a trifle. If you asked her, she would likely be glad,” Karin offered.

“Really? It wouldn’t trouble her?” Vinny asked.

“In that case, I will return and inform Her Highness. Please don’t worry.” After a few more words, Karin took her leave.

And just as Karin expected, Mirexia would never sit idle over Vinny’s difficulties. On hearing how the patrol handled it, she rose at once, summoned the Royal Steward, and had him send a letter to the vice commander of the Dragon-Knights.

The vice commander was still drinking tea in the palace watchtower. When he heard Her Highness sought him, he jolted, wondering which pup under him had erred this time. He opened the letter, tense-faced—and finally exhaled.

Oh—so it wasn’t his men. It was the lower-rank patrols that had kicked a hornet’s nest.

He summoned his adjutant and told him to deliver a letter to the capital’s Grand Knight Commander in the outer city.

What could he do? Going himself would be beneath his station. Sending a subordinate was already showing enormous face. If not for the Princess’s order, he’d have sent a fresh Dragon-Knight squire.

When the Grand Knight Commander of the capital heard the vice commander’s adjutant had come to see him, the files in his hands almost slipped. He thought he’d messed up somewhere and was about to be sacked.

He received the adjutant with great courtesy. When he learned the letter came from Her Highness, a chill ran through him.

After the adjutant finished stating the purpose, the Grand Knight Commander’s dinner invitation was declined; he formed up a line to politely see the man out. Then back in his fortress office, he slammed the table and barked at the guard beside him:

“You—fetch the North City commandant! Tell him to get his ass in here and explain what this is! How the hell did this end up alarming Her Highness the Princess?!”

The North City commandant, upon learning the commander wanted him, was utterly baffled. Hearing the details, and that the summons had trickled down via orders from the Princess, he flared.

“Find out exactly which blind fool did this!”

“Damn bad luck. Why can’t these useless wreckers who only ever ruin things be stationed in the South City—why’d one end up in my North City garrison?!”

They searched and searched and found nothing. That surprised the North City commandant. He figured the officer’s rank must be so low he wasn’t even under his purview, so he had his subordinate’s subordinate dig.

With the dragnet widened, only when a subordinate of a junior officer under the North City branch saw a passing mention of the matter in a review did it finally get reported up the chain.

By the time it reached the officer who’d handled Vinny, the message had passed through who knew how many levels.

The noncommissioned officer—who wasn’t even a formal knight’s squire—heard he’d alarmed Her Highness and nearly lost his soul.

“Th-then, sir... do we keep investigating?” a soldier nearby asked timidly.

“Investigate? Investigate what?” The NCO sat down hard, pale.

He hadn’t even warmed this chair—and it was gone.

Everything was gone.

Orders had just come down from above: he was dismissed, reverted to a rank-and-file soldier.

Mirexia hadn’t spoken that verdict herself. But the order traced to Her Highness. No one dared go easy; least of all the officers below, terrified of being held responsible and making the Princess unhappy.

If Her Highness was displeased, they could truly lose their bowls of rice.

It was only thanks to Mirexia’s gentle temperament. Replace her with a violent princess, and they might not keep their heads.

As for what exactly connected Her Highness and Vinny—irrelevant. What mattered was: don’t go poking that hornet’s nest.