The Tyrant’s Last Doll

Dylan was gazing awkwardly around my study when I shut the door and turned around.
We stood by the window, where everyone else could see us.

“Sir Dylan.”

“Ah,” he said, “I apologize for the sudden visit.”

“No.” I shook my head.
“That’s fine.”

He smiled a little.
“As I told you earlier, we’re taking you to Theres group, Saintess.”

“Please cease calling me as such,” I blurted suddenly.
“I feel embarrassed.
Just what made you decide I’m a Saintess? I’m just a normal person.”

At my question, his smile turned bitter. Hm. He didn’t believe me?

“There’s a reason why I’m claiming that you’re a Saintess,” he said.

He’s as stubborn as I expected.

“Your ideology of everyone should be equal, your divine power to summon a huge light pillar that pierces through the atmosphere.
Based on these two facts, I’ve concluded that you’re the Saintess sent by Theres to help us during this chaotic period.”

“Chaotic period? My ideology of everyone should be equal?”

“In the city, you don’t call commoners normal people.
That’s something that a normal noble—no, normal people could say.
Because all people judge the world based on their status.”

“Well, I mean, I have…”

He was right.
But that was only because I had a memory of living in a society without class.
Also, the commoners made the majority of the Empire’s population, so it seemed just natural to call them that.

But, of course, I couldn’t explain this properly.
I couldn’t just randomly say, I have memories of the past. As I mumbled, I gazed into his eyes.
He was dead serious—so much so that I felt the pressure on me.
In that moment, I realized how absolutely the people in this world thought of the class system.
It also dawned on me how crazy it was for me to have been reinstated, and how much Ridrian cared about me.

Just then, Dylan dropped onto one knee before me.

“Saintess,” he said.

“S-sir Dylan!” I exclaimed.
“What are you—get up—now!”

He didn’t budge.
“Please, listen to me.
Dylan Lyn Fortis, here to serve the Saintess.
I want to become your sword and help you spread Theres’s will.”

I couldn’t suppress the trepidation that filled me at his words I hadn’t even had much of a conversation with him.
All I’d done was buy him ice cream.
Why was he acting like this?

In the original novel, Dylan had been very fond of the female main character, Eris.
He’d felt bad for her, who’d been trying to accept the Emperor even despite Dylan’s obsession and love.
And he’d been charmed by her loving embrace and kind personality.

Wait.
Wait.
There was an episode in which Eris saved the servants from the Emperor’s terror.
That was when Dylan fell for her.

Right then and there, the truth hit me: I’d failed to analyze Dylan’s character.
He had savior tendencies.
The group’s first sword, who had Lyn—light, in divine language, and Fortis—sword—as a last name.
The reason he’d fallen for Eris was because she’d been trying to save the low-class people.

Eris had been trying to save people in her territory regardless of their class.
Her idea of the class system had been different from that of others, and all she’d wanted was to help those in need.
This would’ve been shocking for Dylan, who’d lived in the capital and the central temple his whole life.

I even have Theres’s divine power.
It’s understandable why Dylan thinks I’m a Saintess.
Even though this is overanalyzing.

My head throbbed a little.
The Empire and everyone who’d grown up in it had been exhausted for a long time.
I let out a sigh, massaging my temples.

“Sir Dylan, the reason you think I’m a Saintess is because I treat others a bit kindlier.
But, going by your logic, the Emperor who saved this Empire should be the saint.”

I was hoping to appeal to his logic, but he shook his head.

“His Majesty saved the Empire from falling,” he said.
“But his method of doing so caused too much bloodshed.
He murdered my family and relatives, as well as anyone else who didn’t follow orders.
I even heard that he sometimes killed depending on his moo—”

“Stop.”

“Your Majesty?”

Ridrian, who had come in so silently neither of them had noticed, pulled me away from Dylan.

“Can I take what you said as an insult to the Emperor?” he snapped at him.
“To think that someone who doesn’t even know what he should be saying and what he shouldn’t is the first sword.
How laughable.”

Anger flickered in Ridrian’s eyes, but Dylan looked at him calmly, as though what he’d said had been obvious.
I braced myself without really thinking about it, unable to shake the feeling that the fight between them from the original novel was about to happen.

“I was just telling the truth,” Dylan told him.

“You should be more careful who you tell this truth to.”

“I thought she had the most right to know.”

“I see,” Ridrian growled.
“That’s how you’re going to be.”

He summoned his sword into the hand that wasn’t holding me.
The second it was in his grip, he set me down on the sofa and surged forward.

“Your Majesty!”