# Enhanced Translation
If only it would rain.
Elizabeta turned her gaze away, silently resenting the clear sky.
Pritzenkaya was welcoming spring. Spring in Krasilov Kingdom was essentially "slightly less cold winter," and the unpaved roads outside the city had all turned to mud due to the endless rasputitsa.
Nevertheless, it was spring. The gray skies were disappearing, and the days were gradually becoming clearer.
Because of that.
"Your Majesty. Commander Dmitri Cherkatov requests an audience."
"Let... him in."
Without rain, there was no way to hide her face.
"Your Majesty. I, Dmitri Cherkatov, report my return."
"I've already... received the report. There was no need for you to come here personally..."
"As the person in charge, shouldn't I report directly to Your Majesty?"
"Who in this world could bear more responsibility for this matter than myself?"
Dmitri, seated in a wheelchair, smiled wearily. Elizabeta rose unsteadily from her seat and walked toward Dmitri, who sat quietly by the door of the chancellor's office.
"I, Dmitri Cherkatov, along with three others in total, have returned, Your Majesty."
"...I..."
Unlike the dry words listed in the report, the survival report of her loyal subject who had lost both legs was enough to break Elizabeta down.
She staggered momentarily and steadied herself against the table. A lady-in-waiting rushed forward to support her.
"How can I, with what face..."
"Your Majesty."
Elizabeta's bright blue eyes gradually clouded. Drop by drop, tears fell onto the wooden table.
The attendants and guards hurriedly turned their heads away. The ruler of Krasilov must never show tears before anyone but God.
Yet Dmitri, though keeping his head bowed, did not turn his face away from her as he spoke.
"Your Majesty. Do not dishonor their deaths."
"...Commander Dmitri Cherkatov..."
"They did not die by Your Majesty's orders. Never. We—my subordinates and I, and the senior officer... Colonel Ivan Petrovich—did not march toward death by Your Majesty's command."
It's different from those times.
Different from when they had to march toward death on Alexandr's orders.
Believing so, and speaking so.
"We saved the world. Though we lived as assassins all our lives, though we were sinners who could never be recorded in history, in that moment, we became righteous and walked toward death of our own accord. Your Majesty, please smile."
Elizabeta raised her head. She could see Dmitri's face.
With tears streaming down his face, he was smiling, forcing the corners of his mouth upward with great effort.
"On that day, we were finally glorious."
He placed the box he had brought on the table, then backed away.
Elizabeta's trembling hands opened the small wooden box. Inside was a preserved hand wrapped in silk.
It was a man's hand with prominent tendons. Not rough, but rather delicate. And on the index finger was a thick ring—a right hand.
She removed the thick, black ring from the index finger. It was a signet ring with the Krasilov national emblem engraved on it. And it was, in itself, like a royal seal.
A royal heirloom that could seal all royal decrees with wax.
Elizabeta slowly slipped the ring onto her finger. The enchanted ring shrank to fit perfectly on her ring finger.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty. Long live Krasilov."
"Long live Krasilov!!"
The attendants and guards shouted in unison.
With Alexandr officially dead, and having cut off almost all royal bloodlines during his lifetime, the only legitimate right of succession now belonged solely to the princess.
Therefore, even though she already wielded immense power, only now had she eliminated all internal threats. No high noble could question her legitimacy anymore.
"Colonel Ivan Petrovich's final mission objective was the capture and execution of the former Crown Prince Alexandr Kirillovich Krasilov, Your Majesty."
"I know."
Elizabeta turned toward the window. Looking at the clear sky, she continued after a moment.
"What about Vanka?"
"Due to the disappearance of healing magic, he's receiving medical care. The physicians diagnosed exhaustion, but they don't know when he'll wake up."
"I see."
Elizabeta gripped the windowsill and, looking down at Pritzenkaya in the bright daylight, said:
"The funeral will be a state funeral. Include the names of all those who had to be forgotten until now. I will hold the grandest funeral this country has ever seen. This is my first royal decree as the ruler of Krasilov."
"I receive your command."
"Leave the throne empty. I will not hold a coronation. Now that the harsh winter has ended, I no longer wish to look at the same sky as my unworthy father."
"It shall be done according to Your Majesty's will."
She had always been the one with command authority. All administrative bodies in this country moved under her approval.
But from this day forward, the name that would be stamped at the end of decrees would not be that of a princess, but would bear the title of the Great Ruler of Krasilov.
"Things will get busy from now on."
The political situation was extremely suspicious, the countries of the United Kingdoms were devastated by civil war and disaster, and the foundation of the homeland remained precarious.
There were numerous tasks to be done as a ruler. Putting the country back on track was more than enough to keep her busy.
Therefore.
"I am too busy to love someone."
Starting an ordinary day, having breakfast with a loved one, greeting the day with tea.
Strolling through streets, occasionally looking at flowers and fallen leaves, watching the same sunset to end the day.
Such ordinary love is impossible. For a monarch, isn't the most important thing the state, the security of the state, and the future of the state?
The fact that all power is concentrated in one person means, in other words, that one person must directly intervene in all affairs of the state, large and small.
That is the core of power. The act of stamping. The right to oversee and coordinate all matters. The essential organ that can never be missing from the machinery of state.
If she was not going to share this power with anyone, that's how it had to be. She was a monarch who had built her power base by abusing herself with overwork.
"But, Dmitri Cherkatov. It's too difficult not to love."
She tightly gripped the windowsill with her hand. Looking down at the small ring on her pale hand. The black signet ring gleaming on her ring finger.
To the man who had brought her everything in this country.
This man who, to cut off her only weakness without orders, broke through death's door and risked his life to achieve it.
"How could I not love him?"
At her words, Dmitri smiled slightly and bowed his head.
"Would you like to relocate the traitor?"
"The reason I cherish you is that you know my intentions too well, even before I give orders."
"I have served Your Majesty for over ten years."
"Do so. I can no longer tolerate the sight of a traitor roaming outside my grasp. The punishment shall be imprisonment, the prison shall be my bedchamber, and the term..."
Looking back at Dmitri, Elizabeta smiled slightly.
"Shall be the remainder of my life."
"I receive your command."
EP32. An Ordinary Spring in Krasilov.
"...So the uncle suddenly changed wards?"
"Yes, good heavens, what could I do? It was a royal command. You know? We're all civil servants. When the ruler commands, what can we do?"
"..."
Isabelle bit her lip as she glared at Dmitri, who lay in a private room, grinning.
At her fierce expression, Dmitri shrugged and pointed to his legs. (Or more precisely, where his legs had been.)
"Hey, I'm a patient, you know? A seriously ill one at that."
"Can I seriously hit you just once?"
"Endure it, Bella."
Asidis put down her instrument and sat glumly in the chair.
The room had clearly been labeled as Ivan Petrovich's, but when they entered, they found a snake-like uncle sitting there with his lower body missing.
She began to hum dejectedly.
"To save these people, we need lots of uncles..."
"What an energizing hospital visit, everyone."
Dmitri replied with a grin.
"Just give up now. I was cheering for you all along, you know? But what can I do? The person I support most is our sovereign."
"Great, now the distinction between friend and foe is clear."
"That's good. War always starts with that."
As Dmitri replied with a chuckle, Isabelle's brow furrowed deeply.
"What exactly do you want? Telling us this information. There's no need for that."
"Hmm... Well. There's someone I respect who I'd like to see happy, but even after watching them closely for a lifetime, I'm not sure how they can find happiness. I'm in a curious profession, what can I do? So I have to find out directly."
Dmitri waved his hands dismissively as he finished speaking.
"So I'm gathering as many candidates as possible to test. Now go do what you need to do. Time is running out, isn't it?"
For someone who seemed to have spent their entire life in winter, I don't know what kind of spring they'll welcome.
But if there are many candidates, surely spring must be among them.
Isabelle was a sensible person, so she wasn't particularly surprised by the situation of a "party member" being kidnapped by a "lewd high noble."
Well, such stories were all too common, weren't they? In Tilles Kingdom, a cultural powerhouse flourishing in literature, it was already a worn-out trope. (Mostly appearing in episodes of adult novels.)
Therefore, she quickly assessed the situation and, instead of anger and shock, picked up her sword and chalk.
"Ah, this familiar sensation."
Those who had been lazily spending their time during the break began to gather one by one.
Surveying the formidable potential competitors assembled in the club room, she spoke grimly.
"It's time to return to the Hero Party."
[Protecting the Chastity of a Princess Kidnapped by the Demon King]
Yu-jin clutched his forehead as he read the bold letters written on the blackboard.
"Everyone, we're second-year students now. We're adults."
"Which makes us all the more suitable for regulating adult content."
"Correct!"
"Where's the party withdrawal form?"
"I want to quit too. Humans are just so... vulgar."