Chapter 82: Crowned in the Butterfly Phantasm Dream, the Sovereign to Whom All Clans Return as One

Facing Priscilla's inexplicable provocation, Otto — who was the closest — wore a look of utter bewilderment.

He of course recognized the young woman before him, whose every movement breathed elegance.

She was, like Lady Emilia, one of the candidates in the Royal Selection.

Which was to say, she belonged to a camp opposed to his and Mr. Natsuki's.

Her provoking him, he could understand.

But why on earth was she sullying people's good names out of thin air?

"My apologies, Lady Priscilla. Is there perhaps some misunderstanding here? We've never even so much as heard anything about your husband."

Otto stepped forward and spoke with all due respect.

On the surface, he had observed every courtesy in full, but the gaze he tilted slightly upward to direct at Priscilla in fact carried another layer of meaning.

That is to say: my lady, since when did you, the Dragon Priestess, come to have a husband — and what business is it of our camp?

Emilia, for her part, kept her line of sight fixed unwaveringly on Priscilla, the two of them facing one another across the distance.

In her heart, however, she felt nothing of Otto's brand of confusion.

Because — how should one put it — call it women's sixth sense?

Whether Emilia, or Rem and Ram at her side.

All three women had keenly picked up on the targeted intent in Priscilla's gaze... the sort that pertained to matters between men and women.

As it happened, the other party also seemed to have been in this mysterious space for some time.

And as it happened, the screen had only just gone black, having displayed Natsuki Subaru's death.

As such, the identity of the "husband" the other party spoke of was not hard to guess.

"That I failed to protect Subaru is my responsibility."

Emilia spoke calmly, then her tone shifted.

"But — this seems to have nothing whatsoever to do with you, an outsider, doesn't it? I've never once heard Subaru mention being acquainted with you."

Her voice was cool and clear, her tone carrying the edge of an interrogation.

"Hmph. Then listen well to me. The husband of myself and my sister-wives is none other than the future ruler of the Kingdom of Lugnica, the new King — [The Sovereign Crowned within a Butterfly's Phantom Dream, the Lord Unto Whom All Devotions Return], His Majesty Natsuki Subaru!"

Priscilla covered half of her cheek with her flame-bright, black-and-red fan.

Leaving only those soul-snatching, exquisite eyes uncovered, she gazed at Emilia serenely, with some obscure, hard-to-read meaning in her look.

In her eyes there was no other person; she did not so much as acknowledge Otto, who had just addressed her.

Emilia, was it... So this most beloved consort of her dear Majesty in the past was, at this moment, still utterly ignorant of everything.

This was truly a heaven-sent opportunity.

She had long been displeased with this so-called sister called Emilia, with her perpetual, pure little white-flower, cool-and-aloof bearing.

Enjoying the favor of her dear Majesty, yet rendering nothing in return.

Especially that look of hers, when getting along with her dear one, which Priscilla had witnessed in the footage they had watched earlier.

What an utter fake she was.

And upon hearing Priscilla's words, Emilia's expression froze.

Even the tit-for-tat attitude she had been maintaining toward the other party crumbled in an instant.

Subaru — in the future, becomes the King? What was this person talking about?

A bewildered look crossed Emilia's face. In the footage they had watched before, there had already been a "Sin Archbishop Subaru" — and now another "King" Subaru on top of that?

"I don't understand what you're saying. But for Your Excellency to be so hostile — is this meant as a declaration of war?"

Sensing the unfriendly cast of Priscilla's gaze, Emilia spoke as though she knew nothing of the matter.

"Please, the two of you, let your tempers cool. Priscilla, do not be too harsh on Emilia either — after all, we are all sisters who love Subaru."

Seated beside Priscilla — likewise one of the Royal Selection candidates.

The green-haired beauty, who had been silently observing the developing situation, stood up with a touch of awkwardness.

Her hands tightly clasped before her chest, she meekly tried to smooth things over.

Unlike the flamboyant Priscilla, she wore a long dress of simple, plain make.

Yet far from diminishing her charm by so much as a fraction, the close-fitting, thin fabric in fact set off the lush curves of her figure all the more.

At a glance her shoulders and arms looked slim and delicate, yet lower down she possessed a perfectly shaped pair of teardrop-formed things.

Her waist was likewise excessively slender, but continuing downward suddenly traced out an exaggerated curve — the full, generously-built, easy-childbearing type.

A head of emerald-green straight hair tumbled naturally across her shoulders, revealing a pale, tender, smooth slender neck. Upon her delicate, fair, oval face, alluring and bewitching amber eyes carried a striking sense of contrast.

Emilia shifted her gaze to the green-haired girl, her eyes filled with doubt.

"Hello, Emilia. Your eyes do not deceive you — at present I am, in fact, Crusch Karsten herself."

Crusch, noticing Emilia's gaze and seeming to understand her bewilderment, turned her head and gave her a kindly smile.

This... how on earth could the same person undergo such an enormous change in personality?

The Crusch in Emilia's memory had been forceful, dashing and gallant — and yet now she seemed instead the picture of a soft, frail woman.

No — well, Crusch was indeed a woman to begin with, but...

Amid Emilia's hesitation, a voice that delighted in stirring up a spectacle rang out once again at her ear.

"Fight, fight! Whoever wins gets the right to share Subaru's bed tonight!"

Wearing a snow cap and draped in a fox-fur stole, Anastasia threw up her hand and cheered, the joy and free-spiritedness on her face entirely heartfelt.

"Oi, listen — I'm not exactly speaking up for Emilia and her lot, but in fact this whole thing has nothing to do with them, does it? The one to hate is that Curse Caster!"

Felt, dressed in a dignified, goose-yellow long dress, knit her brow slightly, folded her arms, and put forward her own opinion in a mature manner.

With that, the five great Royal Selection candidates were all gathered together!

"My, my — even I can no longer bear to listen to such arrogant words. I find myself unable to help but speak up on behalf of Lady Emilia."

Elsa, who had until now remained silent, suddenly stepped forward and — for reasons unclear — planted herself in front of Emilia.

"Elsa? There's no need. For the moment, this is an internal disagreement among the few of us."

Catching sight of this, Emilia was momentarily taken aback, but still she declined Elsa in a low voice.

The other side, however, could not hear Emilia's voice, and so:

"Lady Emilia? Elsa — since when did you become a member of Emilia's camp?"

At the very same moment Elsa stepped forward, on the other side Anastasia, Crusch, and Felt all subtly changed expression, and without the slightest hesitation immediately moved to the side of the solitary Priscilla.

Four on Priscilla's side; Emilia's side, with Rem and Ram added in, likewise four.

The two sides thus formed a standoff, and the atmosphere turned tense in the blink of an eye.

"Hoho, there's no need for everyone to be on edge. After all, the very moment we arrived in this space, the rules were stated — force is forbidden."

Priscilla lightly fanned herself; she seemed to be the pillar of the four, and was settling everyone's nerves.

"My, my — then I'm truly curious. If I were to grab you by the hair and slam you into the ground — a slightly more vigorous bit of 'horseplay' like that surely wouldn't count as force, would it?"

"And having lost your blessing, what room would you have left to resist? So I would suggest you put that arrogant air of yours away, mm?"

The corner of Elsa's mouth curled upward into a mocking smile.

"What say you? The legendary Bloody Bride, the Sun Princess — Priscilla?"

With a sharp snap, Priscilla closed her fan, gazed calmly at Elsa, and let a few words drift indifferently from her lips.

"Interesting."

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