Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World- Ex Vol. 5: The Tale of the Scarlet Princess Read online

  Copyright

  Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World- Ex, Vol. 5

  Tappei Nagatsuki

  Translation by Kevin Steinbach

  Cover art by Shinichirou Otsuka

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Re:ZERO KARA HAJIMERU ISEKAI SEIKATSU Ex5 HIIROKITAN

  ©Tappei Nagatsuki 2021

  First published in Japan in 2021 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2022 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First Yen On Edition: November 2022

  Edited by Yen On Editorial: Ivan Liang

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Nagatsuki, Tappei, 1987– author. | Otsuka, Shinichirou, illustrator. | Steinbach, Kevin, translator.

  Title: Re:ZERO starting life in another world ex / Tappei Nagatsuki ; illustration by Shinichirou Otsuka ; translation by Kevin Steinbach.

  Other titles: Re:ZERO kara hajimeru isekai seikatsu ex. English

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen On, 2017.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017036833 | ISBN 9780316412902 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316479097 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975304263 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975316013 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975348540 (v. 5 : pbk.)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Science fiction. | Time travel—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.N34 Ref 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017036833

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-4854-0 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-4855-7 (ebook)

  E3-20220901-JV-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Insert

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Crimson Shadow

  Vermilion Swordwolf

  Scarlet Parting

  Afterword

  Yen Newsletter

  CRIMSON SHADOW

  1

  The warm sunlight slipped past the blinds and touched the sleeper’s cheek.

  “Mm… Mmm…” The emerging voice had yet to deepen with age. It had a neutral timbre, not obviously masculine or feminine, and its owner looked every bit as innocent as they sounded, exuding a certain unsavory attraction.

  Murmuring and tossing gently on the bed was a lovely young man. His pink hair was disheveled from sleeping, and his skin was as white as milk. He looked to be ten years old, give or take, and much like his voice, his angelic appearance made it impossible to tell whether he was a boy or a girl.

  His name was Schult, and the poverty he had been born into would have been the death of him if not for his powerful luck.

  “Ahhh…” Schult sat up on the white sheets and yawned, rubbing his eyes. They were as red as rubies, which only enhanced his beauty. One might say he possessed a certain purity that approached perfection. However, such observations were very much at odds with Schult’s opinion of himself.

  “Gah, I’m still thin as a rail.” He stopped rubbing his eyes as his consciousness caught up with reality and instead started pouting as he plucked at his upper arms. The source of his displeasure was simple: No matter how hard he tried, his arms and legs never seemed to get any manlier. All the training he underwent seemed to have no discernable effect on his body.

  Last night, for example, he had diligently practiced swinging his wooden sword before going to bed, and yet here he was, arms still soft as wool. Worse, a faint ache lingered in his muscles—another reminder of how pathetic he was.

  In truth, that pain was a sign that the boy’s innocent wish was gradually coming true, but he didn’t know that. Instead, Schult recalled the advice Al had given him once.

  “Master Al said that pain is a sign that something is wrong. He also said that I should rest until the pain goes away.”

  Schult’s training regimen, which he had devised based on what Al had told him, consisted of one day of sword practice followed by five days of rest. Naturally, expecting to see much improvement on a schedule like that was downright silly. That was, in fact, part of Al’s plan, but that was another thing Schult didn’t realize.

  Not all of Al’s plans originated with his own immaturity, however…

  “Schult, you’re awake?”

  “Oh!”

  Schult jumped, turning on the bed; someone else was in the room with him. She sat in a luxurious chair, her long legs crossed elegantly. Only a sheer set of sleeping clothes covered her voluptuous, feminine form. Her crimson eyes were focused on the book that rested open on her knees. To Schult, she looked like she could have been the work of the most skilled painter in the world; he could almost swear that she was glowing, radiant.

  “Good morning, Lady Priscilla,” Schult said.

  “Mm. You look as lovely as ever this morning, Schult. And I praise how it felt to hold you last night.”

  “Th-thank you, milady,” Schult said, enchanted. The woman—Priscilla—nodded generously. Schult found the approving words immensely gratifying and yet embarrassing; it was a complicated feeling.

  He understood that his role was to handle odd jobs for Priscilla and to serve as her bed warmer—but he often wished he could repay his enormous debt to her in a more substantial way. That was both how he truly felt as well as his deepest wish.

  “Staaaare.”

  “What’s this? You seem to be looking at me especially closely this morning. Is something the matter?”

  “N-nothing, Lady Priscilla. You’re still the most beautiful person in the world! And I’m so happy to be able to serve you! But…”

  “But what?”

  “I wish I could be of more use to you, Lady Priscilla, but I haven’t the strength. I wish I could swing a sword like Master Al…” As he spoke, Schult was reminded of the listless, floppy feeling of his own arms.

  He didn’t have to be as strong as Priscilla’s knight, Al, or even her private forces, the Redmongers. His only wish was to protect her from even one of the threats and challenges she faced on a regular basis.

  “When the moment comes, Lady Priscilla, I’ll be your shield… Oh, but my body is so small. You could hold me u
p in front of you to shield yourself from— Ow! Yow!”

  “That is enough frivolous blathering. I will decide how I use my possessions. When did you become so high-and-mighty to think you could give me orders?” Priscilla, who had stood up almost without Schult realizing it, managed to stroke and tug on his ear at the same time.

  Leaning against her palm, Schult said, “I c-certainly didn’t mean to…” He looked this way and that. “Ngh… But if I can’t be your shield, then how might I serve you, milady? Oh, I know! I can cling to you and be your armor!”

  “This is not a matter of what piece of my equipment you can replace. Schult, I neither expect nor need you to be my sword, nor my shield. The best thing you can do is to continue serving as my pillow.”

  “Just your pillow, milady…?” His head drooped; her words were merciless. It was painful to hear so clearly that the person he owed everything didn’t consider him one of her warriors, even if he had realized it long ago. His flimsy arms were to blame. Or maybe it was his sticklike legs.

  “Hmm.” Priscilla watched Schult grimly appraise his own body, then crossed her arms, emphasizing her generous chest. “If you cannot simply continue serving as my pillow, I would rather you read a book than swing a sword. Yes, that would be much more to my benefit.”

  “A book, milady? So if I read a book, I can become your shield?!”

  “No, you cannot. Don’t forget your place.”

  “Sorry, milady…”

  As the hopeful light that briefly shone in his eyes went out, Schult was quick to regret his overenthusiastic assumption. Priscilla flashed him an amused look, then indicated the room with a wave of her arm. They were in her bedroom, but her bed wasn’t the only furnishing. Shelves full of books lined the walls. Priscilla’s mansion—which stood upon the Bariel estate—was packed with these bookshelves, host to a collection of books as large as any in the kingdom. Her husband Lyp had been quite a collector himself, and once Priscilla had taken over the estate, she bought up what seemed like every book she could find. She was no casual reader. This was nothing less than the usurpation of knowledge.

  “There are times when knowledge can do more to save your life than a shield or sword,” she intoned.

  “Wha?”

  “It’s a maxim, attributed to some ancient sage. I’m more or less in agreement with it, but I think it’s still one step short of the truth.”

  “Meaning, uhh…”

  What Priscilla said was difficult for Schult to understand, and he struggled to follow her line of thinking. Of course, she didn’t adjust anything for his benefit. Priscilla always moved at her own pace. It was the collective desire to see her bracing figure leading them forward that kept all her followers enthralled.

  If they didn’t run as hard as they could, they would never catch up with the woman who stopped for no one.

  “”

  “Knowledge is the omnipotent staff,” Priscilla said. “A sword or a shield—what use are they when you have no need of them? Can a sword make your fields more fertile? Can a shield heal a sick man? Can either of them enrich your life? They can do none of these things. Knowledge, and knowledge alone, is like a staff that you can lean on in every circumstance. As for me, I stand and walk under my own power. Naturally, that is not to say I never stumble.”

  “B-but it hurts when you fall…”

  “Yes, it is far from pleasant. You may be injured. You may bleed. However…”

  “Oh! If you have a staff, you won’t fall!” Schult cried as he raised his hand, finally grasping Priscilla’s meaning.

  She let her expression soften in apparent satisfaction and patted Schult’s head again. Gently this time, charmed by his understanding. “That is why you should set yourself to reading books—if you wish to be not my sword nor my shield nor my pillow, but my staff.”

  “Y-yes, milady…! Oh, but…I don’t know how to read…”

  “Ask Al to teach you. He has too much time on his hands, besides. And despite all appearances to the contrary, he’s quite a talented teacher. If he can’t manage to put letters into your head, I’ll simply cut off his other arm.”

  “A very grave responsibility! I’ll try my hardest to learn—for Master Al’s sake!” Schult sat up straighter, spurred by the thought of how awful Al’s life would be without either of his arms. Just as Priscilla nodded in acknowledgment, Schult’s gaze happened to fall on one book in particular. It was the volume that now sat on the chair Priscilla had occupied until a moment before. It had a red cover worked with gold. Schult remembered seeing this one before. Only he, who served as Priscilla’s pillow every night, knew that it was her favorite book, the one she read without fail upon waking every single morning.

  “Lady Priscilla, what book is that?”

  “…That one? That is not a book for reading. Rather, it’s…full of reminders, let us say. I doubt it would interest you even if you could read it.”

  “‘Reminders,’ milady?” Schult tilted his head, not entirely sure what that could mean.

  In response, Priscilla took the book in hand, running her fingers along the cover. “Were you to read it, I doubt anything in it would benefit you. What a reader seeks from a book varies from person to person. Simply feeling the heart leap at a dramatic story is one of the pleasures of reading.”

  “—? But your staff, Lady Priscilla…”

  “Even I do not read only to learn. Hmm…” Priscilla sat in her chair once more, then opened the book across her knees and scanned the contents. “You amuse me. Schult, I shall read to you for a few minutes.”

  “You read to me, Lady Priscilla? Oh! I can’t wait!”

  “Heh. Your guileless reactions continue to charm me. In any case… Yes, let’s see…”

  Priscilla looked at Schult, who sat bolt upright on the bed, and then she began to speak. Schult, grasping this undreamed-of chance, listened raptly. The voice that filled his ears seemed soft and billowy, like a tender song.

  Her story began as it seemed every story must: “Once upon a time, in a certain place, there lived a lovely, sweet, beautiful young woman…”

  2

  This lovely, sweet, and beautiful young woman wore a resplendent dress.

  “”

  The dress, red as blood, fluttered as she walked along. A discernible youth hung about her even though her back was straight and her posture impeccable. From her eyes, almond-shaped and crimson, to her skin, as pale and as delicate as porcelain, to her finely sculpted facial features, everything about her seemed to shine; these were portents of her great and terrible future.

  Six servants attended her as she proceeded down the red carpet with supreme self-assurance. When she passed through the great doors that stood open at the end of the carpet, she was greeted with a luxurious dining hall and nine more servants.

  Once she reached the centermost seat of a long table bedecked with a white cloth, one of the servants pulled out a chair for her, and the preparation for her meal began. A cart full of eating utensils was wheeled in to supply the girl’s place setting. She was the only one actually using the dining hall; everyone else was present merely to facilitate her meal.

  As the dishes were being readied, the girl rather abruptly turned to the servant standing at her side and said, “What are my plans for today?”

  The servant bowed with utmost respect and replied, “Milady’s room is prepared for your studies once you’ve finished dining. Also, Master Vincent requests that you have lunch with him.”

  “My studies, hmm? I hope this meal isn’t as bland and uninteresting as those lessons. But you say my elder brother is here; that’s good news. I’ve been waiting to avenge the humiliation of my earlier loss at shatranj.”

  Where the servant spoke quietly and humbly, the girl was haughty. She nodded; the servant made no remark on her condescending attitude but took a single step backward, still bowing, and rejoined the line of attendants.

  Approving of the carefully observed decorum, the girl said, “Very well,
” and faced forward once more. While she had been talking to the servant, her meal had been laid out, and the first course, a steaming hot soup, sat before her.

  “If you’ll permit me, milady.”

  “Mm.”

  Just because the food was ready didn’t mean she could simply start eating. Instead, one of the servants stepped forward and, after humbly asking for permission, delicately picked up a spoon. She took a spoonful of the soup and brought it not to the girl’s mouth, but to her own.

  It was simple; she was tasting for poison. Any noble of significance would have someone on hand to check their food.

  The girl was used to this; she hardly reacted as the woman sampled the dish, checking the flavor and confirming it was safe for consumption. Virtually all the young woman’s food was screened in this way, which ultimately meant she hardly ever got to eat freshly made dishes while they were still hot. She understood, of course, that it was a necessary precaution.

  “How wearisome…” The words formed on her lips but barely left them; no one knew she had spoken but her.

  Not heeding the girl’s whispering, the food taster finished her job. When her turn finally came to have some of the now-cold soup, the girl looked at the dish with an exasperated expression that crossed her beautiful face.

  “”

  She took a spoonful of soup and brought to her mouth. The way she immediately went back for another mouthful was, perhaps, an expression of her desire to get this dreary meal out of the way as quickly as possible. Well, so long as she observed proper dining etiquette, no one here could or would object no matter how fast she ate.

  And in any case, neither speed nor manners were an issue any longer.

  “Hrk…”

  A strangled noise escaped the girl’s lips, and the spoon fell from her hand. Instead of her eating utensil, she grabbed at the tablecloth, pulling it toward herself and sending the dishes and silverware everywhere.

  “Kah— Ghhh—”

  With her other hand, she clutched at her throat, gasping. Her red eyes shot open, their natural crimson color now made even more brilliant by the tears of blood that rolled down her cheeks. Blood likewise flowed from her nose and mouth.