The Childhood Friend of the Villainess in a Romance Fantasy

Translator: Elisia

Editor/Proofreader: TempWane

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Being covered in the blood of something that resembles a human was not a pleasant experience.

Likewise, witnessing a sword embedded in the neck of something human-like up close is equally unsettling.

The handle of the sword was visible on the left side of the barbarian’s neck—on my right from where I stood. Naturally, the other end of the sword blade had pierced through the thick, short neck of the barbarian, emerging on the opposite side. The blade gleamed, slick with blood, grease, and flecks of flesh.

At the edge of my vision, a golden glimmer caught my eye. It was the prince’s blonde hair, glinting as it whipped through the air while he rushed forward.

Drip. Blood flowed down like wine being poured into a glass. It should have sprayed out, but the embedded blade seemed to prevent that.

That blood soaked the front of my chest.

The eyes of the figure who had locked gazes with mine rapidly lost their light. Yet, the fungal growth blooming on the face visible beneath the helmet continued to glow faintly, and the hand gripping my left arm did not lose its strength. No, if anything it tightened further, as if the corpse itself had its own will and refused to let go.

“Ugh, aaaaah!”

Prince Evan, as if trying to overcome his fear, put all his weight into his sword and pushed forward.

The barbarian’s lower body, which had been halfway through the dimensional gate, was pulled upward. The rift, now closing, dragged the corpse back along with it.

As if its lower half were dangling in midair—no, quite literally dangling—the barbarian’s corpse was pulled downward. With its head twisted to face me, the sight was horrifying in itself.

And just as before, the corpse was severed at the closing rift before falling—

Snap.

Grey’s jaws appeared from the left, clamping down on the barbarian’s upper body.

He swiftly dragged the corpse aside. The prince’s sword, still lodged in the corpse’s neck, was yanked free as well. As a result, blood gushed out from the previously blocked wound in the neck.

“Argh!”

As blood sprayed onto his body, the prince let out a cry and staggered backward. Still, he managed to hold on to his sword, which was commendable in itself.

“Your Highness!”

“Lady Elsie!”

The knights and Delkis hunters, who had turned at the prince’s shout, rushed toward us in a panic.

“Ah!”

Though it was fortunate that the corpse was dragged aside instead of falling on me, its death grip on my arm and the sword in my right hand pulled me sideways along with it.

Before I could be dragged further, Snow lunged forward.

Gray and Snow tore apart the barbarian’s corpse.

Squelch.

Naturally, the result was—well, let’s not dwell on it.

Even for me, this was a bit too much to handle.

Nature does not lie—or so they say. But honestly, I wasn’t sure if those things truly came from “nature.” Their appearance was too unnatural, and their bodies moving even after death was far from what I’d consider normal for any living creature.

I managed to stand up.

Though their limbs moved even after death, once they were torn to shreds, there was no way they could muster any strength. Their muscles, the very source of their power, had been destroyed.

“Haa… haa…”

I finally let out a shaky breath. My legs trembled, making it hard to stand, but I somehow managed to rise, gripping my sword tightly.

“My lady.”

One of the hunters approached and supported me.

In Delkis, one was expected to stand on their own after a battle, but at this moment, I simply couldn’t. Honestly, I could only marvel at the warriors who walked back on their own two feet after every battle like this.

“You did well, my lady.”

“…”

Hearing the hunter’s words, I turned my gaze to find Amelia.

Amelia’s clothes were also stained with blood.

Yet she didn’t seem to care about her soiled attire, nor did she acknowledge the maid hugging her tightly from the side. She simply stared blankly at me with wide eyes.

The emotions in her gaze—I couldn’t read them. Her expression was so mixed with feelings that it was impossible to single out just one.

Or maybe that was the point. It was a chaotic situation, and chaotic feelings are simply… chaotic.

As for the enemy, their attacks seemed to be slowing.

Indeed, the frequency of enemies emerging from the void was gradually decreasing. When the enemies first poured out, the hunters and knights had to rush to handle them, but now, with fewer enemies, they had the leeway to strike down any arm or face that appeared.

“…”

Is it… over now?

No one dared to say the situation was over.

Because, in truth, it wasn’t.

No one who had just cut down an enemy and been drenched in blood could possibly be okay.

That included both the prince and me.

*

I washed myself over and over again.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had blood on me. When hunting animals, it was common for blood to smear on me, and occasionally, I’d even end up so thoroughly drenched that it felt as if the blood had been spilled over me.

But this time was different.

It wasn’t just blood that had been spilled. Squishy, unmistakably fleshy things had poured over me as well. Some had been trampled underfoot by the knights and hunters running around, turning into pulpy masses.

Oddly enough, those “separated parts” didn’t stir any emotion in me. It sounded strange even to me, but in the end, the insides of something resembling a human and the insides of an animal looked surprisingly similar in form and color.

The innards of a moose, piled high at a hunter’s feet during butchering, and the scattered fragments of the barbarian’s abdominal contents strewn across the floor—both bore less difference than one might think. They weren’t enough to provoke much emotion.

The real problem lay with the fragments of body parts.

Ironically, it was easier to look at the pieces that still had faces attached. Those reminded me that they weren’t human. But arms, hands, and fingers… those were forms I couldn’t easily grow accustomed to.

For the first time, I vomited at the sight of death.

Prince Evan was no different. He’d kept it together during the previous hunt, but this time, he couldn’t hold back.

Unexpectedly, Amelia… didn’t throw up. Her face had turned ghostly pale, and she looked as though she could barely remain standing, but unlike us, she didn’t retch up the contents of her stomach. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t personally killed or stabbed anyone.

No, not people. They weren’t people.

…Of course, it was an obvious fact, but this world didn’t have such luxuries as showers.

If I wanted to pour water over myself, I had to do it manually or have someone else do it for me.

But everyone had just been through a battle.

Among those who fought, there were injuries, but thankfully, no fatalities.

…However, among those who hadn’t fought, there were casualties. Three boys were dead, and one girl was missing.

Could barbarians conceive children with humans?

Everyone seemed haunted by that chilling thought, though no one dared voice it, especially not in front of grieving parents. Even if the parents themselves had entertained such a notion, it was unspeakable in their presence.

In such circumstances, it felt inappropriate for me to be the only one asking for “warm water.” Some people hadn’t even washed the blood off themselves and had immediately begun organizing the aftermath. Expecting someone to pour water over my head was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

The fact that cold water had been prepared for me at all was something to be grateful for.

I had washed with cold water before, but I had never washed away anything like this.

Oil, when mixed with water, solidifies and clings stubbornly. I could eventually scrub it off my skin, but my hair was a different story—

They didn’t wash out easily. Instead, they stuck together with the mass, and as the water ran over them, I watched the blood-stained clumps gradually lose their crimson hue and regain their pale, original color. It was far from a pleasant sight, especially when I thought about what the clumps used to belong to.

I felt a wave of nausea rise but managed to hold it back and continued washing. Even cold water, poured repeatedly over my head, eventually washed away the stubborn remnants. After all, no matter how sticky it was, it wasn’t chewing gum.

Oddly, the cold water helped clear my mind.

“Haa.”

I shivered, wiped myself dry with a prepared cloth as thoroughly as possible, and dressed neatly. I tied my hair up, as it would soak my clothes if left to dry naturally.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, someone was waiting for me.

“Lady Elsie.”

It was Amelia.

She stood there, wearing an expression of resolve.

“Your Highness.”

I answered quietly. Amelia hesitated for a moment. Did I look worse than she’d expected?

“…May I speak with you for a moment?”

Despite her hesitation, Amelia asked.