Marry X Princess

XXXIII: Headrush

A stunned silence fell upon the arena when the announcer declared me the winner. All I could hear was the sound of my heart pounding in my ears and my own labored panting. It didn't take long for that to change, however.

Booooooooooooo!

What the hell, still booing me?!

Angry faces populated the audience in every section. They were all too far off to see in clear detail from where I was, but it was easy to tell from their jeering and mannerisms alone.

Screw all of you idiots too. Whatever, thank gods that's finally over.

A team of medics rushed out onto the field, extracted Emil from the pond, and loaded him onto a stretcher. They began to work on his wounds while wheeling him to the back. Meanwhile, I was helped up by the referee. The pain was still excruciating in my stomach, but a medic noticed and hovered a healing orb over me. It didn't do much, but it was a temporary measure, apparently.

"Come on, this way," the referee said as he helped me walk out of the forest and to the center of the field. When we got there, he raised my hand, still wearing a shocked expression, and a massive display of fireworks shot up and exploded in the sky above the arena.

What in the...

While the demonstration was breathtaking, it was an overblown celebration that took an eternity to end and felt far more appropriate for the conclusion of the gauntlet in its entirety rather than the first round.

When the pyrotechnics show concluded, I took note of the stadium staff all around me. They appeared panicked, yelling into their earpieces, and rushing back and forth.

That's when it hit me.

The fireworks, the boos, the referee's odd demeanor—it was all clear what was going on.

I really wasn't supposed to win, huh?

A man in a suit came out of one of the tunnels and began jogging up to me. I shot the referee a confused glance, and he said, "you're required to do a post-match interview."

Oh come on already!

The interviewer slowed his pace when he got to me and cleared his throat. He prepared a microphone, and a cameraman approached me, sticking the lens very close to my face.

"Well, Mr. Watanabe," the interviewer started. He sounded baffled. "Somehow, against all odds, it appears you've emerged victorious in your battle against Prince Emil LeClair." The crowd viciously booed that statement, and the interviewer pulled his collar in response.

I ground my teeth hearing the audience response, and my eyes couldn't help but wander up to the other royals who were all watching from above in their skyboxes.

"So, tell us what's on your mind right now," the interviewer pressed. He pointed the microphone at me as a spiteful chant of "demon eyes" followed.

Sick to death of being jeered for breathing, I snapped right into a rant. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that not how that was supposed to go?! LeClair was supposed to skip rope with my intestines, and you would all have yourselves a big, fat royal wedding, right?! Well, let this be a lesson to all of you, especially all you arrogant, entitled royals up there. You think you're special? Yeah, so did LeClair. He went on and on about his family prophecy, but you know what? The Watanabe family prophecy says I just kicked his ass. And all of you are next."

The boos were so loud that I was positive they caused the entire province to quake.

The interviewer shook his head in distress and tried to ask another question, but I interrupted him. "Nuh-uh, stop right there. What's your name?"