The Sequel to the Romance Fantasy Was a Zombie Apocalypse – Chapter 34

Glug.

I swallow hard due to the extreme tension.

“…Young Lady.”

“Can you keep it down? How many times do I have to call you?”

I regret calling Esmela, only to be scolded by her.

“But we’re going to meet the King of the Kingdom of Arkeisia now…”

That’s right. We are heading to the audience room to meet the King. The ones summoned were Esmela, Arit, and me.

…Why me?

Let’s rewind to the morning when we just arrived at the royal palace.

Following behind Esmela, guided by the chamberlain, I finally reached the room I would be staying in during our time in the palace.

Entering a lavish room, likely meant for high-ranking nobles from foreign lands, just a floor below Esmela’s, I thought I could finally relax when…

Suddenly, there’s a knock, and when I opened the door, one of the young officials following the chamberlain stood there.

“The King has commanded that you, along with Esmela and Arit, come forth.”

…Caught off guard by the royal decree, I hurriedly washed up, tossed aside my butler’s uniform, and changed into the white tailcoat provided by the palace maid, rushing to join Esmela and walk down the corridor to the audience room.

“Why on earth did he call for me too?”

“I told you, I don’t know! Stop asking that.”

“Come on, Lenit. It’ll be fine. He’s not calling you to punish you; as long as you maintain basic manners, nothing will happen.”

Arit, who was walking to Esmela’s left, kindly reassures me.

“I just don’t get why you’re acting so extra. You were calm before my father and the prince, and now you’re making it seem like the world is ending…”

“Young Lady, we’re talking about the King here. Someone much higher than a duke or the prince…”

Additionally, there’s another reason I can’t tell them about. Even as Lenit, when I meet characters from the main story like Esmela or Robertze, I see them not as noble aristocrats or royals but as ‘characters from my favorite game,’ which allows me to treat them casually.

But I had never encountered a king or queen in the main story. Perhaps that’s why this situation feels like I’m meeting a real-life monarch, causing my nerves to spike.

“You’re a commoner after all, so as long as you don’t mess up the greeting at first, Arit and I will handle the King afterwards. Look, you’ve whined enough; we’ve already arrived at the audience room. Time to prepare.”

As Esmela said this, she began adjusting her white dress.

“Esmela Herta, the eldest daughter of Duke Tereed Herta, humbly greets His Majesty King Pirot of Arkeisia.”

“May God Juten bless the reign of the House of Arkeisia. I, Arit Radaine, the 11th Saintess of the Radain Church, stand before King Pirot.”

“Um, I, Lenit, the butler of House Herta, respectfully greet His Majesty King Pirot of Arkeisia.”

The audience room, immense and reminiscent of a grand cathedral, enveloped us as we moved forward, kneeling on the left side in front of the throne.

With my gaze fixed ahead, I hadn’t truly taken in the surroundings, but I could guess the grandeur of the room from the opulent chandelier and the lavish golden decorations I caught glimpses of from the corners of my eyes.

“Lift your heads.”

After our greetings, Esmela and Arit stood up, while I cautiously shifted back to distance myself about five steps from them, still on my knees.

Just a little, without anyone noticing, I raised my head and stretched to look at the king on the steps of the throne.

About ten nobles lined up on either side, suggestively high-ranking, stood watch.

At the top of the steps—high enough to be at the height of an adult—four large chairs were placed. The most extravagant and grand throne on the left was clearly for the King, with the seat next to it reserved for the Queen.

The smaller chairs on either side belonged to the prince and princess.

The royal couple, adorned in splendid, silver royal garments, were looking down on us from their high position.

‘Yikes.’

Fearing an accidental gaze meeting, I hastily returned to looking down and instead focused on the dialogue between the King and the two.

“First, I commend you for your arduous journey leading your people safely to the palace.”

“I willingly accept the glory bestowed by Your Majesty.”

They began conversing in a tone befitting a fantasy world’s royal and nobility exchange.

“And, Saintess of the Radain Church, it is indeed fortunate that you are unharmed.”

“Until I fulfill the mission granted to me, it seems that God Juten does not wish to take me from your side.”

Even Arit was speaking in a manner unlike her usual soft tone, reminiscent of an actual saintess, participating in their exchange.

…Hmm.

“Esmela, have you heard from Duke Tereed?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. My father sent a magical arrow…”

Yet, even though it seemed like an elegant exchange between royals and nobles, the content was merely polite small talk and mundane reports I already knew about, confirming each other’s wellbeing.

Initially overwhelmed by the atmosphere, I actively listened to the conversation, but I was starting to feel bored…

…

Gazing blankly at the gleaming marble floor, I found myself lost in thoughts that had been set aside amidst our frantic escape from zombies.

I began to wonder about the zombies that had invaded the mansion. How did they notice us and attack the house?

I had urged the servants to avoid going into the garden and to keep things quiet to not attract their attention, and during the night patrol before bed, I had seen nothing amiss. There was ample distance between the mansion and the barrier, enough for them to not realize we were there.

But that night, without warning, 500, or maybe even 1000 zombies, seemed to charge in unison, breaking through the barrier as if under someone’s command.

Is there a special zombie with the ability to incite other zombies, just like how a nimble thief becomes a nimble special zombie?

…

Speaking of which, I wonder how Helinante is doing after being bitten?

The last time I saw him, he was being supported by the head maid and walking somewhere. Since there had been no mutation long after he was bitten, he might be fine…

That said, cutting off his arm that had been bitten was purely an instinctive action. I had borrowed the trope from stories where amputating the bitten area quickly prevents infection, grasping at straws.

For now, I just hope he recovers without any complications.

…

But seriously, why the heck am I here?

Did I have anything special to say? Observing the course of the dialogue, it didn’t seem so.

“…Lenit…”

I was a bit excited at the thought of possibly seeing Robertze or Yuria in the flesh, but if I’m just staring at the ground, that dream has vanished.

“Lenit.”

Is there any chance I might randomly bump into them while wandering the palace? You know, like those typical introductions in romantic fantasy novels—don’t they usually happen that way?

“Lenit!”

“Yikes.”

The sharp sound of Esmela’s voice snapped me back to reality.

As I cautiously lifted my head, I saw an exasperated Esmela glaring at me from behind along with a perplexed Arit.

Shifting my gaze sideways, I noticed that all four royals were looking at me with puzzling expressions, while the nobles standing nearby were throwing me disapproving looks.

…This is bad.

“Did I hear Lenit?”

“Yes, yes!”

I hurriedly bowed my head again and replied in a cracked voice to the King’s call.

“I wish to converse with you as well. Come closer.”

“Yes, sir….”

Kneeling, I slowly crawled forward.

“…You may rise and walk over here.”

“Ah, is that so!”

Standing up, I hurriedly walked to Esmela’s side.

I caught a glimpse of Esmela squeezing her eyes shut, as if she couldn’t bear to see any more.

Daring not to look directly at the King, I kept my gaze awkwardly mid-way on the stairs, which allowed the disappointed faces of noble onlookers to infiltrate my vision.

…Yes, I’m a commoner with no education. Stupid nobles…

“Lift your head.”

I did as told and looked up for the first time, locking eyes with the King. He had the same silvery hair and beard as the crown prince, with sharp eyes that conveyed both benevolence and seriousness—truly a picture of a typical king.

“Hmmm…”

The King raised his hand to stroke his beard while looking down at me.

Glug.

I could barely muster the courage to speak, instead simply receiving his gaze directly.

“Indeed. I have heard of your loyalty and bravery; that you fought to protect your master against ‘them’ with the resolve to face death, from Esmela just now.”

The King’s deep voice resonated again in the audience room.

“Therefore, the reason I summoned you is to commend you for your remarkable deeds.”