Princess’ Submission

Hatsune Miku's POV

"It took you so long to arrive, Hoshino-kun." I stomped my foot against the concrete rooftop angrily as I watched him leisurely step onto the school's rooftop, exactly where I had asked him to meet me.

"Have you forgotten that I am a Campione, Princess? People always call us kings. To be precise, demon kings—and they treat us as such." He chuckled with a chilling calmness, his voice laced with quiet authority.

His eyes bored into me, cold and utterly devoid of emotion.

There was no anger, no joy, nothing at all—only the pure, detached calmness of a sociopath's stare.

That gaze, so unnervingly blank, felt as though it could strip away my very soul.

I instinctively stepped back, my heart pounding in panic.

There was no overt display of intimidation—no threatening posture or raised voice—but those eyes alone were enough to terrify me.

How could such a gaze even exist?

And worse still... it belonged to a Campione?

"You… what is it that you want? Don't forget—I am a princess!" I forced myself to calm down, confronting him with a shaky resolve.

My voice wavered despite my best efforts to appear composed.

"You're being overly dramatic. I've done nothing to you," he replied nonchalantly.

His calm tone, coupled with his unnerving honesty, sent a jolt of uneasy relief through me.

He truly hadn't done anything—at least, not yet. And yet, his presence alone was suffocating, like staring into a bottomless abyss.

His face betrayed no emotion beyond that eerie calmness, his gaze devoid of warmth or malice.

I couldn't read him.

Not his thoughts, not his feelings.

Nothing.

"So, how should I address you? King?" I asked hesitantly, unsure of the correct protocol.

It was those eyes that made me wary, those eyes that demanded respect without a single word being spoken.

I no longer dared to treat him casually or carelessly.

This was no ordinary man—no easygoing schoolmate, as his outward demeanor might suggest.

Beneath that calm facade lurked something far deeper, something unreadable, untouchable.

"Address me however you wish. I don't care for formalities," he said with a dismissive shrug. "I don't particularly like excessive courtesy, either. All I ask is for basic respect—not just from you, but from anyone who seeks to earn my good graces."

"Then... may I simply call you Hoshino-kun?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes. Anything is fine, as long as it isn't insulting or overstepping boundaries," he replied evenly.

"Now, Princess, tell me—what exactly did you call me here for? Let me guess. You want my good graces. My help. My favor. If not that, I can't think of any other reason you'd bother enrolling in this school after I became a Campione."

I froze, caught off guard by how easily he saw through me.

His words were like a knife, cutting straight to the truth I had tried to veil behind formality and politeness.

"I can offer you all those things," he continued, his voice growing colder, "but what do you intend to offer me in return?"

I faltered, momentarily at a loss for words. He had guessed my intentions perfectly.

If I put it politely, I wanted his friendship. But if I stripped it down to its raw, unvarnished truth, I desired his favor—his protection—and, more importantly, an end to the quiet hostility he harbored toward Japan.

My country had wronged him, and I knew that much.

I sighed, feeling an uncomfortable weight in my chest.

Is he really a teenager?

Why does it feel like I'm speaking to a seasoned politician rather than an inexperienced boy?

"Yes, I wanted you to cease your hostility toward our country—toward Japan. Additionally, I sought to earn your favor, your trust, and perhaps even your friendship, Hoshino-kun," I admitted candidly, my voice steady despite the weight of my words.

"In return, can you tell me what it is that you truly desire? I'll admit, I know little about you beyond the fragments of your past—the fact that you were once adopted into Grace Field House. Beyond that, your heart and intentions are a mystery to me. What do you truly seek in the end?"

He regarded me with a curious intensity, his expression unreadable, yet laced with a playful undercurrent.

"What I truly want?" he repeated, as though savoring the question before giving it life.

"I don't know, Princess. Perhaps it's as simple as survival. Perhaps it's vengeance. Or perhaps it's power—control over my own destiny and those around me. Perhaps I want all three of these things," he mused, his tone sharp with mockery.

"Would you grant me those wishes, Princess, if I were to lay them bare for you? If I told you what I truly wanted?"

His rhetorical inquiry carried a dangerous edge, yet I pressed forward undeterred.

"Please, spare me the riddles, Hoshino-kun. I'm asking you to speak plainly. I've already given you my honesty, and I've offered it without reservation. All I ask is for you to return the favor and answer me with the same level of candor," I stated firmly, though my voice quivered ever so slightly.

"For now?" he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. "For now, I want to take over this country. I want to conquer Japan."

His words were casual, almost playful, but the glint in his eyes betrayed the seriousness of his claim.

"Do you think that's possible, Princess?" he added, chuckling darkly.

His laughter grated on my nerves, and I frowned in response.

Despite the lightness in his tone, I knew better than to dismiss his words as a mere jest.

This man—this Campione—was dead serious, and his ambitions, however far-fetched, were real.

It was impossible, of course. For centuries, we had maintained our independence, untouched by foreign powers or supernatural entities.

Even angels, devils, and the myriad other supernatural forces respected our sovereignty.

Susanoo, the de facto ruler of Japan, had ensured this stability alongside the Yokai Faction and his sister, Amaterasu.

We owed no allegiance to humans, Campione, devils, or any other beings.

Our loyalty lay solely with the gods we had worshipped since ancient times—even if they had since fallen into the category of Heretic Gods.

"It's not possible, is it?" he said, breaking the silence that had stretched too long.

"Then there's nothing more to discuss. Farewell, Princess." His tone was curt, and without waiting for my reply, he turned on his heel, preparing to leave.

"Wait, Hoshino-kun!" I called out desperately, my voice laced with urgency.

He halted mid-step and turned back to face me, his gaze icy and unforgiving.

"Speak, Princess. You have ten seconds to explain yourself," he said, his tone as sharp as the blade of a guillotine.

"I… I can cooperate with you," I stammered, struggling to find the right words. "But I cannot—will not—help you rule. If you wish to take control, you will have to do it yourself. I will not assist in that."

"Help me?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain.

"You, Princess, are in no position to offer me help. You lack the qualifications, the strength, and the will for such a task. However," he added, his gaze shifting slightly as his tone softened, "considering my… interest in your proportions, I'm willing to entertain the idea of cooperation. But next time, choose your location more wisely. The rooftop of a school is hardly the ideal setting for a serious negotiation."

He chuckled, clearly amused by the absurdity of our situation.

"Then…" I swallowed my pride and took a deep breath.

"Give me your number. I'll contact you when I've decided where and when we can talk," I said, my tone as firm as I could manage.

He nodded, handing me his number with a smirk. I quickly saved it to my smartphone, carefully recording the digits before slipping the device back into my pocket.

I watched as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I allowed the tension to drain from my body.

At least the conversation hadn't devolved into something worse—he hadn't lashed out, nor had he spewed any particularly venomous words at me despite his hostility toward our government and my status as royalty.

Even though our discussion had been fraught with unspoken tension, at least we had achieved a fragile understanding—a tentative step toward cooperation and mutual respect.

That, in itself, was a significant victory.

Right?