|Author: We Ain’t Not Fish||Original Source: SFACG||Word Count: 1441 characters|
|Translator: Silva||English Source: Re:Library||Word Count: 942 words|
“A big applause to Atlas Beldo for bringing us such a moving performance,” Akarin used a handkerchief to wipe his eyes, “It’s really too touching. As expected of our race’s most outstanding musician.”
What do you mean outstanding? From beginning to end, there’s only one “roar~”. Instead of an orchestra, it’s more like little dragons shouting inconsiderately. This kind of performance, I bet any creatures with an IQ of fifty or above can do it.
Furthermore, those accompaniments didn’t even have a rehearsal, more than half of them had been knocked out in the middle of the orchestra, why are there no parents complaining?
Huh? Why is the spotlight swaying?
I turned my head to the side and found the brother pointing the spotlight at me shedding tears and nodding in approval.
This chapter is provided to you by Re:Library (https://re-library.com/)
Show us your support by paying Re:Library a visit!
Upon noticing that I was looking at him again, the old chap suddenly leaned closer to whisper softly, “Did you see that just now princess? Ma lil boy is also in there, he sang so well.”1
How am I supposed to know which one is your boy? They all frigging sound the same.
Perhaps he noticed my predicament, so he whispered again, “My son was the first to get knocked out.”
What the actual ⓕⓤⓒⓚ! So you are one of the parents that ought to be complaining! Your own son had been knocked out and you are feeling touched here. Be careful when you grow old, your child might send you to the nursing home!
“Hm~ You Highness the princess, you need not worry. Ma child has a sturdy skull. Every time I lectured him, I would be using a club to hit him. That kind of little stick is nothing to him.”
Ah… you just wait for your child to bury you alive after you grow old.
“The following program is brought to you by the greatest bard of our race, Kashington Jacky. Please enjoy the poem — [Dear Princess]”
The spotlight lit up against and shined on a middle-aged uncle with a handlebar mustache2. The uncle was holding a book in his hand and wore a monocle. He had the appearance of a gentleman.
It looks pretty authentic this time. After all, you can’t just find any random groups of juvenile dragons to read a poem right? They probably might not even know how to read.
Jacky offered a humble bow to me, then he took a deep breath and…
So powerful and bold!
With scales made out of black metal,
And fangs as sturdy as steel,
Your pectoral muscles are like two hills atop a plain,
Your abdominal muscles thick and strong.
You have eyes that tore the vast skies!
And the most vicious face in the world!
Please permit me to sing loudly for you!
S- such a nice poem… as if!
Are you blind? Can’t you see that I am standing right here?! Are you sure the thing you are writing about is me? Why do I feel like you are writing about a Demon King who’s going to destroy the world.
Where the hell do I have any pectoral or abdominal muscles, I don’t even have a pair of breasts you know?!
And what about the most vicious face? How can such a cute little creature like me be vicious? Look, I can even act cute~
Could it be that I looked that way in your eyes?
Even the old ⓑⓔⓔⓟ— me can’t compliment such an explicit description.
“Give a hand of applause to the performance of our greatest bard. That was such a good poem, it exhibited all the strong points of our princess in great details. As expected of the greatest bard.”
I suddenly feel that… I have underestimated the species known as dragons too much. Their tastes are really a little too unique.
“Next, our race’s greatest sculptor, Augustus Bastier, will present his work, [The Miracle of Birth]. In order to complete this work, he entered the dangerous Sea of Origin several times within half a day and completed it by using saint-level magic ten times. His dedication is really touching… Alright, please welcome Augustus Bastier!”
The spotlights gathered in one area and illuminated the ten-meter tall sculpture. However, as the sculpture was still covered by a red cloth, we couldn’t see it yet.
In front of the statue stood an old man in work clothes. He looked to be about fifty years old (in terms of human age).
The old man also bowed to me, and said, “Princess, please enjoy this creation of my humble self.”
Then he immediately pulled the red cloth.
After looking at the true identity of the sculpture, my brain crashed for no less than ten seconds. As the ⓑⓔⓔⓟ— of the ⓑⓔⓔⓟ—, I started to harbor doubts about all the crafts in my previous life.
Do not misunderstand, it is not that I am saying the sculpture is bad. In fact, the outer appearance is absolutely perfect. The sculpture is of my newborn self with the cloth mother used to cover me. The sculpture is extremely realistic, even the folds of the cloth are carved perfectly. However…
“Ahhh! Mister Augustus Bastier’s work is still as peerless as always. He used the tendons of the deep-sea whale as raw materials to portray the cute appearance of our princess when she was just born…”
What the ⓕⓤⓒⓚ! It is actually carved out of flesh! I no longer have any power left to retort…
However, with a flesh sculpture that realistic, doesn’t it feel like looking at myself with skin peeled? This isn’t some kind of horror fiction you dumbass!
- Not a typo, he has a bit of a strange dialect.