The Princess and the Emperor
Clang—!
The iron bars of the Yuren detention center swung open. I watched as Quey shuffled out from within.
He spoke.
"It seems the matter has been resolved."
"Since you have returned all the items you stole."
Quey let out a small laugh, while Ifrin glanced at me oddly and hid her notes and paper behind her back.
Quey asked,
"However... Deculein. Why were you scribbling Divine Language?"
Divine Language. The language of the gods, literally.
The system essential for interpreting the revelations of the Holy Era and holding conversations with them was difficult—even impossible—to acquire even with Understanding.
No, it was outright impossible.
To begin with, Divine Language had no such thing as a 'system.'
"The chapel you showed me. I wish to visit it."
"...The chapel?"
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. I nodded and replied.
"To kill you, I must first understand you."
"Hm... I see. Do you know the way?"
The final boss.
As a tester, I had played the game and even cleared it, but I knew little about the final boss itself.
That was because, as the game's designer, I had been too busy fixing mushy graphics or lighting effects.
Above all, to players, the final boss was simply a target to 'kill,' not something to 'understand' like the game's other named characters.
"I shall discover it in time."
Still, there was one thing I did know.
The true name of this one who called himself 'Quey'.
A name unknown to anyone in this world—likely forgotten even by Quey himself—which I possessed.
He asked,
"Then what am I to do now?"
"You are free."
"Free?"
The guard approached, unlocked his handcuffs, and handed him a paper. It was a temporary Yuren identity card.
"There is no need for me to escort you around the exhibition. You have legs, eyes, and arms."
"..."
Quey looked somewhat bewildered.
"Do as you please."
"Hm. Is that truly wise?"
"Killing or detaining you now changes nothing."
In any case, this meeting had granted me 200 mana, pushing my total mana capacity past 5,000 at last. That was achievement enough.
"You are released. Consult the map and find your way to the exhibition."
"..."
I handed him the map.
Quey fiddled with his wrist, then spoke in a noticeably subdued tone.
"Very well. However, Deculein. You shall never learn Divine Language."
"Why is that?"
"It changes every year. We have used countless languages across countless ages. Even the entirety of your continent's history falls short of merely listing the words we have employed."
"..."
That was indeed despair-inducing.
Yet not enough to make me surrender.
"Might you offer a hint? You seem capable of mastering it sufficiently."
Quey shook his head gravely at my words.
"Though I have come to experience the continent and humanity, I have no desire to share that era's knowledge with you."
"I shall ask once more. Why?"
"You are human in the end, and I cannot tolerate the gifts bestowed by God being defiled by you humans."
With that, he snorted coldly and brushed past me. Sharper than his surprisingly mild demeanor before, but not particularly frightening.
As he turned to leave, I said,
"—Believer Quey."
His shoulders trembled violently in that instant.
His agitation rippled like waves.
A divine aura rose from his doll-like body.
"..."
Quey turned back to me wordlessly, his widened eyes flashing with anger and doubt, longing and affection all at once.
Such complex emotions, triggered simply.
By my calling his name in Divine Language.
"Believer. And Quey. Those two words have not changed, surely. You have always been believers, and you have always been called Quey."
"...You."
Quey ground his teeth. His expression was far from ordinary.
Ifrin looked up at him and patted his shoulder—tap tap.
"..."
He glanced at Ifrin, then back at me, and soon let out a hollow laugh.
"Very well. I shall give you a scroll."
With that, he smoothly drew a sheet of Ifrin's magical paper.
The paper stretched long and wide, curling like a carpet into a massive 'scroll' that thudded into my arms.
"Behold. You shall not read it all even if you devote your entire life."
With that, Quey walked out of the detention center.
I nodded silently toward Ifrin.
A signal to tail him, and she cleared her throat—ahem—and nodded.
Fortunately, she was quick on the uptake in such matters.
"By the way, Professor. Where will you go?"
"I have studies now, so I must study."
"Oh? Well, they say there's a library in the underground palace here in Yuren. You should check it out. Then I'll be off!"
She grinned and dashed after Quey.
I watched her back and smiled faintly.
"...Indeed."
...Princess Mahor of Yuren always pondered her nation's fortune.
The fate of a country.
No different from the thread of human life.
Yet a nation's life was not as simple as a human's. An individual's death ended only that individual, but Yuren's fall would leave countless remnants. Eternal, innumerable discriminations.
If Yuren were to perish far in the future and be annexed by the Empire, or crumble by the palace's hand.
The stigma of 'Yuren origin' might reduce them to targets for disposal, like the Altiegue now. At the very least, such discrimination.
That was why Mahor refrained from joining the Altiegue massacres.
Why she strove to establish a republic.
The Altiegue of today felt like Yuren's near future.
The current Altiegue massacres stemmed from their lack of power.
Had the Altiegue not been desert tribes—if they had been a great power capable of rivaling the Empire—they would not have fallen like this.
Thus, to Mahor, the great elders who once led the Altiegue were powerless, weak, indecisive 'typical saints.'
Saints pursued peace.
But peace was a cripple in this era.
The Altiegue had been brain-crippled all along.
Thus, Mahor worked to avoid their footsteps.
And secretly 'supported' the Altiegue.
For if they were truly exterminated, the Empire's blade would surely turn elsewhere... Mahor hoped the Altiegue would persist tenaciously.
She hoped they would continue serving as Yuren's shield.
"I'm glad the great theft was handled well~"
Yuren Duchy underground library. A peaceful space filled with the scent of books, drawers, and paper.
Mahor ran her hand along the shelves—shh—as she spoke to Roserio.
"Thank you."
"Oh right right~ How was Professor Deculein~?"
At that brief question, Roserio's brow twitched. Her expression was her answer.
"Why why~?"
"...Deculein was truly imperial. He insulted Yuren's bloodline."
"Hmm~"
Mahor walked briskly down the library corridor, feigning nonchalance.
"But~ Did you read the book I recommended before?"
"Ah. Yes. This one?"
Roserio pulled a book from her inner pocket.
The Future of the Nation. A title unfit even for publication, buried solely in Yuren's underground library. Its contents were simple.
Democracy and popular sovereignty.
"I..."
"I think it's quite reasonable myself~"
Lest Roserio hesitate to voice it, Mahor spoke first.
"This country is made of its people, right? So isn't it natural that the people are the masters~?"
"..."
Roserio stared at Mahor in genuine surprise, then smiled faintly and nodded.
"...Yes. I share the princess's view. It's too harsh for a nation's fruits to go only to nobles. Society is built on the efforts of the absolute majority—the commoners."
"Exactly. So I was thinking~ Isn't Yuren's path, Yuren's future, perhaps~ just perhaps~ in this 'republic'~?"
At that moment, the faces of the two, who had been conversing cautiously, suddenly stiffened.
Their airy chatter cut off abruptly.
"..."
"..."
Because of the figure standing at the library's far end.
A vast back. A man in a suit coat wrapped around his waist.
Yet an existence unimaginable here.
Deculein.
The rustle-rustle of turning pages echoed as he read, and cold sweat beaded on Roserio and Mahor's temples.
He seemed utterly absorbed in his book—had he not heard their conversation?
"W-Wow wow~ Wow~ Professor, Professor~ Professor~"
Mahor quickly regained composure and called to Deculein. He turned belatedly, then thud—closed the book.
He faced Mahor with a gentle expression.
"It is the princess."
"What brings you here here~?"
"A library. One has no choice but to come."
A professor who loved reading. Mahor smiled up at him, but Roserio was surprised by his unexpectedly kindly demeanor.
He had called her blood lowly, yet...?
"Professor Professor~ What book is the professor reading......?"
But the moment she glimpsed the cover of Deculein's book.
Mahor froze solid.
The Future of the Nation.
The very book she had given Roserio.
"...It's absurd, right~? Absurd, right~? I kept it on the shelf out of curiosity~ Who even thinks like this nowadays~"
Mahor made hasty excuses, but Deculein said nothing. He merely smiled faintly and shelved the book.
"..."
In that instant, Mahor's heart pounded massively.
Had she been caught?
Was she utterly trapped?
No, not yet. A single book couldn't reveal Yuren's—and her—intentions...
"Democracy. The absolute majority of citizens as masters of the nation."
Deculein spoke. Mahor flinched—her shoulders trembled.
"Absurd absurd~"
"It is idealistic."
"...Pardon?"
Yet Deculein's response was unexpected.
Mahor's ears perked up.
"It is ideal. However, a noble like myself instinctively recoils."
"..."
"Should such a revolution arise—or even be discussed—under the subjects' lead, I might well suppress them all. Nobles possess not only bloodlines but also 'mana' power."
"...Ah~ True true~ But among the subjects, some must have talents rivaling nobles—"
"Perhaps. Yet they receive no education without noble aid. Patronage is noble, towers are noble, knight orders are noble."
"Still... might it not become possible someday?"
Deculein smirked. Like smiling at a child, leaving Mahor oddly embarrassed.
He looked down at her and said,
"Princess. Such strange ideologies demand sacrifice from the highest figure."
"..."
In that moment, Mahor felt an inexplicable unease.
...Deculein.
This imperial professor, who had once saved her life, seemed to peer straight into her heart.
"In an empire, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor; in a kingdom, the king himself must lay down all he possesses—and his life—for even a 'beginning.' Thus, it is unrealistic."
Of course, Deculein's insight couldn't extend that far.
The professor knew nothing of her.
They had never conversed at length; he had merely read one book.
"In any case. Reading such intriguing, rebellious theory leads one to strange words."
With that, he cut the talk and smiled kindly once more.
"Have you further words?"
"Ah, I..."
Mahor pondered desperately before finding an excuse.
"I... wondered about the conversion formula......"
"I found no formula itself, but the theory is proven. Thanks to my disciple."
"Really? Really? Its value..."
"A theory to save the dying or pursue human immortality."
"..."
Mahor's mouth gaped wide.
If Deculein's words were true, the reparations Yuren would face...
"Worry not. I shall not blame Yuren for the loss. At least, no harm shall come to Yuren. Only, I have one request."
Deculein drew a wanted poster from his inner pocket and handed it to her.
Kariksel's poster.
"I ask pardon and protection for this one. Grant that, and I shall bear responsibility for blocking the impending volcanic eruption."
"...Kariksel?"
Mahor looked up at Deculein.
"Do you have ties to him?"
"Yes. Briefly, my master in youth."
Deculein's short explanation sufficed.
"Such bonds are enough."
"...Yes, yes. If so......"
"My thanks. Then I must attend to duties."
He smiled once more and passed Mahor and Roserio.
The two stared blankly at his retreating figure.
Roserio especially seemed dazed.
"Is this diplomacy? He called my Yuren blood inferior to me... but to the princess."
"...Ahem."
Mahor cleared her throat and handed Roserio the poster.
"Kariksel, Lady Knight Roserio? I entrust him to you."
"...Ah. Yes."
Roserio nodded reluctantly.
Meanwhile, in the Empire not far from Yuren. In this vast nation's most vital place—the 'emperor's palace,' stricter than ever of late.
Emperor Sophien sulked as she read Blue Eyes (Remake).
"Hmph. It's turned into full-blown romance."
Kairon glanced at the tossed book's cover and replied.
"The novel by the mage Sylvia?"
"Yes."
"There are rumors the male lead is Deculein."
"Exactly! That's what irritates me."
Sophien scowled fiercely.
Eighteen hours since Deculein left the red-furred munchkin unattended. Her sharpness peaked.
"Deculein went to Yuren without summoning me, this damned novel tops bestsellers, and tales of Yukline and Ilayde romance spread."
Current Sophien was cat and emperor alike.
Maintaining possession constantly, she handled state affairs catless when Deculein was absent, and as cat when he returned—
"Ah, he's here."
At last, Deculein returned to the Yuren palace guest room.
Sophien became cat again, gazing at Deculein...
......
Yuren's VIP guest room.
Meeeooowww—!
The moment I entered, the red-furred munchkin arched her back fiercely.
And yowled in evident anger.
—You're late!
"My regrets, but duties called."
—Duties? What duties?
The emperor rubbed her face against my shoulder.
This much seemed feline instinct.
—A scroll? What is this? Some alien script.
"Your Majesty."
—...What.
I called Sophien in solemn tone.
For deciphering this Divine Language, Sophien was interference.
No—Sophien must not meet 'Quey' even as cat. Too early an encounter with the final boss would only confuse her further.
Thus, the possession magic needed severing.
"Lately, a curiosity arises regarding Your Majesty."
—Hmph. What is it, returning so late yet curious.
"Strangely, of late, a certain emotion felt from Your Majesty."
—...Emotion?
Emperor Sophien.
The emotion she now held for me.
I knew it.
I, who had spent centuries with her and reclaimed those memories, could not be ignorant.
Even her mere presence made it approach so vividly. Felt coiling around my body.
"Your Majesty."
—...
The cat stared blankly. Yet tension lingered clearly.
Curious what I might say.
"Perhaps."
I met the cat's eyes directly.
In tone duly grave, duly cool.
A single question.
"Do you love me?"
Meow—!
In that instant, the red-furred munchkin shot skyward.
Thud!—against the ceiling, then flop onto the bed in slapstick fashion.
That was it.
Meow—meow—
Meeeooow—
Meeeooooowww—
The cat wailed as if her head ached, and watching her, I smiled faintly.
Thanks to Sophien's excessive shock, as intended.
The 'possession magic' had broken.