Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Under the dazzling chandelier, the banquet began with the emperor’s toast.
Amid the dense crowd where there was barely room to step, Bell—whose growth plates hadn’t even closed yet—struggled forward with all his strength.
He was sure his companions had been beside him just moments ago, but one by one, they had disappeared somewhere. Now, he was alone.
All around him, nobles draped in expensive luxuries stared at the small boy pushing his way through the crowd.
The story of the slum-born mercenary child chosen by the God of Death was already famous throughout the empire. A pitiful child, blessed with the chance to become a hero by a god who never spoke.
Of course, no one here knew that his strength ranked first within the hero’s party.
“…Ugh.”
Finally escaping the crowd, Bell headed straight for the table filled with drinks and food.
As soon as he sat down alone in an empty seat, nobles began approaching him one after another.
“Black Knight Bell. A pleasure to meet you. I am Berg Crown, eldest son of the Count Crown family.”
“Hello, young lord Crown…”
“I am Elise Aegis, second daughter of the Aegis family.”
“Hello, young lady Aegis…”
Just exchanging greetings was enough to drain him completely.
Compared to these nobles—who spoke and acted with such refined elegance—he knew nothing.
A defensive instinct stirred inside him. Compared to those around him, everything about himself—his origins, his occupation—felt insignificant.
Just as young Bell sat there, unable to adapt to the banquet and sinking into self-doubt—
“Bell! There you are!”
A girl with orange hair waved at him.
It was Claire, the guide of the hero’s party chosen by the God of Gold.
She sat down in front of him.
“…Noona…”
Bell spoke in a near-dead voice, and Claire smiled teasingly.
“Where did the kid who was so excited about coming to the banquet go? Why is there only someone who looks completely drained?”
“….”
Bell couldn’t respond.
He had been so excited to step into a new world… but now that he was here, it felt empty.
There were too many people to enjoy anything. Everyone was too busy talking.
And the nobles’ conversations were impossibly deep—business, political movements, gossip. There was no way for him to join in.
No small talk. No simplicity.
Thirty minutes into the banquet, the only thought in Bell’s mind was that he wanted to leave.
As if reading his thoughts—
“Bell. Want a drink?”
“A drink?”
Claire shook the champagne in front of him.
“Let’s drink. You’ve never tried alcohol before, right?”
Bell shook his head.
“No… never.”
Back in the slums, there weren’t just stray orphans—there were alcoholics too.
Adults who spent all day begging or extorting coins from children, only to buy liquor and drink themselves senseless.
To Bell, alcohol had always meant something harmful—to both body and mind.
Claire’s eyes sparkled at his answer.
“Then this is expensive. Want to try it together?”
“It’s low in alcohol, so you’ll be fine.”
After a brief hesitation, Bell nodded.
Pop.
Claire opened the bottle and poured the champagne into glasses.
She pointed toward the nobles drinking in the distance.
“See that? You clink glasses like that first, then drink.”
“Oh…”
Bell lifted his glass like the nobles and held it out toward Claire.
Clink.
They tapped their glasses and drank.
“…Ugh.”
It tasted sweet at first, but the bitterness afterward made Bell frown.
Claire laughed.
“Ahaha… don’t like it?”
“It tastes okay, but… it feels weird.”
“Then another glass?”
“Yeah.”
A short while later—
Claire found herself in quite a predicament.
“…Noona… I feel weird…”
Bell had gotten drunk on half a bottle of champagne.
At the same time—
“Did you truly mean what you said?”
At the silver-haired mage’s furious question, the emperor answered calmly.
“Of course.”
“….”
“You are nothing more than tools to protect the empire. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
Ricardo’s eyes burned with anger.
“Let me ask again. Do you truly believe that it is only natural for the hero’s party to die for the empire?”
“And do I not grant compensation befitting that sacrifice? Even lowly humans may become nobles through it. I have no habit of taking back my words. You are merely tools.”
The emperor tilted his head as if confused.
“You chose to become part of the hero’s party knowing there would be no reward. What are you complaining about now?”
Ricardo rose from his seat.
“If there is no reward, then at least show basic respect.”
The emperor’s expression hardened.
“Are you suggesting a strike?”
“….”
Ricardo already knew.
This was the kind of man the emperor was.
The crown upon Emperor Prellin Lycan’s head was not earned through merit, but through petty politics and bloodshed among his own kin.
The most incompetent ruler in the empire’s history.
A man so blinded by authority that he would suppress even the most talented individuals if they belonged to another faction.
And Ricardo understood something else.
No matter how flawed he was, the emperor remained the most powerful figure in the empire—and there was nothing someone like Ricardo, merely the youngest son of a duke, could do.
If even someone like him was treated this way, then there was no future for the empire as long as this man lived.
To think that a mere title was worth a child like Bell risking his life for humanity.
To Ricardo, titles were nothing more than empty justifications for nobles. True power came from wealth and influence.
To reduce their sacrifices to mere “swords of the empire”—
If Ricardo and Bell truly wished, they could overturn the empire in an instant.
And yet the emperor did not even consider that possibility.
Glory.
Bell had asked him that word many times.
What does it mean?
Ricardo walked through the banquet hall, ignoring nobles trying to speak to him, ignoring young ladies trying to court him, ignoring those drawn by his fame—
And then—
“So crude. Just like a slum-born orphan.”
“…I’m sorry…”
“Trying to leech off others’ achievements to rise in status. That is why I despise your kind.”
Ricardo stopped.
Before him stood one of the emperor’s faction nobles, berating his companions.
But something was wrong.
Those who risked their lives to save the world should have been respected.
Yet—
Bell, his face flushed from alcohol, staggered as he repeatedly apologized.
Claire was no different.
“Parasites. Even if trash like you gain noble titles by clinging to someone like young lord Neptunsia, do you think anything will change?”
“To us, you are nothing more than disposable tools. Know your place.”
They were being humiliated simply for being commoners.
“….”
Ricardo felt as if his chest were being torn apart.
The glory Bell had asked about.
The glory Bell had longed for.
The glory Ricardo had wanted to show him—
That word—
“Count Heven.”
Ricardo’s voice turned cold.
“What did you just say?”
“To insult my comrade, who fights death every single day for this empire—did you just call him a parasite?”
“Do you have a death wish?”
Because this—
Was never what glory was supposed to be.