Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Proof (1)
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“This way, this way.”
The streets bustled with crowds of people.
We had arrived in Zeits City of the Juraden Kingdom.
As we moved to the outskirts of the city, the expansive grounds of the Palette Merchant Group’s headquarters came into view.
I’d heard on the way here that the Palette Merchant Group was a trading company rapidly expanding while also operating a mercenary guild.
This was precisely the location of the independence army’s headquarters.
Getting here hadn’t been smooth sailing.
We’d tied handkerchiefs to trees, strolled along quiet lakesides, and passed through various checkpoints before learning the headquarters lay here.
Of course, it was the other three who’d done all the grunt work, not me.
A diverse array of people moved about the merchant group’s spacious grounds.
Freddy grabbed a passerby and whispered something in their ear. That person then led us to a secluded annex.
Things always proceeded this discreetly.
“Please wait here for a moment.”
The one who’d guided us to the room said that before leaving.
A neatly organized office.
A breeze from the slightly open window rustled the curtains.
The interior was furnished only with essentials, giving it a clean, simple feel.
“Oh, nice.”
Allen and Ches glanced around like country bumpkins fresh off the farm.
We were served tea at a table prepared for guests as we awaited the room’s owner.
The three of them, unused to such treatment, fidgeted with their legs and made repeated trips to the bathroom, showing clear signs of nerves.
Then, after a short while, footsteps echoed down the quiet hallway.
Two people were approaching us.
From the sound, one was the guy who’d guided us, and the other was someone new.
A knock came, and the door opened.
A man with bold, striking features stepped inside.
His personality matched his hearty appearance.
“Long journey, eh? You must be tired! Name’s Maxwell. How was the tea? To your liking?”
He shook each of our hands with his pot-lid-sized palms, then plopped down across from us.
“From the Ias territory, you say?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well then, let’s hear the situation first.”
He gestured casually with an open palm, inviting us to speak.
Freddy stepped forward and calmly recounted everything up to now.
“What!”
Maxwell had barely heard the start of the story when he let out a short yelp and leaped up like a hooked fish.
“Y-You found the national seal?!”
He leaned toward us in an awkward half-standing position, mouth agape, unable to hide his shock.
I showed him the national seal.
“I-It’s real.”
Tears welled in Maxwell’s eyes, overcome with emotion.
His fingertips hovered near it, hesitant to touch.
He simply stared at it wide-eyed, not daring to lay a hand on it.
I put the national seal back in my pocket.
His gaze followed it into the leather pouch.
“May we continue?”
When Freddy asked, Maxwell frantically shook his head, then spoke in a faintly trembling voice.
“This isn’t something I can judge alone. Please wait just a moment. I’ll fetch the commander.”
The room fell silent after Maxwell rushed out.
Once he was gone, the three resumed their odd behaviors—shaking legs, biting nails. Ches was already on his third bathroom break.
“He’ll come out, right?”
When Freddy asked, he shook his head as he sat back down. I spoke up.
“Scared? Why so tense?”
“It’s not that we’ve committed crimes. It’s worry that we might.”
Allen fiddled with his teacup, pursing his lips.
I stared at him silently.
Meaning: put your lip back in and explain properly.
Allen did just that.
“You have no way to prove your identity, Sir Jenes.”
The other two nodded.
They seemed concerned about issues arising from my unknown background.
With the independence army’s tight security, identity checks were bound to be rigorous.
They were probably fretting I’d cause a scene in front of the commander.
Hence the anxiety.
Understanding their feelings perfectly, I thwacked each of their heads like lightning.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Who do they think is the troublemaker here?
“Ow.”
As the three clutched their heads in pain, new footsteps gathered in the hallway.
Three in total, including Maxwell.
I withdrew my fist and turned a curious gaze to the door.
I wondered.
Who leads the independence army fighting for a fallen nation?
A knock, and the door opened. Maxwell appeared.
Two men followed him inside.
My eyes widened at them—or rather, at one crossing the threshold.
My calm heart churned wildly, like a gale had struck it.
A man with sapphire-blue hair and eyes.
I knew those piercingly blue irises.
The straight, proud nose and the soft smile that lit up his surroundings—I knew those too.
He approached us slowly.
With each step, time seemed to rewind.
In my mind, he rewound gradually, soon matching the form I remembered.
Lucian Serious.
Eldest son of the Serious Duke House.
Fragments of time spent with him in my past life began piling up like heavy snow in my thoughts.
At times, he’d been a stern mentor to me.
-Your Highness is destined to be king. You must carry yourself with the dignity that befits it.
At times, a loyal vassal.
-I will be Your Highness’s sword. I will protect Francia that way.
At others, a comrade and partner in building Francia.
-I love seeing the people smile. Will you help me create a nation for them?
A decade had matured him, yet to my eyes, he remained unchanged.
Unchanged enough to yank me back to those days in an instant, despite my life beyond.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Lucian. You’ve had a hard journey here.”
He sat with his signature gentle smile.
I masked my inner turmoil and regarded him calmly.
As before, the emotions bridging past-life bonds felt strangely profound yet alien.
Deep, yet unfamiliar.
Clear, yet not quite mine.
“I’m Lake.”
The man with Lucian introduced himself.
He was a man with near-white blond hair.
A cold sharpness emanated from his expressionless face, as if dissecting the world piece by piece.
Clearly not a martial artist.
But he gives off a vibe like that guy.
I recalled a man with a similar aura.
Thousand Insights Heavenly Communication, Zhuge Munhak.
The Murim Alliance’s strategist, said to peer a thousand li while seated and grasp heaven’s will.
Lake carried the same vibe as that irritating fellow.
The look of a strategist, perhaps.
Not a bodyguard, yet accompanying him—my guess seemed spot on.
“Hope the wait wasn’t too dull?”
When Lucian asked, Freddy flailed his hands nervously.
“Pardon? No, not dull at all.”
Lucian smiled with crescent eyes and continued.
“Good to hear. Then, could you tell us the full situation?”
At Lucian’s question, Freddy laid out everything that had happened.
Lucian listened expressionlessly, flashing occasional interest but never interrupting.
“So that’s how it is. Well done. Jenes, was it?”
“Yeah.”
My casual response made the guys beside me flinch in unison.
But Lucian remained unruffled by my informality.
In my past life, he’d have scolded me endlessly for such rudeness, so I watched him with keen interest.
“Mind if I ask a few questions?”
“Go ahead.”
“Please don’t take offense. It’s just to verify the facts, not interrogate.”
He’d surely developed doubts about my identity from the story so far.
Natural, since I’d revealed nothing.
“With no proof of identity, we’ve no way to confirm if Jenes is even your real name.”
I’d kept my birthplace and life story secret.
No intention of explaining reincarnation or return.
I could convince them if I told all, but I had no desire to.
I’d only taken up my unfinished duties from that life—no intent to rekindle those bonds.
Truthfully, I couldn’t even if I wanted.
I was now wholly different from the Jenes they remembered.
Thus, I had zero means to prove myself.
And ironically, Jenes was the name of their dead crown prince.
Even I’d find it suspicious.
“Can you explain why you can’t prove your identity?”
“If I could, I’d have by now.”
I shrugged at Lucian’s question.
“I see. For now, I’ll assume you simply don’t wish to disclose it to us.”
“Whatever. And since we’re at it, make me an identity to match the name Jenes.”
“...Not difficult. To reiterate, my questions aren’t to grill you. They’re for mutual trust.”
Lucian spoke soothingly.
Meaning: answer properly, hold back the snark.
He pressed on.
“Setting identity aside, how did you know the seal was under the Nureti Tree—and that it was genuine?”
“Heard it from him long ago.”
Lucian tilted his head.
“So you were there from the start to retrieve the seal?”
“Seems you’ve got a lot of questions, but I’ve got precious few answers. Let’s skip pointless details. The key point is I have the seal.”
“...”
A brief silence fell. Lucian nodded in resignation.
“May I see it first?”
I pulled the seal from my leather pouch and showed it.
A brilliant glow lit the room, revealing the red Francia inscription.
Unlike me, the seal proved its authenticity effortlessly.
“It’s genuine. You’ve done a great service for Francia. The seal will greatly aid in uniting the independence forces.”
He gazed at it with satisfaction mingled with complex emotions.
“We understand the meaning and significance the seal—”
“Hold on.”
I cut him off.
Something felt off.
“I haven’t said I’m giving it to you yet.”
Everyone in the room flinched at my words.
Maxwell’s face flushed beet red especially. He’d been suppressing his anger at my rudeness toward Lucian.
The three huddled beside me alternated anxious glances between Lucian and me.
Lucian, however, stayed composed.
“We’ll offer ample reward as you desire.”
“Do you know what I want?”
“Please tell us.”
“Not after riches. I plan to stay here a few days, observe slowly. See if you’re worthy of the seal.”
Lucian bit his lower lip slightly, flashing that smile he made when flustered.
“Then what qualifies one to hold the seal?”
“The seal represents the nation. What do you think qualifies one for that?”
“You mean to judge if I’m fit to be king?”
Lucian grasped my intent perfectly.
He soon let out an incredulous chuckle.
“You don’t think holding the seal makes one king, do you?”
“Of course.”
Strictly, possessing the seal and becoming king were separate matters.
The seal wasn’t strictly required to be king.
Its power lay in legitimacy.
Lucian wanted it as a strong unifying force for the fragmented independence army.
This place, the “Northern White Lion,” was but one faction.
Thus, my words implied: if you lack qualification, I might hand the seal to another independence faction.
Understanding, Lucian said,
“Then what, in your view, qualifies one for the seal?”
All eyes turned to me.
Each face held personal anxiety and doubt.
Why drag this out after coming all this way?
But it wasn’t mere whimsy.
I’d pondered my path here.
And now had my answer.
I spoke calmly.
“Qualification boils down to this: are you the vessel to lead a liberated Francia? I alone decide that.”
The seal’s glow scattered into fragments.
“I intend to make that man king.”