Chapter 25
Chapter: 25
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 25
>Chapter Title: Outing with the Twins (3)
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
>The puppet show was reaching its climax.
A yellow lump approached the red lump lying diagonally on the ground.
[The Dream Demon King, witnessing the death of the Fire Demon King, fell into deep sorrow. Though they had become enemies, they were once comrades who fought the same foes. And so, he decided to mourn his pitiful end at the hands of the vile hero.]
Why did the story turn out like this?
Weren't these guys just fighting to the death a moment ago? Mourning? And where did the hero go?
[The Dream Demon King called out his friend's name, commemorating his tragic death.]
The narrating voice was low, yet it brimmed with an unmistakable depth of sorrow. Before they knew it, the children had clasped their hands and were tearing up.
Was this collective hypnosis? Though something felt off, Seongjin sensed a strange tingling in his chest too. It was as if something was directly stimulating his mind, evoking emotions akin to.
He could only guess that the puppeteer's voice held some peculiar magic, but there was no way to confirm it.
That voice, laced with its eerie power, solemnly declared.
[Farewell forever, Fire Demon King Al Pahhas.]
*Crack.* In that instant, a ringing like something fracturing echoed through Seongjin's mind.
“……?”
[Rest in peace, Fire Al Pahhas.]
*Crack.* Another small jolt rang out, leaving Seongjin with a mild dizziness.
“Farewell, Fire Demon King Al Pahhas!”
“Rest easy, Al Pahhas!”
The children chorused in unison.
“Farewell forever, Fire Al Pahhas!”
Nauseating.
Struggling to settle his churning stomach, Seongjin suddenly thought: This is terribly wrong.
Herne and Gades didn't join the children's chant. They simply held his arms supportively, looking up at him with faint worry.
The puppet show, incoherent in plot and theme, abruptly concluded with a heartwarmingly rushed ending.
The children, who had mourned the Fire Demon King together for a while, began to disperse one by one. Now, the makeshift stage held only a shabby plank with curtains drawn and a stub of a burned-down candle.
It seemed one person had handled both narration and puppets, as someone was now packing them up and clearing the stage. Slender build draped in a long, loose robe—it was impossible to tell if man or woman.
A simple half-mask revealed a slender jawline, and long silver hair was tied back, cascading below the waist.
As the puppet show ended, Seongjin's condition miraculously stabilized. He moved toward the puppeteer clearing the stage. The odd phenomenon he'd experienced and the story—it was impossible not to connect it to Gehenna's Demon King.
But two pairs of arms held him back.
“You mustn't meet him yet, Moreth.”
“He won't tell you anything, Moreth.”
But didn't you two bring me here?
Ignoring them, Seongjin tried to step forward again. This time, Herne and Gades threw their full weight onto his arms.
“If His Holiness Papa finds out we came here, he won't be happy.”
“We can't trouble Father anymore.”
Seongjin stopped this time. The twins' eyes, usually so carefree, held an unprecedented earnestness.
He stood there, pondering.
Just how much do these kids know, and about what?
How much could he trust their advice was another question, but if he ignored them and approached the puppeteer anyway, what were the odds of gaining more information?
Moreover, the Holy Emperor's mention brought back his final plea before seclusion.
-Don't cause trouble.
On reflection, today might have been nothing but breaking that rule. Of course, these inscrutable kids were mostly to blame.
Above all, his occasionally prescient intuition strongly signaled now wasn't the time.
After a glance at the still-busy puppeteer, Seongjin obediently let the twins lead him back to the carriage.
Feeling a strange gaze from somewhere, the puppeteer turned.
But aside from passersby glancing once or twice, no one paid him special attention. In the distance, a small carriage clattered away from the square. The street, as dusk began to fall, was relatively quiet.
An illusion? He tilted his head.
His senses, now markedly dulled, weren't reliable.
“What are you doing putting on shows for kids at this hour?”
From across the square, a tall man waved and approached the puppeteer. Tanned healthily from the sun, with glossy black hair—he was strikingly handsome young man.
His clothes, with a couple buttons casually undone, were of fine quality, and his firm jaw bore a confident smile that seemed innate.
The puppeteer bowed politely toward him.
“Prince Leonard.”
“Hey, I told you to call me Leo? This is an unofficial visit. Romain.”
“Yes, Leo.”
Leonard strode over with long steps and casually draped an arm over the slight puppeteer's shoulder.
“By the way, listen, Romain. It's been days since I requested an informal summit upon entering the capital, and those bastards are still silent.”
“Is that so?”
“Doesn't it piss you off? I've been sending messages for months just to get an audience edict, and they ignored them all.”
Leonard grumbled at the sky, face full of complaint.
“Being Holy Emperor doesn't make you all that. What does he think he is, acting so high and mighty.”
Of course, Leonard had no idea the Holy Emperor had long disliked him—simply because his daughter took an interest.
Nor that he'd now fully fallen from grace for things he hadn't even done yet.
“Your audience request probably won't be granted.”
Romain replied calmly. Unlike during the puppet show, his voice now was thin and ordinary, that of a regular man.
“Damn it! Why the hell not?”
“It's not refusal so much as impossibility. Leo. Since yesterday, the protective aura over Delcross has weakened dramatically. Perhaps the guardian has left the capital.”
*That's why such sleight-of-hand is possible right under the imperial palace's nose.*
Romain didn't voice it.
“Hmm.” Leonard propped his chin on the arm over Romain's shoulder, face turning serious.
“Only one way left, then. Seduce her.”
“…Pardon?”
*Who, exactly?*
Leonard burst into laughter, spotting Romain's bemused expression under the mask.
“You don't know? There's a budding rose in that palace. And they say he dotes on his daughter?”
“Quite confident.”
Romain slipped his increasingly heavy shoulder back and crossed his arms.
“You should've seen the princess's gaze at me during last year's birthday banquet…. I guarantee it. She was the picture of a girl smitten with her first love.”
At the prince's bold declaration, Romain's eyes beneath the mask deepened.
Leonard had an uncanny instinct for women. If true, things might resolve more easily than expected.
A simple way to pressure Delcross effectively and tie the Holy Emperor's hands.
“So, Romain. Quit wasting time on kids and think of a natural way to approach the princess.”
Got it?
Leonard patted Romain's shoulder with a beaming smile, then spun around waving as he headed to a nearby tavern. If the summit wouldn't happen anyway, he'd enjoy himself until the birthday banquet.
Watching the prince's receding figure, Romain muttered to himself.
“The Dream Demon King, foiled in his tale, couldn't kill either the hero or the Fire Demon King. All he could do was this pointless act.”
His unheard voice echoed hollowly across the emptying square.
* * *
Twilight faded, darkness settling everywhere. Seongjin, dragged around cluelessly all afternoon, now faced the final stop.
Monkey Tower. A small tavern popular with the Royal Guard.
“It won't take long here, Moreth.”
“Just greet the owner and leave, Moreth.”
Herne and Gades dropped him off in front of Fountain Square but didn't exit the carriage this time.
They waved warmly at the bewildered Seongjin and Masain, then firmly shut the carriage door.
“…….”
“We should… go in, Sir Masain?”
“…Yes, Your Highness. I have no idea what's going on anymore.”
They trudged toward the tavern's small wooden door, resigned to seeing it through.
Loud chatter from already drunk patrons leaked through.
*Squeak.* The well-worn door opened, a wave of heat and acrid alcohol stench hitting them.
Small outside, cramped inside too. Bare wooden walls held five rough tables—that was all the furniture.
Yet astonishingly, every table brimmed with customers. Holding large wooden mugs, they laughed and shouted boisterously over something hilarious.
Word was the drinks here were dirt cheap. Though only low-quality dark beer.
As Seongjin's group entered, the drunks glanced over briefly but showed no real interest or recognition. They soon turned back to laughing and bellowing.
Masain, unwilling to shout about escorting a prince in this vibe, clamped his mouth shut and stuck close behind Seongjin.
The owner was an elderly man. Burly build in worn leather vest and apron, his shiny bald pate stood out.
A black eyepatch covered his right eye, a long scar peeking out suggesting a sword wound.
He waited for Seongjin to approach, spat out his thick pipe, and gruffly asked.
“What brings you here?”
“Just came to say hello.”
Seongjin replied politely. For some reason, honorifics came naturally with this old man.
“Hmm…….”
The old man chewed his pipe, scrutinizing Seongjin.
Just as Seongjin wondered if he knew who he was, the man rubbed his bald head a couple times and spoke.
“Too young to share drinks. But a bit late for greetings.”
“…….”
“I'm Breman. Greeting received. I'll reply soon.”
What? Is "greeting" some code?
As Seongjin puzzled, Breman issued a dismissal.
“Off with you.”
Seongjin and Masain exchanged looks.
“Another round here, old timer!”
“Us too!”
Orders poured in. Wanting to ask more but unable to linger, they turned for the door. Just before closing it, Breman shouted after them.
“Anyway, be careful! Flies are swarming now that He's away!”
Seongjin turned, but Breman was already back to filling mugs.
By Pearl Palace, night had fully fallen.
Seongjin was utterly exhausted. Too much had happened in half a day, and his condition had plummeted since the puppet show.
Above all, he was starving. Slumping in his seat, Herne and Gades consoled him.
“You worked hard all day, Moreth.”
“Productive day. Good job, Moreth.”
Of course, the twins had snacked in the carriage during gaps. That irked him more.
“Sleep well, Moreth.”
“Sweet dreams, Moreth.”
Seongjin waved halfheartedly at the beaming twins' farewell, then dragged his weary feet into Pearl Palace's lobby.
And lost his words at the spectacle before him.
Myriad gift boxes of various sizes, held by diverse attendants, filled the lobby.
One corridor side overflowed with artworks and antiques piled haphazardly; stray bouquets littered the stairs.
And atop trays, letters stacked mountain-high. Endless invitations awaited, summoning the 3rd Prince to social events.
Enough to believe every notable in the capital had written him.
In one day.
All this, after just one day since the Holy Emperor entered seclusion.