Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Qualities of a Ruler
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The two lords' pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck at the old man's question.
Was he asking in earnest?
Probably not. Even if it was in the past, he had been a duke, and he ran with Duke, so there had to be some deeper intent.
Still, just in case, the two glanced at Duke.
Duke understood their feelings and nodded to the old man.
"Excuses come in all shapes. Now it's the empire's fault?"
"?"
"This guy's been like this ever since he drinks, even before the empire fell."
Of course, in Duke's memory, Peter back then had more manners than this.
He'd talked about heirs and children and dreams, but he hadn't blatantly preached sex worship.
He'd phrased it nobly, like abandoning greed and preparing dreams for the next generation.
The problem came after the empire's fall.
Now off the duke's seat too, he started shouting "fuck" outright.
At Duke's words, the two lords' gazes cooled sharply.
They'd thought a former duke of an old man must have some profound meaning, but he was just a senile geezer.
As Peter burst into boisterous laughter under their stares, Duke belatedly defended his honor.
"Of course, he's not that far gone, so just answer honestly."
Only after Duke vouched for it as the old man's testing method did the two regain their seriousness.
But that lasted only a moment.
When it came time to answer, their lips wouldn't part easily.
What were they supposed to say?
As Rex's eyes spun in circles, Hana—ears flushed red—spoke first.
"I... have no experience yet, but I have one lover I've set my heart on."
Peter's eyes sharpened.
She was trying her best, but he caught the way her gaze subtly drifted toward Duke.
The old man smiled warmly.
Good timing.
Hana took it as a positive sign and continued.
"As for an heir... I'm not attached to blood ties. If someone appears who can make my people happier than I can, I'll gladly step aside."
In the original story, she had defended her domain and passed it to Rex, so this was pure sincerity, not a shred of falsehood.
That sincerity reached the old man.
His smile deepened.
He stroked his corn silk-like mustache and nodded.
"A model mindset."
Hana's face brightened.
But one must hear words to the end.
The old man, smile intact, delivered a verdict that might be cruel to her.
"But it's not the answer I want. In fact, it's the kind I dislike, my lord."
Hana's cheeks stiffened.
She'd endured her shame to confess, and this was the response!
Not even wrong, but disliked.
Her fists trembled faintly.
No telling if it was anger or humiliation.
With Hana's turn over, Rex got his chance.
Rex barely held back his embarrassment and bared his heart to the old man.
"I... have no experience yet... experience..."
For some reason, Ari blushed along with Rex's words.
The old man guessed their relationship from their reactions and nodded contentedly.
Rex continued like Hana.
"And I have no plans for an heir yet."
Peter's face hardened.
Veins bulging on his neck, as if ready to bellow if that was his answer.
But Rex, avoiding Peter's eyes, scratched his cheek and went on.
"I don't have the luxury right now. Once conditions are right for my child to be happy... heh heh..."
A typical 22nd-century Korean mindset.
Buy a house, stabilize income, get everything set, then have kids.
Of course, Rex's 22nd century ended with a glorious birth rate of 0.1 from that attitude, but even in a changed world, it hadn't shifted much.
Sure, he was financially stable now.
But Rex and Ari were too busy developing the domain to spare time for a child, so they'd put it off.
It was an extension of Rex's sense of responsibility.
As if supporting him, Ari subtly shifted closer to Rex.
Peter marveled at the pair.
"Excellent sense of responsibility."
"Then..."
"But it falls short of what I want too."
"Pardon?"
Rex couldn't hide his bewilderment.
If Hana was wrong and he was too, what did this strange old coot want?
Catching their demanding looks, Peter jerked his chin at Duke.
"That one knows the right answer."
Duke nodded at Peter's words.
He knew the model answer from original knowledge, and after hundreds of drinking bouts with Peter, he couldn't not know.
But Duke didn't give it away.
"You two must find the answer yourselves."
This was partly because if he told them, Peter wouldn't follow that lord, but also respect for his old drinking partner.
"Can I explain why?"
The old man nodded at Duke's question.
"That's fine."
With permission, Duke pointed out their flaws.
First, Hana.
"A true sovereign must have ambition. They bear the dreams of countless followers, so they need ambition to match. Frugality is a virtue—for a middle manager. What dream can an unambitious sovereign entrust to heirs?"
Hana shuddered faintly at Duke's critique.
Leaving her be, Duke turned to Rex.
"To speak boldly, what the old man wants isn't just about heirs. Your answer is flawless, Rex, but it misses Peter's intent."
In short, Hana's was a worthless wrong, Rex's a regrettable one.
Rex rolled his eyes.
Then what was the intent behind such a question?
Hana's reaction was more dramatic.
Peter's rejection stung less than Duke's harsh judgment.
Peter sensed the two lords' presences and nimbly speared a meatball with his chopsticks, unseen eyes precise.
'Duke... you say that, but you found your liege. Enviable bastard. Still...'
He wet his throat with wine and turned to the two lords still rooted in place.
'Might be sentiment, but I'm excited too.'
Maybe he'd find such a one soon.
Harboring faint hope, the old man emptied his drinks and snacks.
That evening.
After bidding Peter farewell for next time, Duke's group left,
and more guests arrived at the old man's mountaintop hut.
Not invited, nor lost wanderers stumbling upon it.
No traveler could lose their way to the peak of this rugged range that even 4th-circle folk barely climbed.
Faces masked in black cloth, hidden weapons in bosoms, holding breath to eye the thatched house—these were assassins.
But not ordinary ones.
They had a unique signaling system and higher-quality hidden weapons than typical.
They lurked in the woods, staring at the hut.
Chirp chirp. Crickets.
The peaceful night filled with bird and insect calls dragged on.
For hours.
Finally, the hut door opened, and the old man emerged from his room, leaning on his staff.
To blind Peter, pitch darkness was little different from day.
Staff clacking, he headed to the outhouse.
The assassins still held their breath, waiting.
As Peter returned from the outhouse,
"Huh."
His foot caught a wire snare.
As if timed, the assassins swarmed.
Some from above, some from below, some charging the ground—surrounding him.
At the encirclement's center, the old man sighed.
"The royal dogs take after their master—no manners."
Shing.
The staff revealed a shy blade.
Instantly, his arm blurred, and the assassins' visions split.
Some horizontal, some vertical, some diagonal.
Various views, but one result.
Thud.
Severed heads hit the ground.
Three who dodged bled from faces, retreating.
"Damn. Intel didn't say..."
"Tsk tsk. Kingdom scum's too complacent these days. Empire ones were arrogant matching their skill, but why so careless? World's too peaceful."
The old man sheathed the sword back to staff and tsked, tapping.
Recalling Peter was blind, assassins signaled.
- I draw attention, you cover, you ambush from below.
Roles set: one to shadows, one distancing,
the last thrust a spear to draw eyes.
Shadow one supported.
Last aimed crossbow, waiting gap.
Well-drilled combo.
But far short for the old man.
He parried spear with scabbard, reverse-gripped sword stabbed ground.
Pffft.
Like deflating balloon, blood fountained from shadows.
Peter released the grounded sword, snatched the parried spear.
Threw scabbard at crossbowman to distract, finished two nearby with spear.
By the time crossbowman recovered, reverse-gripped sword old man was upon him.
"Ah."
Slicing the sigh, old man swung.
But before striking, retracted to scabbard.
Last assassin dangled mid-air, struggling.
Old man looked to starry sky, sighed.
"Bold signals since I'm blind. Worse than empire days."
Tap tap.
Staff now, he muttered, tapping ground.
"That's why fuck when you can. Royals pass no legitimacy."
Crack.
Hanging assassin's neck snapped, darkness replied to Peter's mutter.
"If that filthy will passes by blood, better it doesn't."
Left hand back under cloak, Duke emerged from dark.
"And blood's not what matters."
"True, or you'd not spare me."
"What do you take me for."
"Imperial Blood Slaughterer. Greedy Serpent. Tragic Celibate Knight."
"You really want death."
Wail, Durandal.
Duke drew greatsword from inventory.
Peter chuckled at the sight.
"For real? Still? Well, you won't die young, no rush."
"...I'll handle it."
"Yeah, seemed so today."
Duke blatantly changed subject.
"I'll help clean bodies. Don't want to sour liege's mood come morning."
But Peter wouldn't let it slide.
"So, plans to fuck?"
To the habitual harasser, Duke bowed briefly, replied.
"My dream... can't burden my child."
"You know how many dreams you bear?"
"Won't lose, that's all."
"That's... well, bullshit only you could pull."
Peter shuddered, turned from Duke.
'Tsk tsk. Poor bastard.'
To Peter, Duke knew great power meant great duty well.
So he'd shoulder the vast empire's folk dreams, and had the ability.
But knew it too heavy for a child.
Thus, bearing it all himself.
Peter muttered, back turned.
"Even dust in my eyes, won't take you as liege."
A true sovereign bears folk dreams.
But must show own ambition to inspire longing, ignite hearts.
Dream, show dreams, bear them, create them, become the dream.
Of course, human limits prevent perfection or eternity.
Thus, wisdom to humbly pass to next gen makes true sovereign.
Old man sought not perfection, but effort toward it.
In that sense, Duke lacked sovereign vessel.
Could bear dreams, but too noble to follow.
Could make heirs, but too heavy to inherit will.
"Lifetime, met no one like you but you."
Irony: no sovereign vessel, perfect knight.
Duke countered.
"That's why I hold the sword."
"Annoying prick."
His insight made it worse.
Peter grumbled, tidying corpses.
Duke helped, thinking alone.
'No, how pass Final Boss dream to my kid.'
Concepts overlap, too embarrassing to imagine.
But Peter, unable to imagine this noble knight so human, misunderstanding would last forever.