Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: I'm Not the Female Lead of a Romance Fantasy Novel (2)
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Narrow alleyways—even the stray dogs knew it.
The Emperor was the man who brought prosperity to the empire, and in equal measure, wrote history in blood.
"War...? Father, what do you mean?"
In just one year, everything began to change.
Territorial expansion wars loomed, armies were assembled, and countless prisoners were released.
Barbarian generals ignorant of etiquette and a greedy dragon frequented the imperial palace, while arenas sprang up everywhere.
The arenas were built for the strong who chased gold, and the imperial family flung open its vaults.
- The tyrant has gone mad!
On the last day of December, tens of thousands of citizens gathered in the capital square, directing their fury at their sudden new master.
With the empire's finances and security crumbling, more people spilled into the streets.
The cold, hungry winter fueled their rage as they shouted.
Yet not one expected the Emperor to appear in person.
Never in history had an Emperor faced an angry populace.
Always, it was treasurers or proxies announcing future plans.
The people would return home, hoping things would improve.
...!
!!
The Emperor stood before the people.
It was the moment history's gears began to wobble strangely.
He declared he would change the empire's rules.
With the law at the sword's edge.
Honor to those who wield weapons.
Sins pardoned under the word "strength."
A new era dawns.
The people listened in confusion.
The Emperor personally severed the heads of twenty nobles before the crowd and tossed them to the masses.
Among them were corrupt officials who had sucked the people's blood, and capable men who contributed greatly to the empire.
Even the man called the Emperor's right hand lay in a basket of heads.
Their crime? Weakness.
Eight years prior, the starving masses, seething with anger at their superiors, calmed their fury at the sight.
With just twenty noble heads, the Emperor quelled public sentiment—but planted fear and rebellion's seeds in the nobles' hearts.
Whispers of assassinating the Emperor stirred in the shadows.
"It could be us next." A powerful motivator.
Yet the seeds never sprouted.
As if borrowing a demon's eyes to watch every noble, he executed the rebellion's key figures.
The Emperor sees all.
The spark of revolt was crushed. He became revered, a tyrant, the most feared.
Just eight years ago.
That the tyrant's madness now lay dormant...
Rebecca bore more than half the credit for his mental stability.
So Rebecca was furious.
Her father, mad with craving for power.
Not sated even by dragons and foreigners' might.
Reduced to settling for that drunkard.
"Hic..."
No way he'd be satisfied with a wino.
**
"So what if he chopped off a few noble heads?"
"In front of the people! The sovereign himself!"
"And?"
"The system will collapse! If we nobles are seen as shit, rebellions and riots will erupt everywhere as everyone declares themselves noble!"
"A criminal with quite the grasp of history."
"Damn it, why am I lecturing you on this?"
I said that, but honestly, I was pretty shocked.
Why had the tyrant—flirty with Sylvia at first, then tsundere—turned into a real monster?
Eight years ago.
I emptied my mind, wondering if I should revisit my dark past.
Memories I didn't want to recall.
Back then, I was just a greenhorn desperate to escape this world.
Shallow.
So shallow I saw human lives as flies.
I shook my head to dispel the gloom. Craved booze, but no alcohol nearby made it worse.
If Aster hadn't returned with a stiff expression, I might've drowned in depression.
Aster looked even more downcast. I waited for her to speak.
"Mister. Sigh... Where do I even start?"
"From the beginning of your thoughts."
"Then, from the square eight years ago..."
"Heard that already."
"Then you know His Majesty lives chasing the strong?"
"Yeah."
No clue why, but I'd heard the Emperor was obsessed with strong men.
Whether to use as subordinates or collect like trophies, who knows.
'Definitely possessed by a demon.'
The Emperor's demon link was certain. Demons existed in the novel; one clung to him. Sylvia, protagonist-style, banished it, and he obsessed over her.
From back-alley boss to protagonist—original plot was twisted beyond recognition.
"Anyway, good news... and two very bad ones. Which first?"
"Good news."
"You can be released without issue."
"Great. Now the two very bad ones."
"One is you might be executed next week..."
I half-disbelieved, furrowing my brow at Aster.
She chose her next words carefully. I swallowed, bracing for worse.
After a brief silence.
She spoke.
"The other... to avoid execution, you have to fight and beat the Knight Commander...?"
I'd been told to fight some random battle.
**
Every prisoner there heard the uproar. I knew the Knight Commander too.
Fighting him? They prayed for my soul, figuring I was dead. I even understood a corpse's feelings.
Transferred to the arena as a prisoner, I was inwardly baffled.
'Me fight the empire's war machine? Things got messy.'
In the arena's fighter lounge—sweaty but cozy—irritation lingered; hard to mask.
Maybe I should've bolted, face be damned.
'Tried not to drag Aster in, but...'
I criticized my civilized self. In a medieval world, act the part.
I glared coldly at the prince before me.
No, at Dorian.
"Insolent cur...!"
"Enough. The fault is mine."
"Yes, not yours."
"Ri...ght."
"I'm weak to polite speech. Casual's fine?"
"Few eyes here. Yes."
"Good. What's next?"
I was disappointed in Dorian. He'd promised safe release.
Expert at reading faces? Apparently overrated.
My probing look prompted him.
"I'll pay as much gold as I can..."
I rolled my eyes, glared; he bowed.
Meanwhile, I read Aster's worried expression. Family duties piled up, yet she fretted over me first. Warm woman.
How'd she chat with the princess with such a soft heart?
'Princess tormented Sylvia in the original...'
Hours without booze, memories flooded back.
Princess bullied protagonist Sylvia openly; scenes triggered readers' PTSD, too real.
This incident taught me fate flows weirdly.
"My fault... Sorry."
"Betting with sis using someone's life? Apologize, yeah."
"Cough..."
But the bullying hit me this time.
Recalling, Dorian and Sylvia's link started with his guilt over wronging her.
'Doesn't match his illustration.'
Dorian or not, guilt-tripped by the prince.
Bullied by princess into fighting Knight Commander.
'Why am I taking Sylvia's role? I'm not the rofan heroine.'
Even thought that.
If the Emperor took interest, I'd be the protagonist.
I shook my head, snapping from grim fantasies.
Escape now? Pointless; princess saw my face. I'd be hunted.
Frontal assault it was.
"Water under the bridge, no more questions. But I want proper compensation."
"You dare demand recompense from nobility?!"
"Stop!! I caused this; he's not to be insulted."
"Really...? Never seen you like this."
Dorian's guard seemed fond of him.
No chatty mood; I just sighed, tilting my head back. Sobriety unearthed old filth.
"Compensation is prepared."
"You don't know my tastes."
"You'll like it."
"Doubt it."
I'm a cheap-booze guy with simple wants; treasure wouldn't thrill.
But Aster wasted time on this; she deserved recompense.
Casually, I refused mine.
Redirected to Aster.
"Grant what my employer wants. I need nothing."
"...!"
Dorian's guard's eyes widened.
Dorian looked flustered at me, then Aster beside me.
"Not just a drunk..."
"?"
"Don't judge by appearances."
No idea why, but I eyed them disbelievingly.
"The empire's finest sword, and you refuse?"
Prince asked sincerely; "sword" deflated me.
'A chunk of metal? That's it?'
Expected breweries or something. Just a fancy blade?
Me, who lost pricey swords, totes cheap ones now.
"Don't need it."
"I... see."
Dorian bowed deeply, properly apologetic.
"...Sorry to Lady Elisia involved. I promise maximum compensation within my power."
I glared sullenly, then satisfied with his sincerity.
Noble bowing meant much—guard's face said it.
"And to you..."
"Guro."
"Yes, to you too, Guro. Compensation you'll love. On imperial honor."
Dorian had pride only in skill.
Polite always, didn't cling to hierarchy.
Chummy with guard proved it.
A prince using honorifics with inferiors. Odd one.
Irritation eased; wanted timeline.
"When's the fight?"
Empire's war machine, Knight Commander—date unknown.
Facing that monster: nightmare for any warrior.
"......That's why I'm so humble."
"...?"
"After tonight... right away. Yes."
I adjusted my retrieved hat, parsing his words.
Then shot first killing intent at Dorian.
'Normal folk would die from shock at "fight Knight Commander."'
With mere hours' notice.
Explains his fidgety humility.
Guilt makes sense.
But.
'Crack his skull?'
Hand-chop a prince's head? Big trouble. Suppressed rage.
Aster wanted to storm princess; I stopped her.
Only way out was fight. Antagonize her temperamental highness? Unknown fallout.
Protected my cute boss with patience. Patience.
Truly.
At the arena.
Princess, prince watching from seats, wine served? Tolerable.
Kept Aster away? Good, spared her bad sight. Tolerable.
But.
"?"
"The Commander's sword is for the worthy. Know your place, drunk."
Random knight butts in; Knight Commander watches with wooden sword.
Attitude unfit for those playing execution games with lives.
Something snapped.
I approached the knight quietly.
Grateful Aster missed this.
"Knew highborn lack manners."
"Mmph!? Ugh, mmph..."
"No sense of moderation."
In this world, through hellish trials, my personality rotted thug-like.
Learned speech from beggar pity; fought bears desperately in woods.
Black Rose, demon worshippers, thugs.
Drunk, killing held no hesitation.
But I tempered patience with booze.
Just acted kindly via alcohol.
Dropped in endless world, how tough...
How...
Mom, Dad... miss you....
Distant knights' voices blurred.
- What now...?
I grabbed the "know your place" knight's head, slowly hoisting him airborne.
Clawing my arm, nails scraping, straining grip—pathetic.
My strength deformed his helmet; agonized screams echoed.
How's that?
Emerald eyes bulged through visor slits. Rare sight.
Clang, shiiiing!
All knights drew steel instantly, encircling me.
Swords from everywhere aimed at me.
Bathed in sunlight, gleaming blades around, I smiled.
"Now it fits your station?"
Twelve hours sans proper drink.
"Vermin."
The real me awoke from sobriety.