Greetings to the Fake Prince
My body, pushed to the brink by the second prince's brutal workout, felt like it could crumble at any moment.
It was the kind of exhaustion that would normally have me out cold the second I hit the bed.
But the conversation with the Northern Duchess—who had manipulated Arthur's mind just moments ago to make her proposal—kept replaying in my head, chasing away any hope of sleep.
'Assassinate the Emperor and the Crown Prince to halt the Empire's advance?'
Insane. Utterly insane.
The kind of madness that left me too stunned for even a hollow laugh.
'Why the hell should I?'
To put it bluntly, it was impossible. Even if it weren't, I had zero reason to join in.
What glory or riches could a mere hostage from a defeated kingdom possibly gain by throwing myself into that suicidal gamble?
'And that Northern Duchess to begin with—she's utterly untrustworthy. They don't call her a witch for nothing.'
How could anyone trust a witch who wormed her way into people's minds without permission and even dominated a royal's psyche?
She might be playing nice and proposing an alliance now, but if things went south, she'd pin it all on me and wash her hands clean.
'Logically speaking, the very fact that she's scheming in secret like this proves the North is desperately outmatched against the Empire.'
The Empire's population neared seventy million, with the capacity to mobilize over a million troops in a pinch.
The North's forces, even squeezed to the limit, topped out at two hundred thousand, or so I'd heard.
They controlled nearly the entire northern continent, but most of it was frozen wastelands unsuitable for farming, infested with monsters to boot. Factoring in how seventy percent of their people huddled near the Empire's border, the real power gap was even wider.
There was no reason to join a fight they couldn't win.
'Honestly, it's just their family feud. Why should I play disposable pawn for the Northern ducal house?'
And what did I stand to gain by dipping my toes into this rebellion? Nothing.
At best, it might curb the Empire's expansion—a win for the North that had nothing to do with me.
But if this mad gamble failed? The price I'd pay would be horrific beyond imagination.
'It wouldn't just be me dying. My entire homeland would bear the Empire's wrath—trampled in the cruelest ways imaginable, erased from the map forever.'
That's why I'd come here in the prince's stead—to prevent exactly that. What would all my efforts mean then?
'Sure, the Emperor and Crown Prince aren't saints on a personal level... but as leaders, they're far from incompetent.'
Who'd blame them for venting stress on easy hostages like us?
Even by modern standards, plenty of more inept and brutal figures held power. In this medieval-to-early-modern romance fantasy world? That's hardly a flaw.
As rulers and administrators, those two were plenty capable.
'They've probably made enemies, but that's not my problem.'
Most importantly, they treated me exceptionally well.
I lived comfortably, recognized for my talents by the imperial family—the strongest backing anyone in this cutthroat Empire could have to guarantee my safety.
I wasn't stupid enough to sever that lifeline with my own hands.
'And, call it personal bias if you want... but Arthur too.'
My excellent gym partner and friend, the second prince.
Why force a guy who'd be happiest just working out daily with a like-minded buddy onto the throne?
And if he became Emperor, with his mind already pierced by Ella's mental magic?
He'd be her unwitting puppet, dancing to the white witch's whims—shattering at her caprice, no doubt.
"No way. Absolutely not."
No matter how I turned it over in my head, the conclusion was clear.
I couldn't get entangled with the Northern ducal house until a blade was at my throat.
Proving my value and solidifying my position here—that was my only path to survival.
'Ah, whatever. No more thinking. My head hurts... Sleep now, figure it out tomorrow.'
I shoved the swirling thoughts aside and forced myself to sleep.
Thankfully, my fatigued body dragged me into dreamland soon enough.
The next day, the third day of the social gathering.
I'd decided to shelve those nagging thoughts from last night for the time being.
All I could do now was flash harmless smiles, bond with the nobles, and play friendly with the imperial family.
Seemed simple enough.
"Prince Ian, a pleasure!"
"First time meeting you, Prince Ian! I'm—"
Thanks to my performance yesterday and the Emperor's overt favoritism, today's banquet felt far smoother and more peaceful.
The imperial nobles no longer eyed me with pity, arrogance, or curiosity.
They approached with soft, courteous attitudes, eager to make connections. I responded with a relaxed smile, trading light banter to build rapport.
Unlike yesterday's gathering of only great nobles in the main hall, lingering in the garden today let me chat with lesser houses too.
"Phew, nice air."
I strolled the garden, admiring fireworks painting the night sky and the gentle orchestra tickling my ears.
A cool night breeze brushed my cheeks pleasantly.
"I'll take just one champagne."
I lightly plucked a chilled, dewy glass from a passing servant's silver tray.
A fizzy, sweet fruit aroma danced at my nose.
'One glass today, then head back early.'
That's when it happened.
"Oh, fancy meeting you here!"
A familiar voice popped up abruptly behind me.
"……!"
"Haha, I doubted my eyes thinking it couldn't be you—talk about fate! Long time no see, Your Highness!"
A chill raced from my scalp to my toes, freezing the blood in my veins.
I turned slowly, praying it wasn't him—the moment stretching eternally.
And there he was, shattering my hopes spectacularly.
"…Count Hodeki."
Tall frame, sly and irritable slit eyes.
A meticulously trimmed, obnoxious mustache like a rat's whiskers.
The corrupt noble who'd lorded over a domain six times the size of ours—right next to Harper Barony and several others—living large off the fat of the land.
Count Hodeki, a great noble of my true homeland, the Kingdom of Sterling.
"…"
As I stood speechless, he strode forward without hesitation and bowed in greeting.
"Count Hodeki of the Kingdom of Sterling—or should I say, Imperial Count now—presents his respects to Prince Ian Sterling. Thinking of you, enduring hardships in this distant Empire on behalf of our Sterling Kingdom, brings tears to this unworthy vassal's eyes…"
The words sounded fine, but it was blatant mockery.
Of course—he knew my secret.
He'd seen me plenty growing up, the second son of the neighboring barony.
'What the hell is this bastard doing here…?'
And in all those encounters, I'd never once felt fondness for him.
He exploited his people with sky-high taxes, tormented them with harsh rule, then reigned like a king on their squeezed-out wealth.
His influence was minor compared to the Empire's, but enough that even the king treaded carefully—a powerhouse in the kingdom.
I despised him, avoiding him as much as possible since childhood.
He'd never hidden his own dislike for me either.
"Hmmm…"
Glancing around to confirm no other nobles or watchers nearby, Count Hodeki closed in.
Pretending a formal bow, he whispered through pursed lips.
"Doing well in the Empire, Ian Harper? You've grown."
"…"
"How's the fake prince gig treating you?"
With those dreaded words, the wicked noble grinned ear to ear.