Transmigrated into the Black Prince's Body, I Faced a Nightmare
The world crashed down on me like a cheap sack of potatoes after I scratched my butt reading that webtoon back home. Twenty-five-year-old Han Jaeyoon, a jobless nobody. What a pathetic existence.
If I had been the protagonist in one of those novels, I would have quickly read the character glossary, adapted to this isekai world, and jumped straight into an overpowered rampage—because that's how these stories usually roll.
But now these webtoons are all about skipping the prologue and starting the main plot from chapter one. No tamales or sweet potatoes allowed. It's all the rage these days. So my sad little backstory? Skipped. Clean. Gone.
The genre here? Straight-up fantasy. Romance fantasy, to be exact. The moment you touch the main guy's butt, you get your protagonist buff and get wrecked. Learn magic and you're instantly broken by some genius noble girl.
Naturally, a twenty-five-year-old unemployed slacker like me had zero place in this world. The supporting character slot was already taken—looping around the heroine until the story needed me gone.
Thank god it wasn't total garbage from the jump. My parents seemed pretty loaded. Even if they were dark-skinned, and my dad was rocking this weird turban thing that looked like he'd been kidnapped by some desert nomad.
Islamic merchant…? Wait.
Hold up. So I'm black?
"Wahh (Fuck)." My newborn cry sounded exactly like a curse word in this language.
"Oh my, Prince Ismail! Come quick! Prince Ismail says something!"
"What? Let me see."
"Wahh-wahh-wahh (I'm black… I'm black…!)."
My mother and father leaned over me with smiles that could melt steel. "My child… you are truly beautiful. Like your mother, blessed with a beauty that could topple kingdoms."
"Mother! You can see it yourself—you're the spitting image of me!"
"Wife… Sharif…"
—Clunk.
I was suddenly alone in the room. Hmm. My parents' marriage looked solid enough.
"Wahh(Fuck…)."
*
About five days after I woke up in this world, I finally got the full rundown on the place.
Summary time.
First, I was a newborn.
My father's name was Moulay Sharif.
He was my fifth son, the youngest prince.
And…
"Sharif…!"
"Arel…!"
It looked like my little brother was about to arrive any day.
That was it.
Wahh.
***
The seventy-first night since I dropped into this world, I had to correct a big assumption.
I'd figured my dad was just some Islamic merchant. Wrong. Way wrong.
Turns out he was the Sultan of the Maghreb Sultanate. The actual ruler.
Moulay Sharif ibn Ali. Full title. The second Sultan, Emir of Maghreb, descendant of the Prophet, the man who unified the desert tribes with one holy name.
How did I know? Simple.
—Thud thud thud thud!
That morning, a bunch of scary black warriors in flowing robes and curved swords rode up to our house like they owned the place.
They looked like they'd been chewing on desert sand their whole lives—hard eyes, rough voices. When our eyes met, I almost pissed myself.
"Wahh, wahh…!!! (Holy crap, these guys are terrifying)!"
Were they robbing us? My perfect isekai life was over before it started?
I clutched the swaddled baby bundle in my father's arms, eyes squeezed shut tight. At least let me go out painless, please.
But it wasn't my imagination.
—Thud!
Hundreds of those bandits dismounted, dropped to their knees, foreheads to the mosaic tiles. "All the tribes of the desert and oasis swear bay'ah to the Emir of Maghreb! The holy blood of the Prophet! Our master, Moulay Sharif! We pledge bay'ah!"
They even kissed his robe hem. Then they piled on gold sacks, twenty purebred horses, salt blocks, and dates bigger than my head.
The inside of my house looked like a treasure mountain. Dad just sat on his chair like it was nothing, one arm around me, the other stroking his beard, nodding like he was used to this.
"Receive my loyalty. May God's blessing rest upon the lands of Maghreb."
…God?
Wait. This wasn't supposed to be my isekai world?
*
Time passed fast. By the time I turned three, I was already a big boy. Dad kicked me out the moment I became an adult.
—Thump.
He casually tossed a sack full of gold into the throne room. "Go to Meknes."
I was still on my knees forehead-to-floor when he spoke. "It is improper, Your Majesty the Sultan."
"Speak."
I looked up carefully. Back when I'd first arrived, he had been a young monarch. Now the man who conquered hundreds of desert tribes had gray hair and deep wrinkles.
"If you command me to leave for Meknes, what duties shall I undertake?"
He stared at me with cold eyes, drew the ivory-and-gold dagger from his waist, and tossed it right in front of me.
"Governor-general."
*
In the original Isabella of Hawar, Meknes only appeared once. As the pirates' main base.
The hundredth chapter started with a burning port. A tiny coastal town in the south of Hawar Kingdom ruled by Isabel's cousin. Pirates raided at dawn, the village vanished before sunrise. People were dragged aboard as slaves—including Isabel's mother.
Isabel saw the news and collapsed in shock. Her neighboring prince, the sub-male lead Louis, led a fleet and burned Meknes to ashes.
That was one of the few times the 'Southern Kingdom' was mentioned in the original story.
Of course, it was karma. The pirates lost their base and died. But now I was the governor-general. That future belonged to someone else.
I didn't know when Meknes would burn, but the timeline was locked. If I sat on my hands, one day an Oriana Empire fleet would bombard the city and turn it into a pile of rubble.
'I just wanted to settle in as governor and live easy… damn it.'
The bigger problem was I had no clue what chapter the original story was at. I'd been locked in the capital since I was a kid. I didn't know what the heroine and male lead were up to up north, or even if they still existed.
I couldn't just order the pirates to stop either. I was a prince, sure, but telling a whole pirate crew to stop raiding? Who would listen?
Plus, I wasn't some hero. Piracy was basically a gold farm. Hit a well-defended city and you got in trouble, but otherwise it was easy money.
And if I didn't touch the Hawar Kingdom where the heroine lived, what was the problem?
I took the gold from the pirates, told them to hit the smaller towns of the Oriana Empire and the Carthage Urban League first, and keep Hawar untouched for now.
But, of course, there was always that one idiot who doesn't listen.
The incident that day went the same way.
"Governor, sir! We accidentally attacked a Hawar ship, hehehe!"
"Hehehe? Laughing now? I told you—Hawar flag means get the hell out!"
After two whole months of sweet-talking and bribery, they finally screwed up.
"Hehe, sorry. They fired first from over there… still, jackpot!"
Jackpot?
Did they really fight a regular army?
I felt a chill run down my spine. "Did they say they attacked a merchant ship?"
But I couldn't trust these pirates any farther than I could throw them.
Then that unsettled feeling hit again.
Ever since I was born into the 'Moulay' bloodline of the Prophet, I'd learned my gut instincts were never wrong.
And just like that.
I saw the face of a woman tied to the floor, dragged in by the pirates.
"P-please… don't touch me… h-help…"
She was shaking like a leaf, eyes wide with terror. Through the dirt and grime, I caught a glimpse of jewel-like blue eyes and dazzling blonde hair.
Isabel de Austria.
The heroine of the original novel, bound and crying in front of me.