The Emperor Has Changed (3)
“Cian, it’s been a while?”
The moment I saw that face, my words caught in my throat. Roelyn Arbina. The woman who had once been my fiancée. It was back when I had only just possessed this body.
One day, my father—the head of the house—called me in and told me I was getting married. The other party had already been decided. So I simply met her as the family instructed.
When they said to drink tea, I drank tea. When they said to take a walk, I walked. When they said to stay together at the ball, I stayed by her side.
Is this what a medieval noble blind date looks like? No, it was worse than that. With a blind date, you can just walk away if you don’t like the person. This was two families smiling while fastening a leash around someone’s neck.
But the real problem was that it hadn’t been all that bad. Roelyn was easy to talk to, smiled prettily without trying too hard, and sometimes took my hand first. Not that we’d done anything more than hold hands. Now’s not the time for that kind of thought.
Anyway, that was how it had been. We hadn’t disliked each other. But we hadn’t been burning lovers either. Just an ambiguous relationship that had been surprisingly tolerable within the bounds set by our families. Then one day the families said it was over. So it ended. Simple as that.
People’s feelings aren’t usually that simple, yet nobles treat them so lightly. If told to get engaged, they get engaged. If told to break it off, they break it off. Like a document submitted for approval and then rejected. Except the document had been a person. And that person was me and the woman standing in front of me now.
“……What brings you here?”
When I finally managed to speak, Roelyn narrowed her eyes.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“What else am I supposed to say?”
“It’s been a while. How have you been? Good to see your face. Something like that.”
“Have you been well?”
“Too late.”
“Then I’m glad to see you.”
“That’s late too.”
This was getting difficult. I’d been in similar situations in my previous life—running into someone you’d gotten along with on a blind date but then lost touch with because both of you got busy, months later at a subway station.
The difference was that this wasn’t a subway station but the count’s conference room, the other person wasn’t a blind-date partner but my ex-fiancée, and right now my head felt ready to explode because of the imperial decree.
Butler Roman stood beside me, bowing with perfect politeness. His expression was stiff with courtesy. I wondered why butlers always managed to look so dignified while being uncomfortable around other people’s private affairs.
“You’re not here for the meeting, are you?”
“No. I’m not that free either.”
“Then?”
Roelyn glanced briefly at my chest—more precisely, at the imperial decree tucked inside my coat.
“Our family received one too.”
“……”
“Father wants me back. I got the message while I was nearby.”
“So you stopped by on the way?”
“Yes.” Roelyn smiled as if it were nothing. “I wanted to see your face before I left.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
“Just because?”
“Yes. Just because.”
That answer bothered me the most. In a relationship that had started as a political match, grown somewhat close, then ended somewhat abruptly, “just because” was never a good phrase. It carried too many meanings.
“I heard about what happened in Ramal.”
“Already?”
“Rumors travel faster than you think.”
“Good rumors or bad?”
“Who knows.” Roelyn studied my face. “They say you single-handedly wiped out the bandit group.”
“……”
“Ah, and that you moved troops on the very day the imperial decree arrived.”
Damn it, these rumors really are fast. They weren’t even riding horses—were they teleporting?
“Did you come here just to say that?”
“That, and other things.” Roelyn paused for a moment. Then she smiled the same ambiguous smile she used to wear. “Be careful, Cian.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“……”
“There are rumors that His Majesty has changed completely.”
With those words, Roelyn turned away.
“I’m leaving now.”
“Already?”
“I saw your face.”
“Was that really your goal?”
“Yes.”
After walking a few steps, Roelyn looked back again.
“And.”
“What else.”
“Seeing you after so long…… you’re not bad.”
“……”
Leaving those words behind, Roelyn disappeared down the corridor. I watched her retreating figure for a while.
“Young master.” Roman quietly called to me. “The meeting is ready.”
“……Right.”
My ex-fiancée was returning to her family because of the decree. I was heading into the conference room because of the decree. How nice. Thanks to the empire’s Normalization, even my personal relationships were getting normalized.
“Let’s go in.”
“Yes.”
The conference room was already filled with people: Administrative Officer Delk, two scribes in charge of records, Knight Commander Verdin, and Butler Roman. None of them looked pleased. They had every reason not to. If the heir had returned after dealing with bandits, there should have been a celebratory atmosphere.
Ramal Village had been saved, the transport route reopened, and the parasites clinging to the territory had been removed. But on that very day, an imperial decree had arrived. It was like being invited to a funeral right when you were about to throw a party. And I was apparently the one scheduled to lie in the coffin.
Damn it.
“The troops that moved to Ramal today.”
“Here they are.” Delk held out the documents. I skimmed through them. Twelve knights. Twenty-eight soldiers. Six support personnel. No injuries. No deaths. Not bad. Actually, the results looked quite good. On the bandit side: nineteen dead, fifteen captured, zero escaped.
“The records?”
“We’re drafting them now.”
“What did you write?”
“Subjugation of the bandit group near Ramal Village and recovery of the transport route.”
I looked at the scribe for a moment. He only blinked, unsure why I was staring.
“Don’t write ‘subjugation.’”
“Pardon?”
“I said don’t write subjugation.”
“But that is what actually happened, isn’t it?”
It was. It absolutely was. We caught the bastards who had been raiding the village with swords—what else would you call it? A stroll? I took the decree from my coat and placed it on the table.
“But His Majesty is going to see the subjugation records, isn’t he?”
“……”
“If we neatly write ‘We conducted a subjugation today’ and submit it, do you think that’s something a sane person would do?”
The scribe closed his mouth.
“Response to the armed occupation of the Ramal transport route.”
“……”
“Protection of affected residents.”
“……”
“Securing prisoners from an illegal armed group.”
As I continued, the scribe slowly nodded.
“I’ll organize it that way.”
“I’m not telling you to hide anything. Write down exactly how many troops moved, who commanded them, and why they moved. All of it.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
The conference room fell silent for a moment. I wasn’t saying anything strange. When the imperial family was digging around, the first ones they’d investigate were those who tried to hide records. That was true whether it was my previous life or this world.
“His Majesty is carrying out Normalization.” I tapped the decree with my finger. “So we should match his pace. We eliminated illegal armed forces within the territory, protected the affected residents, and are transparently submitting all related records. That’s the attitude we need.”
“Ah……”
“If we hide something and get caught, we’ll really look like idiots.”
Only then did the scribes begin moving their quills in a flurry. Scratch. Scratch. The sound of paper being written on filled the room.
“Young master.” Butler Roman spoke quietly. “In the end, isn’t this just writing the same events differently?”
“It is.”
“Then won’t the imperial family still notice?”
“They will.”
“Is that all right?”
“Of course not.”
Roman’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. I leaned back in my chair and continued.
“But it’s still better than openly writing ‘We conducted an unofficial subjugation.’ It shows we understand His Majesty’s intentions and are willing to cooperate. That attitude matters.”
“You mean our stance?”
“It’s called courtesy.”
“Courtesy…… is it.”
“Yes. His Majesty has declared Normalization. Writing ‘We just did an unofficial subjugation’ on top of that would be discourteous.”
The room grew quiet again. Everyone wore expressions suggesting they were searching for some profound political meaning. There wasn’t any. I was simply raising my hand to avoid getting hit. Of course, while raising my hand, I had to keep my palm clean. That way, even if I got hit, it would hurt less.
“So all we have to do is look obedient.”
“Obedient?”
“Yes. We understand His Majesty’s will and will cooperate. That attitude.”
“……”
“And there’s nothing bad about it. The empire is becoming strong again. As long as we don’t get screwed in the process.”
One of the scribes flinched. Pretend you didn’t hear that. That’s how you live long.
**
Knight Commander Verdin quietly watched Cian. The young master wasn’t afraid. Nor was he taking the situation lightly. He grumbled as usual and spoke roughly, but his actions were strangely swift.
The moment he returned after catching the bandits, he hadn’t boasted about his achievements or asked for drinks. The first thing he did was summon the record keepers.
That was unusual. Normally, noble heirs who accomplished something would first think about receiving praise—how to report it in the grandest way, in front of whom to brag, how to package it most impressively.
But the young master was different. Before seeking praise, he was already cutting away anything that could be used against him. Before the imperial family could point a finger and say “You subjugated them, didn’t you?” he was preparing to smile and reply, “No, we were protecting the residents.”
His personality was remarkable. In a good way.
“Knight Commander.”
“Yes, young master.”
“What about the confiscated items?”
“They’ve been organized in the side warehouse.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. You all handle the documents.”
Cian stood up and tossed a remark at the scribe.
“If anyone writes the word ‘subjugation,’ we’re all dead.”
The scribe’s face turned white.
“Pardon?”
“I’m joking.”
“Ah, yes……”
“Half-joking.”
The scribe’s face grew even paler.
Is this guy a vampire or something?
Watching the scene, Verdin silently lowered his head. The young master really had changed since that day. In a good way. Probably.
**
A faint smell of blood lingered in the confiscated-items warehouse. Swords, daggers, spears, leather armor, sacks of provisions, old maps, saddles, and a few pouches of miscellaneous coins.
At a glance, they looked like typical bandit belongings—junk that people who lived by robbing others would carry. But up close, something felt off. They were too well-maintained.
“These bastards lived pretty well.”
I picked up one of the swords. The blade wasn’t damaged. The leather on the hilt was almost new. The condition was far too good for weapons carried by men living in the mountains.
“Are these really bandits?”
“That’s what they claimed themselves.”
“I’d believe them if they said they were the emperor.”
“I don’t think you would.”
“Right. I’m not an idiot. Ah, though it seems the emperor has graduated from being an idiot now too.”
I examined the base of the sword’s hilt. There had been a small number engraved there. Or rather, the trace of one. Someone deliberately ground it off. Not even cleanly—sloppily.
“They erased the number.”
“Yes. It was already like this when we first checked.”
“Why erase it?”
“They were probably trying to hide the origin.”
“If bandits are worrying about the provenance of their equipment, they’re not bandits—they’re bureaucrats.”
Verdin didn’t respond. It was a joke. Well, half a joke. I set the sword down and moved on to the provision sacks. Dried meat, hard bread, salt. And then the sealing string.
I picked it up.
“This?”
“It was tied around the preserved food packaging.”
“Bandits carry around packaging for preserved food?”
“That’s not typical.”
“There’s a lot of things that aren’t typical here.”
My mood soured. My head already feels like it’s about to burst from the imperial decree alone, and now this? Bandits. Or rather, people who were hard to even call bandits. These guys were strange. Extremely strange.
“Delk.”
“Yes, young master.”
“Have you seen this sealing string before?”
“I’ll check.”
Delk took the sealing string and began examining it. The longer he looked, the more his expression hardened. Like someone who had seen something he didn’t want to see.
“Why.”
“……Young master.”
“Speak.”
“This isn’t the type used near Ramal.”
“I know that.”
“It’s not from the northern trading companies either.”
“Then?”
Delk fell silent for a moment. In that instant, the warehouse grew quiet. Verdin’s gaze dropped, and Butler Roman wiped his expression clean. Damn it.
Delk spoke in a low voice.
“It’s an item from Hwangdo.”