Chapter 33
Chapter 33
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Once My Thoughts Changed, Even What I Saw Became Different (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Buried in layers of fat with blurry features, a grotesquely obese body that left you gasping just to look at it, flashy attire meant to conceal deep-seated inferiority.
The First Prince's appearance was as infamous throughout the kingdom as his tyrannical nature, and there wasn't a single noble who didn't know just how hideous he was.
So when the doors first opened, the nobles plunged into chaos.
The herald had announced the First Prince's arrival, but the figure who appeared wasn't the morbidly obese fool—instead, it was some tall, handsome man.
His well-trained physique was so perfectly balanced it evoked the image of a knight in his prime, and even his all-black attire—which could have looked drab—suited him astonishingly well.
His face was handsome enough to warrant the title without question. The only flaws were his bored expression and those excessively arrogant eyes that looked down on everyone.
The young ladies of noble houses lit up with excitement. They seemed quite taken by that rebellious aura.
"The eldest son of the Leonberger royal family, His Highness Idrian Leonberger, the First Prince, enters!"
The herald shouted again.
Only then did the nobles realize that this arrogant handsome man was one and the same as the morbidly obese wastrel, and they were utterly shocked.
They had already heard that the First Prince, having survived a brush with death, had suddenly begun training and undergone some changes. But there were limits to transformation.
The First Prince had become a completely different person in a mere half-year.
"Pay the respect due to this noble descendant of Leonberger!"
The herald, gauging the room's atmosphere, called out.
Only then did the nobles hastily show their obeisance. Lesser nobles knelt, while great lords bowed their heads.
Thud. Thud.
As they took in the strangely heavy footfalls ringing in their ears, the nobles racked their brains.
What on earth had happened in that half-year?
No matter how they pondered, they found no answers. The prince's change was far too abrupt and profound.
The only thing they could grasp was that the pig prince—the very symbol of laziness they had known—was no more. A body like that couldn't be forged overnight.
"They called this a banquet? Why's the mood so damn gloomy."
The First Prince remarked.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the musicians, who had paused their performance, resumed playing. A sweet melody filled the air, lightening the atmosphere considerably.
The nobles lifted their heads and searched for the First Prince.
There he was, chin raised, surveying the banquet hall. And there were the countless nobles staring holes through him.
He showed no sign of intimidation under the kind of scrutiny that would cow even a seasoned noble—his demeanor bordered on audacious arrogance.
This, too, was different from the First Prince they knew.
The old First Prince had been arrogant yet riddled with inferiority, seeing every gaze as mockery and responding with absurd nitpicking and insults.
But now?
The First Prince calmly weathered the onslaught of stares. If anything, it was the nobles who couldn't endure.
"Mm."
A certain viscount who met the prince's eyes hurriedly looked away. That gaze was so transparently piercing it felt like it could peer into one's soul. Nobles who locked eyes with the prince's clear stare one by one bowed their heads.
The only ones who properly held that gaze were the great lords of earl rank and above.
They didn't evade the prince's eyes but strode forward to offer greetings instead. The prince received the bows of nobles twice his age with an arrogant expression, as naturally as if they were his own attendants.
As if it had always been this way. Even though he'd never truly received proper attention, having fallen out of the king's favor.
Taylor Tailheim watched the scene with a proud expression.
Such an impressive prince had personally sent an invitation to his family. Any past grudges were long forgotten from his mind.
Taylor sidled closer, hoping the prince might acknowledge him first.
"...it's nothing short of astonishing."
"Your reformed bearing reminds me of His Majesty's youthful days."
The great lords from the south and east, was it?
Their three-inch tongues were slick, their wrinkled eyes gleamed. They made no effort to hide their probing intent, yet left no room for criticism.
"Just shed some pounds, no need for the fuss."
One southern great lord's eyebrow twitched at the prince's words. The blatant condescension had bruised his pride. But he didn't leave.
Not until he'd filled the void of that half-year gap.
It was only natural. Nobles sensitive to shifts in power—especially those great lords—didn't just sense the currents; they created them.
To them, the First Prince's transformation was no trivial variable to overlook. It was something they absolutely had to investigate thoroughly.
Taylor smacked his lips.
He lamented his own station, unfit to insert himself among such high nobles. On top of that, he felt a pang of resentment toward the prince for ignoring him despite the invitation.
Taylor's shoulders slumped.
He'd have to content himself with simply experiencing the capital's splendor at this banquet. A bit disappointing, but more than enough to boast about back home.
He turned. Toward the corner of the banquet hall, his assigned seat. Or at least, he tried to.
Buzz buzz.
The nobles suddenly began murmuring. Before he could grasp the reason for the commotion, a burly hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"You're here, so come greet me."
A crass tone straight out of a street thug's mouth. He turned to see a handsome face. Behind it, flustered great lords clearing their throats awkwardly.
"Y-Your Highness!"
Taylor startled a beat late, and the prince snapped curtly.
"Hurts my ears."
"S-Sorry!"
In court, one said "my apologies," right? He didn't know. His mind was blank. Taylor simply melted under the unexpected friendliness he'd never dared hope for.
"The others?"
"Th-there, over there."
"Oh! All here. Let's go."
The First Prince strode ahead briskly. Taylor stared dazedly at his back before glancing around. The nobles were staring at him.
The probing glint in their eyes was little different from what the prince had endured. But Taylor wasn't the prince, so his heart squeezed tight.
He bowed his head deeply and scurried after.
I swallowed my rising nausea and saw right through the great lords who refused to leave my side.
They were desperate to figure out how I'd changed over the past half-year and what I'd do next.
But they had no idea. Just as they'd tried to peer into my heart, I'd done the same to theirs.
The authority of [Appraisal].
I'd examined every noble gathered in the banquet hall, down to the smallest detail. Even the great lords couldn't escape my power.
Some were incompetent, others capable. Their talents varied wildly, but one thing was the same: none were worth keeping close.
Every last one had that filthy [Serpent's Heart] trait listed.
The hallmark of those consumed by greed, the karmic stain of those who stole from others and crushed lives underfoot. The impurities filled the room.
Completely rotten. Is this a country?
It felt like a stench assaulting my nose. But even among them, a few were tolerable.
They were the high nobles who steadfastly held their positions even as the great lords fawned over me.
Nothing showed up.
That meant their caliber was no lower than my current self, and those沉稳 eyes and immovable feet proved they weren't the type to flit about impulsively like the others.
But such people were a tiny minority among the throng in the hall.
Four hundred years ago, my comrade and I fought monsters without rest, day and night. All to protect those driven to barren lands by the exploitation of the powerful.
We tilled the harsh soil, built villages, raised fortresses and castles. We even felled the mighty dragon and finally founded a nation on this land.
Yet the country we'd built had fallen into the hands of snake-like vermin. The descendants of the exploited had become the exploiters.
It was abhorrent.
My mood sank. I had no patience to play along with the great lords' petty prying. That's when I spotted a familiar face in the distance.
A youth standing hesitantly before turning away—the eldest son of that rural noble house, the first one I'd sparred with.
It gladdened me. He might not be exceptionally talented, but that uncorrupted aura was incredibly refreshing.
I left the southern earl prattling empty words behind and approached the youth. Grabbing his shoulder, he startled in the most human way.
Finally, I could breathe easy.
There were a few more like him. In the notably shadowed corners of the bright banquet hall sat representatives of noble houses. Some faces I recognized, others not.
I headed toward them.
"Y-Your Highness!"
Spotting me, they bowed with faces full of humble gratitude, treating their connection to the precarious prince as the glory of three lifetimes. Seeing that, I made my choice.
The price for the luxuries I'd enjoyed in this prince's body. When I eventually left this nation far in the future, these were the vessels to carry the seed I'd leave behind.
I thought that would suffice.
But I was wrong.
This nation was far more rotten than I'd imagined.
"The kingdom's eternal ally, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of the Burgundy Empire, whose authority has been lawfully recognized—the Marquis house of Montpellier of Burgundy, Ambassador Clian de Bourgogne Montpellier enters!"
Even a mere ambassador entering after the crown prince's heir, yet announcing his position with such brazen confidence.
And not just any kingdom's envoy, but from the Empire.
Burgundy. That accursed name.
Four hundred years ago, the enemy that made us shed the most blood for this nation to stand whole, the foe my comrade and I fought the longest, the name that left countless scars on this land.
Thud. Thud.
The nobles of the nation my comrade and I had built bowed their heads before the hated Montpellier Empire's name—with even greater reverence than they showed their own royals.
"Long time no see, Prince."
A scion of Burgundy smiled at me. Arrogantly, as if addressing an inferior.
My heart clenched tight.
It felt like I'd swallowed a fireball, flames erupting from within.