Setting the Stage from the Shadows

Once we reached the outskirts, far from the watchful eyes of the traditionalists, the soldiers' pace gradually slowed. A brief silence fell. One of the soldiers holding my arms on either side spoke up hesitantly. "I am sorry, Prophet." A complex mix of emotions swirled in their eyes. Even though this was all done under my direct orders, they seemed deeply troubled by the act of dragging me away in binds. Keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead, I whispered softly, "It is fine. We must do this for now."

Just moments ago, I had faced the gaze of hundreds in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the plaza. The play had to be performed to the very end. If even a single crack appeared, everything would crumble in an instant. The soldiers carefully tightened the ropes wound around my arms and torso once more. They pretended to bind me roughly, but I could feel the hesitation in their fingertips. I let out a soft groan and hung my head.

Clang— The door opened, and we carefully descended the stairs leading to the dungeon. A damp, sweat-inducing humidity clung to the air. The smell of mold, mingled with the wet air, hit the back of my throat. From afar, the screeching of iron bars echoed like a distant memory.

But the end of this path was no ordinary prison. Upon reaching the deepest recess, the soldiers quickly untied my knots. Before us stood a closed door, covered in thick moss that spoke of years of neglect. Yet, the moment we pushed it open, the interior was entirely different.

Exquisitely carved ceiling moldings. A bathtub filled with steaming hot water. A plush bed and a neat table. It was a space far closer to a luxurious noble's drawing room than a prison cell.

"Whoa...! Prophet! Is this really a prison?" Yerin, who had arrived ahead of us, was looking around the room with wide, round eyes.

Instead of answering, I threw myself onto the bed. As my body sank into the mattress, a chuckle escaped my lips. "Of course it is."

"But this doesn't feel like a sinner being punished at all!" I buried my face in the pillow, amused by the metaphorical exclamation mark practically hovering over Yerin's head.

"In my homeland, it's a time-honored tradition for high-ranking people to live like this when they go to prison." I couldn't remember the last time I had lain on a proper bed. This place had everything one needed to live comfortably. If anyone else saw this, they would have a hard time telling if it was a cell or a suite, just as Yerin said.

"We call it the 'luxury prison life.'" This was merely a temporary residence to deceive the eyes of the public. It was a prison in name only.

Yerin lay down next to me, kicking her legs idly on the edge of the bed, before looking up at me hesitantly. "Um, Prophet?"

"Yes?"

"The people back at the modern office are working so hard... Is it really okay for just the two of us to be slacking off like this?"

I smiled at the guilt-ridden Yerin. It seemed she had yet to learn the ultimate truth of life. After all, the sweetest joy of work is slacking off and stealing company time while everyone else is working their bones to the grindstone.

"Slacking off? Who is slacking off?"

"...Huh?"

"Yerin, this is all 'part of the operation.' It's strictly an 'extension of our duties.' We aren't resting; we are 'preparing.' Think of it as pulling an all-nighter."

A metaphorical exclamation mark flashed over Yerin's head. Yes, this is how one slowly grows into an adult. Her anxious expression melting away, Yerin quietly buried herself into the bed as well.

For the next few days, I stayed here, fully engrossed in my "fieldwork." Very diligently, indeed. Yerin's face was dead serious. She was trying her best to read my expression, but my poker face was currently at max level. She was still far too young to beat an adult's seasoned skills.

"Left." At my word, Yerin's eyes trembled. The card slipped from her hand and fluttered down. Left. It was indeed the Ace. Ten wins out of ten games.

"T-This is impossible..." As I was celebrating my victory with a sweet sip of grape juice, the heavy door clicked and swung open. Chris stepped through the gap. His face was a mask of poorly concealed tension. Behind him, the aura of the 'next stage' I had been waiting for was seeping in. I figured it was about time. I slowly set down my glass of grape juice.

"Everything is unfolding exactly as you foretold, Prophet. The kingdom is in an uproar. Everywhere, people are whispering of the incident at Elium Plaza. The speed at which this news spreads defies belief. It is as if some unseen hand is intentionally dispersing it."

They had finally taken the bait. Just as I was about to review the plan, one of the guards approached hesitantly and asked in a low voice, "Prophet... are you truly certain they will make their move?"

I turned my head to look at him. Meeting my gaze, the soldier quickly added, "The revolutionary factions have always... remained hidden in the shadows, never showing themselves. It is hard to comprehend why they would suddenly act now."

"Why do you think they were unable to move until now?"

"...Because they were afraid of the kingdom, perhaps?"

At his words, a chuckle slipped out before I could stop it. Afraid of the kingdom? Hardly. All they had ever witnessed in their lives was a puppet kingdom, danced around on the strings of foreign powers.

"No. It was because they lacked a cause." I slowly stood up and adjusted my clothes. "A revolution is not won by brute force alone. It must win the hearts of the people. The only reason they could not move before was because they had no justification to rally support."

"But now, the situation has changed. Entirely because of me." A perfect, flawless cause had suddenly dropped right into their laps from the heavens.

"For the first few days, they would have been wary. Wondering if it was a trap, or a dragnet. But no matter how hard they searched, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they wouldn't have found a single flaw." I smiled quietly. The performance I had put on—acting like a tyrant from an evil empire—had yielded results far beyond my wildest expectations.

The people who had been in the plaza that day were constantly spinning new rumors about me. This played a crucial role in blinding the revolutionaries. A great hero who sacrificed himself for the nation had been thrown into a dungeon, with no sign of ever being released. In the end, I was branded as a righteous, pure victim. Since I hadn't emerged, rumors of torture and abuse were already circulating outside. What if they could spread word of his sacrifice and hijack that public support for their own factions?

"There is a single plate of food on the table, but many hungry mouths." I looked at the soldier and asked, "What would you do in that situation?"

He kept his mouth shut. I merely smiled instead of answering. Just then, Yerin hesitantly raised her hand. "Prophet... isn't there a chance they might... join forces this time?"

I looked at Yerin and gently shook my head. "Revolutionaries, Yerin... are not all the same. The ideals they champion and the goals they pursue are entirely different. If they could have united in the first place, they wouldn't have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠existed as separate factions."

"But there is one thing they all know in common." "When the kingdom falls, there is only room for a single flag to be planted upon its ruins."

Even at this very moment, the revolutionary forces hiding in the shadows would be moving frantically to gain influence. The kingdom was on the verge of collapse, just one final blow away. Only a saint could resist such a temptation. They would size each other up, and then, in a competitive frenzy, begin spreading the rumors themselves. What if I had tried to do this myself? Even if I spent all one hundred gold coins I received as a reward, it wouldn't have been nearly enough to spread rumors across the entire kingdom. Thanks to them, I didn't have to throw money at newspapers or hire information brokers. There were plenty of people willing to do it all for free, as if it were their own personal crusade.

I guess this is what they mean by a 'family-like company.' Truly. How deeply moving.

Chris, who had been listening quietly until then, finally spoke. "...What would you have us do now?" Meeting his gaze, I smiled and glanced at the corner of my vision. Last night, I had finally managed to pull what I wanted.

...

It wasn't even the second highest prize from the top. I seriously questioned whether it was supposed to be this difficult just to pull the second lowest prize from the bottom.

"Chris. Please spread a certain rumor."

"What kind of rumor?"

"That the punishment for the imprisoned man has been decided... and that in five days, he will be publicly executed by hanging at Elium Plaza."

This time, no questions came from Yerin. Before I knew it, she was already holding a deck of cards in her hands.

When the time came, I quietly rose from the bed. Slowly, I began preparing to leave. I took a container of dust and smeared it moderately over my clothes, the side of my face, and below my wrists. I tore one of my sleeves and ripped the hem of my trousers. I deliberately disheveled my hair until it was a wild, tangled mess. My reflection in the mirror looked quite haggard. Perfect. Now for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the final touch. I splashed the pig's blood I had kept on standby over my body. Looking back up at the mirror, I had evolved from merely looking haggard to looking like someone who had just survived a brutal torture session.

When I opened the door, the soldiers were waiting. The atmosphere was such that no words needed to be exchanged. Two soldiers approached me and carefully placed a black hood over my head. Without any hesitation, I took my first step forward.

This was a specially crafted hood. From the outside, it looked completely opaque, but from the inside, the view of the outside world was perfectly clear. More than that—the luxury prison life had certainly been comfortable. There was nothing to complain about. The bathtub, the spacious bed, the grape juice, and even the healing presence of Yerin. But still... once was enough. Walking into a prison of my own free will for a second time felt a bit strange. It made me feel like a real inmate.

Slowly, the alleyway came to an end. The outside air felt sharper, more distinct. Now, it was time for the curtains to rise on the stage.