Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Empire
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The Emperor in the game wasn't a woman.
The Emperor was a man who had been brilliant in his youth but whose judgment had clouded with age, ruling like a specter over the years.
He had two daughters, but they too had been completely pushed aside in the struggle for the throne.
In my memory, the Emperor was nothing more than an incompetent and stubborn figure.
But now, the Emperor sitting behind that curtain...
I could feel it just from the silhouette.
It was like a completely different person.
For a daughter over forty to suddenly claim the throne felt awkwardly timed.
Besides, her posture was slender and delicate, somehow alien.
Utterly unlike the fat physique I'd seen in the game.
Maybe the world I remembered and this place, right now, were somehow out of sync.
A sharp sense of déjà vu rang in my head, just like when I'd faced Franz Eldin.
Familiar yet unfamiliar, clearly wrong but impossible to pinpoint why... that kind of sensation.
Was the Emperor I was seeing now really that Emperor?
Even as I thought that, images of the enemies I'd faced on the Northern Frontline, and Irena and Freya, flashed through my mind.
I couldn't properly confirm which side it was, nor could I be certain.
Instead, I raised my champagne glass and scanned the nobles, searching for anyone connected to the Red Star.
The banquet's fervor was in full swing, the clink of champagne glasses never ceasing.
Right after the Emperor's speech ended, the children of high nobles and generals began cautiously gathering around me.
At first, it was just simple congratulations.
It seemed perfectly polite toward the hero of the battlefield.
But soon, the atmosphere shifted.
"That was such a moving story, Duke Ian. Your exploits on the Northern Frontline are the stuff of legends."
"I know, right? My father keeps saying how grateful he is every day that he came back safe thanks to you, Duke Ian."
A noble lady in a pink dress lifted the hem of her skirt slightly and offered a cautious smile.
The woman beside her, her silver hair neatly braided, covered her mouth with a fan and smiled with her eyes.
Ladies flanked me on both sides from behind as well.
For some reason, they were stroking my forearms.
"If we could hear about your experiences on the battlefield directly... would you accept an invitation to our house's banquet?"
"Me too. Meeting someone who fought on the Northern Frontline and exchanging words with him has been my lifelong dream... I mean it."
At a glance, the conversation centered on awe for the war hero, but their gazes were clear enough.
Not for the hero who led the Northern Frontline to victory, but the eyes of predators spotting clueless prey.
They all reached out subtly yet brazenly toward my collar, arms, and the backs of my hands.
To them, I was the most attractive presence in this room right now.
And it wasn't just the tremendous merits and feats from the battlefield that made this war hero so appealing.
—Looks.
The body I'd possessed, Ian Valtazar, fell into the handsome category.
While rolling around the North, I hadn't properly trimmed my beard, so it hadn't stood out amid the mess.
But now, dressed up neatly for the banquet, my hidden features were finally revealed.
Even the scars crossing my lips and brow from battlefield wanderings had sublimated into charm.
For these noble ladies, marrying a war hero was commonplace in the literature they enjoyed.
"Duke Ian, you don't have a fiancée yet... do you?"
"Is there someone who's captured your heart? I heard there weren't many women up North."
"You don't need to go back, do you? This place is better than the North, isn't it?"
As three or four ladies in dazzling dresses surrounded me in a line, I naturally stepped back half a pace.
But even that was interpreted as shyness, drawing them even closer.
—And right at that moment.
"Ian."
"Lord Ian."
Clack, clack.
Along with the refined sound of heels, Freya and Irena appeared simultaneously from the far side of the banquet hall.
Their expressions as they approached from afar were rigid, completely at odds with their glamorous attire.
Until moments ago, they'd been surrounded by other noblemen, exchanging greetings, but at some point, they'd glared at the crowd around me and stood up without a word.
"Ah, there you are."
As I greeted them, Irena approached with a faint smile.
"Sorry I'm late, Ian. But... quite a few uninvited guests, huh?"
Freya smiled softly too, but her eyes were chilling.
"The banquet's too crowded. Lord Ian, you just got back from the North; shouldn't you catch your breath a bit?"
"Right. Ian's always preferred quiet since his frontline days."
"Exactly. He doesn't seem all that comfortable with strangers getting too close."
The two women's voices weren't loud.
But strangely, they made the surrounding ladies' faces stiffen.
One was a war hero in her own right, one of the Empire's three Aura users.
The other was the head of the Nordelheim Ducal House, guardians of the North for 400 years.
They were worlds apart from the noble ladies clinging to Ian.
And if the three of us had already gotten acquainted on the Northern Frontline,
it made it clear our relationship with Ian went beyond mere acquaintances.
Irena stepped up and smoothly took my arm.
"Let's step out for some air. The atmosphere here's too stuffy."
Freya naturally attached herself to my other side, glancing at the other ladies.
After two months traveling stuck together, they synced perfectly.
"Could you give us some space? We have private matters to discuss with our battlefield comrade."
Her words were gentle, but firm enough to brook no refusal.
A couple retreated with embarrassed smiles, while a few gripped their wine glasses tightly, grinding their teeth inwardly.
The last one, hesitating for a long while, finally spoke.
"...But it's a banquet, so we should all enjoy it together—"
Irena flared her Aura and narrowed her eyes.
A ghostly figure rose behind her back.
"H-Hiiik...!"
Even the final lady backed away and quietly vanished into the crowd.
In the strangely quiet center of the banquet hall, Irena casually spoke up.
"Ian, are those kinds of girls your type?"
Freya chimed in from the side.
"For real, Lord Ian?"
"Don't misunderstand. Not at all."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ For a while, I stuck close to Irena and Freya, then slipped away using the restroom as an excuse.
They tried to follow even there, so I stopped them.
I cracked open the grand banquet hall door and stepped out.
Cool night breeze greeted me.
As I moved to walk away, a woman leaning against the wall outside the hall caught my eye.
"Hello."
Aquamarine hair, turquoise eyes.
An appearance I didn't remember.
"Who are you?"
"Ah, I'm Arianne Castora."
Arianne Castora.
A name I didn't recall.
"Looks like you were waiting for me. If it's not too rude, may I ask your business?"
The woman who introduced herself as Arianne Castora paused, as if choosing her words.
"I have something I want to ask."
"...?"
"Are you perhaps the eldest son of a count's family?"
The moment I enlisted on the Northern Frontline, the Valtazar name vanished.
I was here now under the identity of 'Ian' alone.
Even as I thought to deny it, Arianne beat me to it.
"More precisely... Sylvia's big brother... the son of Count Tyran Valtazar?"
Having asked that, Arianne peered straight into my face.
She tilted her head, as if comparing me to someone in her memory.
Did she know the old me?
If not...
I stepped forward, closing in on Arianne.
There was a significant height difference, so my shadow fell over her head.
"It sounds like you're asking as if you know my identity. Do you, perhaps, know me?"
At those words, Arianne's turquoise eyes visibly shook.
She rolled her eyes and laughed awkwardly.
"Ah, haha... well, that's..."
"—Then may I ask one question in return?"
"Go ahead."
"What relation do you have to this Ian Valtazar you're talking about?"
Arianne fell silent for a moment.
She closed her eyes, then looked up at me and answered.
"We were engaged."
...Not that side, then.
I shook my head, denying her suspicion.
"Just a coincidence of names. I'm not that Ian Valtazar."
Arianne seemed doubtful at first, but soon nodded in acceptance.
"I must have been rude. The similar name threw me off."
"Ian's a common name. No harm done. Well, I'll be going then. I'm a bit busy."
I started walking away.
From behind, as I walked off into the distance, I heard Arianne muttering.
She probably thought it was quiet, but my superhuman hearing caught it effortlessly.
"There's no way that wastrel bastard died so pathetically..."
Arianne muttered softly, furrowing her brows.
"The scars, maybe. Face doesn't ring a bell, but the eyes and build are definitely different."
Her gaze lingered on my retreating arm and shoulder.
"...Yeah, probably not. No way that wastrel racked up achievements like that. Unless he ran off disgracefully and deserted."
She let out a breath laced with laughter.
"Right, that makes sense."