A Piercing Scream
Within the imperial palace grounds stood a private chapel.
A select gathering of the Empire’s most exalted figures had convened within its consecrated walls. The Emperor sat flanked by his direct lineage and the imperial kin residing in the capital. Beside them sat the Cardinal of the Imperial Capital Diocese and several key ministers from the Court Department. These were individuals of such immense stature that the word "privileged" failed to do them justice. They belonged to a class for whom the ordinary laws of the land did not apply; their crimes were resolved quietly among power brokers through mutual agreements, and any lesser transgression was simply swept under the rug.
Arrayed along one side sat influential figures from beyond the capital's borders. Duke Arcknight, ruler of the vastest domain after the imperial crownlands, stood among a handful of patriarchs and envoys representing the Empire’s foremost aristocratic houses. They had been lingering in the capital ever since the great Kodana crash began.
To see the imperial house, the high nobility, and the Church all assembled in a single room was a vanishingly rare occurrence.
"...Was it really necessary to take things this far?"
"Brother—no, His Imperial Majesty hasn't convened something like this since his coronation. But this isn't an imperial family matter we can just hush up behind closed doors."
"Good grief... What on earth possessed him to do such a thing? Tsk."
Only the Emperor's closest kin dared whisper among themselves. The rest of the assembly held their tongues, their grim expressions fixed on a single figure.
Disheveled, brittle hair and dark shadows bruised beneath his eyes. A young man who coughed hollowly, clearing his throat as if desperately feigning illness.
It was the Second Prince.
Seated uncomfortably upon an armless wooden chair, shifting his darting eyes, his wretched appearance was indistinguishable from that of a condemned criminal awaiting the headsman's axe.
Not so long ago, nobody could have fathomed that the Second Prince would fall this low. In truth, the reality had been the exact opposite. He had commanded a glowing reputation throughout the capital, quietly pulling ahead in the succession race. With the Emperor in robust health, speaking of the next reign was an unspoken taboo, yet court politicians had increasingly bet on the Second Prince as the most likely successor. It was all thanks to a series of moves he had made before the crash—moves that, at the time, appeared extraordinarily shrewd.
"It is true that Hero Kwon Hee-jin has an abrasive demeanor. It is also true that in both character and competence, he falls well short of past Heroes. Yet the Goddess surely had a purpose in dispatching him to oppose the Demon King."
When Kwon Hee-jin was first summoned and universally despised, it was the Second Prince who had stepped forward to shield him. One might argue that siding with the Hero was merely sensible since you couldn't exactly return a summoned savior, but at the time, it had been a daring gamble. Rumors were rampant that Kwon Hee-jin would be routed before ever managing to fell a single one of the Four Heavenly Kings.
"I am aware that with the Hero's rising renown, Kodana coins are being traded in private backchannels, causing undesirable friction. Why not establish an official exchange so transactions can proceed safely and transparently? This is the Hero's own proposal."
It was the Second Prince who had collaborated with the Hero to push for the creation of the Kodana Exchange. Thanks to that initiative, Kodana, once bartered informally, finally gained a standardized market price. The wildly fluctuating prices—which had danced solely to the whims and cunning of individual traders—were unified, drastically reducing disputes arising from private dealings.
And there had been an even more decisive achievement.
"The Hero gave me his personal word that he would not seek profit from Kodana. He stated that the war funds raised during the initial issuance were more than sufficient. He merely views the nobility's investment in Kodana favorably."
It was the Second Prince who preemptively prevented the issuer—the Hero himself—from personally dumping Kodana onto the open market. The Hero had been officially barred from participating in the exchange at that time. This single measure erased investors' deepest dread, for only the Hero possessed the ability to mint Kodana, and only the Hero knew the coin's true circulating supply.
Stacking achievement upon achievement, the Second Prince had steadily expanded his political base. Stripped of pretense, he had merely played patron and mouthpiece to Kwon Hee-jin. But in an era where the Kodana mania swept the Empire like wildfire, intimacy with the Hero was the supreme currency. Countless nobles viewed the Second Prince as a walking mountain of gold purely because he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the savior.
Yet now, every single one of those glorious triumphs had transformed into an iron shackle around his neck.
"Your Highness. At what precise moment did you become aware of the Hero's false report? Please, do not insult our intelligence by claiming you only learned of it after offering that over-the-counter deal to our Holy Kingdom."
The Cardinal pressed him with frantic desperation, already looking half out of his mind.
"There are rumors that Your Highness dispatched an agent to the exchange right after the crash to liquidate your personal holdings. Clarify this at once."
The Minister of Justice was relentless, seizing even on unverified gossip to batter the prince. In truth, more than half of the scathing inquiries originated from the Minister of Justice's lips.
Clinging to a sliver of hope, the Second Prince cast a pleading glance toward his father, but the Emperor was no longer a shield he could hide behind.
I have to survive this. Somehow.
The Second Prince desperately clung to his fraying consciousness. He was plagued by profound exhaustion, having failed to sleep a wink ever since his scheme to frame Eric Wellesley blew up in his face.
Sharp, agonizing questions rained down upon him under the guise of an official inquiry. Because the Emperor presided over the chamber, no overt curses were uttered, but venomous hostility dripped from every clipped syllable.
How could he possibly slip through this noose?
Deposition. Expulsion from the palace. The sheer terror of being stripped of his imperial lineage without even receiving a token title, compounded by the horrifying certainty that his entire fortune would be confiscated.
...Should I pin the whole disaster on the Hero?
The thought had certainly crossed his mind.
No... the Hero is indispensable. We committed the sins together, but if I push too hard, I might be the only one sent to the scaffold.
The Second Prince was not irreplaceable. There were other princes and princesses.
The Hero, however, was singular.
Unless he perished or betrayed humanity outright, no replacement would ever arrive. Even if he died, there was no guarantee the Goddess would promptly summon another. Of course, once the world discovered the severed pinky finger, expectations surrounding the Hero would crater, but an outright purge remained improbable. How could mortal men hang the savior chosen and sent by the Goddess herself?
In the end, he had to weather the storm by his own wits. Steeling his resolve, the Second Prince stared straight ahead.
First and foremost, he needed to disentangle himself from the allegations of fabricating reports. Summoning every ounce of theatrical poise, the Second Prince gave a casual shrug. Addressing the Minister of Justice, who had been hounding him with particular ferocity, he spoke.
"Minister of Justice. You persist in framing this as though a 'false report' were an established fact, but your premise is inherently flawed. The Hero never submitted a false report."
"What did Your Highness just say?"
"I said it was not a falsehood. If one must label it, call it a good-faith report marred by unintentional oversight."
"..."
The Minister of Justice's jaw twitched, but the Second Prince maintained his unflinching composure and unfurled his hastily cobbled-together rationale.
"Even before lizardmen like the current Beast King were incorporated into the Demon King's forces, our people clashed with their kind on countless occasions. Though their builds and countenances vary from tribe to tribe, they all share a single biological trait. Are you aware of it?"
"...Pray enlighten us."
"When backed into a corner, they possess an instinct to feign death. Any veteran adventurer or seasoned knight knows this well."
A preposterous lie: that Beast King Leoneo, humbled by the Hero, had escaped destruction by playing dead.
The gallery of nobles erupted in sheer disbelief. Several let slip hollow chuckles, temporarily forgetting the Emperor's solemn presence.
"Does he take a Heavenly King for a stray dog? What utter nonsense."
"Thanatosis? That's a theoretical concept found in scholarly treatises! How many souls have ever witnessed such a thing in real life?"
Unfazed, the Second Prince pressed on. Only through brazen, unapologetic audacity could he buy himself time.
"Did none of you read the reports stating the Beast King was riddled with horrific wounds when he broke into Rancart to rescue his kin? The Hero genuinely believed Leoneo was dead!"
"...Are you saying the Hero didn't even bother to verify the Beast King's corpse?"
"I know! The Hero was careless! And he acknowledged it honestly the instant the controversy erupted. I saw the deep guilt written across his face."
Murmurs rippled through the chapel as heads began to tilt in confusion. Oblivious to the true reason for their reactions and convinced his argument was gaining traction, the Second Prince doubled down.
"It was an unprecedented crisis! Beast King Leoneo is an anomaly entirely immune to the sacred power of paladins. Even after the Holy Kingdom's elite paladin order was wiped out to the last man, the Hero did not panic—he stood his ground and triumphed over the Beast King! You must at least grant him credit for that!"
"...!"
"I understand why suspicions fall upon me. But I swear on my honor: neither the Hero nor I had the slightest inkling that the Beast King was still drawing breath. The Hero only slipped out of the capital to avoid needless misunderstandings!"
The Second Prince clamped his mouth shut after this desperate monologue, inwardly congratulating himself on a brilliant defense. He had hardly cleared his name, but at the very least, he had stirred up reasonable doubt and opened room for debate.
Yet what was this?
Every face in the chapel was frozen in absolute, hollow stupefaction. Baffled by their horror, the Second Prince swallowed dryly.
Moments later, the silence cracked.
"Wiped out... to the last man...?"
The Cardinal muttered the words vacantly, before suddenly shrieking, "No! No, it cannot be!" and violently slamming his palms against his ears. He struck himself over and over, as if trying to physically purge the words he had just heard, desperate to pretend the sound had never reached his soul.
"AAAAAAAAAGH—!!"
A piercing, hysterical shriek tore through the silence of the consecrated hall.
Under normal circumstances, someone would have stepped in to restrain the frantic prelate. Regrettably, no one in the room possessed the sanity to do so.
"So... at the exact moment the Beast King was revealed to be alive... Your Highness was physically with the Hero? And the Hero was in the capital all along, only fleeing the city after the chaos erupted...?"
Only when the Minister of Justice wheezed out those words in a trembling voice did the Second Prince realize what he had just confessed.
He hadn't revealed the severed finger, nor the illicit nominee accounts he had operated since the market's inception—but that offered cold comfort now.
"Ah."
A faint, pathetic gasp escaped the Second Prince's lips.
At the same moment, the Minister of Justice collapsed weakly into his seat. The aging Cardinal, still clutching his bruised ears, dissolved into uncontrollable, wracking sobs. A nobleman who had remained stoic throughout the session suddenly choked out a bizarre snort, bursting into manic, howling laughter even as tears streamed down his cheeks.
The Emperor clamped his eyes shut in profound weariness. Even the First Prince, who had maintained an air of regal indifference, stared at his younger brother with eyes that pleaded to be deceived.
For a long time, the chapel was consumed by a harrowing cacophony of wailing, manic laughter, bitter groans, and strangled sighs.
Amidst the unmitigated pandemonium, a few perfunctory follow-up questions were barely eked out. Naturally, no miraculous turn of events occurred. The official inquiry concluded in utter ruin.
And soon after, three decrees of punishment descended upon the Second Prince.