Chapter 33
In the end, under the emperor's outrageous conduct, we were practically chased out of the imperial palace and had no choice but to return to the academy in the carriage we'd arrived in, without uttering a single word.
"……."
"……."
The princess sitting silently across from me since we'd boarded the carriage made the atmosphere so awkward it was killing me. From that recent conversation, it was clear she'd been all but abandoned by her father. Spouting some lame consolation line to someone treated like that could just reopen old wounds even deeper.
"What an idiot, huh?"
As I sat there quietly waiting for our arrival, the princess murmured softly.
"If it was gonna end up like this from the start, I should've just played cute and cashed in on my looks. Instead, I strutted around like I owned the place and got nothing for it. Heh... kekeke...."
"……."
"Y'know, I'm pretty confident in my face. Wanna taste my virginity right here? My mood's in the gutter anyway—seeing that ragtag first prince lose his bride's purity to someone like you might actually cheer me up a bit."
"Princess......"
I hurriedly reined in her wild, unhinged remark, which sounded like she'd completely lost it.
"I know, I know—it was a joke. Must suck for you. Your one shot at sleeping with me, gone. Heh!"
Her vulgar words, tossed aside all pretense of etiquette, came with eyes that screamed a shattered soul—one that had no choice but to let everything go.
Was I... like that too?
To a child, parents are heaven and earth—their entire world. Even if ignored, cursed, or beaten, kids cling to the belief that someday, those parents will turn back with open arms. But when those parents vanish? It means being abandoned in soul-crushing solitude, with no ladder to climb or rope to grasp, just sinking into the abyss alone.
That's what she was going through now.
And that's what I'd gone through in my past life.
My father was trash.
Ah, not the one now—the one from my previous life.
A worm who threw tantrums if his gut wasn't swimming in booze every day. A subhuman lower than dirt, beating his wife and son like rats.
Mom couldn't take the violence anymore and fled, leaving me behind. Unfortunately, I took after her looks, so every glance at my face doubled the beatings—her share on top of mine.
I hated my father more than anything in the world. And after him, that mother of mine.
It's not like I did nothing. I'd greet him with a smile, clean the house spotless, beg on street corners for pocket change. But all I ever got back was merciless violence.
I don't even remember why he hit me. Gambling debts, business bankruptcy, an affair—could've been any of it.
Then one day, my father died.
More precisely, I killed him.
He stumbled home blackout drunk, swinging those thick hands twice as hard as usual. Eventually, he went too far and tried strangling me to death.
His line crossed, my vision went red. As consciousness faded, I smashed the nearest object into the side of his head. The moment his grip loosened, I bolted to the kitchen.
Even as a kid, I knew knives were no joke. Rifling through drawers, I grabbed a kitchen knife and brandished my scrawny body like a threat.
He found my rebellion hilarious, staggering toward me slowly—
Stumble!
Crash!!
When I came to, my father's grudge-filled face stared back, his throat impaled on the knife in my hand as he lay dying.
Drunk and misstepping, his weight drove the blade I'd been holding straight into his neck. Accidental death by his own clumsiness.
The cops still nabbed me. Sure, I'd killed a man, but evidence of his chronic abuse overflowed, and they ruled it self-defense for survival. Acquitted.
But the fact remained: I'd killed someone with my own hands. My father.
You killed him... YOU!!
Logically, I knew he deserved death—a man who'd never once parented properly. But his blood ran hot like anyone else's, and the tactile memory of flesh under my fingertips haunted me every time I closed my eyes.
In my past life, that father became a vicious specter, tormenting me endlessly. Even in this new world, it festered as my inner demon, gnawing at my soul.
The reason I became an Aura Lord in this world? Sure, I had sword talent and trained like a maniac.
But the real key was conquering that inner demon.
"Mars, why aren't you swinging the sword?"
It was a few years after opening my eyes here. Close territories made us tight with the Helios family, so I'd tag along with my father to their estate now and then.
True to their swordmaster lineage, Polo started training young, and as his peer, I got the honor of wielding the same blade.
But.
"......Just... y'know."
I never picked up the sword.
Couldn't.
Die! Die!
Drop dead and rot in hell!!
How dare a patricidal monster show his face?!
Every time I gripped one, curses swirled in my ears. My father's dying scorn, wails, mockery—echoing from all sides.
This fantasy world made the specter's voice all too vivid, refusing to let me hold a blade.
"......A demon possesses you."
I flinched.
"The heart demon that stalls even late-stage Sword Masters at growth's limit... and you, so young? So deep, too... What on earth happened......?"
"......"
"Sorry, but that's beyond me. Wounds heal, curses lift—but heart demons? You conquer them alone."
"I... see."
"One bit of advice, though."
?
The count smirked and dropped the simplest, most absurd answer.
"Slash it."
"......?"
"Cut out that demon eating at you."
"I won't pry why a kid like you has one."
"I've wrestled mine before."
"But if you want it gone? Slash with all you've got."
"......You're thinking it now: 'How's a guy who can't even hold a sword supposed to slash a demon?'"
"But it's true."
"Funny, right? Not some overwhelming foe, incurable rot, or foreign curse—just your own heart's nagging doubt turns a person frail."
"Flip it, though: it's just doubt."
"Don't cage yourself to invisible phantoms. Slash 'em and step out."
Thanks to the count's words, I overcame my heart demon young. My growth skyrocketed, reaching Aura Lord's entry by my late teens.
Typically, the wall before Master-to-Lord transcendence is that demon: anxiety, despair, fear, frustration, rage over your limits.
Conquering it all propels you beyond humanity to Aura Lord.
His insight let me sever mine early, stepping into transcendence before twenty.
That was my decisive trigger.
"Tch. What a pain."
The carriage finally dropped us at the academy and left. The princess trudged to her room, eyes fragile like they might shatter any second.
Normally, I'd shrug off her marriage. Helping nudge her and Polo closer? Just business—paid work for fair pay. I'm no romantic risking life for a stranger.
Creteia wasn't some hellhole either. Not imperial power, but solid enough. The first prince wouldn't be mad enough to mistreat an imperial princess.
Selling out might not even be a bad deal.
But.
How do you ignore eyes like that?
She didn't show it outright, but she was just another poor girl lost in indifference's violence. Parents worth less than none. A kid turned loner in between.
"......Tch. Pisses me off."
Not like me—killing my own parents to claim a throne—but that sting of rejection from the one you crave love from? I knew it well.
Pity? Shared trauma? Or did she mirror that desperate kid begging salvation from my father's fists?
Whatever. Seeing her plight tugged at me. I wanted to save our princess.
"Haha! Nice to meet ya! Couldn't wait to see the woman who's gonna be my wife!"
Wait... what the hell?
An unexpected encounter.
That brief meeting threw my plans into total chaos.