Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: Conspiracy
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"Isabella. Look at this. Carousel, a carousel!"
Azar's fussing made Isabella press her hand to her forehead and shake her head.
The sight of an adult noble perched on a hobby horse with reins, chattering like a child—what could one even call it?
Charitably, he hadn't yet been stained by the world's grime. Less kindly, he was just immature.
"Hahaha! This is fun! Why doesn't our territory have one?"
The manpower-driven carousel must have been quite the thrill for him.
In the time it took to look away, Azar had vanished with some noblewoman. By morning, he'd reappeared as if nothing had happened, dragging Isabella along with shouts of a famous circus troupe in town, laughing more gleefully than the children.
"Ah, that was fun. Isabella, you give it a try. This thing's the real deal."
Having ridden the carousel well past his allotted time, Azar finally returned.
Isabella shook her head.
"I'm good."
"Really? Shame. You look beat, though. Were you fretting because your brother vanished last night?"
"No way."
Isabella answered firmly.
But just as Azar said, she hadn't slept a wink.
The dark circles shadowing her eyes were proof enough.
Honestly, she hadn't given Azar a second thought.
He might seem immature, but Azar drew lines meticulously. He was the type who never acted if it risked causing any real trouble.
His fondness for women was a slight issue, but Azar was the rising border count's firm heir.
Rumors abounded that his talents had already surpassed his father's.
Azar clicked his tongue.
"Tsk tsk. Then it's Crown Prince Reinhardt, huh?"
"......"
"It's all over your face. Let's see... friends up top, lovers down below?"
"What are you even talking about?"
"Hmm, Crown Prince Reinhardt. The rumors do seem way off."
Azar stroked his chin.
Honestly, Crown Prince Reinhardt had exceeded expectations.
The tales of a mad prince were clearly distorted.
Or maliciously spread by someone.
Azar never expected much from people. Humans only brought disappointment, so better not to hope—that was his standing belief.
Yet Reinhardt was a surprise.
Even hearing bits from Isabella hadn't sparked much anticipation.
But his display had truly overwhelmed the crowd.
He knows how to stage a show worthy of himself.
That was no small skill.
To wield one's status and power fully, crafting one's image firsthand—far from easy.
And he'd used Princess Carmell's debutante ball for it.
His image was now seared into countless nobles' minds.
Such a shocking entrance made him unforgettable.
With nobles flocking to Laurel Tailor Shop, he's already flexing influence.
One reason for the circus visit was the Laurel Tailor Shop en route.
Rumors that Reinhardt's suit hailed from there had spread like wildfire overnight among the central nobles.
The shop was already mobbed.
Nobles in line, citizens gawking.
Reinhardt wasn't some mere clown good at shows.
He could wield real sway.
Soon enough, every noble would don suits in that style.
"Isabella. Of all my siblings, you're the one I treasure most."
"Enough sweet talk. You've had your fun—let's head home, brother."
"Hear me out. I support you becoming a knight."
Isabella's face stiffened in an instant.
She hadn't even convinced the family elders fully.
Least of all her siblings. It was an even bigger secret from heir Azar.
"Did Mother tell you?"
If anyone had, it'd be her.
Mother opposed Isabella knighthood fiercely.
Azar shook his head.
"No one breathed a word. I already knew—no need to ask."
"You knew and still back me?"
A border count's daughter as a knight?
No easy feat. No one would accept it.
The family honor could suffer.
"Didn't I say? You're my favorite sibling. The rest live like clockwork—no fun at all."
"This isn't something 'fun' excuses."
"No, it's plenty. Can't picture a dull life. Anyway... become a knight, or I'll show you how to tango with Crown Prince Reinhardt."
"......I'll hear it."
"Persephone Grand Duke's adopted daughter joined the Imperial Dragon Knights as an apprentice, right?"
He'd promised a way, but this came out of nowhere.
Apprentice knight, not fiancée, though.
How he dug up such fresh intel—impressive, really.
But if Azar said it, it was fact.
He'd never been wrong, as far as she knew.
He'd probably caught on because she'd stared too hard.
But even genius Azar missed one thing.
Her own heart.
"What does that have to do with me? Brother Azar, to clear things up—I don't love His Highness Reinhardt..."
"Oh, perfect timing—he's passing by."
Azar cut her off, shifting his gaze.
Isabella's eyes quivered as she followed.
"Imperial carriage!"
"It's His Highness Reinhardt!"
"Again?"
Citizens took notice too.
Not much enthusiasm, but an imperial coach was prime spectacle.
Soon, it pulled up to Laurel Tailor Shop.
"Hmm, he's a true ruler."
Azar nodded.
Right now, Reinhardt was hammering home the final nail.
Talent for swaying people. Put differently, talent for dominion.
Reinhardt ruled properly.
Azar turned back to Isabella.
His face hardened coldly as he spoke.
"Now. Your choice. But you can't have both. Knight or him. Dream or love?"
"What are you saying, Azar?"
"Walk away now, become a knight—the strongest. Head there, claim your love."
"What does it have to do with me?"
"Everything. This split-second pick changes your life."
Isabella wavered.
Dream or love...
Azar forced the dilemma.
Maybe he'd orchestrated this from the start.
Predicted Reinhardt's route, nagged her to the carousel at dawn.
Azar was capable.
Post-maturity, the house tripled in power. He rocketed their name even among central nobles.
All Azar's calls.
In the territory, two nicknames stuck: future-seeing genius, or world's luckiest bastard.
His words became reality.
This choice's future would too.
No middle path.
Pick one.
Dream or love.
Her mouth went dry as Isabella said,
"I..."
*
I'd come to Laurel Tailor Shop to make an impression.
Announce Andrew as my chief designer, give citizens a proper look at the new formal style.
"What's that getup?"
"Kinda sharp, though?"
"Don't imperials wear flashier stuff?"
Citizens buzzed as I stepped from the carriage.
But the nobles' reactions were fiercer.
"Isn't that His Highness the Crown Prince?"
"I came for one just like it."
"Looks even sharper in good light!"
Nobles from the party.
I felt their stares shift.
I'd hijacked Princess Carmell's debutante without a care.
Plus ties to Persephone Grand Duke—power-hounds like nobles sniffed it out, mobbing the tailor under clothes pretense to network.
"That style trending with nobles?"
"Laurel's run by Andrew, no?"
"Why nobles at a dying shop..."
Onlooker citizens just puzzled.
Failing Andrew's shop swarmed by nobles.
As if he'd tailored the Crown Prince's suit.
And they craved those suits.
Small fry only, but starts like this.
Local heavies, sure—but capital small-timers to me.
No bother.
They proved my worth leaped from zero.
"Oh, Your Highness!"
Andrew bolted out, prostrating.
Face lost between dream and waking.
"Why skulk here, not my palace?"
"P-pardon? Th-that's..."
"Did 'chief designer' sound like hot air?"
Murmurs rippled.
"Hear that? Now?"
"Insane. Crown Prince's chief designer..."
"That Andrew?"
Andrew blanched.
"I-I'm a commoner, Your Highness. Please take it back."
"Title the snag? Relax. I don't rate your cuts below Oscar's at Moonlight Tailors next door."
"N-no, it's not..."
"Special talent, skill? I take them—even slaves. All exceptional gifts get due honor."
"......!"
Andrew's eyes shook madly.
Risky words.
But mad prince saying it? No danger flagged.
Knowing that freed him utterly.
"Andrew. You've got it."
"Th-thank you, Your Highness. Overwhelmed."
Reality sinking in, tears brimmed in Andrew's eyes.
Frankly, figured empty flattery.
Crown Prince's chief designer? For his ilk? Laughable.
Fine tailoring bridged no status chasm.
Nobles distant; palace sky-high.
Yet not flattery, he insists.
Shop return: no hopes.
Rewards sufficed for bolder designs.
But...
Tears flooded.
Not Andrew alone.
Citizens reeled too.
Slaves with talent honored properly?
Madness.
But Crown Prince's mad rep made it fit.
Others: sneers.
Honor true skill?
Any special talent, anyone?
Proof live: failing tailor Andrew, courted by Crown Prince.
Hook set deep.
I smirked inside.
Sensing the stir.
All born chasing possible 'epic,' sure.
Plus manpower crunch.
Palace needed my folk.
Beyond nobles, backers scarce.
Not hollow: ability, will—anyone welcome.
"Still, shop expansion costs a fortune..."
"Your Highness, may I invest?"
"Count me in."
Nobles clamored to invest.
Not my penniless ploy.
Just testing zeal indirectly.
No outlay, expansion, poach nobles—double win.
"Me too, Your Highness?"
A man approached suddenly.
"You?"
"Versailles heir Azar, Your Highness."
Azar.
Familiar ring.
Tragic genius Azar.
Versailles century genius, vanished post-fall.
Revives, though.
Sister Isabella war-foe vanguard; Azar 'Merchant Emperor.'
Persephone commerce heir, war riches top-three tycoon overnight.
Versailles border boom? Azar, rumor—and true.
Thus,
"With Isabella?"
"Foolish sis chased dreams, Your Highness."
"Dreams?"
Knight path?
Azar said,
"Aye. Her dreams, my reality. Let me join this 'conspiracy' too."
"Conspiracy."
Amusing sort.
Saying conspiracy to Crown Prince's face.
Spot-on, though.
No truer term.
Azar grinned, opening,
"Oh, and the relayed reply? This is it."
Clicked.
Merc King Karbal via Azar?
Join conspiracy...
Accepts offer.
Intent via Azar: gigs, intel.
Odd duo—genius and merc king—but clean. Even if schemes, investment bows to me.
Versailles heir: prime catch.
Fallen past; smooth sailing, central powerhouse potential.
Merchant Emperor? Vine-rolled gourd.
I smiled.
"Welcome, Azar."
Arms wide.
*
That day on, I purged the Crown Prince Palace wholesale.
Special talents, top skills—mass hires refilled it fresh.
Maids too.
Not full, but tight-lipped crew for max secrecy.
Upcoming moves stay locked.
Pull some from Special Prison.
Past palace mages who clocked my gift, prime villains included.
Void mage hunt doubles as extraction.
Caught? Crown Prince or not, death row.
High stakes, high worth.
Plans demand their edge.
And hit the palace vault.
...Palace vault raid, that is.
[Conspiracy] End