Chapter 102
Chapter 102
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: The Second Prince's Pure Love
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I got out of jail after a bit of a scolding. His gracious Second Highness didn't give me anything too harsh. It felt less like resentment and more like a plea to please show some self-restraint.
The air outside the prison felt different. No matter how nicely they'd dressed up that place to make it livable, it was still no match for the vibrant streets—dozens of times better, really.
Second Prince Irid walked through Crown Hall with familiar ease. He'd hidden his golden hair with magic and dressed like your average passing mercenary, full of street cred. It was a strange sight.
His face was just too handsome—even in plain clothes, he stood out like a fantasy novel protagonist. At least it drew less attention than his golden locks fluttering in the wind.
"So, how was the Academy?"
"Ah, it was great."
I answered reflexively to the sudden question, but it was my honest opinion.
Life at the Academy had been good. It was a bit lonely without the Magic Tower Master, but that was sorted now... Bickering with Pinvalrez was fun, and even though things got messy in the middle, we ran a session.
And teaching the kids turned out to be more fulfilling than I'd expected.
I'm a professor, not a dungeon maker. I didn't just toss them into a labyrinth and say, "Figure out how to survive on your own."
I was running custom analyses on each one—how much they'd grown, what they were lacking, what talents needed awakening. And I formatted it all neatly into status windows.
Name: That kid with the mole on their face who kinda looks like a pebble
Strength: C | Agility: B | Magic Power: C ... (etc., omitted).
Like that.
It felt like playing a nurturing game, and I got really into it. I even set personal goals, like making sure that one kid could at least hit silver-rank mercenary status once they graduated.
Speaking of the Academy, I'd basically been on long-term dispatch to Crown Hall, right?
But canceling classes for personal reasons was a no-go. So, before I left, I set up a mini-game for them to practice on their own.
A tower of trials! Made with simulations and combat AI...
It had ten floors, each with a boss monster.
They could tackle it solo or in teams. Unlimited attempts per day, as long as time allowed. I'd announced that anyone who cleared all ten floors by the time I got back would get a wish voucher.
I even added that using the voucher meant they could skip the rest of my lectures and still get an A+.
It was a project inspired by some fun archetypes that popped up from the endless combat-looping AI—like the draw-and-slash fanatic or the chain-scythe Jenny.
Wouldn't it be great for them to rack up combat experience? Fighting weird-weapon bosses without risking their lives—that kind of practice was bound to be invaluable.
"Give me one apple. No... you want one too?"
"If you're offering, sure."
"Two it is, then. These ones."
The Second Prince ordered apples from a fruit vendor auntie. He had the pro touch, picking two good ones and avoiding the bruised stuff.
He tossed one my way.
I caught it with both hands. He crunched into his with a satisfying crack...
I rubbed the shiny surface of mine. Something felt off.
I scraped it with my nail, and a thin layer flaked off. Looked like some kind of polish. I gave His Highness some sage advice.
"This thing's coated to look tasty, isn't it? Wax or slime or something."
"...Tell me that before I eat it!"
"You should've been more careful. You're too important to risk it."
The prince looked like he wanted to spit out the bite in his mouth but swallowed instead—probably didn't want to litter the street with his royal germs.
"Not spitting it out?"
"Princes can eat weird stuff we pick up. We've got over ten personal priests on call."
Basically, if he got sick, they'd heal him anyway. But that's not what priests are for...
He grimaced but didn't look like he was about to order the fruit lady hanged.
He hadn't always been this folksy with commoners. He'd changed a lot.
"...Ptoo."
He rinsed his mouth with water from his canteen and spat into a dark alley. Still bugged him, huh? He wiped his lips with his sleeve and asked me,
"According to the report I got... you led two students into a crisis?"
"Yeah, uh... there was a little incident. Won't happen again."
"...? What did you do?"
Wait, he wasn't scolding me?
If I said, "I almost smashed their minds trying to beat some sense into their heads!" I'd be in deep trouble. So I changed the subject.
"How about you, Your Highness? How've things been?"
"......"
"Staying healthy?"
"If you're gonna deflect, at least make it convincing."
He scolded lightly but didn't pry further. Looking up at the sky, he let out a world-weary sigh—the kind thick with fatigue.
"Busy rooting out black mages. These smart cockroaches never end. I thought I'd burned them all, but look away for a second and they've multiplied."
"I saw some on the way here."
"Yeah, that... Good work on that front. We needed a shake-up. The power dynamics were too tangled—my faction alone couldn't investigate properly... especially Redburn."
Second Prince Irid crossed his arms and pressed his temple. The name "Redburn" seemed to give him a headache.
"What'd the red-flavor crew do to piss you off?"
Irid was the closest to the imperial throne in this massive empire. Sure, public favorite was still First Princess Elaine... but I knew that was a mask.
I knew how capable he was, too. His skills were mature beyond his years. How do you torment a prince with power and talent like that?
The prince chucked his half-eaten red apple into a roadside bin. Thunk, roll.
"They cut off their tails too cleanly. Let me ask you something—you're basically in the same boat as me for now. If I... if our faction ordered you to quietly sacrifice yourself, would you?"
"If it's your order, I'd have to."
"And then what, once you're back?"
"Chop off your ponytail and prepare to flip sides?"
Irid snapped his fingers.
"Exactly."
"Aha... so Redburn's minions just roll over and die nicely? No spilling secrets or getting swayed?"
"Yeah. Nothing works. No bribes stick, and even torture... some magic in their heads wipes the info clean."
Not absolute loyalty...
That viscount under the red-flavor duke moved on greed, and he had black mages watching him.
If he was truly loyal to the duke, he'd have spent his hypnosis app time building political power instead of mind-controlling women.
"So, circumstances point to Duke Redburn colluding with black mages... but no evidence. Can't touch him. But."
"But we accidentally nailed one."
"Right, mad mage. And... no need to play dumb in front of me anymore. You purged black mages from the Academy, then followed the trail to Crown Hall."
"......?"
"The Academy stunt alone was merit enough... If you're piling on more, that means you're aiming higher. Be straight with me. What do you want from me?"
This guy's suspicion radar was pinging again...
No, wait—he was thinking straight this time. Who'd believe a guy who bagged a pack of black mages at the Academy just happened to snag more in Crown Hall?
Sure, at the Academy it was literally tripping over them. In Crown Hall, I did chase the Violet Magic Tower traitor bait like a bull... but it started coincidental-ish. Not my original plan, anyway.
So Irid was thinking, "What massive favor is this punk saving up his merit balls for?"
Stall for time... Activate meaningful filter.
"Hmm... You really want to know? Maybe better to leave the box closed and let it age."
"I don't like being leashed. Hide your motives, and I won't count it as merit. Claim your reward before I ascend and clam up, mad mage."
Shot down flat.
Wait, what now? He's offering, so I wanna take it... What can a prince do for me?
Money? Funding? Sure, funding's nice... but I can make that anywhere. Too obvious to cash in a prince's wish voucher like that.
Ask for a free promo event for the Violet Tower? Nah, wouldn't boost us much. Nobles chasing his faction would just probe with their kids.
People? Request 100 empire hunks and babes for body scans? Too black-mage creepy—suspicious.
Hmm...
"How about... three get-out-of-jail-free cards? Y'know, forgive my rudeness three times."
"If that's all you want... Modest request."
"On that note, still hung up on Centra? Worried about your love life, Your Highness. Gotta find someone else if you want heirs."
"Watch your mouth or I'll──"
Ah.
The prince's face twisted like he'd been smacked in the back of the head.
This mad mage wasn't asking for something modest!
I misjudged. Shouldn't have fixated on the humble wish—should've worried what he'd do with it.
But still.
Is it right to straight-up tell an imperial scion about his heir issues? It's a politically explosive keyword—the kind that reshapes faction maps based on who he marries.
And this punk knew what I'd done to save Centra!
"No, like... we can't meet anyway, right? Even if you squeeze out an heir, Centra'd be born around when you're a grandpa. Can't live as a bachelor till then...?"
"......"
"And if you're thinking marriage with a 100-year gap... well, that's... y'know?"
"You dog──."
He held back.
Was this an assassination attempt via gut-punching? Second Prince Irid pondered seriously.
But it wasn't idle talk.
Crazy as he was, he was a dimensional mage. One of only two who knew about the Fallen Emperor's traces and Crown Hall 100 years from now. His words, rude as they made his head spin... had to mean something.
He wasn't alone. Irid figured he led or belonged to some faction.
Solo genius? Ruled out after Academy and Crown Hall. Intel like that was too much for one man.
Sniping black mage infiltrators at the Academy and in Crown Hall—solo?
I'd phrased it as "piling merits?" earlier, but really it was "What's your faction scheming?" Answer: "Secret."
His... faction.
A shadowy group centered on the mad mage and Violet Magic Tower Master, goals and depths unknown. They seemed under my banner publicly, but paths just overlapped.
But they wanted the empire's prosperity and survival—that much was sure.
They'd snapped me out of suspicion. Resolved my rift with First Princess Elaine. They'd proven it. So I could trust them.
Cooperation would continue a bit longer. Irid asked outright.
"Worried about the empire?"
"More worried about you, Your Highness. Such a shame... a man with everything, chasing a phantom woman and ending up with nothing."
"If you're worried about me, watch your mouth first, mad mage. My stomach hurts."
"What... Someone'll point it out eventually. This issue."
The mage crossed his arms and spoke casually, like to a buddy. Who else could call out an imperial prince like that? They truly wanted the empire to endure.
So this nutjob wouldn't mince words even if I became emperor. In a way... loyal retainer?
He said,
"If you want to gift Centra a shining empire, maybe think about marriage. Heir problems rock nations. Or... forgetting her might be best for both."
"......"
True.
If we could never meet again, forgetting might be kinder.
Warning me this hard... maybe the mad mage and his crew peeked the future again. Like he said, maybe my heirs tanked the empire far ahead.
Another prophecy shoved in his face.
But curses like that didn't scare him anymore. He'd surpassed the Fallen Emperor one. Couldn't do it twice?
"On the contrary."
"Pardon?"
"If I build an empire so solid and mighty that succession issues won't shake it. Then can't I keep her in my heart forever?"
"...!?"
Screw it—do it. Make a golden age lasting 100 years post-mortem.
Then Centra'd be happy in the future, and he'd be too... without losing this feeling.
"So shove that rude advice, mad mage. I'll handle it."
"...Why waste that pure love on a ghost? Ow!"
He couldn't hold back—palm met mad mage's back with a solid smack. The mage twisted with a yelp.
Irid laughed freely for the first time in ages. Felt great.
"Your Highness, we've sent a protest about the Violet Magic Tower Master entering Crown Hall without permission. Shall we reply that it's baseless?"
"Your Highness! The Capital Knights express regret and warn that if excessive violence occurs, they'll respond swiftly...!!"
"......"
Creak.
Second Prince Irid's neck turned stiffly toward the mad mage.
The mad mage glanced around, then bolted.
Irid grabbed a nearby chair and gave chase.
That day, the mad mage survived thanks to his get-out-of-jail-free card. One left, they say.