Chapter 281
Chapter 281
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 281
Chapter Title: Empire, Heart, Shadow
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Scratch, scratch.
The quill moved without hesitation. When a grand vision filled his mind, the finer details resolved almost instinctively. His aim was the empire's stability and a smooth transfer of power.
Irid surveyed the world from atop his stack of documents.
In the end, power meant seizing control of the flow of interests from the pinnacle. Even bad news could guide people if handled right.
Gather the bad into one basket and discard it, collect scattered loyalties, and redirect wandering hearts to others. It was possible because the imperial heirs were all in the same boat.
(Though it felt unfair in private,) he pinned the floating discontent—blamed externally on his own misstep—onto First Princess Elaine, minimizing losses.
If there was one thing to keep in mind during this process.
"Erase the 'Mad Wizard's' presence."
His footprints needed to be scrubbed away as much as possible.
"...It's difficult. We've suppressed his reputation so far, but this was a disturbance in the capital itself, Your Highness. Tampering rashly could backfire..."
Yet Advisor C balked.
Just as hiding a treasure poorly could confirm its existence, any sign that the Second Prince was concealing information would draw unwanted attention instead.
On this, Irid spoke with conviction.
"It will feel like the heavens themselves are aiding you."
"...Pardon?"
"Exposing it is hard, but hiding it will be easy. Don't worry about backlash—proceed."
"......"
The order made little sense, but C obeyed. Irid didn't seem diminished in intellect, and with his daily sugar intake replenished, there must be some inexplicable basis for it.
Curiosity arose, of course. But he quashed it. Half the world's bizarre tales belonged to wizards, and the other half to the imperial family.
Curiosity about the imperial family's secrets was tantamount to suicide.
This empire—a nation occupying the continent's fertile lands and steadily expanding its influence—never wavered to an unnatural degree.
Imperial heirs were always brilliant. Disasters faded. Wars were won.
When public sentiment overflowed, it subsided; when manpower ran short, it appeared from somewhere; heroes always emerged to quell chaos.
The current empire's greatest swordsman, the Boy Knight, was much the same. Barely a year after the previous "Sword of the Empire" passed from old age, the "Boy Knight" appeared.
It was as if the goddess herself favored and protected the nation.
"...As you wish."
Thus, C could only bow his head in deference. The heirs' judgments proved right in the end, as history attested.
Irid, gazing inscrutably at the rosemary vase for a brief respite, added a weighty matter.
"Also, His Majesty the Emperor has issued a summons. We'll meet him in a week."
"......!!"
"Sister will come too, and Sledo will head up to the capital. She's been wielding her sword far away for the empire, and he's honing his studies at the academy, so it's only right I prepare lodging. See to it."
"Yes. I'll arrange two separate annexes at a distance."
No.
Irid tapped the parchment with his quill and commanded.
"An unfortunate incident at Crown Hall harmed the citizens greatly. In these times, extravagance won't do—so prepare just one estate. I'll stay there too. The two will understand... or so the excuse goes."
"...Won't they worry it signals weakness, like the imperial family can't even prepare three buildings?"
"Better that they think my blunder has me scrambling to scrape together commoners' favor for damage control. We need a pretext like this for a secret meeting."
The summons from the Emperor.
At that audience with the aged sovereign, Irid had questions only he could pose.
For years, he'd cautiously gathered information. As his faction grew and he neared power's core, the image sharpened, the dissonance grew. The "Fake Mad Wizard" incident placed the final period.
Something was there.
And clues to that something lay within the imperial family.
Thus, a discussion among heirs was needed. Collect the fragmented clues, sketch the blueprint. The horrific events at Huahwa Palace in childhood, the abnormal inhuman upbringing. The deep shadow over the imperial family.
And... about the namless First Prince ▒▒▒.
It happened after the First Prince's death.
The First Princess killed the First Prince. That warm, gentle sister poisoned her spiritual pillar, the First Prince. Irid fell into shock, as if the world had crumbled.
He'd thought family could remain harmonious even if the whole world turned enemy...
Right after, a group stormed Huahwa Palace. They were agents of the Emperor's direct Defense Bureau, flipping the estate upside down for a "record purge."
"Who—who are you people!"
They worked in silence, without reply.
They splashed foul-smelling paint on the First Prince's portrait, whitewashing his name from every record. Books burned, memories sank. Like disinfecting contamination.
They didn't stop there.
"Erasing memories...? By whose authority!"
"By His Majesty's command."
"Let—let go...!!"
All Huahwa Palace staff underwent memory wipes, heirs included. Soon, First Prince ▒▒▒'s name vanished everywhere.
But looking back, revisiting that sad page of memory...
Even before it all, in peaceful times.
From some point, something felt off.
He dredged up a memory fragment. Young Irid asks the First Prince on the rocking chair—who seemed suddenly, strikingly mature.
"Brother, your name's weird. Only yours is so unique. Is it because you'll be Emperor?"
"Amusing thought, but no, Irid. It's the reverse..."
Such a conversation happened.
In other words.
Even child Irid noticed how peculiar the name was.
So perhaps... the opposite. It wasn't named oddly from the start.
A normal name, overwritten by something.
An incomprehensible phenomenon. Even on a continent swirling with magic and powers, this felt alien. Irid learned of it from the Boy Knight.
"What's your name?"
"Gone now. I severed the tainted one."
"...If you don't want to say, just say so."
"Haha... When you ascend the throne, you'll know I spoke no lies."
The Boy Knight had said that with a wry smile.
Odd, isn't it? The empire's greatest sword, continent's mightiest—yet his name unknown, called only "Boy Knight."
Now Irid believed him.
He named this anomaly, this power:
Name Eater.
(1) "Something" corrupts a person's name, claiming it as its own.
"Irid!"
"Guhk."
The imperial centrifuge spun again today. Irid endured thirty rotations in Elaine's embrace before his feet touched ground.
Sledo, witnessing it, shivered, wondering if the throne war had begun—should he call for help?
Irid collapsed onto the sofa like a spin-cycled laundry, groaning.
"...You never change, Sister. I've told you, I'm grown."
"It's joy at seeing you. Didn't you miss your big sister?"
"That's different from this. And why not put Sledo through it too?"
"N-no, I'm fine... Really."
Sledo clutched his book defensively. Elaine, tempted to spin the third prince twenty times, shifted focus.
"What's that book?"
"Oh, this... Nothing."
Sledo hastily hid the cover in his robes, but Irid's sharp eyes caught it.
"A fan's book on the 'Blue Rose' active in the capital. Researching the situation? But it's full of the author's opinions—low reliability. Want a proper report instead?"
"Ah, yes, thank you... Brother."
Truth was, those opinions were the point.
The book spun romantic fanfic between the mysterious blue woman prowling Crown Hall and the long-vanished Heart. Sledo loved it.
But no need or courage to say, "Brother, I bought it for the yuri, not politics." Silence was wisest.
Irid turned to Elaine.
"How's the eastern front?"
"Busy. Filling gaps without Sishel, and demon movements are unusually aggressive lately. Just plugged it and came up. Back after seeing His Majesty."
"Need more troops or supplies? I can arrange."
"Heard you nearly executed your aides? Thanks for worrying, but fix your own mess first."
Like the mad wizard's clone barging in with brainwash beams—how to handle that? Irid grumbled inwardly.
Saying it would lead to: "Train, power up, beat them? Still no proper guards? Want a knight from sis?"
He cut to the chase.
"Remember Huahwa Palace?"
"......"
"...How could I forget."
"I've been investigating that day. And... I've come to think all our misfortunes had a reason."
Irid laid out his deductions step by step.
Huahwa Palace, where young heirs resided, was abnormal. Servants rotated weekly; any bonding, and they'd vanish.
No emotional ties formed between heirs and staff; childhood passed in dehumanized isolation.
Even the Emperor never showed his face.
Once thought "training for iron hearts," but if not? If isolation measures?
"From what, exactly?"
"That's why this meeting. Sister, you were closest to Brother... First Prince. You've thought much. So—do you recall when he 'changed'?"
"If when he showed evil, a year after meeting His Majesty."
"No, not revealing true colors. When his name felt off, when he skipped childhood maturity... That time."
Elaine pondered gravely, then recalled.
"After the 'Baptism' from Dragonheart."
Heirs underwent a rite: blessing from the empire's Dragonheart, awakening genius.
Irid's administrative prowess, Elaine's combat sense, and...
First Prince's maturity came post-Baptism.
In other words.
(2) "Something" sustains the imperial family.
Time came.
The grand doors opened, revealing the throne room.
The three heirs stepped forward, cautiously lifting their heads.
An aged man sat on the ornate golden throne.
Stooped back, pallid face, gaunt frame, sunken eyes devoid of vitality. Hands trembled constantly in extreme anxiety; he flinched at every breeze, fearing the world entire.
Time's toll visibly weakened him. Anyone could see: the Emperor's end neared.
The vast hall, red silk path to the throne, empty otherwise. Only the Emperor.
Hollow eyes turned to the heirs. Elaine stepped forward as representative.
"We pay respects to the Emperor of—"
"Enough... You have questions."
The Emperor cut her off with a wave.
Murky blue eyes pierced hearts. The old Emperor sensed Irid's resolve. His son had grown, brushing the empire's secrets.
Fortune or misfortune? Misfortune. Pity filled the Emperor's eyes. Some truths were better unknown.
Yet his life waned; one must succeed him. No reason to seal lips.
Sledo, trembling finely, voiced their discussed query.
"...Your Majesty, what devoured the First Prince... our eldest brother?"
"A god."
Elaine followed.
"Your Majesty, what did you fear so?"
"A god."
Irid stood tall, gazing straight at the old Emperor.
"Your Majesty, what rules the empire?"
"A god."
Two gods exist. The goddess's shadow hides a vast black dragon's gleaming eyes.
He was there at the empire's birth; ancestors called him the Black Dragon Emperor. Whether ancestor was he, or his puppet, unknown.
He wields divine power.
Guides hearts, spawns inexplicable events, twists lives into plays. History's heroes were his creations.
Know why heroic tales brim with pain and woe? A vast will willed it. And that will favors the empire.
The empire is his stage, playground. While his interest holds, it endures.
No incompetent heirs, talents rising amid disasters, empire's eternal claims unlike others—all godly grace.
Yet the god is malevolent.
His cruelty crushes hearts. Humans can't resist, so we accept this cursed world.
"You never resisted?!"
Resistance ends in resignation.
Imperial tragedies repeat generations. Like yours, I endured. The god steals names, imposes his, puppets them.
"...Even you, Your Majesty, like the First Prince."
Suspect those around you. He dwells unseen, staging ruin. I killed wife and sister myself.
Nearly a decade's peace followed—mercy or whim, no more tragedies. Or perhaps, grander play.
"Silent ten years—everything ages, maybe it died."
Gods don't die.
He's hiding. Hide-and-seek, I think. Maybe among you. Always thought so.
Thus, heirs.
Change the task. My time's short. Throne war isn't bloodfight—it's finding him.
Find him, bow, beg mercy. Bring his token; that one becomes Emperor.
Reasons to submit to this life-mocking god abound, but one more for empire's Emperor.
He promised Emperors one marionette play.
Ascend, and escape crafted tragedies.
No nightly strangling wife, no trusted vassal as puppet, no disgust of scripted life...
Ascend the throne. Then.
Escape puppetry, become truly dignified human.