Princess Maker (1)
They say some jobs come with an iron rice bowl. The kind where employment stability is so absurdly high that getting fired is nearly impossible. Civil servants, teachers, private university professors, or company presidents usually fit the bill. As long as the company doesn’t go bankrupt or the country doesn’t split in two, you never have to worry about being let go.
So here’s a question. What is the most unbreakable iron rice bowl in this world?
The hero, obviously.
One of a kind. The sole occupation currently available in this world. A divine vocation personally assigned by a god—one that stands even above the emperor. No matter how displeasing or infuriating the holder might be, it can never be revoked.
That was my safety net, and it let me behave exactly as I pleased.
“...That’s enough.”
After I’d spent a while making a scene, the emperor finally broke the heavy silence. Exhaustion weighed heavily in his voice.
“As you suggested, we’ll dispense with the formalities here. There’s no need to drag out tedious public congratulations. Everyone present already knows what the reward will be. You’ve done well. From now on, enjoy the banquet.”
With those words, he shuffled out of the hall. His expressionless departure made his displeasure blatantly obvious.
But what of it? Just because you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you can actually do anything. Aside from cursing inwardly and storming off with a sour face, what power do you really have?
Yeah. I’m the hero.
Even if I lagged behind in raw authority, I held the advantage in job security. There was essentially nothing I needed to fear.
Besides, the current emperor wasn’t all that powerful to begin with. He lacked both the character to risk loss for the sake of dignity and the ability to back it up. A tiger whose fangs had fallen out, slowly slinking away. A setting sun preparing to hand over power and retire. That was the impression I’d gotten of Maurice von Pildoor from the game.
So this much arrogance was perfectly acceptable.
Of course, just because the emperor refrained from saying anything directly didn’t mean those around him would stay quiet.
“I heard the hero of this generation had issues, but…”
“It’s true. Who would have thought he’d be such a complete degenerate…”
Whispers. I could hear them badmouthing me from nearby. They probably thought they were being quiet, but a hero’s body picked up even the smallest voices.
Naturally, their gossip didn’t hurt my feelings. What did sting was what my own party members were saying.
“Hah, I knew something felt off. So he was hiding his true nature. How incredibly rude.”
“Vulgar and low-class.”
“Hmph. Who knows? It could still be an act.”
“Hero…”
They all glared at me, each throwing in a cutting remark. Annoyance, disgust, suspicion—every emotion aimed straight at me. Since I had never shown this side during the half-year we’d traveled together, those wary looks were unavoidable.
The only odd one out was the saintess. She watched me with something like pity in her eyes. Her reaction remained as incomprehensible as ever… but at least it fell within my predicted range.
So I ignored the stares and kept drinking like my life depended on it.
Gulp. Gulp.
Before long, one entire bottle of wine had disappeared. My throat burned; it must have been strong stuff. I could feel the alcohol hitting my stomach.
Ironically, my body refused to register even a hint of intoxication. It wasn’t that this particular vessel had some insane alcohol tolerance.
In a sense, alcohol was simply another form of poison. The moment it entered my body, Poison Resistance neutralized it. Getting drunk was impossible.
Which meant I still looked perfectly fine on the outside… but I had no intention of leaving things that way.
I quietly activated a skill.
Blood Flow Acceleration
Blood Flow Acceleration came with a long list of effects—enhanced physical ability, improved mana efficiency, heightened reflexes, and more. But the simplest and most useful one was that it circulated my blood at high speed.
I redirected the blood flowing through my body toward my face. My cheeks flushed bright red in seconds, exactly like a man dead drunk.
Perfect. My mind stayed crystal clear, yet on the outside I now looked completely wasted. Which meant I could behave even more like a bastard.
Since ancient times, alcohol had been the most effective way to turn men into beasts. And people tended to forgive beasts.
Our country’s laws proved that much.
“Bring more wine!!”
And so I spent the next while acting like a complete asshole.
In the refined atmosphere of the banquet hall, I devoured food like a starving animal, hunted down more bottles, and chugged them in one go.
“Krrgh, fuck yeah, this is the stuff. After months of eating that dried garbage and lukewarm water, finally tasting real food makes me feel alive again!”
“Heavens…”
“S-such behavior…”
I also let my tongue run wild with profanity here and there. Each time, I felt the favorability of everyone around me plummeting, but I didn’t care.
Doesn’t matter anyway.
A cold light flashed through my eyes for an instant.
These are people I don’t need to impress.
As I mentioned before, this game was a dark fantasy eroge. And like most dark fantasy, the real monsters weren’t only the ones outside the city walls. This country was rotten to its core.
“Utterly vulgar.”
Spoken by a noble who threw orgies in his mansion every night.
“His character must be absolute trash.”
Spoken by a noble who had whipped multiple slave girls to death.
“Can someone like that truly save the poor citizens? Tsk tsk…”
Spoken by a noble who had starved hundreds of his own people to death through excessive taxation.
This was the true state of the nation. Everyone pretended to be noble and pure on the surface, but in reality most nobles were corrupt and depraved. Those who should have been governing instead used their power solely to exploit others. Even with the Demon King revived and the world in crisis, they remained obsessed with satisfying their own desires. That was why poverty and crime ran rampant.
Which meant every last person here would eventually need to be torn down.
“Haha, I actually like how honest you are!”
While I was thinking that, a man approached. Baron Belfer. Rumored to be a benevolent lord, but in truth a piece of garbage who abused slaves daily in his estate.
“A pleasure. You truly possess a hero’s boldness.”
He extended his hand with a smile. Impressive that he could approach me so cheerfully even while my curse was active. As expected of someone raising dozens of snakes in his gut.
I didn’t take his hand. Instead I sipped my wine and replied.
“Your belly is impressively bold.”
Belfer was quite pot-bellied. The jab at his complex made his brow twitch. But only for a moment. Soon he recovered with a kindly smile.
“Meeting like this must be fate. Care to share a drink with me?”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
Let’s hear what kind of nonsense he’s about to spout. One thing was certain—he had picked the wrong opponent.
And so we began a drinking contest. After a few rounds, he finally got to the point. Sure enough, it was a business proposal.
“Now that I think about it, hero work requires quite a lot of money, doesn’t it? My businesses have been successful, so I have plenty to spare. If you ever need funds, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I’ll give you money.
“For someone doing great things for the world, it’s the least I can do. There’s only one thing I’d like in return. Perhaps you could visit my mansion from time to time, or meet me like this for the occasional drink? I enjoy making new acquaintances.”
So how about forming a connection with me?
“I could introduce you to my associates as well. After all, that’s how the world works, isn’t it?”
And help me show off that connection.
Give me money and I’ll give you influence in return.
I’m close with the hero. We’ve shared meals, visited saunas together. He would flaunt that relationship to increase his political power. Even if the hero was a scoundrel, his title still held value.
My answer was simple.
“What are you even saying?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you dragging this out so much? You’re offering me money, right?”
I pretended not to understand.
“If you’re giving me money, I’ll gladly take it! So when and how much are we talking?”
“There’s no need to worry. I can provide whatever amount you desire. In exchange, if you could just align your words with mine whenever we meet…”
“What? Why the hell should I do that? Sounds annoying.”
“I’m proposing a transaction here!”
Bang. Bang. Frustrated, he pounded his chest and finally raised his voice.
I took another sip and said, “You really know how to kill the mood at a drinking party. Forget it. I don’t need your money, so get lost.”
It was essentially an order to leave.
Anyway, I would soon have more money than I knew what to do with, so I had no need for his support. Better not to accept if it meant boosting his influence.
“Ugh…”
After that, many more people approached me. Some offered potions made in their territories in exchange for promotion. Others wanted exclusive equipment contracts in return for buying large quantities of monster materials. A few even brought proper written contracts.
I rejected them all.
“Don’t bother me with talk of mutual benefit or resource support.”
“A contract? Why would I waste time on something that annoying?”
“More importantly, is there any more of this food? It’s salty and delicious.”
Each time, they looked at me in disgust.
“S-such an ignorant…”
“Born a commoner, he knows neither etiquette nor decorum.”
“Why would someone like that be chosen as the hero?”
They must have thought I was too drunk to hear them clearly. Their voices grew louder than before.
But I took it as a good sign.
Yes, look down on me more.
Underestimate me. Let your guard down. That way it’ll be easier for me to rip out your throats later.
After completing a sufficient amount of favorability destruction, I let out a small sigh.
“Whew.”
Good. The scoundrel image seemed to have taken root.
But one problem remained.
At this rate, political influence is out of the question…
My network had been completely isolated. By cutting every tie, I had gained personal freedom, but I had also lost anyone who could support my words in the political arena.
The dark route at least allowed surface-level relationships. That character attracted plenty of suspicion, but his social skills were flawless. The simple, brutish scoundrel route made politics nearly impossible. You drew less suspicion, but you couldn’t accomplish anything meaningful in the political sphere.
And in this game, politics were crucial. The higher humanity’s happiness level rose, the weaker the Demon King’s seal would remain. Removing corruption, fixing what was broken, persuading those around you—power was indispensable for all of it.
The scoundrel route therefore carried a fatal limitation in that regard.
……
Fortunately, I hadn’t acted without a plan. If gaining power myself was difficult, I simply needed to borrow someone else’s. Or create a partner.
Of course, the conditions were just as strict. I needed someone whose goals aligned with mine, who wasn’t corrupt like the other nobles, and who was desperate enough for power to cooperate with someone under a curse.
Fortunately, one such character existed.
“……”
My gaze drifted to the farthest, loneliest corner of the banquet hall. Despite the noisy chatter filling the rest of the room, that single table felt isolated and forlorn. The woman seated there had her shoulders slumped, her eyes darting nervously about. She radiated anxiety and dejection.
At first glance she might seem like a noble from a minor house… but once people noticed the distinctive features of her bloodline, they would freeze in shock.
Flowing, elegant silver hair. Purple eyes like amethysts. The beautiful woman with a perpetually tired expression whom I had seen many times in the game.
The Third Imperial Princess of the Empire.
Deyla von Pildoor.
She was the card I intended to use.