Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Tournament (1)
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“Your Highness, breakfast this morning is a bread special.”
“What?”
Yuri hung his head in dismay at Simon's words.
“I'm skipping breakfast today.”
“Why?”
“I'm sick of even looking at bread now. Isn't that right, Jared?”
“Yes. You're right...”
The two had been cornered by Katrina yesterday and forced to eat bread nonstop.
Of course, it was delicious.
But even the tastiest food becomes unbearable when you keep cramming it in. Unable to refuse outright, they had stuffed themselves until their throats were overflowing with bread.
“My stomach still feels off.”
“Want me to grab some digestive meds?”
“Yeah...”
“Anyone would think we got wasted last night.”
The pair trudged out of the Dufria Hotel.
That's when they bumped into Rolang, just stepping into the lobby.
“Rolang?”
“Ah, Your Highness.”
“No way, you...”
Yuri flashed a sleazy grin.
“All night long...”
Rolang froze and glanced at him. Yuri let out a low chuckle before continuing.
“You were drilling sword practice all night, huh? Heh heh heh...”
Jared snickered right along with Yuri.
“Whoa, Sir Rolang of all people. Pulled an all-nighter training like some thunderbolt stud, eh?”
“Never pegged Rolang for the type, but guess your heart's pounding, right?”
“Could happen. This is the Empire, after all. Even Sir Rolang might feel the pressure.”
“Next thing you know, he's off to the temple praying his ass off.”
The two cracked up, eyeing each other.
Rolang let out a sigh.
“Think whatever you want...”
There was good reason for Yuri and Jared's ribbing.
Today was the tournament's opening day.
“What if you flop in the prelims?”
The tournament followed tradition with 64 duelists, but so many applicants meant massive prelims to whittle them down.
Rolang shook his head with a smile.
“Not a chance. I'll bring glory to Brioll.”
“You got it, Rolang. We'll be cheering.”
“Thank you. I'm beat, so if you'll excuse me...”
As Rolang headed inside, Jared cocked his head watching him go.
“He's really grinding. If Sir Rolang takes the crown and gifts the medal to the princess, won't that put him above you now, Your Highness?”
“Huh, it works like that?”
“Gonna be tense.”
“Not even a little.”
Yuri smirked.
He grabbed Jared's sleeve and started walking.
“Let's hit the pharmacist first.”
They bought overeating remedies, tossed them back, and got moving again.
This time, their steps were ginger.
They ducked into an alley, pulled on hoods to mask their identities, then emerged onto the street.
They slipped into a pawnshop in the busy district.
No customers around. The owner was slumped over, dozing behind the iron grate.
The bell jingled as Yuri entered, snapping him awake.
“Ugh... Welcome.”
“Got something to pawn.”
“What.”
“My heart.”
“Pardon?”
“And my passion.”
“You nuts or what...”
“I'll pawn my heart and passion.”
“Joking? Beat it!”
They got booted out.
Yuri shot Jared a baffled look.
“What the hell? Isn't this the password?”
“Your Highness.”
“Yeah?”
“Wrong shop.”
“Huh?”
“This is Hanareum Pawnshop.”
“Yeah?”
“We need Hanamim Pawnshop.”
“Oh...”
Hanamim Pawnshop sat right near Hanareum Pawnshop.
“Names way too similar for no damn reason...”
Anyway, they dropped the “heart and passion” password and ended up in a hidden basement room at Hanamim Pawnshop.
Someone was waiting.
“Your Highness.”
Yuri bowed.
Ragna had been expecting him.
“Yeah, sit.”
They took seats across the table.
Ragna sat with eyes shut, face grave, then blurted at Yuri.
“Why'd you skip it?”
“Pardon?”
“The tournament. No entry form.”
“What for?”
“To win.”
“Not interested.”
“You...”
Ragna shook his head.
“That talk later. So, you dug up dirt on the drugs?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Erotic books helped.”
“What?”
“No, tongue slipped.”
After flipping through Hwasan's naughty collection, Yuri had intuited the crown prince orchestrated the drugs flooding the capital.
Questions piled up after that.
Why the hell would he?
Guy could have anything he wanted.
Drugs just bred rot.
Yeah, rot.
Black magic's favorite playground.
That line of reasoning left Yuri half-convinced the crown prince sparked the previous life's tragedy. He'd tumbled into black magic somehow and poisoned the whole Empire.
Thoughts sorted, Yuri spoke.
“Did some personal digging.”
“Figured.”
“Hit a wall I can't cross alone.”
“A wall, huh...”
“Yes.”
This was why he'd summoned Ragna.
No way to touch the crown prince holed up in the palace.
Needed a partner.
Ragna checked every box.
Imperial blood. Hated the emperor. Cared about the Empire.
“Before details...”
Yuri glanced around. Ragna's secret crew stood guard.
“Prefer to talk private.”
Ragna nodded. The men filed out. Jared caught the hint and eased away.
Just the two of them. Yuri got dead serious.
“This is me trusting you from here on.”
“Go ahead.”
“Think I nailed the drug source.”
“That buzz everyone's yapping about?”
“Yes.”
Yuri pulled a pouch from his chest and dumped it.
A few blue crystals spilled out.
“This stuff? Not imported from outside the capital.”
“Then...”
“Getting cooked inside.”
“Who the fuck.”
“Here to tell you.”
Yuri sighed. He'd braced for trials in this new life, but this topped expectations.
Beat, then:
“Crown prince.”
“What?”
Ragna's eyes bugged.
Name you never drop.
Ragna leaned in.
“No way. Why think that?”
Yuri laid it out.
Tracked the drug routes, pinned the end seller, dude headed palace-side, ID'd as Yugen's shadow.
Ragna shut his eyes after the rundown.
“Not ironclad yet.”
“Odds are solid.”
“Why would he...”
“What's the crown prince like?”
“Yugen's solid. Better than solid, really.”
“Pity.”
Yuri dipped his head.
“Whatever—willing or not—I see him neck-deep in black magic, pulling this shit. Need you to check it out.”
“Haa...”
Ragna—uncharacteristically—rubbed his brow, sighed deep.
If ordinary joe, Yuri never spills.
But track record said Ragna wouldn't bury sins just 'cause crown prince.
Plus, he'd seen black magic's toll firsthand battling Oqua.
He'd grasp the stakes.
“Yuri.”
“Yes.”
“For real?”
Yuri met Ragna's gaze.
“Yes.”
New life, never fully handed reins to anyone. This time? All on Ragna.
Yuri bet on him—and his gut pick.
“Dead serious.”
Ragna stared back, silent. Nodded.
Trust went both ways.
Yuri trusted Ragna; Ragna resolved to trust back.
“Alright. I'm in.”
“Me too, on you.”
“I get what dumping this on me means. My vow first.”
Ragna puffed his chest, eyes steely.
“Crown prince's crimes proven? No looking away.”
Yuri matched the gaze firm.
“Thank you. I'll back you full throttle.”
“Good.”
“Shake on it?”
“Deal.”
Yuri clasped Ragna's hand.
Previous life? Just crossed paths mid-Ekaterina tryst. Now? Ironclad allies.
Yuri felt lucky knowing him.
“So that's the play...”
Ragna muttered, then grinned sharp.
Dude could shelve doomsday talk, pump vibes, rally the mood.
“Eh, worries later. Fun show's on—wanna catch it?”
“Show?”
“Prelims.”
Should be underway.
“Let's go.”
Yuri and Jared rolled with Ragna to the capital's bustling heart.
Prelim stage set up.
Jam-packed crowd, but Ragna's arrival parted 'em like the sea. Front-row easy.
Announcer stepped up, bellowed.
“Tournament prelims: battle royale! Fives per group—top two advance! Safety first: wooden swords!”
Thirty-two groups total. First batch of swordsmen hit the stage.
Stage tight; five crammed it full.
“Luck's gotta play.”
Ragna said.
Two outta five survive? Luck factored heavy.
Yuri shook it off.
“Surviving is skill.”
“Sure, but...”
Jared piped up, eyes forward.
“Hey, that Sven from Liberia?”
Sven the Liber knight stood amid the first five.
Sword ready, scanning every angle.
“Hoo...”
Yuri spotted his buddy competing, hollered.
“Sven! Crush 'em!”
Loud enough to snag stares.
Capital folk clocked Yuri, murmurs rose.
“Why's Brioll's prince sitting out?”
“Skipping prime event...”
“Scared shitless.”
“Yeah, imperial knights'd clown him.”
Yuri scowled their way. Silence dropped.
No entry? Rumors flew wild.
“Tch...”
For Sven onstage, Yuri's cheer turned venom.
High-strung type already; mob of citizens plus Yuri watching? Gut churning.
Weakness kills.
Two of the other four lunged.
“Wha—huh?”
Perfectly synced strikes. Sven eyed the ref—foul?
“All fair game.”
He pressed on.
“Nngh!”
Sven blocked both assaults.
Blades flashing right, left—no breathing room.
He held.
“Huh?”
Held firm.
Attackers faltered now. Sven spied an opening, swung back on one.
“Gurk!”
Wooden sword cracked foe's skull.
Live steel? Dead.
Guy clawed his head, stumbled, dropped. Out—hauled offstage.
Last foe backed up.
Sven blinked.
“W-Wait, am I actually badass?”
Reflected: yeah. Liberia hailed him genius. Swordplay unbeaten since kid days.
Till allied forces' Brioll third prince spawn.
Then humiliation parade.
Lost to prince (bullshit), Rolang punked him, monster Hose dragged him, commoner Jared owned him.
Not to mention orc-spawn wars—daily floor-crawling.
That it?
These stage scrubs looked pint-sized next to his hit list.
Sven twirled his wooden sword, grinned nasty. Tension? Gone.
“Oopsie. Did I overlevel...?”