The Precious Child and the Ten-Year Temptation
Don't you have a conscience? The princess's blessing was powerful. But power didn't necessarily mean usefulness.
The princess was wealthy enough to achieve anything she wanted even without such a blessing, but it had made her desire things she might never have wanted otherwise. She'd learned a great deal over those eighty years, yet her hormonal maturity had only just passed adolescence. The younger you are, the more you grasp for everything in reach, the harder you cling to what you hold, and the blurrier the line becomes between what's yours and what's someone else's. That phase had dragged on too long for her, and during it, she'd seen, heard, tasted, and seized so much. Having clutched things like a child for eighty years, it was no wonder she still treated them as precious gold now that she'd entered young adulthood. It was a habit hardened over ages.
It couldn't change overnight, but with so much time left, she'd wash it away eventually. Didn't most people live that way? College students get a pass as mere "students," clinging to childish habits from their underage days—just like the princess was in that stage now. Only her immaturity was etched over eighty years, so it'd take even longer to shake off. In short, she was just a precious little gold nugget.
"What the hell does 'precious gold' even mean? It doesn't sound like a compliment."
"It means someone raised like pure gold, Your Highness."
"...You haven't forgotten I can read minds, have you? Tricks like 'I never lie' don't work on me."
"If the reality's clear anyway, isn't it better to say it nicely? That's respecting the other person."
"Well, fair enough."
She flicked my hand away with a smirk, then glanced down at her own. One corner of her mouth twisted upward. Was her warped personality twisting her smile too? The thought was kinda funny.
"...Tch. Fine. Your guesses were spot on. I like you. I have no intention of using extreme measures on you. I deliberately threw out radical examples and directions to limit your choices, narrow your view, and test you—pushing you toward the decision I want. I won't deny this... immaturity of mine."
"Testing love is just puberty talking. I get it."
"But I didn't shake you with outright lies. Our ideals clashing is a fact, isn't it?"
"Not exactly accurate, though."
"..."
"You brought up the imperial family's ideals to intimidate me, and I've been scared stiff based on what they've done so far... but the imperial family in your memories is way more human than I thought."
From here on, threats built on misconceptions and prejudices wouldn't work.
"I get it now—the imperial family's people are just lazier than most."
"..."
"They've spent so much time in the life they've built; they don't want it denied. With so many years left to live, they just wanna take it slow. It's not some grand ideal of upholding order and tradition—it's that order and tradition are their life, so changing direction is tough. Shifting your life means self-reflection, and they've got way longer lives to look back on. Must be exhausting."
"..."
"That's why they've pulled in 'passionate, capable people' through marriage alliances so many times—hoping those folks would forge new traditions for the family. They want a better empire but dread burning out from overdoing it. They needed someone to fight the power struggles in their stead, to become truly part of the imperial legacy through history and custom."
Respectable folks. Absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely through indulgence, but they'd channeled that "corruption" into laziness—a nonviolent, gradual path. What willpower that took. Living five hundred years doesn't mean stacking resolve for five hundred; it means having five hundred years of chances to break and turn the empire into hell. People who could doom the world with one mistake, yet strove not to—that effort birthed the current "lazy but loyal-to-tradition" imperial family.
I wanted to respect those traditions now, knowing they'd formed from deeply human reasons. No more blindly rejecting them.
"So, I'll prove it."
"...Prove what?"
That people shouldn't own other people. That humans possess inherent dignity, and human rights are inalienable, not commodities to trade or yield. I'd prove it within the next ten years, once the war ended and the imperial family moved in earnest.
"We've got ten whole years till the war's over. Think about it—we're debating a distant future. We got scared too soon, prepped too early, rushed too hard, and now our views don't overlap. No need to hurry..."
"..."
"I believe in ten years, the imperial family will change. The world I'll build will convince them, shift their thinking, make them reflect on the past. At least, I'll create that chance. People will start seeing other people as just people."
"...And if our views don't align by then, and after the war, the family moves to crush you?"
"Then... I'd have screwed up somehow."
I'm right. This world's wrong. I won't change that conviction. The statement "no one can own another person" isn't mere social consensus or religious faith—it's plain fact. A world denying that is flawed and must evolve someday. If I fail anyway, it just means today wasn't the day for change. I'd rushed it. Not because I'm wrong or ownership is valid, but because my impatience led to a mistake. This world would learn eventually: no one deserves to own others; we must only strive to own ourselves. Because it's true.
The medieval sun orbited a flat Earth. Everyone believed it as fact; calendars, religions, temples were built on it. But how could that stay true forever? Humans uncover better, clearer, truer facts. That's truth's power—it endures, inevitably revealed.
"If you can't prove it in ten years, you'll die. That okay?"
"Hm."
Of course not. I'm the type to flail for survival; I won't nod and die after one flop. So...
I figured we could compromise here.
"If ten years from now, after I fail, I propose engagement—would you accept?"
"What."
"Haha... Too brazen?"
"...Go-gold?"
The princess reaches adulthood in twenty years. Proposing in ten still leaves ten more till marriage—she'd be young. So... couldn't she wait that decade?
"What do you take a girl's love for?"
"Hm."
"Sure, ten years might not be eternity for imperial blood. But making a girl in her prime spend a decade pining sleeplessly? Too cruel. No conscience at all?"
"That's why it's even better, right? We can savor it slow."
"That's... damn it. Fine! It's crazy, but I like your proposal."
Yeah, figured she'd bite. Her blunt honesty was a surprise, though.
"Alright, I admit it. Your proposal appeals; I get your character deferring choice for ten years, your faith it'll all clarify by then. But I can't just unilaterally wait and accommodate you—that's no fair contract."
"Hm. 'Love means taking the loss'—that won't fly?"
"Doesn't using your love for you feel off?"
"Kinda does."
Precisely—I'm openly admitting I'd exploit it.
"So, my condition too."
"Condition?"
"Yeah. Over those ten years, I'll seduce you."
"...Seduce?"
"Biblically, it's a 'trial.' You get ten years to change our world; I get ten to change you. Fair, right?"
"..."
"More than with your fiancée's hand—hold mine one extra time. Ten seconds with hers? Eleven with mine. Ten minutes talking to her? Eleven with me. Lips with her? Well... ahem. Anyway. I'll make you fall for me. Make you want to be owned. I still want to steal and possess you. Just waiting bores me."
"...You're aggressive."
"Way better deal than before, no?"
"Hm. Deal. If it's just that..."
And so, the princess and I sealed our new pact.
"By the way, pre-meetings count too. Hand out."
"...Yes, ma'am."
"Gloves off."
"Got it."
That day, I read her life fifty-five times.
"Rest easy on your way back."
"Will do. Oh—keep a room empty till I return."
"Pardon?"
"Closer to your bedroom than your fiancée's, obviously."
"Pardon?"
After the princess left, Torso's reaction to our pact went like this.
"Your Excellency."
"Yeah, Torso buddy."
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Hm."
Couldn't deny it.