For You (2): The Empire
The Empire. A nation that, at its founding, was smaller than the Gibraltar Margrave Territory of the Nostrum Kingdom. When it presumptuously declared itself an empire, the surrounding petty kingdoms dismissed it and waged war—only to be devoured and destroyed by the Empire in turn. It took a full 500 years for the Empire to unify the western continent. In that time, its capital had shifted several times, and now it stood at the very center of the western continent.
A towering castle rose majestically on land backed by sheer cliffs, with a river flowing to the south. At the pinnacle of this place, known to the world as the Great White Citadel,...
"The capital is always so quiet."
An elderly man with a kindly face and flowing white beard gazed out the window, welcoming the serene morning.
"Just a few days ago, it was noisy from dawn."
Sunlight glinted off his bald head, and the old man lifted a steaming teacup to his lips, taking a sip.
"The magitech trains depart on time without strikes, and there are no magibikes roaring through the streets at dawn."
"That's all because Your Majesty enacted the laws, is it not?"
A middle-aged man standing behind the elderly man—the Emperor—replied in a flat, emotionless voice.
"Technological progress always breeds new problems."
His disheveled navy-blue hair framed a leonine face. His deep, resonant voice carried a low timbre. His expression was as cold as if not a drop of blood would spill even if stabbed with a blade. His build was as imposing as any general's.
"The workers protesting for better conditions, the young people reveling in reckless speeding—it's all thanks to advances in magitech engineering."
And the faint purple gleam in his eyes.
"All of this progress was made possible by Your Majesty's generous investment of national funds into magitech over the long years."
The only resemblance to the old Emperor was that pale lavender hue.
"I am always grateful."
"That's awfully light talk for a routine courtesy visit. Unlike you."
The Emperor tapped the newspaper on the table with his hand.
"Explain yourself, Crown Prince."
"What is there to explain, Your Majesty?"
"About provoking the orc tribes to send their bloodlust toward the canyon, agitating the Margrave while simultaneously dispatching shadows to the count's family."
"If it's that matter, it's not an excuse—it's a report, Your Majesty."
The Crown Prince pointed to the large photo splashed across the front page of the newspaper, his expression unchanging.
"By staging a confrontation with the Margrave, I've rallied the pro-war faction's public opinion at home. The kidnappers are obviously not from our Empire."
"Even though you used the Shadows?"
"There's no evidence anywhere that it was the Shadows. Since they haven't been caught yet, they have no idea it was us."
The Crown Prince rubbed his fingertips together.
"It's a concoction made by the fallen Yesram alchemists to destroy the Empire. We have no involvement—in fact, we're the victims."
"Hasn't it been over ten years since you took those alchemists in and set up their workshop?"
"Your Majesty. Everything is for the Empire. How can you not see your son's filial piety?"
The Crown Prince's smile deepened.
"Even now, while Father still draws breath, don't you know this child's earnest wish is to show you the Empire's flag planted in Nostrum's capital?"
"Even if that path is stained with the blood of countless souls?"
"Haha. To hear such words from the man who spilled more blood across the continent than anyone—the Conqueror Emperor, no less. How unbecoming."
"......"
The Emperor's eyes twitched faintly.
"Rest assured, Your Majesty. Even if you take to your bed in illness, I will carry it on my back and fly through the skies if I must, to show you the conquest of the capital. Wouldn't that be true filial piety?"
"...My son."
"Your Majesty."
The Crown Prince's face hardened as he cut off the Emperor.
"We are emperor and heir before we are father and son."
"......Indeed. Then, as Emperor, I command you, Crown Prince."
The Emperor closed his eyes tightly and continued.
"The polluted zones teeming with monsters. The Elf Forest. The southern seas. The northern snowfields. Anywhere you choose. Clear a path to the Nostrum Kingdom. In your own way."
"As Your Majesty commands."
The Crown Prince smiled once more and bowed his head.
"But, Your Majesty, there is another path."
The Crown Prince pointed out the window, toward the sky.
"Gibraltar Canyon."
"......War means sacrificing soldiers—"
"Yes. I will save them. Once we rule the kingdom, our imperial citizens must live on that land, so of course I will."
The Crown Prince opened the window. A cold wind rushed in, carrying the acrid sting of exhaust fumes.
"Your Majesty, rest assured. If nothing else, I promise your beloved grandchildren will live on that blessed land. All for..."
"The Empire."
Beneath the window.
"And for our children. For the future."
Everyone needs their bamboo grove.
Like how my mother eventually confessed to me—whether by coercion or silent agreement—her affair with the king, and sorted out her emotions.
Like how my father, after resolving to betray the nation, discussed his choice and the future with me alone, never with others.
I, too, need someone to receive the information I know from the future.
"So you're using me as an emotional dumping ground?"
The princess's eyes sparkle as she asks playfully.
"Dump anything on me. Anytime. Like always."
"What if it's not just emotions I dump?"
"Oh?"
I grab both her hands, and the princess looks up at me slyly, grinning.
"Tch. If a kid starts pulling this stuff already, he's no good."
"I'm an adult. Obviously an adult."
"The way you talk makes you sound like a brat."
"Guys always turn childish around the woman they love."
"Whatever. You know it's all just your delusions in a dream, right?"
"Yeah."
I grip her hands tight so she can't resist and lean down.
"That's why you have to be the outlet not just for my emotions, but my lust too."
"Wow. Trash."
"One more infamy added to a traitor who sold out his country—what's the difference?"
Whoosh.
The wind blows.
"And anyway, since it's made from my memories, you know better than anyone. Have you forgotten where this is?"
Just like in my memories, a sea breeze mixed with sand wafts in.
"Of course. How could I forget... where I had my first experience."
The princess licks her lips and smiles.
"Pervert."
"I hear that a lot."
"Gonna hear it again this time?"
"If needed, building that image isn't bad, but I doubt it'd end well."
"Hmm... I think it's a good strategy."
The princess squeezes my hand back.
"Stealing all those girls' hearts from a young age—wouldn't that help a lot when you grow up?"
Like dancing at a ball, she tries to take my hand, then interlocks our fingers and draws close.
"What do you think?"
"If you get caught and dragged to the square, you'd get stoned."
I extend my foot, and soon the princess delicately places her bare sole on top.
"They fell for the Gibraltar Margrave's power, the blessed bloodline's looks, and the traitor family's wealth that could sustain three generations of idleness."
"I heard there was one more~"
"Do I have to say it myself? You know it best."
"Heeheeht."
The princess giggles and presses her body close.
"So, you want me now?"
"Yes. After getting covered in blood and disposing of a body, my body's aching."
"Oh dear. What to do. Guess I'll have to help you loosen up. ...Hm?"
The wind blows.
In an instant, like the world crumbling, a red wind swirls through the once purely white scene.
"This is..."
"Shh."
The princess presses a finger to my lips.
"Ignore it."
"......"
"What's wrong? It's a dream. You called me because you needed the Count, right? Even using silver dust."
The princess wraps one arm around the back of my neck and brings her face close.
"I remember the Count as the kind of man who uses whoever he needs however he wants."
"...I was trying to live this life differently."
I yank the princess's waist toward me.
"Guess I'll owe you one, Princess?"
"Like you haven't before—"
I tumble the princess onto the sandy beach and seal her lips.
Gibraltar, Count's Manor.
"Take good care of Noir and Letar."
"Yes, my lord."
The count couple walked hand in hand down the corridor, talking.
"You've sensed it too, subtly. Grey is no ordinary child."
"Yes. Beyond ordinary... exceptional."
"That's why I plan to entrust him with much more. He's already proven his potential."
"...Isn't that too heavy a burden?"
"If Grey chooses to shoulder it himself, we shouldn't hold him back."
The Count halted.
He glanced back at the trailing servants, who promptly retreated far behind.
"...No matter how Gibraltar's wings are clipped, Grey is our eldest son and heir."
"Sigh..."
"He's stepping out of his parents' embrace, spreading his wings toward the sky. What Grey needs isn't our shadow—"
"Is that really true?"
At Grey's door, the Countess cautiously spoke up.
"He's still a child."
"A Gibraltar child."
"...Then you should play the father role a bit more, my lord."
The Countess bowed her head self-mockingly.
"As a mother, I..."
"Enough."
The Count embraced his wife and patted her back.
"Whatever you've done, you bear no guilt."
"My lord..."
"It was my declaration that awakened Grey, not your fault. If there's blame, it lies with that trash."
"......"
The Count held his wife for a long while, stroking her back.
"If there's anything we can do, it's to aid Grey when he's in peril. As parents, and as Count and Countess."
Creak.
The Count opened the door.
It swung silently, without a single hinge creak or knob turn.
Snore, snore.
Thick blackout curtains blocked the sunlight. On the bed, a gray-haired boy slept deeply.
Beside the boy sat only a nearly burned-out lamp, and the room was utterly still.
"......"
"Grey must trust his father so much he's sleeping this soundly."
Even knowing it's dangerous to be alone, he dismisses the servants to sleep.
Probably because he knows the Count is near.
The belief that if another kidnapper appears, the Count will notice and rush in immediately.
"...At least as a Sword Master, I can give him that trust."
"My lord."
The Countess whispered softly, gazing at the soundly sleeping Grey.
"He seems to be dreaming."
"......So he does."
Since the day he declared he'd become a traitor and raised his glass, had I seen such a face?
"He really looks happy."
With eyes closed in sleep, Grey appeared more peaceful and content than ever.
"......"
How long had I slept? The silver dust dose was small, so the dream was short, but my fatigue was definitely relieved.
"Nngh...!"
I stretched under the covers.
"Agh...!"
My whole body ached in response.
Especially my waist.
"Muscle soreness..."
Not from the dream, surely. Objectively, it was from overusing my motor nerves while focused on eliminating the intruder.
'Maybe because the silver dust was mixed with dream demon powder. Like a succubus.'
But why did it feel like the soreness came from somewhere else?
"...Ha."
Not bad.
'I need to secure more silver dust. Low-grade is fine—get it from the Empire, or make it myself.'
The various issues of a child's body—the deprivations from the luxuries traitor Grey once enjoyed.
If I could indulge freely in dreams, at least it wouldn't harm reality.
'What a scam.'
Side effects in the dream. All benefits in reality.
"......"
And she, whom I could meet only in dreams, didn't exist in this world.
Even if the past her existed now, she wouldn't be the one I knew.
'Still, I made a promise.'
Swish.
I rose from bed and drew back the curtains.
The sun was already high, its warm rays enveloping my body.
"The day's bright, so..."
From now on.
"...shall we go see the land."
Suddenly, urgent business.
"Divert the rebar, build facilities, gather the kids..."
Sip, haa.
'Gotta make a lot of medicine.'
Set up an alchemy workshop in the basement, brew some healthy tonics.
"Next..."
Today, especially.
"...I'll win for sure."
I felt refreshingly upbeat.