The Night's Prince (2)
Askal eyed the doctor with open suspicion.
“Insomnia can flare up again at any moment. But! You’re in luck, sir. To think you’ve come to Gilbert—the greatest physician in the empire, second to none.”
“……”
“Drink this, and you’ll fall straight to sleep.”
This was an age of divine healing touches, potions, and recovery magic. Thanks to mana, the empire had surged forward in many fields until it nearly rivaled the modern era, yet medicine remained stubbornly backward.
It was a common joke that if you pricked the hand of someone suffering from indigestion, you’d instantly be hailed as a master healer. That was the true state of imperial medicine.
“May I ask what’s in the medicine?”
“Hm. I don’t usually disclose my secret formulas to outsiders, however…”
But Askal, seasoned by years in public office, caught the deliberate opening in the doctor’s words.
He produced a gleaming silver coin and set it on the desk. Gilbert snatched it into his pocket with lightning speed.
The deftness of the motion suggested he was probably excellent with a scalpel.
“However! For the sake of my patients, this Gilbert would never withhold anything! The sleeping draught contains mandrake root, powdered magic stone, animal sedative, and chamomile. All personally compounded by this humble doctor of medicine.”
“I see. I’ll take my goldfish for a walk and be right back.”
“Patient, wait!”
He had no intention of sleeping forever. Askal bolted from the room. Perhaps it was wiser not to visit hospitals in the empire at all.
It’s time to become the Night’s Prince again after so long.
Askal slicked his hair back with oil, donned a black overcoat, and once more fitted the half-mask he had haggled for at the flea market. The vendor had tried to inflate the price by claiming it was an ancient relic; Askal’s dramatic bargaining had secured it for a pittance.
Head to toe, he was a silhouette of pure darkness.
When he checked himself in the silver mirror, a wave of embarrassment washed over him.
If Sushia saw him like this…
It was mortifying.
I can never let them find out it’s me.
Askal repeated the mantra like a spell. You must respect me. I am the Night’s Prince. The watcher who gazes over the night, the hidden mastermind of darkness, and…
Good.
After muttering the self-hypnosis like an incantation for some time, Askal finally achieved perfect immersion in the role.
“The night is ready to greet its master.”
He swept out dramatically, coat flaring—only to freeze. The hem had caught on the door. After a long, undignified struggle, he finally yanked it free. A hard-won victory.
The empire’s second princess, Serena Barba, had been in a foul mood lately.
She had always been sensitive, but recently her aura had grown so oppressive that even her closest maids tiptoed around her.
“Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
Serena lounged sideways in her chair, fingers drumming the armrest—a silent warning that her temper was short.
“We have located him. The black-haired prince who recently arrived in the empire.”
“Oh, truly?”
Serena’s face brightened at once. Her mood flipped in an instant.
“He will be arriving shortly.”
“Is that so? Do I look presentable? No stray hairs? Eyebrows properly groomed?”
“Yes. You look flawless.”
“No, it’s not right. I need to change. Start with the dress.”
Heart fluttering, Serena inspected her attire. A first meeting had to appear natural—neither overdressed nor underdone.
With her maid’s assistance, she achieved what she deemed perfection and sat calmly to wait.
“Do I look all right?”
“Yes. You are radiantly beautiful, Your Highness.”
Three minutes passed.
“The lip color feels too strong. Should I redo it?”
“It’s fine as it is.”
Five minutes passed.
“No, this outfit won’t do for a proper first meeting. I’ll change.”
Serena rose to switch gowns but stopped short. The guest had already arrived.
“His Highness the Prince is entering!”
The door opened slowly.
Serena fiddled nervously with her ear as she waited, tension she hadn’t felt in years tightening her chest.
“Hm. I had no idea the princess was searching for me.”
The black-haired prince appeared.
He offered Serena a sleazy smile.
“To what do I owe the honor of being summoned by such a beauty? Oh, no need to be shy. You are every bit as lovely as the rumors claimed.”
Flowing violet hair like spilled silk, skin like porcelain, eyes like polished amethysts.
The prince ran an appreciative gaze over her.
“Princess?”
Serena stared at him in silence, then spoke in a low voice.
“You’re not him.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Plump, glossy cheeks that spoke of a lifetime of the finest foods. An arrogant bearing that suggested he had never done a day’s honest labor. Gaudy clothes plastered with expensive jewels. Bright, clashing colors that hurt the eyes. Zero artistic taste.
This was not the man she sought.
Icy disdain filled Serena’s violet eyes.
“Get out.”
“This is most rude, Princess. Such behavior could escalate into a serious diplomatic incident—”
“I said get out.”
The prince froze, as if pinned by a serpent’s gaze.
With a pathetic yelp, he stumbled backward, flung the door open, and fled.
“Noella. You brought the wrong man?”
“I will gladly accept any punishment.”
“…Sigh. No, never mind. Thinking about it, there was no way someone like that could be found so easily.”
Serena exhaled heavily.
It had become rather annoying.
The prince who just ran away was, after all, merely the ruler of a tiny island nation—lower in status than even an imperial count. The chance of any real diplomatic fallout was essentially zero.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
“How can I see him again?”
The answer came to her at once.
“That’s right. I’ll put on another play.”
The Night’s Prince seemed to love the arts.
“Then he’ll come back.”
The princess smiled.
Askal walked the night streets feeling an inexplicable chill. He had expected the thick coat to ward off the cold, yet…
His destination, at least, was clear.
The Moonlight Troupe.
Turning the corner at the three-way junction brought him to the familiar alley. The wandering minstrel was still there, playing his instrument.
“Oh, my lord.”
Askal flicked him a coin. A silver one this time.
“Gasp! This is far too generous!”
“Not at all. Thanks to the theater you recommended, I had a wonderful experience.”
“Is that so, my lord? Then have you heard the news?”
“What news?”
The minstrel’s next words struck like a thunderbolt.
“The Moonlight Troupe has gone bankrupt. Financial troubles have forced them to disband.”
No.
Askal swallowed the instinctive cry and remained in character as the Night’s Prince.
“Ah, so the unhappy moment has finally arrived. That troupe which moved my heart has met such a tragic end… How truly sorrowful.”
“Even so, they were surely happy to perform for you, my lord. Shall I recommend another troupe that might stir your soul?”
“Please.”
Perhaps he would meet another person capable of curing his insomnia. Carrying a faint hope, Askal headed for the theater the minstrel suggested.
“Oh! Isolet! How beautiful you are!”
Not Isolet again?
Askal waited with dwindling patience, still hoping the girl might appear even here.
But the play only grated on his ears. No matter how long he sat there, the girl never came onstage.
Any drowsiness he might have felt was completely shattered. His eyes grew bloodshot.
I have to find her.
Askal began wandering the night streets in earnest.
He was exhausted, yet sleep refused to come. He felt like he was going to die.
Please… save me. Where are you?
At this rate he would become the ghost of the night instead of its prince.
He drifted from theater to theater for what felt like hours, but the girl never appeared.
I want to see her. I want to hear her voice.
He still couldn’t forget it—the soft, gentle voice that had pulled him into sleep the moment he heard the first line, as naturally as if she were using sleep-inducing magic. She might as well have been a siren incarnate.
If only I had asked her name…
Instead he had tried to look cool and simply walked away. Now he was paying for it.
With a deep sigh, Askal entered the one theater that still had its lights burning.
It was the act of a drowning man clutching at straws.
And then—
The moment the girl stepped onto the stage, Askal knew at once.
It was her.
Found her. My sleeping pill.