Chapter 484: The Royal Curse
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 484: The Royal Curse
"A brain ailment? Spontaneously cured?"
The news was so shocking that Muen stood dazed for several seconds. "How did I not know about this?"
"Currently, it's just a rumor. It hasn't been confirmed, and the information is under a strict gag order." Celicia took a light sip of her coffee. "At least, that's how it is for the outside world."
"I see. So you're saying it's already a settled fact? First Prince Albert has truly recovered?"
"..."
Celicia didn't answer.
However, Muen already had his answer from her silence.
Bombarded by two major pieces of news in a row, Muen, exhausted from his travels, rubbed his temples. Although he had expected the situation in Belland to be chaotic, he hadn't realized it had reached this point.
As expected, coming to ask Celicia was the right move. While he had the Duke’s Estate’s intelligence network, that network ultimately lacked a core figure like Duke Campbell—someone who could have an audience with His Majesty or meet other high-ranking nobles at any time. He simply had no way of knowing secrets involving the deepest levels of the Imperial Palace.
But even knowing didn't bring a sense of sudden enlightenment; instead, his headache only grew worse.
Damn, the timing is too perfect. That First Prince couldn't have been faking it, could he...
No, that’s unlikely.
He was the First Prince, born as the first in line to the Imperial throne. He had no need for any disguise; he possessed the greatest inherent legitimacy. There was certainly no reason to pretend to be a low-functioning idiot.
After all, true idiocy cannot be faked—certainly not for over twenty years without a single slip-up or anyone noticing. Even the best actor couldn't pull that off.
Wait.
Hold on.
A natural-born idiot suddenly has a flash of inspiration, recovers, or rather, becomes a completely different person and immediately joins the struggle for the throne... Why does this plot sound so familiar?
For example...
Reborn as the Empire’s Idiot Prince...
Transmigrated to Another World: Using Modern Knowledge to Reform the Empire...
Thirty Years in the East, Thirty Years in the West, Don't Look Down on a Youth's Low IQ...
The War of Succession: I am the Empire’s Idiot First Prince...
Hiss...
Muen shuddered and immediately asked Celicia solemnly, "Is there a reason for Prince Albert’s recovery? Even if they say it was a spontaneous cure, for it to happen so suddenly..."
"..."
Celicia remained silent, merely swirling the silver spoon in her cup.
Seeing Celicia like this, Muen’s questions came to an abrupt halt. He asked tentatively, "Sorry, did I ask something I shouldn't have?"
"...No, it’s not that big of a deal." After another moment of silence, Celicia looked up. "Have you heard of the Royal Curse?"
"The Royal Curse?" Muen rubbed his chin. "That urban legend about how members of the Imperial family can never ascend to the Crowned level?"
"It’s a rumor, but it’s also the truth," Celicia said softly. "The children of the Imperial family indeed cannot reach the Crowned boundary. However..."
"However?"
Celicia paused. "However, that isn't the full extent of the curse. Compared to the ethereal Crowned realm, which is already extremely difficult to reach, the other side of the curse is the true nightmare that has plagued many Imperial scions to this day."
Hearing this, Muen immediately straightened his back and looked at Celicia with a hint of tension. "What do you mean?"
"Don't worry, it’s not me." Celicia glanced at Muen, the ice deep in her eyes flickering for an instant. "It’s Brother Albert."
"Which means..."
"Correct. Brother Albert’s brain ailment came from the Royal Curse." Celicia looked down at her hands. They were fair and delicate, with the faint outlines of veins visible. The royal blood—blood similar to that of her brother Albert—flowed within them.
"Pollution, disease, deformity, congenital deficiencies... the forms vary, but in every generation of the Imperial family, there is always one unlucky soul who bears this curse from birth.
"In this generation, it is Brother Albert. In the previous generation, it was Father. And in the generation before that, it was my Great-Uncle, the Pink Bear.
"They live every moment in the suffering of the curse. Yet, at the same time, these cursed Imperial children are also the most outstanding individuals of their generation.
"...That is likely why Brother Andrew is so terrified right now."
Celicia finished the last sip of her coffee. "As for why the curse on Brother Albert has receded, I am not quite clear on that yet."
"I see..." Muen nodded solemnly, feeling as though he had just heard a monumental secret. "To think there was such a story behind... Wait, who did you just say? The Pink Bear? I’ll grant you his seniority, but he was the most outstanding of his generation? You’re joking, right?"
The image of that ridiculous, lecherous old bear who did nothing but scratch his butt and read erotic books all day surfaced in Muen’s mind. He felt a genuine sense of doubt regarding the words "most outstanding."
"Though I am loath to admit it, it is the truth. The Pink Bear—my Great-Uncle—was the youngest of his generation, roughly the same age as Father. Although he usually acts without any sense of propriety and often uses his seniority to do things even Father can't stop, he was indeed the most brilliant of that generation—perhaps even the most brilliant in the history of the Imperial family."
"In history?" Muen was even more dumbfounded.
"Yes." Celicia sighed. "Father once said that if not for the curse, with that man's talent, he likely would have stood at the true peak of the continent."
"The peak..." Muen’s lip twitched.
A scene suddenly flashed through his mind: a solitary, lofty figure standing with hands behind his back on a windswept mountain peak, looking down upon all creation.
But as the image sharpened, he saw a pink dead-beat bear scratching its butt and giggling over an erotic book...
Muen shuddered, quickly driving that highly polluting image out of his mind.
"I think I understand the cause and effect now, but there’s still one thing I don't get..." After digesting the information, Muen crossed his hands and propped up his chin. "I understand Prince Andrew’s fear that a recovered Prince Albert will take the throne that belongs to him. But he has been the Crown Prince for over twenty years; his advantages in every area should be incomparable to a Prince Albert who has only just recovered...
"So why would he cut off his own arm, betray the Royalist Faction, and turn to mingle with those greedy nobles instead?"
"Is that so? Brother Andrew has indeed defected to that side?" Celicia nodded as if she had expected it. "That is perfectly normal. If Brother Andrew wants the throne, the Royalist Faction is indeed his greatest support, but that comes with a prerequisite."
"A prerequisite?"
"Yes... and that prerequisite is..." Celicia looked into Muen’s eyes. "That Father wants him to be the Emperor."
"Wha—" Muen lost track of how many times he had been shocked today. "You mean..."
"Before Brother Albert regained his senses, Brother Andrew’s status as Crown Prince was too stable. So stable that he often did foolish things... foolish things that did not make Father very happy."
Celicia tapped her silver spoon, her thoughts returning to the time when Belland was plunged into the crisis of the Evil God invasion.
At that incredibly important roundtable meeting, the person standing by Father’s side should have been Prince Andrew, the Crown Prince.
It should have been so.
But he didn't show up. He left Belland, citing 'Fear of Heat Disease' as his reason.
That was an excuse he had used countless times since childhood; whenever there was something he didn't want to do, he would say that to Father.
But... there is no such thing as Fear of Heat Disease in this world.
It was nothing more than cowardice and malicious fragility.
Just as there is no such thing as a favor that lasts forever.
The Emperor is gravely ill.
But in the end, he has not yet passed away.
Therefore, the thoughts of the man who remains the supreme ruler of the Empire are the most important weight in this struggle—important enough to overturn twenty years of accumulation and effort by a former Crown Prince.
"So... knowing he has lost His Majesty’s favor and desperately craving other powers to stabilize his position, Prince Andrew hit it off with those old-guard nobles who were once suppressed by His Majesty and now intend to regain control of the Empire?"
"Exactly." Celicia nodded slightly. "It seems complex, but the underlying logic is that simple.
"Brother Albert has just awakened and lacks influence, but Father’s gaze may very well fall upon this prince who was cursed for being 'the most outstanding' at the final moment.
"And Brother Andrew naturally cannot give up the throne when it is practically within his grasp. He will recruit any power he can.
"The storm brewing in Belland—and indeed the entire Empire—stems fundamentally from the conflict between these two. By contrast... your assassination attempt was merely a ripple from that storm."
"I see..." Muen leaned back against his chair and let out a long breath.
Having cleared up the situation, he felt a massive weight of pressure once again. With his convenient father, the Duke, absent, he really had to shoulder many things himself.
"What about you?" Muen suddenly asked. "Which side are you on, Celicia?"
"Me?" Celicia arched a beautiful eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling into what seemed like a mocking smile. "Do I need to be on a side? Whether Brother Albert becomes Emperor or Brother Andrew becomes Emperor, what impact does it have on me, the Third Princess of the Empire?"
"True, but..." Muen paused before asking, "You must have a preference."
"A preference? Heh, that word shouldn't appear in the vocabulary of a princess with the purest Imperial bloodline." Celicia stared at Muen with a half-smile. "Ultimately, you want me to help you?"
"Yes." Muen didn't look away from Celicia’s gaze. He met those beautiful, cold eyes with a calm but serious look. "I want you to help me. To deal with a shadow as massive as the Inner Council, where who knows how many nobles are secretly involved... it’s nearly impossible for me alone, or for the Campbell family while its pillar is away. I need more strength."
"The Inner Council... so it really is those people?" Celicia showed no surprise at the name. She set her coffee cup aside, her slender fingers lightly tapping the pages of her book.
"I understand everything you’ve said. But don't you realize, Muen Campbell? The reason you’ve been targeted for assassination repeatedly is precisely because of our relationship. As soon as the news of our engagement broke, it scared many people enough to move against you, even at the risk of offending the Lion King.
"If I choose to help you completely, then what awaits you will undoubtedly be an even more violent storm."
"Are you worried about me?" Muen blinked.
These were the exact same words Celicia had used before, but coming from Muen’s mouth, they sounded much more playful.
Celicia’s expression turned cold. "I am merely considering this from my position as a princess. Once things reach an irreversible point, the entire Empire will be consumed by the flames of conflict.
"Besides, the lines of opposition aren't clear yet. Father hasn't explicitly stated his support for Brother Albert; he is likely hesitating as well. Choosing the currently rootless Brother Albert would completely push the Empire toward division and confrontation. So, it’s possible that you and the Royalist Faction behind you will eventually have to make peace with Brother Andrew. Politics doesn't care about your personal likes or dislikes!"
"You really are worried about me." Muen grinned.
Before Celicia could radiate killing intent, he quickly pulled back his smile and said seriously, "You’ve said a lot, and it makes sense. However, you might have misunderstood one thing."
"Misunderstood?" Celicia frowned. Though she remained icy, in Muen’s eyes, she looked somewhat cute.
"Yes. Just like you, I don't really care which prince becomes Emperor in the end. To be honest, I have plenty of escape routes. The Campbell family has vast assets, and my old man is currently leading hundreds of thousands of troops against the Demon Race. No matter who becomes Emperor, they can't truly destroy the Campbell family; at most, we’d be suppressed and lose some status.
"In the worst-case scenario, I’ll just cling to your beautiful, black-stockinged legs... I mean, as your husband, I’ll just be a kept man who doesn't care about anything.
"But..." Muen’s expression suddenly turned solemn. "Regardless, certain people must pay a price for certain things, mustn't they? Otherwise, this already mediocre world would be far too tragic."
"Childish," Celicia commented indifferently.
"It is very childish." Muen nodded but didn't elaborate. "So, what is your answer, my Princess?"
Muen stood up, bowed, and extended a hand toward Celicia.
He waited quietly.
A long time passed.
A very long time.
Celicia looked at him, then at the hand extended like a gentleman’s invitation to dance. A slight ripple appeared in her eyes before they froze over again.
"You’ve found the wrong person. I am currently nothing more than a pitiful princess under house arrest. I cannot participate in your 'great undertaking'."
"...Is that so?"
"It is."
"A pity."
"There is nothing to pity. Please leave. Muen Campbell and Celicia Leopold should not meet before the engagement ceremony."
"Understood. Then, goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Muen turned and walked away.
After a few steps, he couldn't help but glance back.
But Celicia didn't even look at him. She seemed completely immersed in her own world, looking down at her unfinished book. She sat there elegantly, bathed in the soft lamplight, glowing like an exquisite ice sculpture.
I guess... I was imagining too much.
Muen gave a self-deprecating smile and truly turned to leave this time.
"Sigh."
Just as he was about to step completely into the night, he heard a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible.
Then came a voice—weak, cold, yet somehow warm, like the first gentle breeze of spring.
A voice he knew all too well.
"Three days from now. Lower District, Number 13, Favran Street."
The voice said, "Wait for me."
"...I understand."
Muen didn't look back. He simply let out a heartfelt smile and tipped his hat. "If this is a lady’s invitation to a date, I wouldn't be late even if I had to bet my life on it."