Chapter 111: Truth Be Told, They Knew

“……Do you covet this position?”

“Of course.”

“Then why do you covet this position?”

“Because Eudoardo Deserte is not fit to be Emperor.”

The Duke had been observing the Emperor closely for a very long time.

That’s why he saw it. He couldn’t help but see it. A child slowly dying, crushed under the weight of the crown. The sight of him desperately clinging on, sacrificing his lifespan to bear the crown’s weight, was so vivid that the Duke could easily be certain he wasn’t Emperor material.

How could he acknowledge as Emperor a man who had to sacrifice his own life just to wear the crown on his head?

“He feels guilt easily and is easily broken by it. An Emperor must always look forward, but his gaze lingers only on the past, on what’s lost. How can such a man be called an Emperor?”

“You see hallucinations?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

Before any other words could escape the Emperor’s lips, the Duke continued.

“There’s no need to deny it. I’m already certain. And don’t bother asking how I know.”

“…….”

“You frequently rub your eyes and repeatedly open and close them tightly. Sometimes your focus is unclear, or your gaze drifts to empty air as if you’re seeing something. You display your condition so openly; it’s impossible not to notice.”

Hallucinations were proof of his guilt. One wrong stamp on a document could lead to the deaths of countless people. It was so much that he’d rather be on the battlefield, wielding a sword himself—so many lives—

He killed people. The hallucinations increased. He stamped a document. More hallucinations appeared. After confirming the list of casualties from the war, his vision would darken with malevolent hallucinations.

“……No, that’s not it.”

The Emperor pressed his right thumb firmly onto the back of his left hand.

The Duke’s words were eloquent, but he hadn’t become Emperor with such flimsy resolve that he’d be easily swayed by just that.

Therefore, he repeated himself.

“Stop twisting my words. I clearly asked why you covet this position. My unsuitability as Emperor is not a valid reason.”

This time, the Duke fell silent. The silence didn’t last long.

“……Does one need a reason to desire power?”

“That’s not wrong, but it doesn’t seem like the whole reason. Is that truly all there is to it?”

The tables had turned. Now, the Emperor was pressing the Duke.

Even in this unpleasant situation, the Duke, who maintained a consistent expression, opened his mouth as if to give a casual answer, only to pause. He raised his gaze to meet the Emperor’s eyes. Purple eyes met golden ones, then retreated beneath lowered eyelids.

“To protect anything, whether it be people or things, one needs the strongest power possible.”

“……Does someone like you have something to protect?”

“Perhaps. In any case, the Emperor is at the apex of that power. Isn’t it natural to desire it?”

Therefore, the Duke reaffirmed his resolve.

No matter who the opponent, even if it was Eudoardo, he would seize that position without fail.

“I understand your reasons to some extent, but you know very well that I won’t relinquish this position with just a few words.”

“…….”

“I don’t understand why you’re wasting your efforts with meaningless words. Why not just take the crown from my severed head?”

“—Please, don’t say such frightening things. I intend to receive the position legitimately.”

Though a little pressure during that process might be unavoidable.

He bowed gracefully.

“In any case, I understand Your Majesty’s intentions, so I shall take my leave for today.”

If His Majesty wants to enjoy playing war, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t add anything more here or make any moves. I’ll just have to let him enjoy playing Emperor a little longer.

The purple serpent’s eyes crinkled into a smile.

***

The Emperor had missed something. An uncomfortable truth that Deon Hart had noticed, Stigma had agreed with, and even the Margrave of Amiable couldn’t refute.

‘The possibility of other kingdoms siding with the Demon Realm.’

‘Furthermore, the possibility of the Empire’s nobles betraying the Emperor and siding with the Demon Realm.’

The Duke had considered this possibility from the moment the Emperor declared war on the Demon Realm.

And after meeting and talking with the Emperor, he was certain.

The Emperor had dismissed that possibility.

‘Your Majesty is truly naive.’

Part of him wanted to simply leave it alone and watch how things unfolded, but he couldn’t.

“I can’t allow ‘my Empire’ to be lost so meaninglessly.”

Isn’t that right?

He murmured consciously and snapped his fingers. Somewhere far from the banquet hall, in an empty space, a man in black clothes appeared.

“Tell Sareen to use ‘them’ to spread negative rumors about the demons.”

“What specific kind of rumors are you referring to……?”

“Anything is fine. Rumors that they betray as easily as they breathe, that they lie as naturally as inhaling, even rumors that they eat people. Whether it’s realistic or absurd, just make people distrust the demons.”

Rumors spread from the slums, soon reaching all the citizens of the Empire, and from the citizens, they were passed to the nobles through their servants. The nobles’ rumors would soon reach the Emperor, and other kingdoms, keenly aware of the Empire’s situation, wouldn’t miss them.

That way, no one would dare think of siding with the Demon Realm. That was one of the reasons why he had left the Salvation Church intact.

Having received an affirmative answer from the man, the Duke smiled contentedly and resumed his walk. Then he paused.

“……Ah, by the way.”

“Speak.”

“Are there any cases where someone possessing a fragment of the Hero’s power loses that power, or fails to exert it in specific situations or aspects?”

“To my knowledge, there are none. If you command it, I will investigate.”

“I suspect there aren’t…… but still, investigate just in case.”

“Yes.”

Whether the bowing man disappeared or not, the Duke remained with his head bowed, his hand on his chin, muttering.

“In that case…… it’s continuous self-harm.”

The Duke knew that the Emperor didn’t wear gloves.

When was it? During a conversation with the Emperor, he had mentioned the bandages wrapped around his hands. The Emperor had been wary and changed the subject. And today, he came wearing gloves. The answer was obvious.

[The wounds haven’t healed.]

Was it that they hadn’t healed, or was it continuous self-harm?

The Emperor was a ‘Hero.’ A fragment of the Hero’s power allowed one to transcend all human limits. Since lifespan was included in that, there was no reason why healing power wouldn’t be.

So, the answer branched into two again.

[Has the fragment of the Hero’s power weakened, or is it continuous self-harm?]

There was no way the Emperor, who had been rampaging across battlefields until recently, had suddenly lost his power. The timing didn’t fit, so this assumption was discarded.

So, had the Hero’s fragment lost its power only in terms of ‘healing’ ability? The Duke cut off his consciousness from delving deeper and analyzing further.

There was no need to dwell on unlikely possibilities when the most obvious answer was right here.

‘Self-harm… self-harm, huh…… Come to think of it, he pressed his hand in certain situations.’

To be precise, he pressed his fingertips and twisted them as if to rub them raw. He must have been aggravating the wound.

‘In what situations was it?’

—When the stress became severe, when his eyes lost focus, in situations that would remind him of the ‘dead.’

……Ha.

“Such a stubborn human.”

To think he was enduring the hallucinations in such a crude way.

***

The first thing the Emperor noticed upon returning to the outdoor banquet hall was none other than a brawl breaking out on one side.

A green-haired man, backpedaling until he hit a table, bowed apologetically. A dagger slashed across above him, smashing the candelabra decorating the table. Crash! A loud noise echoed, and muffled screams erupted from various places.

Seeing the white hair fluttering freely at the center of this commotion, the Emperor quietly raised his hand to cover his face.

“What in the world is this now…….”

***

Just fifteen minutes earlier, Stigma had been watching Deon Hart silently gulping down alcohol.

With each sip, his red eyes sank with a disturbing aura, and with another sip, the emotions drained from his already expressionless face.

Watching this entire process up close, he chuckled softly.

‘Of course. The man who made that ridiculous request to the Emperor wouldn’t be normal.’

He seemed subtly normal, but he was hiding this true nature.

He wasn’t particularly bothered by this unexpected revelation. After all, the reason Stigma liked Deon Hart wasn’t his personality but the fact that he had ‘destroyed his family’.

Even if Deon Hart was crazier than he was now or more normal than he was a moment ago, his fondness for him would have remained the same.

‘Rather, now that his true nature is showing, he’s much tamer than I expected, which is surprising.’

More than that, it was about time he opened his mouth, but he remained silent.

Eventually, Stigma, unable to wait any longer, called out to Deon.

“Junior?”

“I know nothing about that.”

“……What?”

Sharp red eyes stared directly at him. Stigma frowned slightly, unable to understand his attitude or his words.

He’s not drunk, so what is it? There’s something off. Has his true nature not fully emerged yet?

“That statement, from the post-war meritorious awards ceremony 8 years ago, when you requested….”

“I know nothing about that.”

A clear signal that he would neither receive nor answer any questions related to that.

“……Alright, you know nothing about it.”

For some unknown reason, the sober Deon Hart was refusing to discuss this topic.

—Then I’ll just have to cloud his mind.

He gestured to a nearby knight and had the alcohol he’d entrusted to him returned.

“Want a drink? I happen to have some alcohol I confiscated from my subordinates.”

“……Is that alright?”

“They’re my subordinates, what problem could there be? Besides, this is the kind of alcohol I prohibited.”

He gestured to a passing servant and received a clean empty glass, which he placed in his junior’s hand.

Wasn’t it said that this alcohol was painstakingly obtained from the north? The region Stigma was in charge of was the far south, so it would have been difficult to acquire.

He nonchalantly poured the alcohol, which contained Subordinate A’s tears of blood, into the glass with a smirk. Deon, looking quite uneasy, examined the glass suspiciously before asking a question.

“If it’s prohibited alcohol… does it contain something like drugs?”

“Well, those are also included in the prohibited list, but this isn’t that, so don’t worry. It’s just a bit strong. Would I give you drugs, Junior?”

You like strong alcohol, right?

Stigma winked playfully. Deon stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the glass before downing it without hesitation.

……He only made him drink it a few more times.

He tilted his head back. A dagger whistled through the air, piercing the spot where his face had been. Stigma, clearly aware of this, gave an awkward laugh.

He definitely heard a whoosh just now. He really tried to kill me.

“Well…… Junior, shouldn’t we stop here? At this rate, the banquet hall will be completely ruined.”

“Youuuu… said we were enemieees…….”

“Actually, that was a lie. We’re not enemies.”

“You said we were enemieees…… enemies!”

Oops.

He took a step back, clicking his tongue softly.

‘If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have lied like that.’