Come on, have some conscience.
How could an old monster like that target a young man in his prime like me... no, a boy.
This is something I need to resist strongly.
"There's nothing to discuss with something like that."
I tried to use respectful language, but harsh words came out.
It wasn't intentional.
But... I have a right to be angry!
Thirty-five years old. And from what I know, she's been married several times already.
For reference, the 1st Imperial Princess Freya's nickname is "Female Mantis."
I don't think I need to explain the context behind that nickname.
But...
Hmm...
"Something like that"... was that too harsh?
I thought she'd be angry.
In terms of practical advantage, we held the upper hand, but I inwardly judged that she wouldn't see it that way.
"I see. Understood."
Huh?
There was no rebuttal. Not even a face-saving remark. Not even a lingering note like "Please reconsider," the kind of line a diplomat would leave behind even if it meant swallowing their pride.
She simply withdrew quickly.
That was like...
The behavior of a complete weakling.
The envoy turned around.
The bow was natural, and there was no hesitation in her steps.
She seemed eager to escape quickly.
In the midst of that, her gaze swept across one spot.
It was a fleeting moment. A glance so brief that an untrained eye would have missed it.
Duke Sylvester.
The envoy's lips moved.
There was almost no sound, but I could read the vibration in the air through mana sensitivity.
It was a new technique born from the combination of three things: mana sensitivity, my recent advancement in realm, and something left behind from the day I lost my memory.
"I can't believe that old monster actually calls that child 'liege'..."
It seemed the real shock was on her side.
Thinking about it, it made sense.
A long-time loyal retainer of the Hardenberg Imperial Family and teacher of emperors.
Such a being was sitting beside me in the ducal house, calling me "liege."
Me, not Father.
That must have been the most shocking information.
A bit of mischief stirred in me.
"'Old monster' is rather harsh language."
I deliberately spoke loud enough for her to hear.
Crash.
The envoy fell.
Right in the middle of the hall with knights lined up on both sides. She laid down all the dignity she could possess as a diplomat along with the sound of hitting the floor.
The envoy tried to get up.
She put her knees down, placed her hands on the floor, and was about to gather her diplomatic pride to raise her upper body.
But her hands were trembling. It was clearly not just from the shock of falling.
"Heh heh heh heh... heh heh heh... how far have the rumors..."
What rumors exactly?
I wanted to ask, but I didn't bother.
"You must be tired from your long journey. Knights, help this person up."
Father deliberately acted courteously.
The formality shown to someone lower in status, whether in actual or nominal rank.
It was a kind of joke.
Two knights approached and grabbed the envoy's arms to lift her up. The envoy left the tent with her head bowed, never once looking back.
Watching the envoy's departing back, I thought.
What she'll report when she returns won't just be the rejection of the conditions.
Duke Sylvester is calling Krustein's son "liege." The moment this single fact spreads, the credibility of all the other rumors surrounding me will rise entirely.
Of course, most of them are... absurd rumors.
For instance...
At eleven years old, he subdued a top-tier Sword Expert knight with his bare hands.
When he was born, silver mana enveloped the birthing room and the midwife fainted.
He doesn't sleep. Even after staying awake for three days, his judgment doesn't cloud.
I don't know what lunatic spread these rumors, but I slept eight hours last night. Soundly. I'd die if I didn't sleep.
The envoy stopped at the entrance.
"May I say one thing?"
"Go ahead."
"I don't believe all the rumors about Your Excellency or the Little Duke. Especially regarding the Little Duke's strange rumors—that he has eyes that see through battlefields, that he inherited dragon blood—I don't believe those. Because that would mean Your Excellency copulated with a dragon."
"So that's how the rumor goes."
Father smiled in an uncharacteristic way. His attitude toward dragons was truly contradictory. Whether he disregarded them or revered them, whether he revered them more than ordinary humans but saw them as beneath me.
"However, if even just the rumor about not sleeping is true, I would choose not to defy Your Excellency's son."
Sleep, out of nowhere?
Of all the rumors, why that one?
"The fact that Duke Sylvester truly follows him was more surprising than any rumor."
And with that, she left without looking back.
After some time passed.
"Is not sleeping a less impressive rumor than dragon blood?"
I asked.
I was genuinely curious.
Duke Sylvester answered.
"Most people think so."
**
Even after the envoy left, I remained somewhat on guard.
She firmly believed in surrender, but I thought the 35-year-old monster whose marriage proposal was rejected might think differently.
Even if not retaliation, I expected at least a letter of protest. Something like "We express regret" or "We request reconsideration"—the kind of document with soft words but thorns hidden inside.
That's what diplomacy is, isn't it? Even when rejected, you knock once more, and if that doesn't work, you at least leave a face-saving protest.
But.
What arrived was a letter of surrender.
"Unconditional surrender?"
"Yes. They declared complete surrender without any preconditions."
It bore the Imperial Princess's seal. The handwriting was neat, and the sentences were short.
There were no embellishments. No expressions leaving room for negotiation, no rhetoric to save face, no conditions whatsoever.
We surrender.
That single sentence was all the parchment could convey.
She was the most powerful force among those remaining.
Not just powerful. The most legitimate force.
Direct lineage of the Hardenberg Imperial Family. A bloodline that could claim the throne.
Such a person declared unconditional surrender.
"Grant her a ducal title!"
Father readily accepted.
With that, the civil war was effectively over.
The word "effectively" was attached for a reason, of course.
There were still tens of thousands of undead in the capital.
We could lure them with magic artifacts, but eliminating them was another project entirely.
As soon as I lay on the bed, my whole body sank.
It was heavy. Even though I hadn't swung a sword. All I did today was sit, meet people, listen, and talk.
Yet I was this tired, probably because of my head.
The undead elimination project.
The administrative system after recapturing the capital.
Mass production of magic artifacts and securing mana stones.
And her...
...Ah...
I need to sleep.
I closed my eyes.
Three seconds later, I fell asleep.
Quite ordinarily, contrary to the rumors.
**
"Oppa, you're late!"
Ugh...
The cruel hand yanking open the curtains.
It was Celine.
Her cat ears stood perked up.
"Late for what? What appointment?"
"It's that day!"
"What day?"
I suddenly couldn't remember.
I was drowsy, reality and dreams mixing together.
In my dream, I was about Celine's current age.
Three years ago... no, was it four years ago?
Before I knew it, this kid had turned twelve.
After the accelerated aging was reset, she's been growing again from eight years old, but her behavior is still completely cat-like.
She likes high places, naps in sunny spots, and drops things when she doesn't get attention.
"Oppa."
"What."
"Don't I seem a bit taller lately?"
"Stand up and let me see."
Celine straightened her back. I pretended not to notice her slightly raising her heels.
"You've grown a lot."
"Really?"
"Probably."
I watched her walk away, grinning from ear to ear.
The child who was told she wouldn't live past thirty is now asking if she's grown taller while standing on her tiptoes.
Now that child is also a proud Imperial Princess.
Then what about me, soon to turn fifteen...
I was the Crown Prince.
"Oh, but what day is it?"
"They said the communication device is fixed!"
"Ah!"
I bolted upright.
"You even forgot that. Were you dreaming?"
"Yeah."
"What about?"
"When I was your age."
Celine tilted her head... then smiled.
"Oh, when those guys got castrated?"
Two people stood at the door.
Celine's male attendants.
Of course, attendants serving an Imperial Princess couldn't be ordinary male attendants.
Unnecessary organs removed to make them suitable for serving the Imperial Princess, and while they were at it, other unnecessary organs also removed so they wouldn't pose a physical threat.
In short...
They were eunuchs who had their Mana Hearts removed.
Both had deep grudges with the Krustein family.
Normally, both should have been executed... but Father didn't prefer executing enemy-level prisoners.
More precisely, he preferred that method over killing.
Their power as knights and their function as men—both eliminated at once.
If you kill them, it ends there, but if you keep them alive, they become useful.
Useful as a message. Useful for saying "Don't mess with us unless you want to end up like this."
"Rubens."
"Yes!"
"You look older than when you came last time."
"I apologize."
"Nothing to apologize for."
It was natural, after all.
When the Mana Hole is destroyed, mana circulation in the body stops, and when circulation stops, the power that suppressed physical aging disappears.
Plus, they'd suffered a lot.
And...
My gaze moved to the second eunuch.
His head was deeply bowed. I couldn't see his face.
Instead, I could see his hair.
It had once been blond.
Now it was white.
Not silver like mine, but white.
What's the difference? The luster. Silver hair has light, white hair has none.
It wasn't hair that had lost color, but hair that had lost vitality.
Still, Father has a nasty hobby. To think he'd keep that bastard alive. After turning him into that.
"Ernst. Lift your head."
I deliberately called the guy's name.