447 – The Reason I Want to be King -6-

A cold wind blows through a seemingly endless passage.

“Ugh… the smell.”

Accompanied by a truly vile odor.

The stench of the sewers was overwhelming.

Perhaps because it was a channel for flowing filth, a rotten smell assailed us relentlessly, and the floor was coated with enough muck to leave footprints.

I waved my hand in front of my nose against the encroaching stench, and asked, watching Chartia walk on in silence. I was curious what the princess, who had grown up seeing only the finest things, thought of this place.

“Ugh…”

As I suspected, Chartia was struggling, a fist clenched over her mouth as she fought back the urge to retch.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine.”

“You seem to be having a difficult time.”

“It’s alright. I’ll get used to it soon, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

She had pushed herself too hard.

To curry favor with the Emperor, Chartia had moved faster than anyone, to the point where her body was burdened.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Truly, she was a foolish person.

“Would you like to rest a while?”

“…I’m fine.”

“We have plenty of time. We may not be able to complete this in a day, so we can take our time. It’s not too late.”

“We need to finish this as quickly as possible.”

“I have no intention of taking my time either. Leaving escaped criminals alive will only lead to secondary harm.”

“…”

“That’s why I’m suggesting we rest.”

I examined Shartia, whose complexion was not good, and wore a distressed look. At this rate, I felt like we’d be arrested for regicide of the princess, let alone capturing criminals.

“My, you look even worse than before.”

“The smell is just too much.”

“No,”

I said, handing Shartia a water bottle from my pouch.

“You seem to be in even worse condition than when you were teaching.”

“…”

“Back then, there was a spark in your face. I think I fed you well and made sure you slept, so you were full of life, but now you look like a rotten pollock.”

“…I’m just tired. I haven’t been able to sleep properly because I’ve been catching up on work.”

“Didn’t I tell you? You’ll die like that.”

“…”

“I don’t want to see a king die young.”

Shartia gave an awkward smile and lowered her head. She, too, was feeling the limits of her own body.

As soon as classes ended, she spent the night catching up on work, and not long after, the prison incident broke out, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had a decent sleep.

“…I should. I should, but…”

I stared at Shartia, her eyes heavy with sleep, and asked. Just why was she pushing herself this far?

“Isn’t it difficult?”

Having only read about her life in novels, I couldn’t fully understand her hardships. I knew why she was clinging to the throne, what narrative she was pursuing, but knowing that didn’t mean I understood her heart.

“Why are you doing this much?”

“…”

To me, Shartia was seen as ‘someone who only works herself to death.’ Even when she was at the academy, she was locked away in her office, making it hard to even see her face.

‘Someone who will become king when the time comes.’

That single phrase was how I viewed her.

I know how foolish and stupid that thought is. I know how absurd it is for the person involved to only see the results without seeing the process.

Still.

“Your Highness is overdoing it now.”

Even if she had a reason to give up everything and become king.

“Haven’t you listened to my advice?”

Working oneself to death was not a righteous thing to do. It’s like a tree that could fall at any moment.

“Don’t nag me.”

Sharittia, biting her lip at the ceaseless prodding, shook her head and spat out the sharp words.

“I’m taking breaks and working at my own pace too, you know.”

Words laced with the unspoken ‘What do you even understand?’

“…”

Sharittia’s sentence hung unfinished.

“I overstepped my place, I suppose.”

For no one, no matter the world they hail from, enjoys being lectured.

“Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Not at all. It’s my shortcomings.”

“…”

If only Milady were here, she’d have given me a good smack on the head.

-Hey! Play with me!

-I have pressing matters. It’s a task I must finish today, and then I shall indulge you.

-Eeeeeeee… Then I’ll help you!

-It’s mathematics, though.

-I’m a noble!

-What is 103 plus 12341?

-Uiiii…

Seeing Sharittia’s stifled state, I let out a soft sigh and, seeking to lighten the mood, offered a small smile and began to spin a more hopeful tale.

Lest she be crushed by constant reprimands.

“It looks like we’ll be finished soon enough, though.”

“…Huh?”

“Haven’t you noticed? The noise from the other passage has ceased.”

“Now that you mention it, it has. Ruin was bellowing at the top of his lungs.”

“Either he was bested, or he triumphed.”

“So… shouldn’t we go check?”

“Just a jest. The students I’ve taught aren’t the sort to fall easily.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Indeed.”

-Okay!!! Schuen!!!

-Don’t go bandying about a noble’s name like that! You greenhorn!

I chuckled, hearing Ruin’s voice, like he was meeting a different prisoner altogether, and turned to Shartia.

“See? He’s perfectly fine.”

They’re vouched for by my name, so there’s no need to worry, I meant to say.

“Pfft… So it seems.”

The atmosphere lightening a bit, I returned her smile and pulled the document Shartia had given me earlier from my inner pocket, letting out a low murmur of appreciation.

[Register of Escapees]

It was a list of escaped criminals from the Black Sanctum, detailing their personal information.

“Dangerous individuals did escape, that’s for sure.”

“…”

“A few Archbishops among them, it seems.”

“How many, do you think?”

“Hmm… The ‘Man who Indulges in Azure’, the ‘Steel-Cane Killer’. And maybe the ‘Poison-Spraying Madman’ seem to be on the Archbishop level of dangerous.”

“It would be good if they fell into our hands…”

“Is the Imperial Princess intending to deal with them?”

“…No. It’s not that.”

“Just kidding. Still, I don’t think you need to worry too much. Criminals like these can be handled by the students themselves. If push comes to shove, Mikhail can use the Holy Sword, so don’t stress too much.”

“That’s a relief, but I feel bad, like it’s all my fault.”

I shook my head at Shartia, who was blaming herself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Huh…?”

“It’s because of me.”

“…”

Relieving her of some of the burden, I pointed to a name at the very end of the register, beginning to read it aloud.

“The Merciful Slaughterer…”

The name of the person I would soon meet.

“…Eric?”

“…”

“Is it… the same person I know?”

Upon hearing the name Erik, Chartia betrayed herself with an unguarded expression, a dragon exposed at its most vulnerable point.

Studying her eyes, I offered a strained smile and inquired,

“Your Highness?”

Chartia hesitated, her gaze flickering, before parting her lips. ‘Erik’ was the man who had gifted her with a memory she couldn’t forget.

The Empire’s former Chancellor.

A man revered by nobles and common folk alike for his exceptional character and virtue.

“…Yes, it’s him.”

“I see.”

“Yes.”

He who was the object of everyone’s respect, was to her, the most terrible being imaginable.

I carefully blended what I’d read in the novel with the snippets Chartia had divulged. Knowing too much would also be a problem.

“Are you acquainted?”

“No.”

“Do you know any of his weaknesses, perhaps?”

-A tight grip…

“…No.”

I was playing a cruel game.

Knowing it was her weak spot, understanding how difficult it was for her, and still, I pressed.

“Understood. If any information comes to mind, please, tell me at any time.”

“…Alright.”

I didn’t want to trample on her chance to grow. Just as Mikhail had overcome the Archbishop of Oblivion, I hoped she, too, would cultivate the strength to conquer her own trials.

That was the kind of consideration a selfish transmigrator could offer.

“The charges are… unique.”

“…”

“Forty-five counts of murder, six attempted… and then.”

“…”

I gazed at Chartia, who was biting her lip, and continued,

“Treason…as well.”

Chartia, after a heavy pause, opened her lips and said.

“Stop.”

“…”

“Enough resting. Time to move. We’ve lingered long enough, I think.”

“…Hmm… Is that so?”

Chartia’s face was set, tight.

At my words, I hoisted my rear from its heavy resting place and moved forward. Deeper in.

Perhaps ten minutes passed like that.

I halted before a colossal sluice gate, stopping at the very place so many prisoners had found their end.

“…Merciful, really.”

“…”

“To think they were slain so swiftly, without prolonged torment.”

“…”

I pushed at Chartia’s trembling back, speaking toward the place where the sewer waters flowed.

“Shall we go?”

“I…”

“Your Highness.”

Chartia, eyes wide and shimmering, shook her head at me.

“I can’t.”

“…”

“I can’t do it…”

Of course, her childish whimpers.

“Let’s go.”

Held no sway over a possessed soul.

*

“Prime Minister!”

Young Chartia learned much from the Prime Minister.

How to survive.

How to be victorious.

How to conceal the weapons she possessed.

She learned and progressed, always through the Prime Minister’s tutelage.

“Haha! If it isn’t the Imperial Princess!”

Chartia had once wished the Chancellor were her grandfather. In the barren Imperial Palace, he was the first person to ever take her side.

She regarded the Chancellor as a benefactor, someone she could rely on and follow without question.

Of course, this happiness didn’t last, but in that moment, it was genuine.

One day, during a banquet in the western hall…

The young Chartia, fists clenched tight, spoke in a cautious voice to the Chancellor, who wore a kind smile.

“Um… Chancellor.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Would… would it be alright if I called you Grandfather?”

“…Of course. It would be an honor if Your Highness would call me that.”

“Grand… Grandfather..?”

“Yes. Just like that.”

Oblivious to the truth hidden behind his mask.