Chapter 2
The Scoundrel’s Way (1)
On the inside: Zion Blize, a freedom fighter for Deber.
On the outside: Zion Riobelt, an Imperial Prince of Ritania.
Yet nothing had truly changed.
‘Goebel, that bastard, becoming the Governor-General of Deber? Not over my dead body.’
A colonial Governor-General received treatment equivalent to that of a Duke. It meant becoming one of the top five most powerful figures in the entire Empire.
It had to be stopped.
Personal feelings aside, it was a necessity for Deber’s sake.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Your Highness. It is time to depart. The mana-engine car has been prepared.”
“Lead the way.”
It had been about two days since he woke up in this body. He had gotten quite used to it.
‘The lack of memories is a pretty big problem, though. Luckily, since he was such an absolute scoundrel, everyone just figures it’s normal whenever I act a bit odd.’
Besides, there was one more mitigating factor.
‘To think he slept for over thirty hours straight right before the possession…’
This was the result of discreetly probing the butler and the maids.
On the day he stormed into the prison, Zion Riobelt hadn’t been killed.
Though it was unusual for him not to utter a single word, he had returned home unharmed and gone straight to his bedchamber.
After that, he lost consciousness, and roughly thirty hours later, Zion Blize woke up inside the body.
‘As a result, since my original body vanished, it’ll just be processed as Zion Blize having escaped from prison… Whoa.’
An exclamation escaped his lips involuntarily. The mana-engine car—abbreviated simply as the car—provided to the Imperial Prince… was far more plush and smooth to ride in than he had imagined.
‘Is it dwarf-made and handcrafted? The money to buy just one of these could easily buy more than ten houses.’
The wallet of a fallen kingdom’s Crown Prince was often more impoverished than that of an average commoner.
He had never ridden in such an expensive vehicle before.
“Since today is the day of the banquet, the roads are somewhat congested. It should take about an hour to reach the Imperial Palace.”
Adding the time for security checkpoints, it would easily take three to four hours in reality.
Since their destination was none other than the Imperial Palace, they would likely have to repeat the cycle of stopping, moving, and undergoing inspections several times.
‘Ugh, just thinking about it makes me feel exhaust… wait, shouldn’t I be tired?’
Not at all.
“Salute to the descendant of the exalted bloodline!”
“Glory to the Sun!”
From the very first checkpoint up until now, the car hadn’t stopped even once.
The checkpoint guards stood at attention and saluted the fluttering Imperial flag.
“…”
He was reminded of the time he had been caught at a checkpoint while infiltrating for a liberation army operation.
Back then, hadn’t he almost died because he was discovered to be the Crown Prince of Deber?
And yet, right now…
“Salute to the descendant of the exalted bloodline!”
“Glory to the Sun!”
‘Princes get free passage without any questions asked?’
To think there was such a massive loophole in the Empire’s defense—in that ironclad security and vigilance?
Unbelievable.
“Your Highness. We have arrived. I shall wait in the vehicle, so please call for me whenever you need me.”
“Hmm? You’re not coming with me?”
“…Your Highness… previously stated…”
Ah. Did this trash of a prince say something like it was embarrassing to walk around with an old man?
“Just a joke. As if I’d go with you.”
He felt a little sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t risk raising suspicion.
At any rate, well.
The banquet hall was teeming with high-ranking officials.
‘That guy is 87th… That guy is 43rd… Oh, there’s even the 26th.’
For the record, the numbers he was reciting were ranks on his assassination hit list.
The banquet hall was practically overflowing with targets to kill.
“Eek, ah, ah!”
A brief scream echoed from one side. A young maid, running past in a hurry, tripped over something and was tumbling toward the floor.
“Easy there.”
He lightly caught her wrist, stopping her fall.
Ash-gray hair. Ash-colored locks.
She was undeniably from Deber.
“Be careful, even if you’re in a hurry.”
Releasing her wrist, he continued his stride.
Just by casually leaning his ear in, he could gather the latest intelligence on key Imperial figures.
‘This is incredible. Has it been about ten minutes? The quantity and quality of information gathered just now would have cost one or two secret society members their lives.’
Just as he was thinking that.
“Prince Zion! You’ve arrived! It’s been a while since I last saw your noble face, hahaha.”
A young noble approached and greeted him with unreserved familiarity.
The decorative cane held in his hand was striking.
It was quite heavy, looking like it would be quite useful for other purposes as well.
‘Just looking at his face screams “sycophant.” Did we originally know each other?’
He gave a casual response.
“Long time no see.”
“Hahaha, indeed it has been!”
The guy stuck close to his side and babbled endlessly without taking a breath.
It was fortunate that everything he said was entirely devoid of substance; if it were anyone else, his lack of memory would have been exposed immediately.
His chatter was so empty that Zion hadn’t even heard the man’s name yet.
Well, if they were originally close, perhaps it would be ridiculous to state his name anew.
“Ah! By the way, sir, come this way, come this way. I’ve picked out some new young ladies in advance.”
“…”
A proposal that starkly reflected how the previous Zion Riobelt had lived his life.
“Not right now. Later.”
“Ayy, don’t be like that. I’ll serve you well.”
“I said no.”
“…Pardon?”
A faint look of fluster washed over Riegert’s face.
“Pr-Prince! I even hid some out on the terrace in advance! You’ll definitely be satisfied, hehe.”
Hmm. This slick bastard. He was hiding something, wasn’t he?
Based on his years of experience in the liberation army, he was certain this guy had an ulterior motive right now.
‘It turns out being a scoundrel like Zion Riobelt is actually convenient at times like this.’
Because there was no need to hesitate; asking directly with a straight pitch was all it took.
“What is it with you? Who gave you the order?”
“Pardon? Pr-Prince… It’s me, Riegert. The Riegert whom Your Highness favors and cherishes the most!”
He really couldn’t tell if it was true or not.
He was already frustrated enough by his lack of memories, and having to hear stuff like this meant he had to pay even closer attention.
A sudden surge of irritation made him glare at the man.
“Your Highness… You know the 3rd Prince makes me do these things…”
At just a glare, Riegert put on a tearful face and began spilling everything, begging for mercy.
Just how much of a scoundrel had Zion Riobelt been?
“So it was the 3rd Prince’s order?”
‘Garion Riobelt is taking care of Zion Riobelt? Why on earth?’
He didn’t know.
Since his opponent was such a massive figure, the thought briefly crossed his mind that he should step back and assess the situation.
However, for some reason, he didn’t want to do that.
Instead, a stubborn urge welled up to do the exact opposite.
Besides, he had come here to meet Marquis Goebel in the first place, and he had no desire to just back off like this.
“Even if we’re going to drink, shouldn’t we go pay our congratulations to the protagonist of the banquet?”
Riegert’s face turned deathly pale.
“Your Highness, please… You might be fine, but I could literally die! Please…!”
I just met you today, so why should I care whether you die or not?
Taking large strides, Zion moved forward, craning his neck to look around for Marquis Goebel.
‘It’s so huge that it’ll take quite a while just to find him. Ah, there he is.’
Fortunately, he found him quickly.
Inside a reception room off in the distance, a raised voice was reprimanding someone.
“Wretched thing. Do you have any idea what you have done?”
Though there was quite a distance and the surroundings were noisy, the voice was strangely clear.
“I-I am sorry. I am sorry, Marquis. Just once, please forgive…”
A pale-faced maid. Marquis Goebel, looking down at a single drop of alcohol splashed onto his hand.
Noble spectators packed the surrounding area.
‘Hmm, that young maid… She’s the girl who almost fell earlier.’
In other words, a young compatriot working across the sea in a distant foreign land was being persecuted by a powerhouse of the Empire.
“I told you to state what mistake you committed.”
Marquis Goebel’s tone was exceedingly elegant.
He maintained his dignity even while expressing his anger.
Fitting for someone dubbed a master of incitement, possessed of exceptionally brilliant speechcraft.
It was yet another reason why his appointment as Governor-General had to be stopped.
‘He’s good at captivating people. If a specialist in propaganda casts his influence across the entirety of Deber, there’s no telling what might happen.’
Right at that moment.
Slap!
“Agh!”
The maid collapsed to the floor. Zion’s hand twitched.
“Failing to pour a single glass of wine properly and spilling it. This single drop is worth more than your wretched body.”
“…The aroma was so strong that…”
“Is that so? Then I shall hand down your punishment. Empty this entire bottle of wine. If you spill even a single drop, you will be subjected to flogging.”
The young maid’s face turned sheet-white.
To force her to drink a whole bottle of such strong, high-proof liquor meant she would be bedridden for days at the very least, and in the worst-case scenario, it could prove fatal.
‘Saying he’s punishing her because a single drop of wine is expensive, yet his punishment is to make her empty the whole bottle.’
It was a contradiction. Yet no one in the vicinity pointed it out.
A power resided in Goebel’s voice that made even the same words sound uniquely plausible and trustworthy.
This was the very reason Marquis Goebel was called the Empire’s greatest propagandist and had rapidly risen to the rank of Marquis.
“M-Marquis… I was wrong. Just once, please forgive—”
“I shall count to three. Decide within that time.”
‘Marquis… that disgusting habit of yours hasn’t changed a bit.’
That low-class sense of superiority etched into his face. Flaunting the gap in social status while trampling on the weak was one of the Marquis’s nasty hobbies.
“That wine, I’ll drink it.”
The moment his voice rang out, the heads of Marquis Goebel and everyone around him turned simultaneously toward Zion.
In that very instant.
The nobles placed their fists over their hearts in unison and bowed their heads in salute.
The commoner servants even went so far as to drop to one knee.
“A subject of the Empire greets a member of the Divine Race.”
“A subject of the Empire greets a member of the Divine Race.”
“A subject of the Empire greets a member of the Divine Race.”
“A subject of the Empire greets a member of the Divine Race.”
The Empire referred to the Imperial Family as the Divine Race.
Wasn’t it because they claimed to be the sacred bloodline descended from the Sun God, making it an absolute duty to offer them awe and reverence?
‘Packaging your authority is one thing, but getting completely consumed by your own concept is a bit much, seriously.’
By that logic, was the Royal Family of Deber truly the descendants of a mage who saved a god?
A legend was just a legend.
Nevertheless, bowing to the Divine Race was an obligation of Imperial citizens explicitly written into the Imperial Code.
It was far from a mere custom.
‘Why didn’t that Riegert guy do it? Ah, did he grant him an exemption from bowing because they were close?’
Well, it wasn’t important.
“Marquis Goebel. Does it seem to you that this Prince is invisible?”
Marquis Goebel was not offering a bow.
Don’t tell me he granted this guy an exemption from bowing, too?
“In terms of protocol, a colonial Governor-General holds an equal rank to a Prince. Within imperial territories, one receives the treatment of a Duke wherever one goes. Be that as it may, I did not expect you to approach me directly. Hahaha, did this Goebel appear so lacking in loyalty to you?”
What on earth was he talking about now?
At times like this, he needed to use the skill he had learned while chatting with Kyroni, who often spoke in riddles.
If you don’t understand, ignore it for now and change the subject. That was the best policy.
“Maid. Hand over the bottle.”
“That is…”
The maid looked back and forth between Zion and the Marquis.
“Hand it to him.”
Receiving the bottle, he looked at the Marquis. Prominent cheekbones and sunken eye sockets. Overall, a gaunt, emaciated face.
Was the last time he saw him at the late King’s funeral, perhaps?
“Goebel. You turn eighty-three this year, do you not?”
For the record, eighty-three was the prime of life for the Imperial high command.
“I did not expect the Prince to know my age.”
I know it. I have to know it. There’s no way I wouldn’t know.
‘He’s aged quite a bit, but at the same time, he’s exactly the same.’
Zion recalled what that bastard Goebel had done at the funeral.
…He tilted the bottle.
The liquor poured out in a heavy stream.
“How much did you say this wine costs per drop?”
An overt provocation. Marquis Goebel, twitching his compulsively manicured square mustache, walked forward quickly to close the distance.
Because of his slight stature, he had to tilt his head back considerably to look up at Zion, yet Marquis Goebel remained unyielding, staring at him with a piercing glare.
“Interesting. Such uncharacteristic behavior… I have grown curious as to what psychological foundation prompted this action.”
“Who knows. I didn’t really think much about it.”
“Is that so?”
Marquis Goebel’s cold gaze shifted toward the maid.
“Since the Prince has graciously enjoyed the wine, it is your turn again. Bring out a new bottle. Likewise, if you fail to finish it all, you die today.”
Look at this bastard?
“Your Highness. If you wish to stop it, then buy the maid. The price is 10,000,000 Pen.”
Pen was the currency unit of the Empire. Converted to the Kingdom’s Luon, it was 100,000,000 Luon.
A fortune large enough to easily purchase a massive castle—demanded as the price for a mere maid?
It was outright mockery.
“I already knew Your Highness was an ordinary person, but today is the first time I realized you were a deficient one. To approach me after killing my confidant… and on the very day I ascend to a position equal in status to yours.”
Only then could he understand the unprovoked hostility Marquis Goebel was displaying.
‘So he was holding a grudge from the start.’
Two days ago, the interrogator he had killed by setting a trap after realizing he was Goebel’s subordinate…
The hand he had borrowed to kill that guy was none other than Zion Riobelt’s—the very hand of the body he was currently occupying.
‘In the end, I’m wiping up the mess I made myself.’
Tsk, it couldn’t be helped. Who could have known he would suddenly end up in this body?
“What will you do? Will you purchase her? Ah, was the 9th Prince famous for being penniless? Word has it that without the 3rd Prince, you cannot even afford your dignity maintenance funds. In that case, I shall discount the price to one-hundredth. Do you feel like buying her now?”
It was an insult of a degree that would have made the original 9th Prince, Zion, want to die of shame and humiliation.
Naturally, for the current Zion, it had zero effect.
‘Hmm, this guy—no, me now. I was broke.’
At any rate, continuing a verbal dispute with a guy whose main weapon was his tongue would only increase his own losses.
In times like this, there was another skill he had acquired while chatting with Kyroni.
“Eat shit.”
A look of shock surfaced on Marquis Goebel’s face.
“What?! Have you even forgotten the nobility of your inherent bloodline?”
“I told you to go eat shit.”
“…”
The eyeballs resting in his sunken sockets—the black pupils dotted like specks in the middle of white sclera—moved busily.
Literally, it just meant to go eat shit, yet the man seemed to be searching for a non-existent hidden motive, causing Zion to chuckle to himself.
At that, Marquis Goebel began to laugh along with him.
Evidently, he had misunderstood the intention.
“Are you trying to preserve your dignity even through such a vulgar method? How pitiful. Allow me to offer some advice: try to find a talent of your own.”
Marquis Goebel thrust his face forward.
“Just as I, Paul Goebel, elevated myself to an equal standing with you—who possesses nothing but bloodline—solely through my speechcraft and eloquence.”
Hair slicked back tightly. A neat appearance that couldn’t hide his obsessive nature.
One side of his lips curved into a pleasing arch.
It was a smile.
‘So damn repulsive.’
“Since my mood has improved thanks to the 9th Prince, I shall show mercy to that wretched girl. Now then, as I must deliver a speech before the inauguration ceremony, I shall take my leave.”
Marquis Goebel moved away.
Well, in any case, it seemed he had successfully prevented the maid’s death.
The nobles poured out after him in a crowd.
Only Riegert remained by Zion’s side.
“Um, Your Highness… even now, shall we head to the terrace… and have a drink together? Haha. Hahaha…”
Riegert’s attitude was extremely cautious.
It was as if he were keeping a bomb that was right on the verge of exploding right next to him.
‘When I’m actually feeling completely fine.’
Marquis Goebel. He had been openly insulted by the enemy of his father.
However.
Despite that, it was enjoyable.
He was simply delighted to have met that guy.
‘Marquis Goebel. You told me to find a talent of my own, did you? I’m sorry, but I already know my talent all too well.’
He said he was going to deliver an inauguration speech, didn’t he?
A fun picture began to take shape in his mind.
To draw a picture, one needed paint—or at the very least, a single pencil.
‘I need magic. Though my realm of mastery was completely wiped out because my body changed, well…’
He closed his eyes. He focused his mind.
He engraved a pattern into the conscious world inside his mind.
A magic circle. No, a mana circuit.
The mana circuit engraved into his consciousness encroached upon the material world.
Fine threads stretched out, pioneering the physical form of the circuit.
The human body was full of passages. The blood vessels through which blood flowed now took on the dual role of mana circuits as well.
“Phew.”
He opened his eyes.
For now, was this the best he could do?
Still, it cleared the bare minimum threshold.
“Riegert. How much time has passed?”
“Pardon? It’s been about five minutes since you closed your eyes.”
Five minutes ago, Zion was an ordinary person.
Yet right now, Zion was a mage.
To reach a level that would take others at least several months—or an average person several years—in a mere five minutes.
The overwhelming talent that made this possible still resided within Zion.
This was because magic was a discipline where the aptitude of the soul mattered far more than the potential of the physical body.
‘There are probably dozens of magic-detection sensors all over the banquet hall, but…’
He scanned the surroundings. To be precise, he observed the lingering traces of mana visible only to mages.
‘If it’s a minor level, I can manifest magic without getting caught.’
The mana waves emanating from the magical artifacts held by high-ranking nobles were overlapping so much that small-scale magic wouldn’t be detected.
‘Marquis. You know what? Your insult doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Seeing your face just makes me so glad and happy.’
Being inside the body of a scoundrel bastard has this one perk.
Getting his hands on an opportunity for such a magnificent revenge.
By the way, Marquis. Looking at you, you seem to take immense pride in that tongue of yours, which happens to be your greatest asset?
‘At your most brilliant moment, I’ll drop you into the deepest depths.’
Inside Zion’s palm, a faint blue light was projecting a specific pattern.
It was the circuit structure he had read from the magical artifact disguised as a uniform button when Goebel had thrust his face in close.
