Black-Haired Dad Isn’t Something You Reap - Chapter 3

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 03. Return (3)
Since my childhood, countless women had passed through the Emperor’s chambers, and illegitimate children were even more abundant, so I couldn’t even begin to fathom who this dark-haired brat was.
But since the blockhead seemed to lack a few marbles, I supposed I’d have to explain who I was.
Once the fool heard my illustrious name, surely the dimwitted child would bow and retreat.
“I am Vishnabel, the—!”
Damn it, I bit my own tongue! When will this paralysis finally wear off?!
Whoever had administered the medicine to this child had used something potent indeed.
“Get down! I said get down!”
“Stop shaking it, you fool! Stop it!”
Has this blockhead lost his mind? Why is he dangerously shaking the slide?!
The attendants dared not intervene, knowing these were the Emperor’s children fighting, and stood helplessly to the side.
I quickly slid down and smacked the brat’s head.
“It’s mine!”
“Why is it yours? Father gave it to me!”
I was the legitimate heir, so naturally all the Imperial Family’s playthings belonged to me. Didn’t this blockhead understand that?
My speech was still slurred, so I couldn’t manage long sentences, and I simply shoved the brat away to make my meaning clear.
The audacious little wretch then punched me. With a crack, my jaw twisted, and for a moment, I saw nothing but stars.
“You bastard! You’re dead!”
I pummeled the brat relentlessly, though I took quite a beating myself. My hair was torn, blood dripped from my ear, and scratches marked my face. Yet my final punch landed true, and I had the satisfaction of seeing a nosebleed gush from my opponent.
I was grateful I’d diligently learned self-defense before my death. Looking closely, the brat’s eyes had swollen into dark plums.
Had I landed a few more blows, I certainly would have. Serves him right!
“Waaahhhhh! Mother!”
The pathetic whimpering was almost amusing.
Victorious from the fight, I proudly puffed out my chest and climbed back onto the slide. Blood streamed down my face from the deep scratches, but this was hardly the time to worry about such things.
This was my first real brawl in my life!
Only hours into my new existence, and I’d already mastered street fighting—truly, I was the legitimate heir who could accomplish anything.
Humming cheerfully, I climbed the slide once more.
I never tired of this. The only inconvenience was the exhaustion of climbing the stairs.
I briefly considered summoning a few Imperial Guards to help me up.
“Your Highness, the Princess!”
No, I couldn’t trouble busy people with such things. If I grew tired, I could simply rest and play again later.
As I kicked my legs enthusiastically, Imperial Guards suddenly swarmed around the slide, surrounding it.
Had I gained some new divine power from dying and returning? Yet I felt no divine energy gathering at all.
As I puzzled over this, one of the guards turned ashen and reported to me.
“It is the Emperor’s command, Your Highness! His Majesty orders that you, Princess Vishnabel, be imprisoned for laying hands upon the Emperor’s Son!”
The blockhead still possessed a remarkable talent for causing trouble.

✦ ✦ ✦
“How dare you! Release me at once!”
I thrashed about as the Imperial Guard carried me away.
Emily and the other handmaidens pretended to weep at the Emperor’s command, waving their handkerchiefs as though powerless, but their indifference only fueled my rage—I flailed even more violently.
Not that I should have expected anything from them; they hadn’t even shown their faces when I died before. They were all just trying to survive, so loyalty was too much to ask.
“Kyaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah! Your Majesty! I hate the prison!”
“Your Highness, I fear your eardrums may rupture.”
Let them rupture. Are you an idiot too?
This wretched Imperial Palace was so thoroughly corrupted by that tyrant Emperor that everyone here was a fool.
No wonder the kingdom is falling apart.
The Imperial Guard who brought me to what appeared to be a high-security prison—presumably the Political Detention Center—gently set me down inside the cell and quickly locked the door.
“Please preserve your health, Your Highness.”
How am I supposed to preserve anything in here?
As I continued screaming without tiring, my voice shattering the air, the jailers one by one abandoned their posts. From the adjacent cell came the sound of fists pounding against the wall in protest of the noise.
But I did not stop.
A child’s voice was remarkable. How could I scream continuously for thirty minutes without my throat giving out?
Boom!
Just as I was continuing my vocal display with another piercing shriek, a sound louder than my own cry erupted, and a hole appeared in the wall—not a complete collapse, but a fist-sized opening punched straight through.
So startled by this spectacle that I fell silent, a low voice came from beyond the hole.
“Quiet.”
Hey, watch your tongue. I am the legitimate heir of the Kisomalos dynasty spanning five hundred years.
“This is no place for a child. What crime brought you here?”
Hmm. Your manners are crude, but that’s a good question, Prisoner.
At the man’s question, I ceased my noise pollution and sat properly. No matter how recklessly I behaved, I had just lost all dignity. For the sake of self-respect, I needed to maintain at least a minimum of composure.
“I hit someone!”
“Assault? Whom?”
“The Emperor’s Son!”
“Heh.”
Why are you laughing? I wasn’t joking.
Upon hearing my noble words as the true heir of the Imperial Family, he showed no proper reverence, so I denounced his ingratitude—”You wretched fool! You’re worse than garbage!”—but the man showed no remorse and continued his disrespect.
“My apologies. I did not recognize Your Highness.”
“If you knew, you should show proper respect!”
“Your lisp makes it difficult to understand.”
“You cursed wretch!”
“Kkhh, kkhh-hkh….”
What is so funny about this lunatic?!
As I prepared to shriek again and resume my noise pollution, the man apologized and asked how I came to strike the Emperor’s Son.
He had been confined here alone for so long that he found even children’s quarrels entertaining, the shameless fool, but I too was bored, so I began chattering about what had just happened.
“I see. You struck his head because he monopolized the playground equipment.”
“Exactly. For a mere Prisoner, you understand quite well.”
“But you said that was a gift from my father. So doesn’t it belong to that boy?”
“Everything in the Imperial Family is mine. I am the legitimate heir.”
“This is troubling. So this wretched brat will grow up to become Emperor.”
“How disrespectful!”
He understood perfectly well just moments ago, so why can’t he grasp this? What an incomplete fool.
When I cursed again, the man apologized without any sincerity and asked me to keep him company in conversation.
Ugh… How many years has this Prisoner rotted away in here that he’s begging a five-year-old child to chat with him?
“So did you win?”
“Of course.”
I struck my chest proudly and declared that I had beaten him five more times.
His eyes swelled up like grapes, blood streamed from both nostrils, and in the end he ran away crying and calling for his mother.
When I recounted this glorious tale, the man’s voice brightened as if he were pleased.
“Well done. As long as you won, that’s what matters.”
Right. This irreverent fellow speaks in a way that somehow makes sense.
Then again, this was a Political Detention Center specializing in political prisoners. Anyone confined here must have resisted the current Emperor considerably and possessed considerable status.
If he were merely a common noble, they would have executed him outright, so the deity his household serves must be someone of some renown.
Probably a mid-tier deity, lower in rank than Kisomalos before my regression.
In any case, with this Prisoner as my conversation partner, I thought I could finally voice the words I’d been holding back. I cursed the Emperor to death with a stiff tongue, and the Prisoner agreed that everything I said was right.
As evening came and dinner was served, I took a spoonful and found it tasteless, so I overturned the tray. The Prisoner advised me that all prison meals were like this and it was better to endure and eat them.
After being conversation partners for only half a day, he was already acting friendly… It felt oddly touching.
How friendless must he be to befriend a five-year-old brat? What a pitiful fellow.
“Your Highness the Princess, His Majesty summons you.”
“Very well.”
So that blockhead finally sobered up. Whether from medicine or alcohol, he’s been sleeping during the day and staying awake at night, doubling the heating costs throughout the entire Imperial Palace.
This wretched Imperial Family. They deserve to collapse.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————