I Was Hired by the Dark Prince for My Life's Worth - Chapter 42

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 42. If you asked Yulian to hand me over, do you think he would, just like that?
Cough, cough.
The man covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice low and thin as he coughed softly.
I stepped back, pressing my lips together.
At first glance, the man looked sickly.
His hair was white as fresh snow—not age-white, but pristine.
Skin so pale it was nearly translucent, and thin silver-rimmed spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose.
Despite appearing close to my own age, he leaned heavily on a Cane in one hand.
“Ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
As I shrank back, visibly wary, the man slowly raised both hands in a gesture of harmlessness.
“I’m not suspicious. It’s just… I caught the smell of food I haven’t eaten in ages, and I found myself drawn here like a man entranced.”
…….
“…Well, you don’t believe me one bit, do you.”
Seeing my expression, he furrowed his brow with an air of resignation.
He sighed, then leaned against the bookshelf as if exhausted.
“You’re right. In situations like this, I suppose one should introduce oneself first.”
He spoke quietly.
“I’m Nike Ozbalt.”
Then, slowly looking down at me, he smiled faintly.
“Unremarkable as I may be, I am the First Imperial Prince of the Empire.”
* * *
After that, I think there’s no need to say what happened next—you can probably guess.
‘I’m dead.’
“W-would you like some of my Cookies…?”
“Ah, so that’s the smell. Thank you.”
Crunch.
I surrendered a good portion of my carefully hoarded Chocolate Chip Cookies, prepared water in case his throat felt dry, and then—
I knelt before him, my lips pressed firmly shut.
If I’m being honest, it felt like kneeling on pins and needles….
‘The First Imperial Prince… so it’s him? The one who’s been in seclusion because of his illness.’
The sole surviving occupant of the Fifth Imperial Residence.
“Hic….”
“What’s wrong?”
“…It’s nothing, Your Highness.”
Fool.
I really am a fool.
The moment I squeezed my eyes shut, tears began to seep out.
How could I not recognize the Imperial Family standing right before me?
And worse—spouting things like “Who are you?” when I’m supposed to be a palace maid!
“Forgive me for my failure to greet you properly. I beg your forgiveness.”
I prostrated myself flat.
Disrespect toward the Imperial Family is a capital crime.
Even the distant cadet branches—those with barely a drop of Imperial blood—would rage if I failed to recognize them; how much more so when it’s the Imperial Prince himself?
…My neck was forfeit.
Though I’d really rather keep my head…!
“Hm?”
The First Imperial Prince blinked.
Then, as if understanding, he nodded faintly.
“It’s all right. It can happen.”
…….
“I didn’t introduce myself first, after all.”
His voice was calm and measured, without a trace of anger.
Only a thin vein of bitterness showed through.
“If I were to take offense at something like this, I’d spend my whole life furious at the Imperial Household.”
The First Imperial Prince let out a self-deprecating laugh—hah, hah—to himself.
Of course, I was wise enough not to foolishly laugh along with him.
…It only made the sitting position feel more like needles beneath me.
But he seemed perfectly at ease as he waved his hand dismissively, then lifted his Cane lightly.
“Anyway, I should sit down. My legs aren’t very good.”
“…Oh!”
I jerked awake and scrambled to my feet.
Then I quickly fetched a nearby chair and placed it behind him.
“Would you like a blanket, perhaps?”
“This is enough. Thank you.”
The First Prince lowered himself into the chair slowly.
Even that motion seemed to tax him—his movements were sluggish and labored.
When I moved to support him, the man smiled as though pleased by my attentiveness.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
“Vanillin, sir. I’m the dedicated lady’s maid to the Third Prince.”
“Yulian’s?”
For the first time, his gaze shifted—something flickering in his expression.
His eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.
Blue eyes swept slowly across me, appraising.
Under that scrutiny, I felt oddly exposed and instinctively drew inward.
“…Yes, I see.”
Cough, cough!
He’d begun to nod but broke into another fit of coughing.
Cold sweat beaded across his deathly pale face.
“Ah.”
He was truly unwell.
What on earth had happened at the Fifth Imperial Residence?
I offered him a handkerchief, which he brought to his mouth.
“You’re a kind child. Thank you.”
Cough, cough!
The coughing continued unabated.
I watched him in silence, my lips pressed shut.
Looking at him again, he was nothing like Yulian.
Where Yulian was easygoing and relaxed, the First Prince emanated a heavy, palpable weariness.
And strangely, it suited him quite well.
“Sigh…”
He leaned back against the chair, exhaling slowly.
“Are you alright…?”
“I’m fine. It’s getting better.”
And from here on, things will only improve.
He said this while shaking his head.
“Shall we talk about something else?”
He clearly had no desire to dwell on the subject any longer.
…Though it was tactless of me to belabor the point anyway.
I nodded.
His gaze drifted to the book I had spread open before me.
“You were reading the Imperial History.”
“Ah… yes.”
“The Demon War.”
It happened to be an illustrated chapter.
Demons tormented and suffering after drinking Celestial Blood—rendered with stark, unflinching realism.
The First Prince looked at it and let out a soft laugh.
“Do you know? The one who slew the most Demons was none other than the first Duke Lancelot.”
“…Was he?”
“Look here.”
The First Prince gestured lightly at the illustration with his fingertip.
There below stood a Celestial Being clad in heavy armor.
A figure with vast wings spread wide, standing in the midst of the Demons.
He was clearly drawn far larger than the other Celestial Beings.
“Duke Lancelot was always something exceptional. Among his own kind, he was overwhelmingly powerful, and to the Demons he was nothing short of a natural enemy.”
He smiled quietly.
“The very name the Demons most feared.”
A natural enemy…
I gazed down at the illustration in stillness.
Piercing eyes. Lips pressed firm and resolute.
There was not a single feature in which I could see myself.
“But in the end, the family was exterminated for treason, weren’t they?”
“Yes, a tragic business.”
“So what happens now?”
I raised my gaze toward him, brow furrowed.
“If Demons were to appear in the Human World again?”
“…I’m not sure.”
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“The Empire would fall under the Demons’ heel.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Gulp.
I swallowed involuntarily.
Something about it frightened me.
If such a thing truly came to pass—what would happen then?
Perhaps sensing the heaviness that had settled over us, the First Prince let out a soft laugh.
“Well, there’s no need for concern. Such a thing won’t happen. The Demons all perished during the Demon War.”
“…All of them?”
“Yes, all of them.”
If that was true, then it was a relief.
And yet, something whispered to me that Demons still lingered somewhere within the Empire.
It wasn’t a matter of logic—it was instinct.
From somewhere deep in my mind came a faint, persistent warning.
Ding—dong—
The bell tower chimed the hour.
It was time to prepare the midday meal.
“…I should take my leave now.”
“Ah, is it already so late?”
The First Prince nodded.
I returned the book to its proper place on the shelf and brushed down my skirts.
“Shall I summon an attendant for you?”
“There’s no need. I think I’ll stay a while longer.”
Well then, if that’s the case.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
I bowed respectfully and turned to go.
One step, then another.
I had taken only a few paces when—
“Oh.”
A soft voice reached me from behind.
“May I ask you one thing?”
I stopped and turned back.
The First Prince still sat by the window, bathed in the drowsy sunlight.
Light poured through the windowpanes and shattered across his white hair.
He looked like an angel ascending to heaven—beautiful in an otherworldly way.
His hand rested upon his cane as he regarded me.
“If I were to ask Yulian for you—”
His smile was gentle and mild.
But the question that followed was anything but gentle.
Perhaps because of the backlighting—
deep shadows fell across his face, and I could not read his expression.
“…I beg your pardon?”
“Would you go willingly? Or would you resist?”
He smiled as he asked.
“What do you think you would do?”

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