The Kidnapped Prince is Mine Now - Chapter 16

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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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Chapter 16
The Contract with Demon Nakshura
It was the greatest secret that Maximilian from the past had ever revealed to me.
‘Elise. Do you truly believe you can escape from me?’
It was also the primary reason I could never break free from Maximilian, no matter which life I lived.
Rotar Eisenrit’s gaze turned back toward me. I met his inquisitive eyes and opened my mouth.
“I believe the contract between the First Prince and Demon Nakshura was made before I manifested as the Saint.”
“What is the basis for that judgment?”
“Because causality exists in this world.”
I placed a piece of meat onto my plate—a medium-rare steak with traces of blood still glistening on its surface.
“If a demon were to appear and shroud the human realm in terror and chaos,”
I lifted my knife and cut the steak in half.
“wouldn’t there need to be someone to stand against it?”
I brought a piece of the cut meat to my lips. The flesh was tender and soft. I wondered what flavor the souls consumed by a demon possessed.
Rotar Eisenrit’s expression hardened as he posed his question.
“To drive Demon Nakshura from this world—is this the will of the Goddess?”
“You could say that.”
Truth be told, I didn’t know for certain either. Rotar Eisenrit likely understood that as well. Still, I believed this version came closest to the truth.
In the repeated cycles of the past, the Empire under Maximilian’s rule as Emperor was nothing more than a feeding ground for the demon. No—it wasn’t just the Empire.
‘There’s no easier or faster means than war. You agree, don’t you, Elise?’
‘….’
‘People die so easily, you know. Tediously so.’
Those were terrible times. For me, and for all the innocent people of this continent.
Remembering those days killed my appetite. I set down my fork and spoke.
“Simply put, we’re facing a situation where we must confront the strongest demon in existence. With our own strength.”
…
A brief silence settled over the Banquet Hall. Yet the atmosphere wasn’t taut with tension.
The Margrave and his wife had learned of this fact long ago. And Rotar Eisenrit, who had experienced far too much in a single day,
“How fascinating.”
…raised his wine glass with a faint smile?
He’s laughing? At a time like this?
I urgently grabbed his shoulder and asked.
“Rotar Eisenrit, are you alright? Has the stress driven you mad?”
“I am perfectly fine. The puzzle in my mind has only just come together.”
Rotar Eisenrit sipped his red wine before responding.
“Demon Nakshura—a figure beyond imagination. I don’t know how the contract was made, but as you said, Elise, it was a battle we could only lose.”
That was certainly true. No matter how exceptional, a single human defeating a demon with the power to consume the world was nearly impossible.
Could it even be called a battle? Humans don’t seriously contend with a single ant.
The Margrave asked Rotar Eisenrit, who appeared almost relieved, with a wry smile.
“Why didn’t we think of that? If you had summoned Nakshura before Maximilian, it would have been a winnable fight.”
At those words, Rotar Eisenrit’s hand paused mid-motion as he set down his glass.
In the silence that settled over the dining table, only Konrad, seated beside him, rolled his eyes frantically.
Why was this man so desperate to provoke his nephew’s temperament?
Instead of Rotar, who was staring at his aunt with an unsettling intensity, I opened my mouth.
“Would Rotar ever consider gaining power at the cost of his people’s lives? Even if he knew such a method existed, he wouldn’t choose it.”
“Ho, is that so?”
The Margrave responded with an amused tone, as though it wasn’t a sensitive topic at all.
She seemed delighted by the very fact that I had spoken instead of Rotar.
Rotar’s reaction was more pronounced. He tilted his head to look at me, his expression peculiar.
Had I overstepped and annoyed him? I sipped the tea that had come as a palate cleanser and didn’t avoid his gaze.
It wouldn’t be bad to glimpse his true thoughts, which he rarely revealed. Ah, so that’s why the Margrave kept throwing out these provocations?
It was at that moment of belated realization that I found myself marveling silently.
“Am I truly as righteous as Elise perceives me to be?”
At the unexpected question, I blinked.
“Was the Saint older than Rotar?”
“I don’t think so.”
The murmuring of the Margrave and her husband served as background noise.
‘If you count all my lifetimes combined, I’d be older.’
I grumbled inwardly before speaking. The answer I had to give was simple enough.
“At least you have a sense of responsibility.”
There was no need for flowery language.
Yet it seemed Rotar found my answer lacking in information. His eyes narrowed.
“Why do you think that?”
A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me.
Do you like me? What about me? Why? It felt like dealing with an annoying boy who wouldn’t stop pestering me with questions.
I traced the handle of the teaspoon and sifted through accumulated memories.
If you’re asking for a reason.
“The Second Prince I knew was constantly mobilized for war, whenever and wherever.”
Yes, I remember. Even across multiple lifetimes, this was one thing about the Second Prince that never changed.
“His first deployment was around thirteen years old? It was practically the same as being sent to die.”
“….”
No one in the Banquet Hall refuted my words. Because I was right.
Territorial disputes. Monster subjugations. Rotar was “used” in war every time conflict erupted, regardless of direction.
In contrast, the First Prince Maximilian’s deployments were few enough to count on three fingers.
It wasn’t mere discrimination. They wanted to eliminate a rival with claims to the throne.
“If I were you, I would have deserted. So what if I was called a coward? I can’t die in a war I didn’t start. Besides, even if I’m technically a prince, they wouldn’t execute me for desertion, would they?”
“….”
“But you stood at the forefront of the battlefield.”
Rotar remained silent, his gaze never leaving me.
“The Empire’s Sword, leading to victory. That’s why you earned such a title, isn’t it?”
Victory. Victory. Yet another victory.
Rotar Eisenrit, who refused even to stand in the rear, let alone desert, always returned to the Imperial Capital with the glorious banner of triumph unfurled. Toward the Imperial Palace, where no one welcomed him.
I leaned back against my chair and met Rotar’s gaze. Then I asked with a teasing tone.
“Are you a warmonger? Or was this some kind of suicide attempt?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Right, it doesn’t look that way. So you arrived at the rational conclusion of ‘responsibility.'”
The responsibility to save as many of the innocent people conscripted into the army as possible.
Separate from whether the war was right or wrong, the desire to protect thousands upon thousands of soldiers was not something anyone could possess.
For such a man to contract with a demon in exchange for the souls of the people?
“Those are lives you fought to save. You wouldn’t hand them over to a demon. Would you?”
Rotar’s eyes trembled only briefly at those final words.
Then came a hollow, deflating laugh.
“You leave me speechless.”
He then slowly turned his head away, his gaze settling on nothing in particular. It was somewhat amusing—this was clearly how he hid his embarrassment.
Though his emotion was plainly visible, I deliberately refrained from teasing him further. It wasn’t as though I expected anything in return.
I had simply heard the belated tale of the dead prince’s virtue repeated across countless lifetimes.
“Konrad, what is this atmosphere?”
“I’m not sure. Shall I step away for a moment?”
Now, let’s return to the main matter. The whispering of the Margrave and his wife was becoming tiresome.
“In any case, you also need to gain the strength to stand against a demon.”
“Do you have something in mind, Your Majesty?”
“I didn’t gather here just to die a dog’s death.”
I spoke lightly, but it was no trivial matter.
I surveyed Rotar once more, his composure now fully restored as he waited for my next words.
An appearance that seemed unmoved even by a tempest. A body sculpted from solid muscle.
Indeed, his stage lay far from the Imperial Palace or banquet halls where men smiled while concealing daggers in their bellies.
Then he should go to the stage that suited him. Without hesitation, I posed the question.
“The God of War, Zaikas. He is your ancestor, is he not?”

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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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