The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 23

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

Episode 23: The Long Game of Two Zions (8)
“Your Highness. These are the returns from the futures investment. The total amount is…….”
I was receiving a report from Winter while having breakfast.
Crash!
A formal suit with dried bloodstains spattered across it, the shoulder seams and sleeves completely torn.
Hair matted and wild as if someone had chewed through it after it had been slicked back with pomade.
A disheveled figure came tumbling through the door.
“What kind of security does this hotel even have!”
Winter, anticipating trouble, immediately rose to his feet.
But the stranger—no, Rejo—was faster with his prostration.
“Your Highness!”
His head struck the floor with such force that the wooden planks resonated.
“I beg of you! Please show mercy just this once!”
Zion paused, fork in hand, and reflected on the past for a moment.
The most respectful he’s ever been since our first meeting.
“Rejo. My cherished patron.”
He stood and walked over slowly, then crouched down before him.
“Mercy? What are you talking about? Aren’t you a thriving businessman, one who has even shown favor to the Divine Race?”
When their eyes met, Rejo flinched and trembled—there was something in the gaze of Imperial blood that made a man shrink.
“You never received the promised returns, despite visiting the exchange three times. You were ruined before I could claim my due, yet I harbored no resentment. Had you truly grasped the nature of my clemency, you would never have dared come here begging for mercy. Isn’t that so?”
Zion tightened the corners of his mouth.
The sight of Rejo’s face—bulging as if ready to burst from despair—made him nearly smile.
‘And honestly, even I would lose my mind and lash out with hellfire.’
The total sum of his futures investment position—the very source of his ruin.
More than half of Terragrad Farm and the grain-producing estates.
Even a stake in Blen Industries on top of that.
It was no exaggeration to say that everything Rejo had lost now rested in Zion’s grip, and both of them knew it.
In other words, Rejo was now kneeling before his enemy, begging for mercy.
‘It’s not enough. Is it, Rejo?’
At their first meeting, this Imperial pig had said something.
That he could offer up the women of Deber if needed.
“My daughter—my daughter is about to be sold off, Your Highness. Your Highness, please!”
The sight of him crawling forward and clutching at my ankles was utterly pitiful.
But Rejo, you too must face the same fate as those Deber people you exploited, mustn’t you?
Instead of pity, a sharp thrill coursed through me.
“Winter.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“What did you say happened to Dechion?”
“He’s disappeared. The Police Bureau is investigating, but without results. An abandoned vehicle was found in a remote location, so it’s presumed he fled in the dead of night.”
It had been handled that way. Without even applying pressure to the investigation, he hadn’t so much as been questioned, let alone suspected.
Because the body I inhabited now was of the Divine Race, the Emperor’s own son.
In the end, the investigation would conclude that Dechion had gone into hiding to escape the retaliation of his creditors.
“And you—they were about to haul you in to the Police Bureau as well, weren’t you?”
In an age where capital is power, defaulting on debt is a crime.
I’d heard you faced a half-dozen charges—fraud, embezzlement, and the like?
“I find myself curious about one thing. While you worked those Deber laborers to the bone, did you ever grant even one of their requests?”
Despite everything, there seemed to be a moment’s grace left for bewilderment; doubt bloomed across his bloated face.
“That’s… why……?”
“Surely not. Which is precisely why I show you no mercy.”
His confusion deepened into something absurd.
“If you’re going to make excuses, at least make them properly! Just because our names are the same, do you think you’re the deposed Crown Prince Zion Bliez? I’ve seen Imperial entrepreneurs who generated greater wealth for the Empire by utilizing Deber people—shouldn’t a prince of the realm praise such patriotism?”
Ah, a misunderstanding.
“Tsk. Did that sound like I was saying you should be punished for mistreating Deber people? Wrong. To me, you are what the Deber people are to you—nothing but vermin.”
A lie dressed up as sincerity. Yet to Rejo, this would feel more like the truth.
“Base and worthless, a creature deserving to be trampled like an insect—and yet you dare show such shameful defiance. Winter.”
“Yes. I’ll dispose of him.”
As Rejo was dragged away, curses and desperate struggles poured from his lips. I listened for a moment, then picked up my wine glass.
It was sweet.
“Your Highness. I’ll handle Rejo’s final arrangements cleanly. Furthermore, I’ve given the hotel staff stern warning that nothing like this will happen again.”
“Well done. By the way, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
He held the wine glass and stared while crossing his legs.
What had Winter been thinking just now, when Zion mentioned Deber’s exploitation?
“I need to catch the 3rd Prince’s eye.”
Winter was taken aback.
After all, Zion had dared to refer to the Empire’s third most powerful figure with just three characters.
Even if he was only a half-brother, if anyone had heard it, there would have been trouble.
But Zion simply continued without hesitation.
“I’ve found something to extract from the 3rd Prince. Work out a plan.”
The future scene shown by the Guide at the crossroads.
The worst outcome remained the same, but there were several differences.
And the most significant change among them.
‘I need to shift the location of the execution ceremony from the Imperial capital to the royal capital, Seiel.’
To do that, first he’d have to earn merit that would please the 3rd Prince.
Unlike ordinary brothers, the relationship between the 3rd Prince and Zion Liobert was worse than strangers.
‘If I ask now, I’ll face worse than mere dismissal—I’ll be sabotaged.’
The 3rd Prince was perfectly capable of that.
He might even send assassins, sneering at the audacity of someone like Zion daring to make requests.
‘The 3rd Prince wants greater chaos to unfold in Deber.’
The fact that he’d ordered Zion Liobert to create discord between the 1st Prince Faction was proof.
With Dechion brought low, the mission itself was technically complete, but going a step further seemed worthwhile.
That way, he could make his request without fear of retaliation.
In other words, he needed to acquire wealth and power faster.
“Blen Industries.”
It was fortunate he’d helped Lumio.
Unlike the gold vein at Terragrad Farm—far too massive to discover now without the 3rd Prince seizing it—
Blen Industries’ Cold Generation Magi-Device would be able to show results visibly, steadily, and reliably.
“Winter, regarding President Lumio—oh.”
Speak of the ogre and he appears. Through the open door, President Lumio’s frightened face came into view.
But why did he look so afraid?
“I have committed an unforgivable sin, Your Highness the 9th Prince!”
The air turned cold.
Watching Lumio prostrated on the ground, unease crept up unbidden.
It wasn’t merely the sight of Rejo being dragged away that had frightened him.
“What’s happened? Speak without trembling.”
“The perfection of the technology… appears to be impossible.”
“Hmm?”
That couldn’t be right. Zion Blije, a genius among geniuses, had even corrected it directly—how could it be impossible?
“To be precise, the technology as patented was completed long ago. However… despite countless attempts, mass-producing the Air Conditioner appears to be impossible.”
“The Cold Generation Magi-Device?”
“Yes. A magi-device that disperses cold air throughout an entire room, allowing comfortable living even in hot summers, as I explained.”
The moment he heard it, Zion had thought it would be profitable, but apparently a problem had emerged somewhere.
Winter summarized Lumio’s explanation in a single statement.
“The efficiency of cold generation itself has indeed improved dramatically, but when the projection area widens, efficiency plummets again—is that it?”
“Precisely so, Advisor Winter.”
It meant the device was only effective in spaces too narrow for a person to enter.
“Due to the structural weakness inherent in the foundation object, even the Magi-Engineering scholars serving Your Highness cannot improve it further.”
He took the report Lumio had prepared for review and flipped through it quickly.
‘Indeed, the mana pattern of the frost crystal itself contains its limitation.’
It hadn’t been visible when reinforcing the theory, but the problem surfaced anew once they advanced to the next stage for commercializing the magi-device.
The problem was fatal enough that even Lumio, willing to stake his life on it, confirmed its impossibility.
‘Hmm. A month should do it.’
If the mana pattern of the frost crystal at the technology’s foundation contained its inherent limit, a complete overhaul would suffice.
The issue was he couldn’t fix it and hand it over at once.
‘He’ll definitely suspect something.’
There couldn’t be a talent capable of solving this problem serving under a minor prince like him.
Even the Magi-Engineering institutes that wielded the Empire’s power couldn’t solve this.
So until he fabricated a plausible excuse, Air Conditioner development would remain impossible.
‘A good excuse… ugh. I’m terrible at using my head for these kinds of things. Since I can’t explain the situation, I’ll have to keep it from Winter too.’
The conclusion was reached.
Blen Industries—abandoned.
“Tsk.”
“I-I’m terribly sorry……. I’ll return all the invested funds, and for the amount already spent, I’ll find some way to…….”
Bang!
“……?”
“……!”
Despite committing the grave sin of striking the desk in the very presence of the prince, Winter could not contain his excitement.
“Your Highness! What if we did it this way? I think we could hit something really big!”
Zion’s own heart began to quicken.
Every time Winter used his head, good things happened.
“What is it? Tell me quickly.”
“CEO Lumio. It’s true that we can sustain strong cold generation at low cost, correct?”
“That is correct. However, once you move beyond approximately one meter, the cold generation drops sharply. In terms of Magi-Engineering, one might say it’s geometric…….”
“Never mind the theory! The point is it can freeze things, right?”
“Well, yes, it can.”
CEO Lumio blinked, clearly bewildered.
There was no reason for him to be this excited over merely making ice.
In an age when magic had evolved into Magi-Engineering, ice was something you could buy at any ice factory as much as you wanted.
“Are you suggesting we sell ice? But that has no profitability…….”
“Why would we sell ice? We sell the Magi-Device itself.”
True, people could access ice easily.
But.
That didn’t mean ice was cheap.
“Look here!”
The paper was covered with notes Winter had scribbled haphazardly.
“Do you know the scariest thing at a gambling table? Holding a losing hand without realizing it. Food is the same. Are you familiar with a disease called food poisoning? It’s an illness you catch from eating spoiled food.”
“I know it well.”
When Zion nodded, Winter hesitated for a moment.
The prince knows about food poisoning? How?
“Advisor Winter. A Magi-Device that produces ice cheaply is a decent idea, certainly. But can it compete with ice factories that reduce costs through mass production? I’m afraid it would be difficult…….”
Lumio’s cautious objection. Winter tossed back a question and answered it himself.
“You’re right, CEO Lumio. But! If we combine the convenience of making ice at home with an advantage found nowhere else in the world—the ability to preserve perishable food for much longer—what then?”
Zion answered in his stead.
“Any business that makes and sells food would need it as an essential item. They could save a fortune on food ingredients that spoil and get thrown away.”
Beyond that, there was the added benefit that customers would far less frequently suffer ill effects from the food and come back for revenge.
Even if the Magi-Device was expensive, people would probably buy it.
“Your Highness, and if we made this device exclusive to those who own it? We advertise that anyone with money can skip buying ice at all and simply pull ice from their home whenever they like, drop it in their beer, and enjoy it.”
The quill pen danced across the already-stained paper.
Moments later, Winter thrust a long series of numbers at him.
“We can expect at least this much in steady sales!”
The numbers made his eyes go wide.
Even higher than the Air Conditioner had been.
“…Hah. Winter, you.”
Genuine admiration escaped him.
He was beginning to understand why the Guide’s Ring had responded to Winter.
Money. That bastard Winter turns money.
‘If the Liberation Army had someone like Winter. Many things would have been different.’
This was also the reason Zion had not devoted himself to developing Magi-Devices during his days with the Liberation Army.
He had no way of knowing what would become profitable.
He’d make something thinking it was decent, only to discover a similar Magi-Device already existed.
Business isn’t about technology—it’s about ideas.
In other words, it’s work for people like Winter.
“CEO Lumio. Can you implement Winter’s idea?”
“Yes. With those specifications, mass production of the Air Conditioner would be possible. Ah, but the name shouldn’t be Air Conditioner—we’ll need a different one.”
Zion and Lumio looked at Winter simultaneously.
“Since it’s your idea, you should name it too. What should we call it?”
Winter picked up the paper and quill pen again and scribbled something.
Then he answered.
“Refrigerator. I think Refrigerator would be best.”
* * *
“Your Highness, the Third Prince. The Ninth Prince has finally committed an outrageous act.”
The Third Prince, Garon Liobert, set down his quill and regarded the Chief Chamberlain with an unmoved gaze.
“Go on.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Using Blen Industries as bait—alongside the Imperial businessman Rejo—they brought in one of the Five, known as the Palace Outcasts.”
After receiving a full report of the series of events unfolding in Seiel and the gains the Ninth Prince had reaped from them.
The Third Prince interlaced his fingers and twisted one corner of his mouth into something like a smile.
“So that incompetent fool has finally managed to smile in my favor.”
The Chief Chamberlain, who had earlier condemned the Ninth Prince’s actions as crude and reckless, now nodded in agreement.
“Though he did benefit from the terrorist acts carried out by Deber’s radical elements, the Ninth Prince appears to have done his utmost in executing your command. It seems the Exile Penalty proved to be an effective lash indeed.”
The Third Prince inclined his head.
“For the Divine Race, exile from foreign soil is a punishment so shameful that many choose death. Even that wretch Zion could not help but feel its sting.”
The Ninth Prince’s assault on Marquis Gaevel.
In the end, the Third Prince had reaped three distinct benefits.
He had extracted Marquis Gaevel’s house—which was slated to join the First Prince Faction—drawn the troublesome Zion Liobert into an obedient dog, and cast the Empire’s most contemptible wretch into the First Prince’s domain.
“Yet it is insufficient.”
For the picture the Third Prince wished to paint, he needed to splash the canvas far more recklessly with color.
“How does Marquis Gaevel stand?”
“The Marquise appears delighted. She speaks of journeying to Deber herself.”
She wished to witness with her own eyes how wretchedly the wretch who had turned her husband into a vegetable had fallen.
“She will be enraged.”
“Without question, Your Highness.”
What would the Marquise’s reaction be upon seeing Zion, who had swallowed two businessmen whole and was growing fat on their remains?
It was transparent.
“Fortuitous. Once I tighten the reins, I shall send another letter—one that goads him into committing even greater atrocities.”
This incident had proven it: to handle a wretch, one must first starve him.
Take away what he has, if necessary.
The Marquise would make an excellent whip.
“As you wish, Your Highness. Though I must counsel that we consider the Elpia Federation’s delegation.”
When mankind first crossed the vast ocean and arrived at the New Continent.
The New Continent did not become a conquest for humanity’s advancement.
Intelligent races far more advanced than men dwelt there.
The nation of elves: the Elpia Federation.
“The First Prince has issued strict orders. The Deber Colonial Governor’s Office is preparing an elaborate banquet for the Federation’s delegation, and it appears they are making arrangements in all respects to treat them as though they were foreign royalty.”
Any deterioration in relations with the Elpia Federation would be a loss the Empire could scarcely afford.
Moreover, since the master of the Divine Seat himself takes interest, should anyone harm the Federation’s delegates, they would be torn to shreds immediately.
“This is precisely why the Ninth Prince must act again—to draw attention while seizing for himself the opportunity the First Prince has cultivated.”
To speak plainly, at present the Ninth Prince was the only pawn capable of obstructing the First Prince.
The Chief Chamberlain, belatedly grasping the Third Prince’s stratagem, could not help but voice his admiration.
‘So Your Highness cares not whether the Elpia Federation’s guest departs the Empire disappointed. Indeed, it seems you wish for the delegation’s visit to end in outright disaster.’
Their disappointment would become a political blemish upon the First Prince.
And should the Third Prince achieve his aims through the false execution of Zion Blije at the same moment?
‘All the bureaucrats will inevitably compare the two princes’ capabilities.’
The Third Prince melted golden wax mixed with gold leaf and pressed a ring downward against it.
The seal imprinted upon the wax bore the symbol of the Imperial Royal Family’s Divine Race—specifically, the Second Heir to the throne.
“Convey this to the Ninth Prince.”
“Your Highness’s command shall be obeyed.”
After the Chief Chamberlain had bowed deeply and withdrawn, the Third Prince reached for his quill again—then paused.
His hand drifted away from the pen instead, drawing up a photograph.
A photograph of the Elpia Federation’s delegation, delivered along with the Chief Chamberlain’s report.
“……How exquisite.”
A silver-white-haired elf standing beside an elf who appeared to be her father.
Her expression was devoid of emotion and stark, unsettling in ways he could not quite name—yet such coldness was not enough to diminish her beauty.
Even the Third Prince, whose temperament was far harsher than that of ordinary men, felt his heart grow warm.
‘No wonder His Majesty covets their bloodline.’
Elves. A blessed race, every member born with transcendent beauty, spending most of their lives in the visage of their twenties.
That the Imperial Emperor wished to mingle elf’s blood with the Imperial lineage was known to every member of the Divine Race.
It was also why the First Prince, through extraordinary effort, had invited the delegation not to the imperial capital but to the remote province of Deber.
Unable to set foot in such a lowly land, the Emperor could not meet the delegates directly—but without the Third Prince’s interference, the First Prince could provide flawless protocol.
‘Ninth Prince. Flail about in your ignorance. This time, I, Garon Liobert, shall be the force that binds you.’
It was also why he had deliberately left the mark of the Heir’s seal upon the letter.
No matter how debased a wretch he is, he cannot fail to understand the seal’s meaning.
“I hope your visit to Deber becomes the worst excursion imaginable. For the sake of our first meeting, which will come to pass someday.”

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