The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - 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: His Return (5)
Four days had passed since the night he planted stars in his eyes.
Four days spent locked entirely within the Bedchamber.
Meals were left outside the door, and all documents and reports were postponed.
‘This looks less like a prince’s Bedchamber and more like some Magic Tower research chamber.’
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
With the incantation, he snapped his fingers sharply.
In an instant, the Bedchamber transformed from its previous disarray into pristine order.
Though to Daien’s eye, it would doubtless still look hopelessly filthy.
At least no trace remained of the magical training that had taken place within, nor any sign of blood.
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
He invoked the spell once more.
Thud—Noxciluna’s Necklace fell through his hand, passing through as if his palm were phantom.
Etherealization. The art of transmuting flesh into spirit, allowing both blade and poison to pass harmlessly through.
‘This time, the reverse.’
The Starcore on his right hand flared brilliantly as he released its Mana.
When he’d first received this necklace, the intuition peculiar to a Grand Mage had whispered to him.
‘If flesh can be transformed into spirit, then by the same logic, couldn’t spirit be clothed in flesh?’
Could one not overlay Zion Blissé upon the body of Zion Riobelt?
Unraveling threads with the Eyes of Stars, then weaving new knots from the loosened strands—he had done this hundreds of times over.
Only on the fourth day had he finally succeeded in tying the final knot.
“How many was it again? Three? Two?”
The worst futures that the Guide of Branching Points had shown him.
Zion Blissé’s own execution.
Mountains to climb to transform the worst into the best—or at least into something merely terrible.
He folded down his fingers one by one.
“Canceling the execution is already impossible, and was never feasible to begin with.”
It was the 3rd Prince’s net, baited with the Crown Prince to sweep up the leaders of the Rebel Faction in one stroke.
The moment they rushed in under the guise of rescue, the net would cinch tight.
The execution grounds would be blanketed with Imperial forces on the day itself.
‘So I’ll have to carve out an escape route.’
More than that—he needed to make it known to all the world that Zion Blissé had slipped from the Empire’s grasp and reclaimed his freedom, so that such a thing could never happen again.
In summary: a comprehensive catastrophe.
‘Until now, satisfying all these conditions at once would have been… impossible.’
With Riobelt’s body, he could solve none of it.
But.
‘Now things are different.’
Zion rose from the bed.
He steadied his breathing.
Mana vast as a lake swelled upward from the depths.
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
The ancient incantation that traced the orbits of stars.
And to its end, he fastened the new verse he had woven across three sleepless days and nights.
“O shape of Spirit, descend into the present world.”
In that moment, all his Mana began to spin.
His bones hummed with a deep resonance, and starlight-like Mana flowed beneath his skin.
His right eye burned as though seared by flame.
Rather than grit his teeth, he laughed—a silent, breathless sound.
Whooom.
The air itself seemed to settle and compact.
His golden hair darkened from root to tip.
It deepened like ink swallowing water.
The crimson fury that had blazed in his eyes inverted.
It sank into a blue so deep it seemed to cradle starlight—the blue of a fathomless sea.
Whoosh.
Fragments of Mana like raven’s feathers scattered in all directions.
In the mirror across the room, an unfamiliar yet intimate visage reflected back at him.
“Perfect.”
For the first time, the voice that emerged from his own mouth didn’t sound like someone else’s.
Over these past months, though he had grown accustomed to Riobelt’s body, his voice had felt alien, jarring—until now.
How does it feel now?
Extraordinarily comfortable.
It could hardly be otherwise.
I’ve donned Zion Blizé’s body once again.
Layered my true self over Liobelt’s frame.
‘The Mana Pattern is… regrettably unchanged. Same with magical capacity.’
A mage’s unique pattern is imprinted upon both soul and flesh alike.
From the moment I learned magic in Liobelt’s body, there was no returning to the old pattern.
In other words: Blizé on the outside, Liobelt within.
‘Well, this much is manageable. No matter.’
I closed my fist.
The sensation in my fingertips, the creases in my palm—all exactly as they were before.
How long I can hold this form remains to be seen.
‘That’s something to test later. With this body, everything becomes possible.’
My right eye gleamed.
It rippled like stars released into the deep sea.
The Starcore’s doing.
“A year and four months, was it?”
The last of House Dever’s royal blood.
Supreme Commander of the Liberation Army.
History’s most heinous criminal and the empire’s highest-priced wanted criminal.
The Raven of House Dever.
His return had come to pass.
* * *
The Bedchamber door opened half a day later.
Blonde-haired and wild-eyed, Zion Liobelt stepped out into the hall.
“Daien. I’m hungry. Bring me something to eat.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Even after Daien left, two others remained in the Reception Room.
Winter, studying ledgers at the window desk.
And Reianna, seated across the sofa with her spine rigid and straight.
“You’ve rested well, Your Highness?”
A formal greeting.
Strange, that.
When I wore Zion Blizé’s face before, Reianna had never maintained such distant formality.
“Be at ease. Be comfortable.”
“How could I relax in Your Highness’s presence…”
Reianna answered with proper deference. I knew it was all theater, so there was little feeling in it.
Only discomfort remained.
“Do as you please.”
I gave a careless nod and threw myself onto the sofa.
Four nights without sleep had left my body leaden.
Yet my spirit felt ready to soar.
“You seem in particularly high spirits today, Your Highness.”
Winter spoke without lifting her eyes from the ledger.
“Yeah. Something that’s been stuck tight finally came loose.”
“I’m certain it wasn’t my ledgers that released you. You’ve postponed all approvals these past four days.”
Winter extended a stack of documents toward me.
“Your signature, if you please.”
“Later.”
“It’s the refrigeration unit distribution allocation. If you delay, Blen Industries’ night shifts will extend another day. Payment will be delayed as well.”
“Then now.”
I signed across the documents in quick, fluid strokes.
“Are you reading through them before signing?”
“No—it’s a vote of confidence in you.”
“Isn’t it just laziness?”
“Same difference.”
A light, banter-like exchange.
Meanwhile, Reianna watched quietly from across the sofa.
‘…Insufferable, truly.’
Winter Flowering.
Reianna knew that this advisor had recently received the attention of her superior’s hand.
And yet, look at him.
Not a single eyebrow flickers before the 3rd Prince.
‘That Poker Face of his is something else.’
Suddenly, she found herself wondering.
Had Winter accepted, or refused?
Reianna still hadn’t heard what answer Winter had given that day.
Her gaze drifted naturally toward the prince sprawled on the sofa.
Limbs splayed carelessly. Eyes half-lidded. A face utterly at ease with the world.
‘The 3rd Prince…’
Something churned inside her, but Reianna deliberately let nothing show.
To her, Zion Blizej was something far more than a lord—he was like a brother.
How could a commoner-born woman dare regard the Crown Prince in such a light?
‘My sister.’
Merin, her sister by a considerable span of years—the Crown Prince had cherished her as he would a blood sister.
To the young Reianna, the Crown Prince had been like an older brother glimpsed from behind her sister’s skirts.
‘And that sister was consumed by the Empire’s hunger.’
The year her sister left the world.
The Crown Prince unveiled the identity he had kept hidden.
Fire that spread to the horizon’s edge, and the reek of charred smoke that clung to her nostrils through the night.
The worst criminal in the Empire’s history, the Raven of House Dever, was thus born.
‘Without waiting for better days, only to avenge my sister’s death.’
Before those flames, young Reianna had sworn an oath.
That she would give every last breath of her worthless life.
And so her loyalty was not directed toward her homeland.
It was directed toward the Crown Prince alone—toward him and no other.
Therefore…
Reianna’s fingers traced softly over the Mana Bomb concealed within her breast.
The cold touch of the metal sphere against her fingertips felt especially sharp today.
‘Ariste. Whenever you give the order, I am ready.’
She had absolute confidence that she could obliterate the 3rd Prince before her at any moment.
These days, she found herself thinking she might even act without waiting for the command.
‘Still no word that the Crown Prince has escaped. If the execution proceeds as planned…?’
Her chest grew cold.
An unknown member of the royal family who had restored the Pole Star’s thread—should she truly trust only his word to free the Crown Prince from his cell?
‘If… things don’t unfold as intended.’
She would transform the execution ground itself into a magnificent display of fireworks.
Explosions—that much she knew.
After all, she’d learned the craft directly from the Grand Mage herself.
The 3rd Prince would be sitting in the best seat at the execution ground, watching the Crown Prince’s head fall—making this a two-for-one.
“Right, Winter. Take note. I won’t be going to the execution.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The prince sprawled on the sofa spoke those words.
Reianna reacted before Winter did.
“But… why not, Your Highness?”
“Why? Well, now that the execution’s actually approaching, I’ve lost interest. He’s going to die anyway—do I really need to watch?”
Reianna found herself at a loss for words.
It was this very mouth that had clung to the execution of Zion Blizej more obsessively than anyone.
The one who lit up at every mention of it, now turning his back on the day itself.
With this turn of events, Reianna as his guard would also be unable to attend the execution ground.
Which meant the plan was falling apart entirely.
“Ah, both you and Winter are on leave for a while anyway. I want to be alone, you see.”
Whether Reianna was flustered or not made no difference; the prince simply closed his eyes with perfect composure.
More precisely, behind those lowered lids, he was conjuring the image of that day’s spectacle.
At the execution of Zion Blizej, it would not be Zion Riobeldt who stood.
Someone else would bear that name on that stage.
“Ah, that’s right. Winter.”
“Yes?”
“What are the current yields on Brown Defense securities?”
“Approximately 160 percent.”
“Whew. That’s quite something.”
Zion let out a low whistle, then raised his voice so that Reianna could hear him clearly across the room.
“Liquidate it all.”
“Beg your pardon? This is the sweetest stretch of the cycle, sir.”
“Liquidate it. And with that money——”
Zion pushed himself upright and locked eyes with Winter.
“Reverse the position.”
“May I ask the reasoning, sir?”
“There’s information only the highest circles know.”
More precisely: information only Zion himself possessed.
If he held Brown Defense alongside everyone else, he’d never catch up to the 3rd Prince’s profits.
So he’d have to dump it all and win with a counter-bet instead.
“Stop what you’re doing and process the securities immediately.”
Reianna committed every word of that exchange to memory.
The very sort of intelligence the vice-commander would desperately want to know.
Information gathering had always been one reason she’d lingered here under the pretense of guard duty.
‘I have something to report. I’ll need to send a message tonight.’
What Reianna didn’t notice
was the faint, gradual curve beginning at the corners of the prince’s mouth as he sprawled across the sofa.

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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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