The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 46

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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 46: His Return (9)
A month had passed since Zion Blijet’s Execution Ceremony turned the world upside down.
The newspapers of Seiael were still wringing every drop from that day.
“Prince Zion Riobelt Speaks on His Decision to Eliminate the Raven of Deber!”
In the inner parlor of Madam de Gallery.
Each time the needle rose and fell beside the newspaper thrown on the table, silver thread caught the lamplight and gleamed.
Kreyna hummed softly as she sewed.
A court dress.
One day, for him to wear—his first formal robe.
“Humming, no less. That’s unlike you.”
Low laughter drifted from the doorway.
An elderly nobleman of aristocratic bearing, his snow-white hair and beard concealed beneath a traveler’s robe.
It was Aristh Leishial.
“Your Grace. It’s been years, and the first thing you say is criticism?”
“Not criticism—relief. I know the reason for that humming too.”
Kreyna set down her needle and offered him a seat.
The reason was obvious enough.
The young master was alive and well.
Learning that, she could dance and it would be no shame, let alone hum.
“Is that dress a continuation of the one you were making before?”
“I won’t answer, even if you ask.”
“Fair enough. Then let’s discuss what’s happened outside.”
“What are they saying out there?”
“A pitiful death, they call it. You know that much already, I’m sure.”
Aristh picked up the newspaper, then set it down again.
“The Crown Prince was killed by the Empire’s worst scoundrel. And yet the Liberation Army didn’t even show their faces at the Execution Ceremony, nor did they rage about revenge. The Republican Council went further still, declaring their desire for peaceful independence.”
“To all appearances, our master was abandoned by us, and his honor dragged through the mud.”
“Not through mud—through the depths of an underground cavern, you might say.”
Yet neither of their faces bore the shadow of despair.
A single note had come down the Polaris Thread.
The fact that the mysterious royal had been Zion Blijet all along had been revealed.
Just recently, too, a message had been conveyed through his walking stick, and the death proclaimed by the prince’s slaying was nothing but a masquerade.
“I found it strange, even then. He boasted of a jailbreak but offered no proof whatsoever. I should have suspected his royal station from that curiously sloppy detail.”
“Why do you think the master kept his identity secret?”
“I couldn’t say. He must have had his reasons.”
Of one thing, however, they could be certain.
He could not be an Imperial spy.
What spy in the world would turn a crisis of capture into an opportunity to reclaim the Polaris Thread, and then go on to extract information from the upper echelons of the Empire itself?
“The master has always been extraordinary beyond measure.”
“Extraordinary indeed. I wish he’d return soon and take back this position I’ve been forced to hold. Now then… what came of it?”
There was no subject stated, yet it was not difficult to understand.
Another remarkable achievement born of the master’s hand.
“The Brown Defense Securities you mean? Here.”
Kreyna produced the Brown Defense Securities she had secured—specifically, high-leverage Short Position certificates.
Information extracted by Reyanna from Zion Riobelt, combined with intelligence sent down by the Crown Prince himself, verified and consolidated, then purchased with every available fund—the fruits of that labor.
“The profit margin is… hmm.”
Aristh let out a low whistle.
Had prices fallen? Impossible.
They had risen—far too high.
“A full 2.3 times over.”
The principal had more than doubled in mere days.
Because the Crown Prince was dead, the Liberation Army held back, and speculators seized by war anxiety fled like a retreating tide.
The fate of military contractors when the threat of war vanished.
“Originally, I’d planned to stir up only some minor disturbance.”
“That’s what should have been done to preserve the Liberation Army’s dignity.”
“Better to abandon dignity and obey the Crown Prince’s command.”
In consequence, the Liberation Army had become cowards unmoved by their own master’s death, and Zion Blijet’s honor had plummeted to the depths.
“Does honor feed the mouth?”
But money does feed the mouth.
Even a man of strict principle like Aristh had to acknowledge that truth in this age.
“What will you do with this money?”
“Gather the scattered, provide generous operating funds for those in need, fill hungry mouths first so they can fight without worry. Money draws people, people open doors—that’s how it works. Once we have resources, we must be ready.”
“For the path your lordship will walk.”
“Ha, indeed. Best to clear the stones from the road beforehand.”
After a long time spent laughing, discussing what lay ahead, and steeling their resolve.
Aristh picked up his hat.
“You’re leaving, then.”
“I must. With money in hand, there’s work enough for a mountain.”
A face met after years apart.
When would they meet next?
Perhaps never again in a lifetime.
And yet his footsteps turned without hesitation.
“Kreyna. Next time we meet, it won’t be in some back room like this.”
“It shouldn’t be. Duke, when we meet again, bring your lord with you. I’ll have his formal robes ready.”
“Ha, now that’s a fine thought.”
The door closed.
Kreyna picked up her needle again.
Her humming was half a beat faster than before.
“Mm, hm, mm.”
The road ahead would be dark, but there was no fear.
As long as the stars shone, she would not lose her way.
* * *
The chest was heavy.
Tremendously so.
“So all of this is compensation and consolation money for me?”
The accompanying letter bore three enormous seals.
One was from the Colonial Governor’s Office—and beneath it, the seal of the Imperial Court itself.
“I didn’t expect the Imperial Court to intervene.”
“Well, the prince accomplished quite significant matters.”
An apology letter regarding the military’s audacious assault on the casino where the prince had been staying.
Along with a letter of praise and encouragement for the elimination of Zion Blijet.
“Next is—ah, our third brother’s work is always so elegant!”
The Third Prince.
The summary was this:
So you’ve proven yourself useful after all. In recognition of capturing Zion Blijet, I grant you the promised reward and freedom to live freely in Deber.
‘Getting praised by him—I’m starting to believe long life has its uses.’
Still, it made sense.
“So thanks to me, the Third Prince gained an enormous advantage?”
“More precisely, he narrowly avoided an enormous loss.”
When they’d decided to stage a false death using a fake Zion Blijet, they never imagined it would come to this.
But somehow, things had unfolded this way.
“Because of this Execution Ceremony incident, the Third Prince would have suffered catastrophic political damage.”
He’d staged an execution after claiming to have captured Zion Blijet—only for the real Zion Blijet to appear at the ceremony itself.
Considering that truth mattered little in high-level factional struggle, it probably played out like this:
That Zion Blijet’s capture was a false achievement circulated by the Third Prince to win glory for himself.
“Then I—known as part of the Third Prince’s faction—went and killed the real Zion Blijet.”
As a result, the Third Prince could now claim his faction had resolved the Zion Blijet crisis through their own strength alone.
That was Winter’s explanation.
But as Zion, who knew the full truth, he had another thought.
‘The Third Prince. In the end, a foolish choice.’
The Third Prince’s faction would have examined the corpse immediately and realized.
That the body of Zion Blijet was the fake they’d created.
Which meant they couldn’t possibly be unaware that the real Zion Blijet had faked his death.
Yet they’d still moved forward with this—which meant they were buying time, planning to capture the real one later.
‘Sorry, but I’m right here. Can you really catch me?’
Regardless.
Wasn’t this enough to say he’d successfully prevented the worst future shown by the Waypoint Guide?
It was at that very moment.
Buzz—
The Guide’s Ring began to vibrate.
* * *
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The royal capital of Seiael, the plaza north of the Colonial Governor’s Office. Winter winds sweep across the execution platform.
‘This is… the worst future I’ve seen before.’
“We hereby carry out the Execution Ceremony of the criminal Zion Blijet!”
Boom!
Explosion. Pillar of flame. Familiar faces casting off their hooded robes and soaring upward.
“They’ve come!”
“Fire!”
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It was exactly as I’d seen before. A bitter laugh escaped me.
Were they trying to make me review it?
The moment that thought crossed my mind.
The scene changed.
‘What now?’
A future I’d never witnessed before unfolded.
———————————
The decoy at the Execution Ceremony stood with his neck outstretched.
Yet nowhere in the plaza could a single member of the Liberation Army be seen.
“Proceed!”
The blade fell, and the false prince’s head rolled down from the platform.
The Imperial forces, waiting for enemies who would never appear, sealed off the empty streets.
———————————
I could sense it instinctively.
The originally planned best future. The outcome where the Liberation Army saw through the deception and made no move, so no one died.
I couldn’t know the detailed mechanics of how such a future would come to pass.
‘Isn’t this… better?’
By feigning Zion Blijet’s death and suppressing the Liberation Army’s response, the Brown Defense Securities quotations had plummeted.
Likely the Third Prince and his faction’s people had suffered considerable losses.
Meanwhile, Zion himself had absorbed their positions and reaped several times the profit.
But that was hardly all.
Tap, tap.
I rapped my knuckles against a chest brimming with gold coins.
Sitting in the heart of enemy territory, I was collecting the bounty for eliminating Zion Blijet as well as compensation for the military’s attempted crime.
It must have been an extraordinary achievement for even the Imperial Court—which had abandoned the Ninth Prince—to offer official recognition.
Under that other future, none of these additional gains would have been possible.
‘After hearing Reyanna’s report, the Liberation Army side would have invested in Brown Defense as well, so it’s truly a matter of converting the Empire’s loss into our gain.’
A present better than the best future.
I’d crafted a best future surpassing even the best—with my own hands.
That was when I should have clenched my fist.
The scene shifted once more.
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“A lord? Well, I never truly thought of the prince as my lord in the first place. A master is a master, a superior is a superior, but I had no intention of offering loyalty without compensation.”
It was Winter.
In Winter’s hand lay one of the essences of Magitech Engineering.
A gun.
“In that sense, I ask you. Ninth Prince.”
Winter’s mouth curved up in a crooked smile.
“Did you truly trust me? Did you really consider Winter Remikonin your right arm? If so, I apologize.”
Reyanna approached quietly to his side, her face utterly cold.
“Winter. We’re out of time.”
“Understood, Reyanna. Then, Your Highness. Please die. For my homeland.”
Crack!
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The scene ended.
“…….”
Thump-thump. My heart pounding.
Still in the hotel lounge.
Air warmed by lamplight. A list of rewards on the table. A half-empty wine glass.
“Haaa……”
As I exhaled deeply, Winter, who’d been chuckling at the reward list across from me, wore an expression of bewilderment.
“Is something the matter?”
Rather than answer at once, I covered my eyes with my hand.
‘What is this all about.’
It seemed Winter was going to join the Liberation Army.
If only it had ended there… I might have been satisfied.
A volley of bullets or two could be blocked easily enough, and betrayal stings, but if I’m being honest, it amounts to a more righteous form of cooperation.
But then…….
The problem lies in what came next.
‘Winter, you fool…. If you act this way, you’ve only made my feelings complicated…….’
The target of Winter’s gunfire was not the Ninth Prince, Zion Riobelt.
In that final moment.
Winter turned the gun barrel toward Reyanna, who stood beside him.
‘Either commit fully to the Liberation Army, or stop playing both sides…… No wait, I’m grateful for the loyalty itself, actually…. Ugh! This is giving me a headache!’
Winter, in his devotion to the Ninth Prince, had become a double agent—a liability to the Liberation Army itself.
Was I supposed to like this or hate it?
“Your Highness? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s unnerving.”
Ignorance is bliss, this wretch.
And I can’t very well tell him.
“Never mind. Just keep laughing.”
“…Yes.”
I pressed hard at my throbbing temples.
“Has a headache come upon you suddenly, Your Highness?”
“A dilemma’s arisen.”
“A dilemma, you say? What sort?”
“Whether to raise your salary or wring your neck. I’m deliberating.”
“I would recommend the former.”
“The other Prince finds the latter more appealing.”
Winter quietly set down a gold coin and stepped back.
“Winter.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the type who only needs money, or so I thought. No, wait.”
A man who loved nothing but coin shouldn’t suddenly display such misplaced loyalty.
Ah—did he make this choice because the Prince seemed more profitable?
I don’t know anymore.
“Enough. Bring me some wine.”
The third vision shown by the Waypoint Guide.
This new task thrust upon me scarcely seems any easier than before.

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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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