Crown Prince Sells Medicine

“…Huff! Hah!”

A man sprinted down an opulent corridor, clutching a stack of documents in both hands, his body drenched in perspiration. His face bore the weight of disappointment as he realized he was running behind schedule, not just any delay. The man’s thoughts gravitated towards the individual awaiting his arrival.

The Emperor of Magentano.

Asterion Testarosa Magentano.

The supreme ruler of the continent’s most formidable nation would not just be waiting; he would be seething with impatience. The mere contemplation of this made the man’s legs nearly give way.

Yet, he summoned every ounce of resolve, thinking of his children, who cheered him on like enthusiastic rabbits, and his wife, who possessed the strength of a bear. With renewed determination, he hastened his pace. Finally, he reached his destination, the innermost chamber of the imperial palace, the Emperor’s quarters.

“…You’re late.”

As he entered, striving to appear presentable, a single word struck him like a heavy blow—it was the Emperor’s commanding voice. Once again, the man’s legs threatened to give way, but he held his composure and swiftly spoke to save himself.

“Your Majesty, the rightful ruler of this land, I’m here to report. I had every intention of arriving on time, but I committed a grave error by gathering and summarizing additional incoming information.”

“Additional information, you say.”

“It concerns the Crown Prince, Your Highness.”

“Proceed.”

The Emperor’s tone softened.

The man, the empire’s chief of intelligence, finally felt a wave of relief wash over him. Simultaneously, he harbored a secret resentment toward Crown Prince Raciel.

The reason was straightforward.

Since Crown Prince Raciel had departed for Anbouaz, the man had been reporting to the Emperor nearly every day. Without fail, the Emperor demanded updates on the Crown Prince’s whereabouts.

Had the Crown Prince arrived safely in Anbouaz? Whom had he met? What had he done today? Had he eaten breakfast? Had he tossed and turned at night? Had he coughed in the changing seasons? And so on.

It was driving him to the brink of madness. Now, even the mere mention of the ‘Crown Prince’ was enough to rouse him from sleep at night. Yet, he had no choice; he was the chief in charge of intelligence, and the Emperor was his employer. So, he dutifully submitted his reports.

“Today marks the 107th routine report, Your Majesty. To begin, five days ago, the Crown Prince departed from the Anbouaz kingdom’s field hospital camp, known as the ‘Healing Camp.'”

“He left the Healing Camp? Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Why?”

“At first, we couldn’t discern the Crown Prince’s motive. So, it took time to collect and analyze additional information. The conclusion we’ve drawn is…”

“The conclusion?”

“Your Highness appears likely to return to Magentano in the near future.”

“Is that the case?”

The Emperor maintained his impassive demeanor. However, his bare upper body leaned forward slightly.

The chief of intelligence continued.

“Yes, according to our confidential sources embedded in the Healing Camp, the Crown Prince dispatched a letter about two days ago. This forms the basis for our assumption of his impending return.”

“A letter is the basis. What were the circumstances?”

“We obtained the letter discreetly, checked its contents, and then resealed it before sending it to its original destination.”

“So, to whom was the letter sent, and what did it convey?”

“It was a farewell letter to the Anbouaz princess.”

“Farewell?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Continue.”

“Your Highness informed the Anbouaz princess that it appears he has completed all his duties there and it’s time to return to the palace. Additionally, he requested her to ensure the safe shipment of Queen Vesparos’ honey wine, stored in a large oak barrel, to the palace.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That concludes today’s report.”

“I see. You may depart.”

“Your grace is boundless.”

Following the conclusion of his report, the chief of intelligence exited. The Emperor, now alone, fell into contemplative silence. He pondered the report he had just received and rested his chin sternly on his hand.

Then, he glanced around discreetly.

No one was in sight.

It would be safe to allow a smile to grace his lips.

“…Hmm, hmm.”

From within his thick beard, his lips turned upward towards the heavens.

‘At long last, I can bid farewell to the days of worry and sleepless nights.’

The Emperor was genuinely elated. His son was on his way back. The son who had ventured into the battlefield was returning unharmed. This simple fact couldn’t have brought him more joy. If his attire weren’t so extravagantly adorned, he might have felt like dancing right there.

In truth, he had been terribly anxious all along. When he sent him off, he hadn’t expected to experience these emotions. He had merely thought it would be a valuable experience for his eldest. However, unforeseen feelings overwhelmed him after his departure. He had suffered from insomnia for days. Even when he did manage to catch a brief nap, he was plagued by nightmares, dreadful dreams of his son encountering some calamity.

Anxiety gnawed at him. No matter what he did, it seemed like nothing was going right. His days were filled with worry and restlessness.

But then, the news arrived that his eldest was returning.

His heart swelled with emotion. The corners of his lips kept curling upward.

“Ahem, ahem, ahem.”

But for now, let’s smile. He wouldn’t be able to show this joy when his son returns. He must maintain a stern countenance for his sake. So, he had to relish this happiness now, secretly, in advance.

‘So, hurry back. Show your father that you are safe and sound. Quickly.’

Seated on his throne, the emperor’s imposing shoulders trembled discreetly with excitement.

♣ ♣ ♣

‘Hehe, hahaha.’

Morning arrived.

Raciel raised his head. As he woke up, he sensed a wise aura as comforting as bone broth and gave a small shrug. He thought to himself, ‘How did I end up as the physician for the rebel leader?’

‘Life is truly unpredictable.’

Who would have imagined that he would become the physician for someone he once considered an adversary? And that he would have to rouse that person with a smile?

But what choice did he have? If he wanted to survive, he had to.

‘Sigh, such is my fate.’

He muttered as he got up.

That’s when it occurred.

‘You’re awake?’

A courteous voice came from right beside him, startlingly abrupt. When had this person approached? He hadn’t sensed a thing.

‘…Eek!’

He was startled and let out an oddly high-pitched scream. Then he turned his head to confirm the identity of the speaker.

‘I apologize for startling you so early in the morning.’

‘…’

It was the rebel leader, Javillon. He wore his customary, chilly yet polite smile.

“How was your rest?”

“Excuse me?”

“How did you sleep? Was it uncomfortable?”

“…Um, a bit.”

“A bit?”

“It was fine.”

“Glad to hear that.”

He chuckled.

“You’re different from me. I tend to toss and turn when I sleep in a different place.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. So I was concerned. I wondered what might happen if you didn’t find the new accommodations to your liking.”

“…”

Should he be grateful for this open consideration of his comfort? However, this man, Javillon, though he always wore a polite smile, his eyes told a different story. If you examined them closely, his gaze was consistently icy.

Completely devoid of emotion. As if he were a wolf scouting for prey.

“I’m fine. Well, I’ll proceed with the morning check-up.”

Raciel hastily swallowed the dry saliva he had almost spewed out. In an effort to dispel the impending awkwardness, he recalled his duty as a physician and spoke up. However, Javillon’s response caught him off guard.

“No, there’s no need for that.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t have to examine me.”

“But…”

“I am a Swordmaster. You’re well aware of that.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why. I know my body inside out, from the most delicate nuances of mana flow to the coordination between muscles and blood vessels, equilibrium, and harmony. It’s a privilege reserved for those who achieve a seamless cycle of mana.”

“I understand.”

“So, why did you select me as your personal physician?”

“Curious?”

During their brief exchange, the on-duty guard efficiently set the breakfast table. In no time, the table was prepared. Strangely, only a glass of cold water was placed in front of Raciel. On the opposite side, there were two slices of bread and a plate of fried eggs.

Javillon picked up his glass of water and raised it as if to make a toast.

“Didn’t I explain yesterday? Stay by my side 24/7. Observe and gauge my condition, my objectives, and the path I’m embarking upon.”

He then took a sip of the water.

Completing his meal with just a sip of cold water, he gestured toward the plate in front of Raciel.

“Eat. I’ll wait.”

“Ah, yes…”

It was overwhelming.

Extremely overwhelming.

While Javillon had consumed a mere glass of cold water for breakfast, he was intently observing Raciel as he ate bread and fried eggs. It was uncomfortably direct.

‘Isn’t this somewhat impolite?’

But one couldn’t outright express such thoughts. This was Javillon’s domain, and he was a Swordmaster. Even Demian, the protagonist of ‘Devil Sword Emperor’, couldn’t withstand a direct confrontation with him without significant growth. So what if you rubbed him the wrong way now?

“Thank you, I’ll enjoy my meal!”

With a sincere (?) desire to survive, Raciel lifted his fork. He ate the bread and fried eggs with exaggerated enthusiasm, focusing solely on the plate and food. He didn’t want to make eye contact for fear of choking.

“Um, the bread is, um, sweet.”

“…”

“Hmm, the eggs are quite hearty as well.”

“…”

Gulp, gulp.

“I never knew water could be so refreshing.”

“It has to be. Sweet, hearty, refreshing. The food is made from ingredients we seized and plundered from a nearby farm last night.”

“Uh!”

Raciel accidentally spit out the water he was drinking, and it even splashed onto Javillon’s upper body. He felt a sinking sensation.

However, Javillon remained composed. He remarked,

“There’s no need for surprise. No reason to feel strange. It was a farm clandestinely supplying the Kingdom Army. As a form of retribution, we slaughtered all the livestock and confiscated the grains. We set the farmhouse and barn ablaze.”

“And what about the people…”

“Curious?”

“…”

He hoped he didn’t swallow audibly. He prayed his Adam’s apple didn’t quiver.

A smirk appeared on Javillon’s lips.

“The farm owner? We burned him alive. Along with his pitiful screams, fitting for a man desperately clinging to the remnants of an outdated regime, resisting the dawn of a glorious kingdom and nation.”

“…”

“Why? Lost your appetite?”

Of course.

Realizing that the bread and eggs he had been diligently consuming a moment ago were made from the toil and dedication of a farm owner burned alive the previous night, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

However, he couldn’t. Javillon didn’t allow him the opportunity to feel repulsed. He suddenly leaned forward across the table and fixed a penetrating gaze upon him.

There was no escaping those eyes.

He spoke.

“Military officer Rihan?”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t intend to continue eating, could you answer my question?”

“What’s your question?”

“A simple one.”

“…”

This.

It felt as if he had witnessed this scene somewhere before.

Slightly turning to one side, Javillon curled the corner of his mouth into a slight smirk. Seeing this, Raciel suddenly had a revelation: this scene felt oddly familiar. It didn’t feel out of place at all. Why? Where had he seen this before?

The answer soon came to him.

‘The “Devil Sword Emperor.”‘

The moment that thought crossed his mind, Javillon began to speak.

“Allow me to pose a question. Imagine you are an officer in the military. You are faced with a choice that could further the prosperity of your nation and its people.”

“……”

He had encountered this question in the .

“One option requires you to make a form of sacrifice. But it won’t be a simple or noble sacrifice. Instead, it will lead to the most shameful and humiliating end. Not only you, but your family will also suffer wretched ruin. You will endure the scorn and ridicule of future generations, perpetually.”

“……”

“The other choice entails sacrificing others. Roughly tens of thousands or more will be buried alive in a mass slaughter. However, you will face no consequences or punishment for this action. Instead, you will be revered as a heroic figure for generations to come. This reverence will endure indefinitely.”

“……”

“Both choices promise to lead your nation and its people towards prosperity.”

“……”

“So, Officer Rihan, which path will you choose?”

By now, Javillon’s face had lost any trace of a smile. He stared intently at Raciel with an unwavering gaze.

However, Raciel wasn’t returning the gaze. He was immersed in his own thoughts. Was he contemplating Javillon’s question? Not really.

‘Because I already know… the answer to that question.’

Suddenly, memories from the flooded his mind. In the , Javillon would often pose this very question. It was his secret litmus test for evaluating people.

‘Javillon. He was always distrustful. Even close associates weren’t readily trusted. So, when he found someone he thought he could keep close, he would inevitably ask this question. He would assess them based on their response.’

But no one ever provided the correct answer. In fact, even Javillon himself didn’t know what the correct answer was. He spent his life pondering and searching for it.

Finally, at the very end, he found his own answer. He welcomed death with a sense of ironic, self-directed scorn.

So, he did know the answer to that question.

“Why is there no answer? Are you still contemplating?”

“……”

Javillon’s voice reached Raciel’s ears.

Javillon’s gaze had subtly shifted. It was a perilous sign. Raciel knew what that look meant as well.

‘He didn’t know the answer to his own question, but he knew the worst wrong answer.’

That was the failure to make a choice altogether. To waver between the two paths he had presented. If the person he had intended to keep close exhibited such hesitation, Javillon would turn ice-cold very swiftly.

Meaning, he would have them eliminated on the spot.

Contemplating this, Raciel made a firm decision. On one hand, he was curious about how Javillon would react to an answer that even Javillon himself couldn’t ascertain.

Moreover, he felt confident that providing this answer would pose zero risk to him.

“Is it possible that you can’t reach a decision?”

The intensity in Javillon’s gaze grew even more pronounced. His eyes gleamed like those of a predator, poised to strike.

In that moment, Raciel discarded his hesitation.

He finally spoke up.

“……Are you suggesting that a nation can only be considered virtuous if one is willing to sacrifice themselves and endure disgrace, or if they’re willing to slaughter numerous others to attain honor?”

“That’s correct.”

Javillon smiled with just the corners of his lips, his eyes shining with anticipation. Meeting that gaze, Raciel delivered the response from the .

Without omitting a single word.

Exactly as it was written.

“F*ck ’em? Why should I make a decision based on how people judge me?”

(To be Continued)

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