Acting as a Slit-Eyed Villain Perfectly

Chapter 307 : Side Story 7 - The Prodigal Son Returns

Side Story 7 - The Prodigal Son Returns

It had been a year.

Zahard quietly leaned on his cane and looked at Yulian.

It was definitely the same face. The same eyes, the same hair. Even his way of speaking was unchanged.

But something had changed. Something that couldn't be explained in words.

Was it the flow of his presence, or perhaps the way he breathed?

Zahard could feel it.

The sharpness that once defined his aura had now become serene, deeper than before.

"Since you're making it so obvious, I take it you have no intention of hiding your presence."

At Yulian's words, Zahard let out a hearty laugh.

"Why would I need to hide my presence from you?"

The gratitude Zahard felt toward Yulian was no exaggeration to call it more than just a debt of life.

The alien madness in his son's eyes, and within it, the faint humanity that lingered.

When his hands trembled and his heart felt as if it was about to collapse, it was Yulian who granted him one last chance.

"Even if the whole world turns its back on you, I'd have to be on your side at least once."

"Just once?"

Zahard stroked his chin.

"If the whole world turns its back, then surely your fault must be great. Once is all I'll allow."

"Cold as ever. Anyway, sir Zahard. What brings you here?"

At Yulian's question, Zahard only continued stroking his chin.

"I came to complain to an old friend I haven't seen in a while. As you know, the state of the Empire is, frankly, a mess."

"Yes, that's the reason I've returned as well."

"Hm? So you weren't originally planning to return?"

"Of course not."

Of course not.

added Yulian.

Although he had always been a slit-eyed man who gave away nothing, Zahard somehow sensed a complex emotion in those words.

"I assume you've heard the basics. Twilight must've continued their reports."

Though not fully a member, Zahard had set his foot in Dawn Society to some extent.

That had allowed him to know what was happening inside, and he knew that 'Twilight', especially those assassins related to the Suranun Desert, regularly provided information to Yulian.

"Are you referring to the fact that Prince Osborne and the Dawn Society are clashing?"

"More precisely, it's Pintel's independent actions. Well, as a result, he does have most of the real power in the Dawn Society, that much is clear."

Tsk tsk.

Zahard laughed incredulously.

"Who could have guessed? Pintel, that noble lord, would have such a talent."

Yulian tilted his head at Zahard's words.

"What talent do you mean?"

"Agitation."

Agitation? Yulian tilted his head yet again.

"Seems you haven't heard the details."

"No, I have not."

Noticing Yulian nod, Zahard coughed and cleared his throat before continuing.

"This Empire has always judged the value of blood by the color of hair! Black, the mark of royalty, monopolizing power while all others were driven behind the wall!"

The sudden theatrical tone made Yulian's eyes twitch for a moment, but he listened quietly.

"But look at the world those with black hair have created! Demons run rampant in the capital, and we, with our different hair colors, have turned our blades on each other!"

An era has come where we are named not by blood, but by suffering!

With that, Zahard's voice—like a speech—fell silent.

"This line of Sir Pintel's resonated deeply with the citizens. Thanks to that, even I can hardly walk around in broad daylight now."

Before Yulian could ask why, Zahard pointed to his own head. Not as dark as the Adratan Empire's royalty, but still black hair came into view.

"I thought my hair had turned white from all the stress, but it's still jet black."

"Couldn't you stand a little more hardship?"

At Yulian's words, Zahard shook his head vehemently in distaste.

"Don't say things like that. Do you know how fulfilling my life is right now?"

"What have you been doing lately?"

"Fishing."

Aren't you just playing around then? Yulian almost asked, but barely held back.

"Sir Yulian."

As they were conversing, a voice called out from behind them.

The two weren't surprised, since they had already sensed the presence, but the insignia of the Imperial Knights startled Yulian enough.

Imperial Knights.

The ones who protect the Emperor.

The blades closest to the heart of the Empire.

Yulian recognized some among the Imperial Knights, but all those present now were unknown to him.

"Is it the Imperial Knights?"

Sensing their presence, Zahard, whose eyes could not see, asked, and Yulian confirmed.

"I'm familiar with the presence of all the Imperial Knights, but this is new. Ah, that's right, didn't nearly all of them die during that incident in Nan, except for one?"

Letting out a hearty laugh, Zahard's words made the Imperial Knights' faces contort.

"I suppose that was unnecessary talk."

"It was decidedly unnecessary, sir Zahard."

"Well, then, why would such illustrious Imperial Knights come all the way here?"

As attention focused on them, the Imperial Knights finally relaxed their stern expressions.

"His Highness Prince Osborne wishes to have a word with Sir Yulian."

No one could honestly say they'd not expected this outcome. Even Zahard seemed to know such words would come from the Imperial Knights, nodding knowingly.

"You're the only straw His Highness Osborne can grasp at right now."

At Zahard's words, the Imperial Knights' faces contorted again.

"... Did I say something unnecessary again?"

Yulian nodded prudently.

"Can't say anything these days."

Leaving the joking Zahard behind, Yulian joined the Imperial Knights. Just as he requested to be taken to Osborne's location and was about to depart, Zahard stopped him once more.

He whispered quietly to Yulian.

"Seeing as His Highness Osborne knows you've returned, Pintel likely knows as well."

At that, Yulian sighed to himself. He had expected as much.

"There'll be quite a commotion today. Well then, since I've seen a friend's face after a long time, I'll run away and go fishing."

Yulian almost asked how a blind man could fish, but kept his mouth shut.

* * *

The imperial diplomat's residence housing the delegation. Within its walls, in a quietly darkened room, faint whispers passed back and forth.

"For now, let's proceed according to protocol. From outside, we're just a simple delegation."

Orlan, the priest, was adjusting his ritual garb and placing a hat on his neatly combed hair as he spoke.

"I'll head to the palace myself to greet the empire on behalf of our delegation. The rest of you, look for a magic device with which we can contact the Holy Kingdom."

"Yes, understood."

"Lyrik."

Orlan called out for Lyrik, the strongest among his guards and also trained in assassination. Lyrik quietly stepped forward.

"You'll accompany me to the palace. If anything should happen, risk your life to make sure I can escape."

To Orlan, his guards were nothing but disposable pawns. Regardless of their skill, it was Orlan himself who would maintain communication with the Holy Kingdom and maintain control over them.

Orlan considered this an appropriate judgment.

"Yes."

Lyrik, too, had no objections to this order. Thus, the two rode a carriage toward the imperial palace.

Smoothly paved roads. Taking in the scene, Orlan asked Lyrik,

"How did it feel seeing it for yourself?"

"The empire... Do you mean the empire?"

"No."

Orlan shook his head, briskly extinguishing his cigarette.

"Yulian Cryphart Frason. That man."

"Ah."

Lyrik let out a brief sigh. In truth, he couldn't get that encounter out of his mind.

He understood that Yulian's physical abilities were outstanding.

Still, some could hope to catch up.

He understood that his internal mana was extraordinary.

But perhaps he could be overcome with the right usage.

He knew that his swordsmanship was on another level, but perhaps it could be matched by exertion of will.

Yet, despite those thoughts, Lyrik found themselves unable to "close the gap" with Yulian.

"He's a strong one."

"Yes, strong, indeed. If he weren't, he would have died long ago."

Orlan, unsatisfied with the answer, pressed on.

"What I want to ask is, how strong?"

"If I faced him head-on, I would certainly die."

To not be able to measure "the gap" was to say Yulian was a being beyond his reckoning.

Orlan, clearly displeased by the praise of a potential enemy, frowned.

* * *

The underground church of Genmel Monastery.

Faint candlelight flickered, the air tinged with the scent of incense. There, a man sat on a pew.

Pintel Obradin.

One of those who wielded the now massive Dawn Society that could rival the imperial court.

The bishops said,

He was putting himself forward so boldly to become the new master of the Dawn Society.

But those who had watched his path to this point could guess otherwise. There was another reason Pintel was wielding the Dawn Society to pressure the palace so much.

"I still can't understand it."

One of the archbishops who knew that reason, Eleanor, entered and Pintel turned his head to look at her.

"The Adratan Empire just suffered the Fourth Prince's Rebellion. I can see why you'd move to seize power in such a situation."

Walking up to his side, Eleanor calmly cast a glance at Pintel.

"But I still don't get how it's not for your own selfish gain."

At her words, Pintel simply turned his gaze deeper into the chapel.

"This is the most fulfilling life I've ever lived."

Pintel said in his usual blunt tone. Despite rumors that he was a power-hungry man blinded by ambition, bent on usurping the throne, his expression remained as rigid as a stone.

"If this is not selfish desire, then what is it?"

"Do you think Sir Yulian would—given these circumstances..."

As Eleanor tried to continue, she turned her head at a presence from behind.

It was one of twilight of the Dawn Society.

He greeted Eleanor politely, then approached Pintel to whisper something in his ear.

Then, for the first time, Pintel's stone-like face showed a spark of life.

"Finally."

Pintel rose from his seat and immediately turned to leave the chapel.

"We're not finished here. Where are you going?"

At Eleanor's question, Pintel replied as if it were only natural.

"To greet the new emperor."

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

What will Pintel turn into?

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