Chapter 1197

“......”

Kachian's bloodshot eyes turned toward the shattered mirror in the distance. His reflection, caught in the cracked fragment that still remained, looked just like a fractured doll.

How much longer would he have to endure this revolting situation? How much longer would he have to rely on the hand of that idiotic Duke of Diarca? When such thoughts stirred, he couldn’t help but recall a sweet voice from long ago.

‘I can feel the great pain and anguish His Highness carries within. Surrounded by those who envy and resent your brilliance, how difficult it must have been all this time.’

The so-called Sage—an elderly healer with a kindly face. He always looked upon Kachian with a gaze full of pity, delivering heartfelt words of comfort. When Kachian listened to him, for just a moment, his mind would clear and his anger would fade.

Now, even though he knew the old man had betrayed and used him, there were still certain things he'd said that Kachian kept locked in his heart.

‘Your Highness’s suffering comes from bearing the fate of a true sovereign. It is said the Founding Emperor bore such a fate as well.’

‘Who could possibly imagine the torment of one destined to reshape the world? Oh, you are a great one indeed...’

‘The one who triumphs in the end is the one born with ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) the fate of a ruler. Not just I, but everyone in this Empire knows it. So do not falter. Endure what you must for now, and your time will surely come.’

The one born with the fate of a sovereign.

Yes. That had to be it. How else could all this suffering be explained? The reason he became Crown Prince, the reason everything had led to this point—it was all because of that sweet, fucking destiny.

No matter how much the Duke of Diarca oppressed him, or the Emperor and Duke of Peleta tormented him, he was still the next ruler. The future they could never possess was in his hands.

That thought always gave Kachian a fleeting sense of peace. He tidied his disheveled hair and took a deep breath.

He wanted Ponégrisa tea. A strong brew would help ease the pounding in his head. Then, he would go see the Duke of Diarca himself once more.

Tell him: I did what you wouldn’t. There was a small hiccup because of that idiot servant, but it’s time to clean up my hometown, the friend I killed, and that annoying Cavalry bitch of his—wipe them all out.

For House Diarca, cleaning up this much was child's play. The reason nothing had been done yet must be because the Duke was trying to tame him. Nothing more. Nothing less. It hurt his pride, but he’d bow his head and ask. That would be enough.

With that conclusion, Kachian called out toward the door.

“Bring me tea. My head aches—I want tea.”

The magical lock, bound to its master's will, clicked open.

These days, it usually took yelling several times to get the half-deaf servants to respond. But oddly, they came in quickly this time. Without even glancing at them as they entered, Kachian gave another order.

“Clean the room and bring out clothes. I’ll change after I drink my tea.”

“That won’t be possible, Your Highness.”

“...What?”

A stranger’s voice. Kachian turned sharply and belatedly noticed that the ones who entered weren’t dressed as servants—they wore knights’ armor.

“His Majesty has summoned you to the Chamber of Truth.”

The Chamber of Truth?

He had never heard of such a place. But judging from the tension in the air, something about this was clearly not normal.

“Why should I attend something to which I wasn’t even formally invited? Are you unaware this is highly improper?”

“The invitation was sent two days ago, in accordance with royal protocol. Your Highness offered no refusal. Many are already awaiting your arrival. Let us go.”

“W-What did you say?”

Two days ago? When had that supposedly happened?

It was no use protesting that he had no intention of attending. Kachian was seized by the knights and dragged from the room. Not a single one of the servants or guards who were supposed to protect him appeared.

“Let go! Let me go! Is there no one out there?! Seize these insolent bastards and throw them out!”

“Your feet are bleeding. You should at least put on shoes.”

The knights remained disturbingly calm.

“You’re the ones who made me bleed! Aren’t you afraid of being executed for treason and assaulting royalty?!”

“Your Highness’s hands and feet were already bloodied before we entered. Do you not recall?”

Kachian looked down at his restrained limbs. Just a moment ago, his skin had seemed unblemished—but as he blinked, countless wounds appeared. Scratches and cuts from sharp shards. Left untreated, they were in varying states of decay.

“What is this...?! What kind of sorcery have you cast on me?”

Just like when the Duke of Peleta had humiliated him with some invisible force—this had to be something similar. He ordered them to let go, struggling to break free, but how could a body that had never properly run escape the grasp of armored knights?

Shaking their heads, the knights forced shoes onto his feet and shoved him into a carriage. Though he banged on the door, it wouldn’t open. As the carriage rolled toward the Solar Palace, he could feel the eyes of the palace staff watching.

Cold stares. People pointing fingers at a carriage carrying the Crown Prince. Sneering like the Duke of Diarca.

Through his blurred vision, someone seemed to be running after the carriage. Could it finally be someone sent to save him? A proper escort knight who’d come to their senses?

Kichi! Kichi! Wait!

No. No, that voice shouldn’t exist here.

An old friend, long dead. Why was Maiki here? And why was he calling out exactly like he did on the day Kachian left that wretched hometown?

He had given the order to eliminate him—he should be dead!

Kachian shook his head and blinked again, and just like that, there was no one. Of course. That filthy nobody couldn’t be here.

“Ah...”

He grabbed his head as if it might split open. If not for his remaining pride, he might’ve screamed and thrashed about right then. But the pain instead stirred his instincts, and for a moment, he could think more clearly—rage pushed aside by survival.

Yes. Yes... this is a trap. Everything is a trap for me...

Whatever the reason, the Emperor had summoned him. And if he went, there would be people from the Duke of Diarca’s faction present. Nothing to worry about. What the Emperor probably wanted was to shock Kachian—to rattle his already aching mind. To make him slip up in front of others. To disgrace himself as unworthy of being Crown Prince.

Yes. Ever since that bastard from House Apeto attacked me, I’ve been seeing illusions whenever my head aches like this! They must’ve heard about that and are trying to use it against me.

Kachian still remembered that night vividly.

Awoken from sleep, his mouth covered by an assassin disguised as a servant. That night of horror when his face was slashed before the mirror with a dagger coated in a disfiguring poison.

From that humiliating night on, Kachian had never slept properly again. No matter how much he healed or how many methods he tried, the mere thought of letting his guard down and waking up disfigured filled him with dread. Back when the Sage was still around, he could at least sleep a bit—but after his disappearance, things got even worse.

Even a fool like Kiole la Diarca playing at being his guard would’ve been useful now—at least to contact Diarca directly.

He belatedly recalled Kiole’s face, but the sense of regret faded quickly.

It didn’t matter. He had always been alone. What difference did it make now? There wasn’t a shred of intention in him to give the Emperor what he wanted.

He hadn’t come this far just to fall now.

Wherever this “Chamber of Truth” was, whatever they tried to do to him in there—he wouldn’t go down easy!

“Step down.”

The carriage stopped in front of the Solar Palace, and the door opened. Kachian clenched his teeth, adjusted his clothes, and stepped out proudly without assistance. Holding his head high, he walked forward with elegance—a deliberate statement.

That no one could touch him. That he stood prouder than anyone.

He entered the inner palace and came to stand before a room he’d never seen before. Since becoming Crown Prince, he had never once stepped foot inside. Had he received proper royal education, he might have known what the room was for. But in truth, Kachian had never been properly educated.

The Duke of Diarca, wary of the Emperor’s intentions to provide “basic education” now that Kachian was Crown Prince, had cut off as much contact with the royal family as possible.

Yes. The Emperor.

Kachian glared past the opening doors, toward the Emperor Keillusa seated at the head of the chamber—and beside him, the Empress.

That expressionless face behind glasses that didn’t see people as people. The timid gaze of the Empress.

They were Kachian’s adoptive parents—and the very ones he would bring down.