Empress Lola froze.
Every muscle in her body went still, her breath catching halfway in her chest as she stared at her son—her five-year-old son—standing boldly in the middle of Sanaria's great hall, effortlessly manipulating a king and an entire court with the poise of a seasoned ruler.
Her face flushed with both embarrassment and disbelief.
This boy… this boy wants to host a marriage competition?
For me?
In front of thousands?
She wanted to grab him by the ear and drag him back to the palace.
She wanted to scold him until his arrogance melted.
But when she opened her mouth to speak—
"Josh!" she hissed under her breath, leaning slightly toward him. "What are you doing? This is not how diplomacy works! You promised to behave—"
Josh calmly turned his head and looked up at her.
And the moment Lola's gaze met his…
Her voice died.
Because his eyes—
those deep, steady, impossibly mature eyes—
were not the eyes of a child.
They were the eyes she had known for years.
Eyes that once watched over her in the night.
Eyes that handled kingdoms and wars.
Eyes that loved her with a depth she still didn't understand.
They were the eyes of her late husband.
Josh's expression softened—not like a child reassuring a mother, but like a man reminding his wife of something she had forgotten.
"Mother," he whispered, so only she could hear.
"Trust me."
Her heart skipped.
Not because of the words…
…but because he said them exactly—exactly—the way her late emperor used to when he was about to do something reckless but brilliant.
Josh lowered his voice further, tone smooth, confident, and uncomfortably familiar.
"Just follow my lead."
A strange warmth coiled in Lola's stomach.
A flutter—dangerous and disorienting—ran through her.
Why does he sound like him…?
Why does he stand like him…?
Why is it that when he talks, I feel the same way I felt when…
Her breath trembled.
For a terrifying second, she wondered—
Did I truly give birth to this child?
Or did I give birth to… him?
Josh gently placed his small hand over hers—an affectionate gesture, harmless from a boy but devastatingly nostalgic coming from a soul she once knew intimately.
His thumb brushed her knuckles in a way no child should naturally do.
"Everything will end well," he murmured. "I promise."
Lola's lips parted, but no sound came.
Her cheeks warmed.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
It was too much—too familiar.
Too haunting.
She pulled her hand back slightly, more out of instinct than reason.
Josh smiled—slow, knowing, impossibly adult.
The crowd did not see this.
But Relia Amia did. The generals did! And Naze the blind swordsman certainly noticed this!
And yet again she wondered....
If her son was truly her son.
Josh then turned to the King, Sinnabad, and asked calmly, "So… do you agree to my proposal?"
His tone was casual, almost gentle—but every person in that hall felt the weight of iron beneath it.
King Sinnabad, still reeling from the humiliation and the prince's audacity, nodded stiffly. "Y-yes… I agree."
He didn't even know what he was agreeing to anymore. He only knew that the little devil's words had boxed him in like a cornered animal.
Josh's lips curved into a soft, victorious smile.
"Then it is settled," he announced, his voice rising like a clear bell that echoed across the palace hall and out toward the gathering crowd outside. "Those who want to enter the competition have three days to submit their names into the container outside the palace. Do not be timid—no one will harm you under my watch."
A ripple of astonishment spread among the nobility. The prince's voice carried beyond the marble walls. Guards outside straightened. Servants paused mid-step. The news was already spreading like wildfire.
Just as the atmosphere settled, Prince Chalibad—the eldest crown prince—slowly rose to his feet.
His face was pale.
His eyes shifted between Josh and king Sinnabad, his very own —father.
"C-can I step down…?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't want to challenge his father for a woman the king clearly desired. It felt like betrayal dripping from every angle.
Before King Sinnabad could react, Little Josh's voice cut through the hall like a blade:
"If you step down," the boy said sharply, "then the competition is cancelled—and my mother will not be involved at all."
A collective gasp exploded from the nobles.
Chalibad swallowed hard.
He sat back down.
Prince Movibad—the unfettered, rebellious second prince—leaned back and grinned.
"I like this little imp," he whispered, loud enough for several nobles to hear. "He brings life to this boring palace."
Prince Sumibad, the hedonistic fifth prince, clapped his hands once.
"I think I shall also enter the competition," he said brightly. "It sounds fun."
King Sinnabad nearly choked on his own breath. His sons—his own sons—were preparing to marry the woman he desired.
Josh nodded once, completely unbothered.
"So it is settled. In three days, I will determine the format of the competition."
He turned to King Sinnabad with disarming politeness.
"I presume you have a guest room for us?"
The king didn't trust himself to speak. He simply gestured harshly for the servants.
They were led to a large, luxurious room—polished floors, embroidered curtains, a carved stone bath, scented oils, and enough pillows to drown in. Clearly designed for royal visitors.
Once the servants withdrew, closing the heavy door behind them, calm descended.
Then Naze stepped closer, his eyes narrowed with a disturbing mixture of suspicion and awe.
"Josh," he murmured, "what… is your end game?"
Josh turned to him with a smile far too ancient for a five-year-old.
"You're a seasoned general and my best friend," he said softly. "Just protect me. Let me do the thinking for you…"
Lightning struck Naze's spine.
His breath caught in his throat.
Those words—those exact words—were the words spoken by Emperor Josh Aratat, the brilliant, terrifying emperor Naze had once pledged his life to.
Naze stared at the boy, his pupils trembling.
For a split second—an impossible, heart-stopping second—he saw another face overlapping Josh's:
A grown man.
A conqueror.
A legend.
"Just… what are you?" Naze whispered hoarsely, the question pulled from him against his will.
Josh's eyes softened, filled with an old, secret sadness.
"In time," he said, turning away, "you'll know."
He left Naze standing there—shaken to his core, questioning gods, destiny, and reincarnation all at once.
Josh could not reveal the truth—not with the god of retribution A'Nui's warning hanging over him like a blade.
But no rule forbade them from discovering the truth by their own will.
And that was exactly the path he intended to follow.