Chapter 001. A Beauty That Topples a Nation
The nation is on the verge of collapse.
The moment that army you can see beyond that ridge reaches these walls will be the end of the Thousand-Year-Old Ortaire Empire.
The empire had almost no troops left.
The elite knight order had been trampled to death—necks lopped clean off—and the soldiers and commoners who rose to defend the nation were either taken prisoner or slaughtered without mercy.
Would it help you understand how dire things are if I told you we even dragged convicts out of their cells to use as manpower?
And by now, someone would've noticed.
Right.
I'm that convict soldier.
And even that convict soldier is on the verge of dying now.
While I was lost in thought, the commander spoke.
"However I think about it…."
"What nonsense are you about to start spouting now?"
"If I'd become emperor, the nation wouldn't have fallen like this."
Here we go again.
It was an awful thing to hear, but it wasn't completely nonsense.
Golden, wildly unkempt hair and murky blue eyes.
A thick, scraggly beard and a body covered in wounds—he looked like a homeless vagrant, but this man was, once upon a time, the empire's crown prince.
And now, with even the finest dead, he was also the empire's last Grand Master—the reason we were still alive at all.
"Adjutant, even you must think things would be better than this if I'd been emperor, no?"
I knew full well he was joking as he laughed.
So I answered with a joke of my own.
"Bullshit. If a guy who went crazy over one woman and threw state affairs to the wind had been emperor, the empire would've collapsed even faster."
"That's harsh."
"Am I wrong? And it wasn't just you. Every single bastard who was supposed to lead the next empire went slack-jawed over one woman and turned into a useless idiot."
Thinking about it just makes me angry again.
That was why we lost this war.
Was it twenty years ago? Back when I was still a young noble heir and this man was the crown prince.
The crown prince fell for some commoner girl and abandoned his duties.
He stopped receiving imperial training, stopped practicing swordsmanship, and he didn't even show his face at public functions like banquets.
All he did was use his power to curry favor with her.
And what do you think happened in the end?
He was deemed unfit and stripped of his position as crown prince.
He rampaged in bitter resentment and was thrown into prison, and only now—when the war had become irreversible—was he released on the excuse that even a cat's paw was worth borrowing.
Everyone else was the same.
The archduke's legitimate heir who held the northern front, the master of the underworld, the holy son of the Papal See, and the next lord of the Magic Tower—all of them fell for that woman and were ruined.
And this is the result.
An empire left with nothing but scraps, brought to ruin by invasion.
If I had to put it into words… yeah.
"She was a beauty that toppled the nation."
She was a woman who shook the nation.
The prince chuckled.
"She wasn't that pretty. Just cute, is all."
"She still shook the nation."
"She shook it with cuteness."
"What happened to that fucking bitch again? In the end she locked eyes with some commoner guy, had his kid, and..."
"…She lived well. Still, a pitiful woman. Getting dragged into all this by people like us."
He's still like this.
Whatever that first love of his was, whenever I curse her, he gives that bitter little smile.
Whether it's guilt or lingering attachment, I can't tell.
Anyway, what's the point of dredging up the past now?
"…I've owed you a lot."
I said my last words to the crown prince.
He was the worst royal who ever brought the nation down, and yet thanks to him, I was about to die fighting for the nation.
Because he'd taught me secret swordsmanship in prison, and I'd raised my level.
The prince laughed.
"Owed me, my ass. I'm just sorry. Wasn't it my youthful recklessness that landed you in prison in the first place?"
"About that… enough."
"Still. I'm sorry."
It's nothing complicated.
The reason I went to prison.
Back when the prince was out of his mind, I slapped that woman across the face, and that provoked the prince's wrath.
Sure, I spent half my life in a cell because of this man, but I didn't resent it.
The charges I went in on were, in the first place, crimes I really had committed.
"If not for Your Highness, I'd still be an immature brat. I was a bit of a scoundrel, wasn't I. Having so much time alone in prison—that's when my mind finally opened. I realized I'd been living wrong."
I was a scoundrel .
The heir to a great house, yet a hopeless case who enjoyed nothing but rights with no responsibility.
If I retraced my crimes, there wouldn't be enough paper.
What woke me up was time in prison, and what completed me was the prince.
Strangely, I didn't feel any urge to blame him.
More than that… I didn't have time left for blame.
"They're coming. The barbarians."
"They are."
Far off in the distance, I could now see with my own eyes the barbarian king at the head of their vanguard.
Isaac la Bodeta.
"Great soul," or whatever they called him—the bronze-skinned, muscular man was grinning so brightly it was nauseating.
"Your Highness, that bastard's smiling."
"Leave him. He's probably dreaming of taking the imperial capital."
"You're seriously leaving him?"
"No."
The prince rose from his seat.
"I can accept the empire falling, but I cannot accept that bastard sitting on the throne."
On his sword, a golden sword aura gathered—bright enough to sting.
No matter how many times I saw it, it was a destructive force.
The empire's last—and the second Grand Master ever produced since the founding emperor.
And that man said to me,
"I want to turn back time."
"Out of nowhere?"
"Yes. I thought of it today. I want to turn back time and return to the past—before I fell for her."
"Wouldn't you just fall again?"
"I thought that too. So, after much thought, I found the perfect answer."
"What is it?"
The prince grinned as he looked at me.
"I'm sending you to the past."
"…What?"
"You'll go back and beat the hell out of me. Knock some sense into me, that's what I'm asking."
I stared at him like he'd lost his mind, but he said with a mischievous grin,
"Your mouth's always been wild, hasn't it. Even if it was in prison, when you asked me if my mother was a whore, I damn near choked. It amazed me that a man could insult Her Majesty the Empress and still be alive."
"…You insulted my family first."
"Anyway, I need someone with a mouth that free. Around me, there were only people who adored me. That's why I never came to my senses. I was drunk on admiration, you could say."
Tap, tap!
The prince tapped my shoulder with the sword that held his sword aura.
"That's why it has to be you. You know me best in this land, and you're the one person who can mouth off to me and still live."
It was nonsense, sure, but it was an interesting topic, so I answered anyway.
"Why would I do that?"
"I taught you swordsmanship."
"Taught me, my ass. You beat me with it so often my eyes just got used to it."
"That was sparring."
"Go f*ck yourself, Your Highness."
"Thanks to it, you became a Sword Master."
"So what? I still can't beat you."
The prince was monstrously strong.
Strong enough that his line—'Even if the empire falls, I'll take that man's head'—wasn't just bravado.
And I had to get tangled up with him again? I'd rather die.
"I'm not doing it. Piss off."
Then the prince said,
"No. You will. When you see my younger face, you'll get so pissed you won't be able to stop yourself from cursing me out."
"…Can't argue with that."
That was the end of our conversation.
Only one thing was different from usual.
We were going to die now.
And also—
"…Your Highness?"
The prince's eyes were dyed a dazzling gold… the same gold as his sword aura.
The prince walked toward the front line.
And as he did, he said,
"Please."
I don't know what he was asking for.
All I remember is this.
The prince fought the barbarian king.
A gale rose, the earth shook, and the sky split apart.
I, no more than a mere swordsman, thrashed and clawed within it all, desperate to take even one more of them with me.
Thunderous booms and screams, and steel and blood.
They shook my body and soul until my mind went distant.
At some point, even sensation vanished.
'Ah.'
So I'm dying.
This is how I end.
Only after I finally sensed my own end.
And long after that, still.
When my senses returned, at last, I tilted my head in confusion.
"Yuren Paros. Now, if you have anything to say, I'll hear it. Go on—try to make your excuses."
The place was an abandoned warehouse.
Before me stood a young prince—back when he was still the crown prince.
My body was bound.
***
Once, one of my men—retired after his lower body got blown clean off—said this.
–When you're pushed right up to death, the moment you regret most in life shows up like a dream.
Looking at this, it seems he was right.
Me, tied up in an abandoned warehouse.
The prince smiling at me—Callios Van Ortaire.
This was the day my life dove headfirst into the gutter.
On this day, I slapped the cheek of the commoner wench who'd captured the prince's heart, and for that I earned the prince's fury and was thrown into prison.
If I had to pin down the timing, it was right before I was locked away.
The prince had come to see me and granted me a final chance to speak.
"Anything you want to leave behind? I'm willing to listen to any words at all."
Because I thought it was a dream, I felt relaxed.
I studied the prince… no, at this point, the crown prince's face.
Seeing it like this was honestly surprising.
'So this face ends up looking like a homeless bum someday.....'
Borrowing some young lady's expression, his face right now was "a face that seemed to gather every maiden's fantasy into one."
From my perspective, it was a face that'd make even a man who liked men lose his mind, but I couldn't deny he was handsome.
'But time is cruel.'
How does this face end up as that homeless bum's mug?
The emptiness lasted only a moment.
"Can't you hear me?"
The crown prince said, narrowing his brow.
It didn't move me much.
Even if I spoke…
'…It's a dream anyway, so who cares.'
I thought back.
What did I answer back then, in reality?
–It's just one commoner wench, Your Highness! I'm wronged! You should defend me, not that b*tch! I'm the heir to a great house! I'm His Majesty's ally, damn itaaagh !!!
…Yeah. Not exactly a good answer.
Thinking about my scoundrel days makes shame surge no matter how many times I recall it.
Anyway, if it's a dream, I want it to end quickly.
I didn't live some wonderful life, but I did die defending the nation—so won't I go into the god's embrace?
There, I want to eat delicious fruit, drink alcohol, and live at ease.
Half my life in prison, and half of what remained on the battlefield—no wonder I longed for freedom and peace this much.
'When's it going to end.'
It was the moment I thought that—
"Hm, no answer. Are you terrified? If your guts are that weak, how did you dare lay hands on a woman? Or is your strength the kind of pathetic strength you can only swing at the weak?"
A hollow laugh slipped out.
'Have I ever swung my sword at someone weaker than me?'
I can say with certainty: no.
Of course not— the person who faced my blade most often was this man in the future.
And aside from that, the only ones I ever swung at were barbarian lunatics crazed for war.
If anything, the one who swung his sword at the weak was him.
On the battlefield, no one swung a blade like this man—except the barbarian king.
When I looked at the crown prince with an expression that said he was ridiculous, the prince smiled coldly.
It was painfully obvious he was trying to provoke me.
'Phew.'
I can endure it.
I'm not a child—why would my composure be shaken by a half-grown crown prince's words?
This was less than half of half of the future prince's insult: "You don't even have a mother or father, do you? Do you remember their faces?"
…If only it hadn't been for what came next, it would've stayed that way.
"You're a cowardly little bastard. No guts, no answers. Just thinking that trash like you was once considered one of the empire's futures gives me chills. Cutting you down today would be a choice for the empire."
My body went rigid.
It felt like something hot dropped into my head.
Deep, blazing rage—or maybe resentment.
That phrase, "a choice for the empire's future," scraped me raw.
'That man worried about the empire's future? At this point?'
Bullshit of the highest order.
I know that for a fact—because I heard the answer straight from his own mouth.
–Back then, it was like I was possessed. I couldn't see anything. Anything but her… truly, nothing else existed.
Maybe that's why.
My mouth moved on its own.
"How can those words come out of Your Highness's mouth?"
"...?"
"A man who gets bewitched by one commoner girl and throws state affairs away—talking about the empire's future… does that make any sense?"
Honestly, this much could've been treated as lèse-majesté, but it didn't bother me.
'It's a dream anyway, so what.'
If I'm going to vent, I might as well go all the way.
Once I decided, my mouth started moving freely.
They were words that had been knotted up inside me for a long time.
"Your Highness, snap out of it. Please. I'm telling you—tear your lower half out of your thought process. Or should I tear it out for you?"
The crown prince's expression froze with a crack.
Ah, that feels good.