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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Northern Duke Is Me (4)
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The corridor leading to the annex.
The moment I stepped out of the banquet hall, the music that had been tormenting my eardrums receded like the tide.
In its place came the sound of military boots clacking on the stone floor, along with the fierce northern winds battering the windows from afar.
After walking for a while, I approached a massive floor-to-ceiling window at one side of the corridor.
Beyond the glass, the full grandeur of Kaltstein Castle sprawled out before me.
It's huge, alright.
A fresh observation.
This was the house I'd lived in for twenty years, yet tonight it felt strangely unfamiliar and immense.
Probably the weight of the title of master bearing down on me.
In the distance, faint cheers from knights still training in the parade ground reached my ears, even at this late hour.
I could just make out their white breaths rising as they swung their swords under the torchlight.
Beyond them lay the garden Mother had so meticulously tended, now blanketed in snow and turned pure white.
Come spring, flowers buried beneath would bloom in full.
When that happened, Mother would probably send a letter from some southern beach, cocktail in hand.
"Are the flowers blooming well? Send some pictures."
"They've got magic tools that can take photos, but no cars or trains. That's weird."
A random thought brought a hollow chuckle.
Yeah.
Thinking about it, this grandiose duke position I'd suddenly inherited was ultimately just about protecting these little everyday moments.
Nothing more.
No reason to feel anxious.
"Ah, Your Grace!"
Maids rounding the corridor corner startled and hurriedly stepped aside.
They carried trays laden with refreshments.
Probably hastily prepared for the princess staying in the annex.
As I passed, the maids hunched their shoulders and bowed their heads deeply.
Like rabbits scurrying past a tiger.
Am I that scary?
Well, I rarely smiled and was usually seen drilling knights in the training grounds.
I addressed them in the softest voice I could muster.
"You've had a hard night. Must be hectic with the late guest."
"P-Pardon? Oh, no! It's just our duty!"
One maid stammered in surprise.
I steadied a teacup rattling on her tray with a finger and said,
"Her Highness might be a bit sensitive. Don't take it too personally if she's picky. If it's too much, tell Seria and get a rotation."
"D-Duke... Your Grace..."
"And once you're done attending Her Highness, grab something warm from the kitchen. In the North, keeping warm is all that matters."
I gave a light wink and resumed walking.
Behind me, whispers rose: "His Grace said that...?", "Oh my goodness."
Not a bad reaction.
Ruling through fear is amateur hour.
True leadership is warm to your own people and cold to others'.
At the annex entrance, the guards on door duty slammed their spears together in salute.
"Loyalty! We greet the Duke!"
"At ease."
I patted their shoulders lightly and grasped the door handle.
The cold metal bit into my palm.
The North was ruthless—even a brief absence let it freeze everything solid.
Touching this handle felt like gripping an icicle.
"Hoo..."
I drew a light breath.
Cold air filled my lungs deep, sharpening my slightly muddled mind from the alcohol.
Now it was real—no more acting.
Inside waited the Empire's princess, the suspected possessor who knew this world's secrets.
My conversation with her would set the difficulty for my ducal life—or my entire life.
Surely no Demon King or whatever that hadn't shown up in twenty years would pop out now?
Anxious, but I'd know soon enough.
I opened the annex door without hesitation.
Climbing the stairs floor by floor, I reached the VIP guest suite on the fourth floor and stopped before the finest wooden door.
The moment I raised my hand to knock and ask permission—
My hand froze mid-air, just before touching the door.
Through the high-end oak door enchanted for soundproofing leaked a stark, vulgar voice.
The Second Princess's voice, presumed possessor.
"...Hah, fuck, my life's seriously fucked."
"..."
I froze, fist clenched.
Was that really the Empire's noble princess's voice I'd just heard?
If not a mishearing, it was pure, gritty lament straight out of a Korean bar alley or PC bang corner.
And like earlier, her homeland tongue I'd never heard in this world once in twenty years.
I pressed my ear lightly to the door.
Not to eavesdrop, but as duke, checking a guest's well-being was duty.
Okay, 90% curiosity.
Inside, Roselia's monologue—no, her wail—continued.
"That damn Crown Prince asshole... I went through hell dodging that bastard's eyes.
Hid in the cargo hold of a rattling supply wagon—no imperial carriage—for over a week. Look at these bruises on my ass, fuck."
Crash!!
"What the?"
Something kicked—a bed or sofa, probably.
Ridiculous.
Not even her own bedroom, and she was okay with that?
"But I get here, and what's this shit? What the hell is going on?!"
Footsteps paced frantically inside.
"This is nothing like the original story I knew. The North should be prepping to become a power vacuum by now...
And the hyena-like collaterals should be starting to scheme. That's normal."
A hollow laugh echoed.
"Yeah, greedy fucks like that Mort Baron... or that viper Viper Viscountess.
They should be plotting assassinations, poisoning, dirty tricks, turning the North into a wasteland from within!!!"
"..."
Mort Baron. Viper Viscountess.
Familiar names.
Indeed, right after Father's retirement news, they'd been first from the capital with gifts and flattery.
If I weren't here, they'd have torn into the North, just as she said.
No hard proof, but suspicions of colluding with the Emperor.
"But instead of schemes, they're pissing themselves scared of the new duke. Hilarious, haha..."
"..."
"...No, Roselia, this isn't the time to laugh at others."
The mirth vanished abruptly, her voice thick with despair again.
"Fuck, I need to survive first... Plans all fucked. Can't use the North as a shield anymore, this unknown young duke is unreadable. Go back to the palace now? Insane. Suicide."
Her voice trembled more.
"If I go back... before the heroine catches the Crown Prince's eye, he'll kill me first. Think that psycho will spare his sister? The older princess above me is a psychopath rivaling him, the Emperor just watches.... Hah."
A long sigh.
Her next words made even me hold my breath.
"Ha, the gods are heartless. Why possess me into this clusterfuck world?
I've read tons of novels. Raising kids, healing, chill farming heals. Worlds full of peace and happiness!!"
Thud!
A heavy desk slam.
"Why this one?! Possessed into a dark romance where the psycho yandere Crown Prince—our male lead—chains the heroine's ankle and screams love even as the Empire falls! And it's a bad end! Everyone dies! Everyone! Aaaargh!!"
A scream, then something soft—a pillow?—hit the wall.
Standing in the corridor, eavesdropping on the princess's mutterings, I stared blankly into space.
"..."
Too much info dump at once.
Hold on.
Empire falls?
Crown Prince is a psychopath?
And a dark tale where he restrains the heroine preaching love?
Whoa, this world's that messed up?
Twenty years here.
I'd thought it a standard fantasy—magic, swords, decent peace.
Father strong, territory prosperous, life comfy.
Turns out I napped on a ticking bomb.
The Crown Prince, screaming love amid the Empire's fall? Psycho.
Met him once at his investiture—got a bad vibe, and it was real?
No, if she's wailing everyone dies, the ending's brutal.
Damn. Thought it'd be sweet, but hardcore mode.
Bitter taste.
Already dizzy from sudden dukedom, now world lore dump after twenty years.
But a smirk crept up anyway.
Serious stuff, but her speech so familiar.
"Asshole", "fuck", "psychopath".
Hearing my homeland tongue in this distant fantasy castle corridor.
I barely stifled a laugh.
Play dumb for now.
I rubbed my face dry, composing myself.
Barging in with "Hey, I'm Korean too! Reincarnator here, nice! Need help!?" gains nothing.
Worse, if she pegs me as another possessor, she'll clam up on info.
But if I stay the oblivious local powerhouse who can take on the Empire?
Plant that I'm trustworthy?
She'll cling for survival, and I'll pry future knowledge naturally.
Info is power.
And above all.
Right now she's despairing like world-weary vet; when I enter clueless and ask "Something wrong?", her panicked face.
Petty hobby, maybe.
Teased servants since becoming high noble; ducal now, still can't quit.
I straightened my attire.
Donned the mask: cold, arrogant, yet gentlemanly Northern Duke.
Raised my hand, knocked.
Knock knock—!
"...Gasp?!"
A sharp inhale inside, then clattering chaos.
Probably scrambling to grab the pillow, fix her hair.
I asked in solemn tones,
"Your Highness, it's Noxion. May I enter?"
"W-Wait! Just a sec!"
Frantic cry.
Gripping the handle, I let my lip curl faintly.
Alright, possessor. Round two.