Reasonable Suspicion
Kertion, Imperial Palace.
"...Say that again."
A sharp yet heavy voice flowed out from behind the veil.
The magic power carried in that tone brushed through the air, creating a strange, buzzing resonance among those present.
It was the Emperor of Vareshan.
The aura of the man who stood at the pinnacle of the Empire was enough to seize the hearts of everyone in the hall.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Kneeling and bowing deeply, Marquis Reut slowly began to speak.
"His Highness the Third Prince Gilothan chose to enter enemy territory, declaring that he would contribute to the Empire rather than return safely to the palace. These are the true facts, without a single falsehood."
"How amusing. You make it sound as if the boy left to fulfill some sacred royal duty."
"It is the truth, Your Majesty. His Highness entered the front solely to reclaim the Empire's great treasure—"
"Enough! Enough! How long do you plan to amuse me with such nonsense?"
The veil was drawn aside, and the Emperor strode out.
Madness flickered within his twisted expression.
"Everything I have said is true," Marquis Reut insisted, bowing once again.
But the Emperor's tone grew even sharper.
"Hmph. So the fool caught some prophet's fever and somehow foresaw every danger, saved his own life, and now dares to march into Aurax himself to retrieve the late Emperor's lost ring?"
"That is correct, Your Majesty."
At that, the Emperor chuckled darkly.
"How ridiculous. A comedy, truly. He may be my son, but that one's little better than trash, Marquis. Surely you're not ignorant of that?"
"..."
Reut remained silent, bowing even deeper as he thought to himself:
"Madman. Still, that's your own son."
He was not alone in the hall—
every high-ranking official of the Empire had gathered to listen.
And yet, the Emperor openly called his youngest son trash, dragging the dignity of a prince through the mud.
It was sheer arrogance—enough to make one's teeth clench.
"..."
The Marquis could only keep his head down.
His opponent was the Emperor.
Even as a Swordmaster, he couldn't dare to talk back.
The Emperor of Vareshan stroked his cleanly shaven chin and muttered:
"Well, no matter. You've no reason to lie to me. Useless as he is, who knows—perhaps the fool will manage some surprising feat…"
He laughed again—phuhuhuhu.
At least for now, the Emperor was reacting exactly as the Third Prince had predicted.
"...It may not be so bad to place your trust in His Highness, just this once," said Reut cautiously.
But just then, the Emperor abruptly stopped laughing and turned his gaze elsewhere.
"Duke Penn! Are you here?"
A young knight with a stern, disciplined bearing stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"You called for me, Your Majesty."
It was Cedric Penn, commander of the Imperial Knights—
the undefeated warrior known as the Spear of the Empire.
Why him?
Reut frowned faintly.
Cedric Penn was one of the Empire's Three Swords, just as Reut was.
But they had never been particularly close—Penn's blind loyalty to the crown saw to that.
A commoner who rose to become the Emperor's son-in-law and even a Duke... blind loyalty suits him, I suppose.
But that loyalty had drenched the Empire in blood.
The Emperor's cruelty was often executed through Cedric's sword.
So when the Emperor spoke again, Reut felt a chill of foreboding.
"Duke Penn, select a group of agents skilled in covert operations. Send them to infiltrate Aurax in secret."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And until further orders, they are to observe the Third Prince from afar. Do not interfere."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
"...?"
Marquis Reut almost doubted his ears.
Not to rescue the prince, but to simply watch him?
Why?
For what purpose?
The reason in the Emperor's mind was simple.
That boy—if he gets his hands on the ring, he'll surely start harboring his own ambitions.
He didn't trust his son at all.
But if the Third Prince's reckless quest could lead to recovering Tear of Dawn,
the Emperor was willing to exploit him to the fullest.
Even if it meant trading his son's life for the ring—
that was a deal that left him well in profit.
With a cruel smile, Emperor Vareshan disappeared behind the curtain once more.
The Crown Prince and the Second Prince silently followed him.
As the chamberlain announced the meeting's adjournment, Marquis Reut rose to his feet.
I must inform His Highness that he's under surveillance, even if there's no interference... but...
How in the world am I supposed to send a message to the Third Prince deep in the heart of Aurax?
Even for him, it was a troubling question.
"Quite the talent for popping out of nowhere, aren't you?"
"Right back at you. Can you even see properly under that pitch-black thing you're wearing?"
"Don't worry. I can see that thin neck of yours just fine."
"Hmph."
Seeing Igral sitting there, I turned to leave and shut the door behind me.
He's here for some deal, I suppose. It's the black market, after all.
It was just an unpleasant coincidence to run into him—no need to linger.
All traders here had access to the same goods list anyway.
No reason to sit next to someone so irritating.
"Well, this was unpleasant. Let's not meet again. Hope your trade's a miserable one."
"Hey, wait!"
Just as I was about to close the door, Igral suddenly shouted.
"What? What now?"
I frowned—time was precious—but his next words took me by surprise.
"How about we trade together? Seems we're after the same thing."
"...And how would you know my goal?"
His reply was a masterpiece of arrogance.
"Do you really think I wouldn't know your goal?"
The words stabbed like a dagger, and I was momentarily speechless.
A certain realization I'd been putting off resurfaced sharply.
Right.
He was a player character.
Whatever twisted circumstance led to this...
He was in the role I should have occupied—
while I was trapped in the body of the Third Prince.
If Igral really was a player from The God-Forsaken World,
then he might indeed be able to predict my actions... just like he said.
That's... seriously unnerving.
And extremely dangerous.
Right now, we were both aligned with the Revolutionary Army,
so there was no reason to fight outright.
But once the game's story progressed—
if either of us switched allegiances—
we'd be at each other's throats immediately.
And odds were, I'd be the disadvantaged one.
I didn't even know what Igral's face truly looked like.
I need to keep as much distance from Igral as possible.
With that conclusion, I declined his offer curtly.
"Sorry, but I've no intention of sharing my secret deal with you. Goodbye."
"W–wait! Just hear me out for a second!"
Why is this guy so clingy?
I tried to close the door again, but Igral hurriedly rose to his feet—
and started walking straight toward me.
Behind me, I felt Kals and Tyrbaen tense instantly.
"What—what is it? Why are you coming closer?"
The intimidation radiating from that huge figure whose face I couldn't see made me flinch.
"I know why you're here. The Shield of Balance. You came to buy that too, didn't you?"
"...."
Blood ran cold for an instant.
As he said, that shield was one of the essential items needed to stop the incident where children were dying.
It was one of the three things I'd decided I had to get from this black market.
So—he really does know my objective, then?
He knows everything, and now he intends to interfere?
He's going to threaten me like this?
If that's the case, I can't just take it lying down.
I ground my molars and glared into the shadow where he stood.
He was dangerous precisely because I couldn't predict him, and he might turn into an enemy later on.
I didn't know exactly how strong Igral's combat ability was, but if I truly couldn't avoid him, it might be better to deal with him now.
Getting rid of him in a back alley out of the city guard's sight would be the easier option.
Gulp.
But do I really have to kill him?
Staining my hands with blood like that…? A revolting thought churned through me.
"...Gilroshan."
Igral stepped a little closer and whispered my name.
Every sense in my body snapped to attention.
Now I had to decide.
Do I take him out? If so, how? And can I handle the fallout?
Damn, I really don't want to do this.
Then the thing Igral said—aimed at the conflicted me—was the last thing I expected.
"I have a favor to ask. Help me."
Help him? Help with what?
Igral swallowed and glanced at the black-market dealer, then blurted out something completely absurd.
"I'm short on money. Just a little."
"...huh?"
"You need the Shield of Balance, and so do I, right?"
"That's true."
"Then what if we pool our money and buy a set—get the Shield of Balance together?"
My ears must be deceiving me.
Was this guy not a threat but a—cooperative buyer?
"So—let's do a 1+1 discount together! What do you say? Tempting, right?"
…Convenience-store arithmetic makes another appearance.
Igral was completely serious, but I was stupefied.
He wasn't threatening me—he was proposing a group purchase.
I blinked to clear my head.
"Man, talk like that belongs in a dog café—"
Ugh, forget it. This was getting irritating.
What? 1+1?
This shadowed bastard could say anything.
Basically he was asking to borrow money!
And that was nonsense that wouldn't fly here.
Deals in the black market didn't work like that.
Want to buy two? You might end up paying more.
If you couldn't beat the dealer at that table, you'd be better off not coming here at all.
Like the gatekeeper hinted earlier, you could be stripped down to your underwear.
This guy doesn't even know that and he's sitting here?
As I looked at Igral with disgust, an idea flashed through my head.
Wait a second.
…This might actually work.
I sorted my thoughts in an instant and opened my palm to Igral.
"Okay. Fine—like you said. Give me the money first."
"Huh?"
"I'll sit at the table—so hand over the cash. You want the 1+1 deal, right?"
Igral hesitated; somehow, even with his hood up and face hidden, his expression was readable.
"Don't want to? Fine. I don't need it that badly."
"No, no! I trust you—please, take it."
For reasons I didn't understand, Igral handed me all his coin pouches.
Ninety-two gold coins.
More than I had, and objectively a good sum—certainly not something I'd hand over to someone who'd been growling at me moments ago.
Yet he gave it to me without hesitation.
He really needs that Shield of Balance.
Is he also moving to stop that event?
"...."
My thoughts grew needlessly tangled. Focus on the immediate situation.
I put Igral's gold into my inventory and took a seat at the table.
The masked black-market dealer—only his eyes visible—looked at me and smiled quietly.
"Have you finished your discussion?"
"Yeah, more or less."
"Then how shall we proceed with the trade? The person who arrived first was talking about the Shield of Balance."
"How much is it?"
"I'll take one hundred and twenty gold coins."
That amount was exactly what I currently had.
"...You sure know how to gouge."
"Pardon?"
"Ah—what I mean is, you sure know how to price something. It's an excellent item, after all!"
"Y-yes, then we shall proceed—"
The dealer began to scribble the contract fluently.
But I had no intention of going through with it that way.
"By the way, besides the Shield of Balance, do you also sell the 'Death Dice'?"
Everyone's shoulders visibly stiffened.
It was because I'd mentioned the Death Dice.
"W-what, my lord? What did you say—?"
"Are you insane, you fool?"
Kals and Tyrbaen, in particular, dropped their voices and started bawling at me.
The Death Dice was a kind of dice-based gambling device.
Anyone who remembers the gambling-prone Third Prince would feel sick hearing it mentioned.
I'd brought it up because this black market doubled as a gambling den.
You could see it in the structure: gatekeeper, corridor, private room—and this "dealer" here.
"Your Highness! You came here just to gamble again! Have you forgotten your life is at stake?"
"You do realize this is a life-or-death matter, right?!"
The storm in my ears was deafening.
And there was one more person.
"You—you…! What are you doing now?"
Igral—who had entrusted me with his entire wealth—had his hood trembling.
But I grinned across the table.
"Now, then—let's begin."