Chapter 12. Prove Your Qualifications (2)
"I regret to say this, but I must refuse."
The Crown Prince's clear voice rang through the vast audience hall.
The Crown Prince—always sickly and frail. The one who had never once been able to stand proudly even before his own father, the Emperor.
And yet, today was different.
It wasn't just his voice.
"…What?"
The Emperor flinched without realizing it. Such a refusal—without a shred of deference or hesitation. For a refusal, it was far too blunt.
From his own son, and of all people, the weakest Crown Prince. This was a reaction he had never once imagined when he summoned him today.
No—one he had never experienced in his entire life.
"What did you just say?"
He asked again, as if to confirm.
The answer that came back was unchanged.
"I mean that I cannot accept the proposal Your Majesty has given."
"..."
The Emperor's surprise at the Crown Prince's unexpected confidence lasted only a moment. His expression hardened, and anger flickered in his eyes.
"A refusal? To my proposal?"
"Yes, that is correct."
The faint yet leonine wrath of the Emperor.
The pressure embedded in his voice.
Rachiel felt it keenly, yet he still nodded. He did not withdraw his refusal. No—he could not withdraw it.
Because he judged that he must not.
'Of course. That proposal of the Emperor's wasn't in the original story. This situation didn't exist in Demon Sword Emperor. But that doesn't mean I need to be intimidated. I can see exactly why he's doing this.'
That was right.
The Emperor's proposal—to hand the position of Crown Prince over to the Second Prince. To Rakiel, the reason and intention behind it were perfectly clear.
'Simple. He wants to give the Second Prince a more legitimate justification.'
In truth, stripping someone of the title of Crown Prince was not difficult. Frankly, there was no need to obtain the consent of the person in question. With a single imperial command, the matter could be resolved.
'But instead of taking that easy route, he's deliberately urging me to yield… That must be to preserve the dignity of the imperial family, and at the same time grant the Second Prince greater authority and justification afterward.'
I have to yield.
I have to hand over the position of Crown Prince in a "good-looking" way.
'He wants to create a kind of propaganda, both domestically and abroad. A convincing picture: the eldest son, recognizing the existence of a more capable younger brother, graciously and virtuously yields his seat—and the qualified younger brother who inherits the position from such an elder…'
If things proceeded like that—
The imperial family could maintain its dignity even while replacing the Crown Prince. More than that, the Second Prince would gain the image of being capable, along with the titles of legitimacy and rightful lineage.
A rather effective piece of political advertising—propaganda, in other words.
'And it would look far better than forcibly stripping me of the title and slapping it onto the Second Prince.'
But what if the Crown Prince title were taken without my "yield"? If the Second Prince became Crown Prince that way?
The situation would be completely different.
Rakiel could see it clearly.
'The images of both myself and the Second Prince would be utterly different from the earlier scenario. The eldest son who lost his position due to poor health—and the Second Prince who seized it…'
In short, the Second Prince would be branded with the image of a "usurper." That was surely not what the Emperor desired. It would damage the Second Prince's legitimacy.
A burdensome label that would follow him for life.
'That's what the Emperor wants to avoid.'
Rachiel lifted his gaze.
He looked straight at the Emperor.
The Emperor appeared to be brimming with anger.
Yet within his gaze, a faint hint of impatience could also be seen.
'Of course he's impatient. I'm still frail and unreliable, I don't look qualified—and yet I'm stubbornly hanging on, showing no sign of dying.'
Suddenly, the early developments of Demon Sword Emperor came to mind.
At this point in the original story, Crown Prince Rakiel had been in far worse condition than he was now. After the day he coughed up blood violently while writing in his journal, his illness worsened. He could no longer even rise from his sickbed—a state where anyone could tell he wouldn't live long.
Because of that, the Emperor never made a proposal like today's in the original work. There was no need. He could simply reclaim the Crown Prince title from a Rakiel who was on the brink of death and naturally pass it on to the Second Prince.
But now?
Things were different.
'It's because of me.'
Rachiel shrugged inwardly.
Because I was doing my best not to die.
Because I was diligently eating foods and medicine said to be good for the body.
Because I was even carrying out regular self-acupuncture with careful precision.
Thanks to all that, I had become far more vigorous than Crown Prince Rakiel had ever been in the original story.
'Of course, I still haven't escaped the fate of a terminally ill life, and my stamina is still trash—but at least I can walk around on my own two feet and function like a human being.'
That was probably why.
The faint impatience flickering in the Emperor's eyes.
And the disappointment he could not fully conceal as he looked at me.
"Do you truly not understand my consideration?"
The Emperor's voice grew heavy.
Fury and disappointment.
A gaze mixed with regret and reproach swept over me.
"Though you are frail and sickly, I still had something to rely on. I believed that at least your spirit would not collapse—that you would not lose the bare minimum of wisdom and acuity. Yet it seems my expectations were mistaken."
His voice turned icy, like a blade of frost.
As if casting his own child off a cliff.
The merciless words continued.
"I am disappointed. Truly disappointed. Is that empty title of Crown Prince really so important to you? A seat you would never use even if you held it for life—was it truly that desirable? And so, are you saying that you would rather smear mud on the face of both me and the imperial family, and inconvenience countless others, just to satisfy yourself?"
"..."
"Why is there no answer? Is that truly what you desire?"
Now the Emperor's gaze was cold as ice. He seemed to have regarded his proposal as an act of consideration, and being rejected so directly left him deeply disillusioned.
Rachiel swallowed a bitter smile.
'Tch. One refusal and he's tearing me apart like he wants to crush my bones.'
To be honest, he wanted to accept the Emperor's proposal without hesitation. In truth, that was the easiest path.
'Of course it is. What would I even do as Emperor? I don't have the confidence to do it well.'
At heart, he was nothing more than Lee Han-il, a mediocre, ordinary acupuncturist from South Korea whose clinic had gone bankrupt. A completely average man whose free time consisted of chuckling over novels and movies and playing a few games.
And yet—Emperor?
It felt utterly absurd.
'Me, an Emperor? No way. I'm not confident. I'd be perfect for running a country into the ground.'
That was why.
He didn't want to become Emperor.
If possible, he wanted to hand over even the Crown Prince position without hesitation, live his entire life enjoying only the status and wealth of royalty—like an unemployed building owner living off rent. Naturally, the proposal the Emperor had just offered felt incredibly tempting.
But if he accepted that proposal?
Everything would be ruined.
Himself.
The imperial family.
The Empire.
All of it.
'Because of the Second Prince.'
The problem lay with the Second Prince, who would inherit the position of Crown Prince.
Was he stupid? Evil?
No.
The Second Prince was intelligent in his own way, diligent, and capable. That was stated outright several times in the novel Demon Sword Emperor.
But therein lay the problem: all of that intelligence, diligence, and capability suited an age of peace.
'The Second Prince as described in the novel… he was a pretty decent guy. He had the makings of a fine ruler. If the age of peace had continued, he surely would have been. At the very least, he would have gone down in the history books as an Emperor who did better than average. But…'
Soon, an age of war would arrive.
Having read the novel, Rakiel knew.
He knew what kind of chaos and devastation would descend upon the Empire. He knew how miserably the Empire would fall in the face of it—and how tragic an end the Second Prince himself would meet.
He knew it all.
'The Second Prince wasn't suited for an age of war. No—he was the worst possible choice.'
The intelligence, capability, and diligence that had worked in times of peace did not work in times of war.
'He was blatantly a "sweet-potato ruler."'
Hesitating when swift decisions were required.
Missing the moment and opportunity for decisive action.
And ultimately facing a point beyond recovery—
An indecisive, "sweet-potato" ruler.
That was the pitiful image of the Second Prince in the novel.
Rachiel did not want to let the Empire collapse like that.
'If the Empire and the imperial family fall… then even the ground I can lean on disappears.'
He had to live grandly as royalty.
That was his ultimate life plan.
For that to happen, the Empire had to remain intact.
But the Second Prince lacked the ability to protect the Empire in an age of war. He could not hand over the position of Crown Prince to someone like that. To protect the large, beautiful golden spoon he had finally obtained—no, the royal spoon—he absolutely could not yield the Crown Prince position to the Second Prince.
Rakiel reached a conclusion.
'Then how should I respond?'
He glanced at the Emperor.
The Emperor was still looking down at him with frost-like severity. To be honest, it was… very intimidating.
'Ha. This is really something, right from the start.'
Rakiel might be the Emperor's son, but he himself was a fake. He worried slightly that if he said too much, his true identity might be exposed.
But if he stayed silent like this?
Things would proceed exactly as the Emperor wanted. In the end, the Crown Prince position would pass to the Second Prince.
'Tsk. Can't be helped.'
Rakiel subtly moved the muscles of his face.
He loosened his cheeks, stiff with tension. Softened his lips as he rolled them. Flicked his tongue into motion.
Then he answered.
"I am being wronged."
"Wronged?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He nodded.
With conviction in his eyes and expression, he spoke.
"It is true that I am sickly, as Your Majesty says. But my spirit has not collapsed. I have not lost my wisdom or my acuity. That is precisely why I have refused Your Majesty's proposal."
"What?"
"In truth, the Crown Prince position is not important to me. I do not cling to this seat out of greed or attachment. Rather, there is something else to which I hold greed and attachment."
"Something else?"
"Yes. The prosperity of this Empire, and the well-being of the imperial family."
All for the sake of this body's leisurely, carefree life.
"…And because you cherish those things, you refuse to hand over the Crown Prince position?"
"That is correct."
"Hah. Holding onto the Crown Prince seat with that frail body of yours—are you saying the Empire will prosper and the imperial family will find peace because of that?"
"Indeed. That is exactly what I am saying."
"Hah. Hahaha."
For the first time, the Emperor laughed.
But it was not a laugh of goodwill.
"Absurd. Truly absurd and pathetic. Is the Crown Prince position really that precious to you?"
"As I said, it is not the Crown Prince position, but the prosperity and peace of the imperial family that I value."
"You certainly dress your words up nicely to the end."
"They will not remain merely well-dressed words."
"…And what do you mean by that?"
"I would like to make a proposal."
"A proposal?"
"Yes."
"Speak."
The Emperor's gaze sank deeply. It was the terrifying stare befitting the ruler of the Empire.
Yet Rakiel did not waver under that pressure. In his hardest days, the landlord who owned the commercial building where his clinic had been was far more frightening and oppressive than this Emperor.
He plastered his face with shameless resolve. He brought forth the proposal he had been quietly preparing ever since he first refused the Emperor's offer.
"Please grant us a chance to prove our qualifications—
to see which of us, myself or the Second Prince, can better bear the weight of the Crown Prince position."