Chapter 240

The Prime Minister paused for a moment, still gripping his staff.

When was it? Not so long ago.

Before the New Year’s gathering, it had been routine for officials from each ministry to meet every morning to discuss agenda items, then present them to His Majesty in the afternoon.

But at some point, large-scale meetings for critical matters began to be called at all hours. Ah, was it after the rebellions of Marib and Gale?

In any case, both princes were already dead, and things had reached a breaking point. Meetings without a secretary present! This carried significant implications for Bariel.

“I must inform you in advance: from now on, these meetings will proceed without a secretary. This means there will be no record for future generations. No trace of what is said shall remain, and the moment you turn your back, you must erase all memory of it.”

The Ministry of Magic would assist in making this possible.

The mages were searching for a suitable way to seal these secrets—whether through spells of silence, potions, or, if necessary, magical artifacts. Of course, Ian’s approval was still required.

Bang! Bang!

The Prime Minister struck his staff down forcefully to announce the meeting’s start. At the same time, the doors closed firmly. Not only officials but nobles were present, making the atmosphere heavier and more stifling than usual.

“It would have been better if Lord Ian were here, but we understand his absence due to health. Instead, please refer to the reports previously distributed.”

That day, neither Haiman nor Arsen’s factions attended. More precisely, it was the meeting that failed to pass a resolution regarding the acceptance of the accusation.

The report detailed the curse and prophecy that began at the Karbo Temple, the Roverside Chronicles, and testimonies from Jin and Avidel.

Rustle.

The sound of pages turning echoed softly here and there. Jin was no different. With each sentence he read, it felt like objectively retracing the traces of his deceased brothers.

“Of course, these were mere suspicions at the time. But everyone knew the truth. The Karbo Temple deserves appropriate punishment. Is there any related legislation? Judiciary?”

“Since prophecies hold no legal weight, there are no precedents or cases. Moreover, as it was the work of monsters, it’s considered unintentional, making it difficult to charge with royal deception or other crimes.”

“Would it not be better to let the temple handle the matter internally? They must have their own independent regulations.”

The discussion passed from one to another until it stopped at Jin. After all, he was the greatest victim of the prophecy. His opinion deserved the most weight.

“…I also believe it’s right to entrust the temple. Though Avidel received the prophecy incorrectly, when he realized its true nature, he did not turn away but helped Ian. His attitude toward resolution was clear.”

Ten years of pain had passed, but having lost what was already gone, he could not afford to lose the future as well.

Keep emotions as emotions.

Do not let them dictate decisions.

Jin spoke, recalling Ian’s teachings.

“And I heard her cries. They were so heartrending that even the gods must have pitied and comforted her. She was already trapped in a swamp of suffering, lost and helpless. Any harsher punishment would be excessive.”

“If His Highness Jin says so…”

“Understood. We shall entrust the matter to the Karbo Temple.”

Bang! Bang!

The Prime Minister swiftly concluded the resolution. Time was short. With the palace sealed off, they had to act quickly before harsh rumors spread outside. Adjusting his glasses, he spoke the next name.

“Next is Prince Gale. Arsen’s records cover only ten years, so it’s difficult, but we can excise what’s necessary.”

Besides, Arsen had been a child overshadowed by Marib and Gale, only attending prince lessons. He had never officially participated in royal duties or external affairs, so erasing his records wasn’t impossible.

But Gale?

“One problem is that Prince Gale’s records are extensive. His existence cannot be denied, so it might be better to write anew about his death.”

“I agree. Since the trial hasn’t occurred yet, his status as prince remains. Adding to the records is easier than erasing.”

Though a sword was plunged directly into Arsen’s heart, no one knew—not even Jin. The gods and Ian, who witnessed his last moments, remained silent.

“Then, since treason is involved anyway, let’s say he rebelled and was suppressed. It will serve as a warning to future generations and keep the narrative consistent.”

“Agreed.”

“What about the mages who died on the scene?”

“Hmm…”

The deaths and injuries of external forces, such as the nobles who rarely entered the palace, were not a major issue. But the mages were royal assets, talents of the empire. They were recorded in history, and their deaths could not be swept under the rug.

“Let’s record that they died during the rebellion.”

“That seems appropriate.”

“There were many casualties then, so let’s include them in that.”

As officials volleyed back and forth, carving gaps in history, Jin quietly raised his hand to cut them off.

“Unlike Prince Gale, the mages bear no charges. They died defending Bariel, fighting monsters. I believe it’s right to honor their names.”

“Ah, um, that is a reasonable point.”

One official awkwardly responded, smacking his lips. After all, the prince was just a ten-year-old child, and had only recently begun attending meetings.

“When Lord Ian rises, it would be best to coordinate the Ministry of Magic’s collective opinion and decide. This is not an urgent matter.”

Everyone smiled awkwardly and fell silent. The attempt to link the Ministry’s casualties to the rebellion was a subtle move to keep the Ministry in check.

Though everyone now recognized the Ministry’s contributions and had handed over real power, their presence would eventually fade, remembered only in records.

Connecting the Ministry to the rebellion gave future overseers—someone from the royal side—a useful tool. In some way or another.

“Your Highness.”

A voice laced with amusement called Jin. It was Duke Haiman, his smile unnatural, the intent clear.

“Ah, look at that young, foolish prince. Just ripe for the picking.”

“…Speak.”

“Tying the mages’ deaths to the rebellion benefits Your Highness. May I ask why you oppose it?”

It was a prompt to confess there was no reason—just poor calculation. Nobles whispered behind their fans. Who knows what expressions hid beyond the veils.

Jin looked slowly around the chamber, quickly discerning their hidden motives. Though Ian had saved him, they were seizing the opportunity in his absence.

Was it because these meetings, without a secretary, would vanish the moment they ended? With no one to directly confront Ian’s objections, they felt free to act this way?

“Didn’t you just say the reason? They were heroes who died fighting monsters. We should honor them as much as possible.”

As the prince’s silence stretched, Quintana stepped in to ease the tension. But Haiman kept his gaze fixed on Jin, smiling mockingly—a clear dismissal and pressure.

“They are already dead. Their deaths won’t be recorded in history, so your insistence on honoring them seems excessive.”

“…Lord Haiman.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Jin called him out softly, his voice clear and pure, ringing crisply. Raising his chin, his pale blue eyes sparkled under the light.

“If those who died for the empire are treated so miserably, then who will step forward in times of crisis? Do not insult the sacrifices made. They acted for the greater good, and we owe them our gratitude. Honoring their names is the least the living can do.”

More than anyone else, nobles had no right to say such things. In times of imperial peril—war, for example—they were the first called and the first to sacrifice. How could they speak so?

“If one only watches the empire’s crisis unfold, then they cannot understand the souls of those who sacrificed. Hmm. If anyone has a different opinion, please share it freely. I am still inexperienced; this is but a humble view.”

If he said more, he’d become “one who only watches the empire’s crisis.” Jin smiled brightly, feigning ignorance. Quintana and the Prime Minister exchanged surprised glances. Youth and inexperience were Jin’s greatest weaknesses, but rather than hide them awkwardly, he wielded them openly as a weapon.

“Ian taught him well. Though different in style, he clearly inherited his spirit.”

All eyes turned to Haiman. He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration but quickly composed himself and continued.

“…No, I only raised this out of concern for Your Highness. Please do not misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand? Not at all. Isn’t this what meetings are for? To find the best, we must also consider the second best. Only then can we know the best is truly the best.”

To say Haiman’s words were useless was putting it mildly. Quintana almost gasped. It was truly amusing—he was clearly harboring a sharp edge.

And rightly so, for his opponent was no ordinary noble but Haiman himself—the core of Arsen’s faction and the essence of the nobles who had opposed the rebellions of Marib and Gale.

“But, Duke Haiman.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Are you all right?”

Hyman hesitated at the sudden question. But regardless, Jin feigned innocence and asked after his well-being.

“Besides your mother, you had the most contact with Arsen, who was a monster.”

It was a pointed remark, highlighting his alliance with the monster. Most of the attendees had turned their backs on Arsen’s magic, so everyone tensed up, nervously licking their lips.

“Yes. I was unknowingly brainwashed and nearly committed a grave offense. But the mages and priests have thoroughly checked, and they say there’s no problem now.”

“Is that so? Brainwashed?”

If time passed and Ian woke up, the lie would be exposed. Yet Jin just nodded repeatedly, pretending to be deep in thought.

“But, Your Highness—”

Just as Hyman was about to speak, one of the Prime Minister’s aides rushed in and urgently whispered something to him. The Prime Minister’s brow furrowed instantly as he looked at Hyman.

What could it be? Jin was about to ask, but the Prime Minister struck the table to cut him off.

Bang! Bang!

“Excuse me. We will take a one-hour recess.”

Leaving the startled nobles behind, the Prime Minister leaned in and whispered to Jin. With Marib, Gale, and even the Emperor absent, he was the only one left in the palace.

“Your Highness, an official delegation from Luswena has arrived. I will meet them first, so please remain here for now.”

Luswena! Why now? Jin kept his expression neutral and glanced at Hyman, who was hurriedly conferring with the other nobles. But they likely had no idea yet.

As the Prime Minister left the chamber, Hyman quietly asked after Jin’s condition.

“Your Highness, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“It must be thanks to the royal blessing. That’s a relief. But, there’s a rather absurd rumor going around. Could you confirm if it’s true?”

“What rumor?”

“That before the monster died, Lord Ian supposedly said he was of royal blood. Is that true?”

Quintana, who had just stood to light a cigarette, spun around in disbelief. What nonsense was this? It was far beyond any reasonable bounds. Hyman had really gone too far, she thought, clicking her tongue as she responded.

“Duke, that’s a shocking statement. Even without a secretary, this is the royal palace. To say such things in front of His Highness—”

“Even the High Priest, filled with sanctity, collapsed helplessly. So it’s only natural to question how Lord Ian survived unharmed. Why get so sensitive about it?”

Quintana snapped her cigarette in half, ready to retort, but Jin stopped her with a hand. He kept smiling gently.

“Duke, Ian is the Minister of Magic. His magical power is extraordinary, so it’s only natural that the monster’s tricks wouldn’t work on him.”

He slowly stood and approached the duke. Though it was recess and everyone seemed busy with their own affairs, many were quietly watching the two.

“And even if it’s not true, the monster could have used its power on everyone except Ian to sow confusion.”

“That’s true. That’s possible.”

“Ian a royal? Ha! You seem to care more about the monster’s words than the man who saved the palace twice. Perhaps your brainwashing hasn’t fully worn off? You should go to the Magic Department for further investigation.”

Hyman stepped closer as well, bowing lightly to meet the child’s eye level. The claim that Ian was royal was just a tool to stir up echoes. The real aim was to shake the bond between Ian and Jin. He whispered softly, like a devil’s teasing suggestion.

“I’m only concerned for Your Highness. The monster said Ian is hiding something, didn’t it?”

“So—”

“So why not test it?”

Since Ian became minister, he had pushed forward with projects despite external opposition. No matter how you looked at it, these were unnecessary efforts, yet he refused to give up.

“The construction of the Magic Department annex would be a suitable test. It’s merely an expansion of the department’s influence. I’m curious how Ian would respond if Your Highness opposed it.”