Mastiff returned from his shift and sat down at the table where dinner was laid out. Across from him sat Noah, wearing a white shirt and suspenders, no tie. He held a fork and spoon in each hand, his eyes downcast. For a moment, he seemed to be glaring at the stew beneath him. From then on, he simply stirred the stew with a bored expression, not even bothering to put it in his mouth. Mastiff, who had been watching Noah, finally spoke up.
“Why is a man who is as tall as a soldier making such a fuss?”
Noah answered absentmindedly, mashing the mushy carrots in the stew.
“I don’t know why I’m having dinner with you.”
“What are you talking about when I’m eating at my own house?”
This time, he was pressing down on the innocent broccoli. Noah looked as if he had lost all joy in life.
“It’s not tasty. The chef’s skills are terrible.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“This problem could be solved by hiring a Belfordian or Francian cook.”
"Are you suggesting I find a skilled cook who was captured as a prisoner of war?"
“Why is a man who is as tall as a soldier making such a fuss?”
Noah answered absentmindedly, mashing the mushy carrots in the stew.
“I don’t know why I’m having dinner with you.”
“What are you talking about when I’m eating at my own house?”
This time, he was pressing down on the innocent broccoli. Noah looked as if he had lost all joy in life.
“It’s not tasty. The chef’s skills are terrible.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“This problem could be solved by hiring a Belfordian or Francian cook.”
"Are you suggesting I find a skilled cook who was captured as a prisoner of war?"
Mastiff called to the maid with an irritated gesture.
“Grill some beef tomahawk and give it to that picky gourmet.”
A moment later, a dish of grilled vegetables on a tomahawk and drizzled with sauce arrived. Noah, cutting the juicy, delicious meat and putting it in his mouth, closed his eyes, groaned, and shook his head.
“Well, it doesn’t taste like anything.”
What do you mean, I gave you first-class beef?
Mastiff's eyebrows rose disapprovingly. Perhaps he'd lost his sense of taste. Frustrated by the untimely tantrum, he pulled at his uniform tie with one hand and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
“Did Medea live on delicious food?”
"It was edible back then. Looking at a dish with fish heads lined up in a pie for so long, it almost feels philosophical. Even the meat felt like rubber."
Noah smiled faintly, as if reminiscing. In truth, he was smiling as he remembered Diana's horrified reaction to the fish head poking out of the pie. With her, even the toughest bread tasted sweeter. He thought that perhaps the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted in Medea, or in his entire life, was eating with her. It was a sentimental reason, but he was a man who spoke only to himself.
“Diana was the best.”
And it was a conclusion too direct for the listener to accept. Mastiff, who had been drinking whiskey, shrugged, hastily put down his cup, and coughed.
“...Is there an ingredient in Medea’s cooking that makes people crazy?”
“They’re similar, but they tasted good together. Even the napkins.”
The listener was confused.
What did you eat together, and why did you eat the napkin?
As he shuddered at the sight of the refreshing smile that didn't match the crazy remarks, Mastiff suddenly remembered the sardine dish that Ayla used to bring.
“I made it, try it.”
What she held out with a bright, harmless smile was a plate filled with fragments of hell. Who came up with the crazy idea of making jelly out of fish? He can't count the number of times he resisted the urge to throw it away.
“Eat quickly. It’s my favorite.”
“I’m fine. You eat.”
“It tastes better when we eat together. I always eat alone...”
Damn it. There was no separate food torture.
What on earth did that woman eat to survive? The mere thought made his mouth water, and he rinsed his mouth with alcohol. It was absurd to think this was food only fit for medieval barbarian warriors, in a wealthy country. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he remembered Noah's words and quickly threw it away. Apparently, the food there ruins people.
“Someday I’ll get rid of that damned dish.”
“What dish?”
“There is something like that. How is Ayla doing now?”
"I'm sure she's doing well with the money you gave him. The baby was born. I heard it's a healthy boy."
At Noah's words, Mastiff's turquoise eyes narrowed sharply. "A child has been born?" Noah, who had been watching Mastiff, lost for words, overcome by a strange emotion, chuckled.
“I heard he looks like you. Would you like a picture?”
“No, it’s okay.”
Mastiff leaned back against the chair and shook his head. Noah held up a wine glass filled with water and spoke in a serious tone.
“If you make a child, take responsibility for it.”
“Is that money not enough?”
“Then the Emperor must be a good father to you. He gives you money.”
Noah added, rising from his seat with the sound of a chair being dragged.
“I’m going to go to sleep now.”
Mastiff, who was looking at Noah's back, tilted his head sadly.
“How long is that guy going to stay in my house?”
The next morning, Noah woke up early, looked in his bedroom mirror, buttoned up his shirt sleeves, and straightened his tie. The ring on his right fourth finger sparkled in the sunlight. As he was putting on his uniform coat, a knock came, a servant came in, and handed him a letter.
“Your Excellency, this is a letter from Commander Max Rockefeller.”
"Yes."
The servant bowed, placed the letter and newspaper on the table, and left the room. He looked in the mirror with a pensive expression, smoothing his silver-white hair, which had been slicked back with pomade. He picked up the newspaper and went down to the dining room for breakfast, where the strong scent of black tea wafted.
“You’ve gotten a lot lazier. You’re coming down later than me.”
Mastiff, sitting at the table drinking tea, clicked its tongue at Noah. Noah pulled up a chair and sat down, asking.
“Are you going to keep living with me? This is my house.”
Mastiff holding the teacup made a bewildered face.
"Who's the guest? This is my house, which you abandoned, and I won at auction. Pay the rent."
"No."
Noah, who had proudly refused, crossed his legs and opened the newspaper. Mastiff, watching him in silent concentration, picked up a fork and knife and began slicing a thick piece of bread.
"General Rockefeller, while in charge of disaster management, devised a brilliant plan. In the event of a domestic rebellion, the martial law army would command the national defense forces, declare martial law, and occupy all facilities to suppress it."
“Yes. Commander Rockefeller also has the authority to launch it.”
“Is it possible to control even the units that are highly loyal to the Emperor with executive authority?”
Noah's boots, crossed over one leg, rattled.
"Would the Commander-in-Chief of the National Defense Forces and his staff refuse this wonderful opportunity to stand at the center of the nation? They must be sick of being treated like the nation's dogs."
Because if the Emperor dies, the military will take over power.
Mastiff, sensing Noah's intentions, raised the corners of his mouth. This was a plan for the Emperor's assassination and a military coup. Noah put down the newspaper, pulled a pistol from inside his uniform coat, and fired at something. A scream from the man standing on the other side of the door was heard, followed by a thud. Noah casually put the gun down, took a sip of tea, and frowned.
"The tea is too bitter. There are even rats running around. We'll have to hire new servants, Sir."
At Noah's scolding, Mastiff smiled regretfully, his chin resting on his hand.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, Tenant.”
Noah went to see Commander Max Rockefeller at the General Staff Headquarters, saluted with a blank expression, and counted the commander's graying teeth.
“There have been a lot of grayling since I last looked.”
“Isn’t it all because of you, you little brat? I think I've started losing my hair, too.”
The commander in black uniform grumbled and puffed on his cigarette. Commander Rockefeller was genuinely concerned about Noah. He had been suffering alone, trembling with anxiety over news of his mobilization for war and rumors of the Princess's death.
"Why are you bothering me? If you just stayed still, everything would have worked out."
"Uncle, your plan doesn't seem to be working out. You're overlooking the fact that the secret police and the guards, which are comprised solely of powerful individuals, possess a loyalty bordering on brainwashing."
“I know. And how long are you going to call me uncle?”
The commander sighed and answered, blowing smoke from his cigarette.
"If you were my son, I'd beat you severely. I hope you'll be born as my son in your next life."
“Are you saying that you will hold out until your son is born and then beat him?”
“There have been more than a few times when I wanted to beat you up. Stop rottening my old, weak insides, you little brat.”
Despite the commander's continued scolding, Noah just smiled.
“Commander, you still treat me like a child.”
"Even if your father were alive, it would have been the same. In the eyes of parents, children are forever children. As someone who has experienced life, I'm always unsatisfied with everything my children do. I wonder if I'll ever understand until I have a child who resembles you."
Commander Rockefeller clenched his jaw as he watched Noah's increasingly expressionless face. "Damn it, I heard a rumor that the Princess, that bastard's wife, died. What a mouth." The commander asked, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“Are you okay?”
"Yes."
“Everyone thinks you killed her, but I know. You must have truly loved the Princess.”
“I like her a lot.”
"What else could this world, where people burn each other to death, be but a hell of karma? It's not the sinners who go to hell after death, but the sinful humans who have gathered together to create hell. You came back to protect your wife's hometown, right? I, too, want to end the war, retire, and live a leisurely life, perhaps looking after my grandchildren."
“How about quitting now?”
His voice was so low it was almost too cold to be a sly joke. Commander Rockefeller raised his thick eyebrows and looked at Noah.
“What does that mean?”
"I'll prepare a warship for you, so go far away. If it's the order of the Rotsilt family, they'll gladly take you on board."
The tone was almost commanding. At the same time, his piercingly blue eyes narrowed.
“This place is finished.”
In the commander's eyes, steeped in years, Noah was still nothing more than a young beast. The commander spoke in a stern voice, as befits a soldier.
“Colonel Rotsilt, I’ll finish this.”
"The responsibility for the reality you're experiencing lies with us from the past," he said, taking a deep breath.
"Noah Rotsilt, I am one of those who are fading into twilight. This age, too, is coming to an end. Just as the age of the cathedral and the gods collapsed, the age of humanity arrived."
Noah, leaning back in his chair, smiled at the commander. He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the commander.
The commander's face gradually turned dark as he accepted the paper and unfolded it.
“What does this mean?”
Noah didn't answer. The commander froze, frozen in place, at the sight of Noah's twisted lips and raw eyes. Noah rose from his seat and saluted him.
“I’ll be going now. The Emperor has summoned me.”
The commander stared at the back of the man, broad-shouldered and solidly built, paper in hand. When did he grow so tall? He still remembers the time when he was just a toddler. It felt like yesterday when he held his finger in his tiny hand.
The commander, who had been overlooking the passage of time, suddenly realized something. The man had long since become an adult, and his sharp fangs held a lot of blood.
“Noah Rotsilt is here.”
It was the voice of Emperor Mayer III, leaning listlessly against the headboard. Unlike his former self, who had been a lively and proud figure beyond his years, he now looked gaunt and haggard. He resembled a toothless lion. His appearance, so frail that it almost befitted the epithet "senile," with his deep wrinkles, lush white hair, and sunken eyes, made Noah think he alone had been struck by the passing of time.
“Yes. I hope you are well.”
Despite the warm weather, the room with the fireplace was uncomfortably stuffy. The Emperor, dressed in thick robes and sweating profusely, shivered.
“You can’t help but say that after seeing my appearance.”
The Emperor laughed hoarsely. Noah felt suffocated by the heat and pulled at his collar twice.
“You’re just in a room with no sense of season.”
"You're still the same. Ever since you were little, you've never been afraid of me or intimidated by me. I like that spirit, that doesn't discriminate between the weak and the strong."
The Emperor seemed to have a hole in his lungs, struggling to breathe. Before entering the room, Noah recalled the chamberlain's words that the Emperor had just suffered a seizure. The chamberlain added that the Emperor would recover after taking medicine. The Emperor waved a wrinkled hand, signaling the guards, maids, and servants in the room to leave.
“However, Your Majesty, Duke Rotsilt is a dangerous person, as his investigation has not yet been completed.”
As soon as a soldier mounted his horse, the Emperor's golden eyes glared in his direction. Though he was a worn-out old man, his eyes were piercing with madness. Suddenly, his jaws dislocated, and a gnashing sound was heard.
“How dare you...”
Noah sighed as he watched the snarling old lion and pulled his pistol from his pocket. The soldier's face turned pale as he met the muzzle of the gun with the click of a trigger. Before he could even utter a single word of defense, a merciless gunshot rang out, and the soldier fell to the ground. Noah gave orders to the remaining soldiers.
“Clean it up.”
A single gunshot effectively appeased the Emperor's anger. He clicked his tongue and shook his head nervously as he watched the soldier being dragged away, clutching his chest.
"I'm old. Everyone seems to think I don't have the authority and presence I once did. People I never even met eye to eye with."
“I think so.”
"There's no one I can trust. They're all useless. The so-called successor is weak and lost, and the remaining one is a vicious, half-baked bastard. The rest of the royal family is also a bunch of screw-ups. I'm worried about the future."
Noah stood upright, arms behind his back, silently looking down at the tips of his boots. The Emperor grumbled and sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up a cup of medicinal tea from the table next to him.
“You are the perfect fit.”
“What are you talking about?”
The Emperor drank the herbal tea as if to relieve his thirst, then began coughing. The cough, which had been a croaking sound like a goose's honk, soon turned into a sob-like laugh. The Emperor lifted his chin toward the ceiling.
“You know that the Leninist Republic withdrew from the Allied Powers and signed the Allied Peace Treaty.”
"Yes."
"I am old. I know they are barbaric traitors who cut the Kaiser's head in two with a revolution, yet I cannot foresee their betrayal. It is a deplorable thing."
Noah stared down at the tips of his boots, his mouth shut. The Emperor, his teeth clenched, opened his eyes wide. His once clouded eyes now filled with a sharp, determined expression.
"You have the filthy blood of the Esatians, but Eiland has long since been absorbed by the Frogen. You're a spoil of war, possessing only the advantages of superior intelligence and cool-headed reason."
A descendant of a great conquering monarch, a perfect successor who inherited his character. That was the Emperor's desire. The Emperor's gleaming eyes turned to Noah.
"I'm talking about completing my grand plan. I will return the right of succession to the throne to the Rotsilt family. Successfully land on the mainland, destroy Medea and the Allied Nations, and give me the world. That is the condition for your future rise to the top."
There will be a bloody battle over the succession to the throne. The strongest will gain the glory of seizing the empire that dominates the world.
The lion, who reigns as King of the plains, is constantly challenged by other lions. He also knows that as he ages, he must eventually yield his throne to a younger, more capable lion.
“Now, fight like a dog and take the place of the leader lion.”
The Emperor raised both arms and laughed heartily.
Noah's previously expressionless lips parted slightly, revealing a small gap. Then, he smiled along with him, fully revealing the fangs hidden beneath.
“Everything is according to the will of the state.”
“Grill some beef tomahawk and give it to that picky gourmet.”
A moment later, a dish of grilled vegetables on a tomahawk and drizzled with sauce arrived. Noah, cutting the juicy, delicious meat and putting it in his mouth, closed his eyes, groaned, and shook his head.
“Well, it doesn’t taste like anything.”
What do you mean, I gave you first-class beef?
Mastiff's eyebrows rose disapprovingly. Perhaps he'd lost his sense of taste. Frustrated by the untimely tantrum, he pulled at his uniform tie with one hand and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
“Did Medea live on delicious food?”
"It was edible back then. Looking at a dish with fish heads lined up in a pie for so long, it almost feels philosophical. Even the meat felt like rubber."
Noah smiled faintly, as if reminiscing. In truth, he was smiling as he remembered Diana's horrified reaction to the fish head poking out of the pie. With her, even the toughest bread tasted sweeter. He thought that perhaps the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted in Medea, or in his entire life, was eating with her. It was a sentimental reason, but he was a man who spoke only to himself.
“Diana was the best.”
And it was a conclusion too direct for the listener to accept. Mastiff, who had been drinking whiskey, shrugged, hastily put down his cup, and coughed.
“...Is there an ingredient in Medea’s cooking that makes people crazy?”
“They’re similar, but they tasted good together. Even the napkins.”
The listener was confused.
What did you eat together, and why did you eat the napkin?
As he shuddered at the sight of the refreshing smile that didn't match the crazy remarks, Mastiff suddenly remembered the sardine dish that Ayla used to bring.
“I made it, try it.”
What she held out with a bright, harmless smile was a plate filled with fragments of hell. Who came up with the crazy idea of making jelly out of fish? He can't count the number of times he resisted the urge to throw it away.
“Eat quickly. It’s my favorite.”
“I’m fine. You eat.”
“It tastes better when we eat together. I always eat alone...”
Damn it. There was no separate food torture.
What on earth did that woman eat to survive? The mere thought made his mouth water, and he rinsed his mouth with alcohol. It was absurd to think this was food only fit for medieval barbarian warriors, in a wealthy country. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he remembered Noah's words and quickly threw it away. Apparently, the food there ruins people.
“Someday I’ll get rid of that damned dish.”
“What dish?”
“There is something like that. How is Ayla doing now?”
"I'm sure she's doing well with the money you gave him. The baby was born. I heard it's a healthy boy."
At Noah's words, Mastiff's turquoise eyes narrowed sharply. "A child has been born?" Noah, who had been watching Mastiff, lost for words, overcome by a strange emotion, chuckled.
“I heard he looks like you. Would you like a picture?”
“No, it’s okay.”
Mastiff leaned back against the chair and shook his head. Noah held up a wine glass filled with water and spoke in a serious tone.
“If you make a child, take responsibility for it.”
“Is that money not enough?”
“Then the Emperor must be a good father to you. He gives you money.”
Noah added, rising from his seat with the sound of a chair being dragged.
“I’m going to go to sleep now.”
Mastiff, who was looking at Noah's back, tilted his head sadly.
“How long is that guy going to stay in my house?”
The next morning, Noah woke up early, looked in his bedroom mirror, buttoned up his shirt sleeves, and straightened his tie. The ring on his right fourth finger sparkled in the sunlight. As he was putting on his uniform coat, a knock came, a servant came in, and handed him a letter.
“Your Excellency, this is a letter from Commander Max Rockefeller.”
"Yes."
The servant bowed, placed the letter and newspaper on the table, and left the room. He looked in the mirror with a pensive expression, smoothing his silver-white hair, which had been slicked back with pomade. He picked up the newspaper and went down to the dining room for breakfast, where the strong scent of black tea wafted.
“You’ve gotten a lot lazier. You’re coming down later than me.”
Mastiff, sitting at the table drinking tea, clicked its tongue at Noah. Noah pulled up a chair and sat down, asking.
“Are you going to keep living with me? This is my house.”
Mastiff holding the teacup made a bewildered face.
"Who's the guest? This is my house, which you abandoned, and I won at auction. Pay the rent."
"No."
Noah, who had proudly refused, crossed his legs and opened the newspaper. Mastiff, watching him in silent concentration, picked up a fork and knife and began slicing a thick piece of bread.
"General Rockefeller, while in charge of disaster management, devised a brilliant plan. In the event of a domestic rebellion, the martial law army would command the national defense forces, declare martial law, and occupy all facilities to suppress it."
“Yes. Commander Rockefeller also has the authority to launch it.”
“Is it possible to control even the units that are highly loyal to the Emperor with executive authority?”
Noah's boots, crossed over one leg, rattled.
"Would the Commander-in-Chief of the National Defense Forces and his staff refuse this wonderful opportunity to stand at the center of the nation? They must be sick of being treated like the nation's dogs."
Because if the Emperor dies, the military will take over power.
Mastiff, sensing Noah's intentions, raised the corners of his mouth. This was a plan for the Emperor's assassination and a military coup. Noah put down the newspaper, pulled a pistol from inside his uniform coat, and fired at something. A scream from the man standing on the other side of the door was heard, followed by a thud. Noah casually put the gun down, took a sip of tea, and frowned.
"The tea is too bitter. There are even rats running around. We'll have to hire new servants, Sir."
At Noah's scolding, Mastiff smiled regretfully, his chin resting on his hand.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, Tenant.”
***
Noah went to see Commander Max Rockefeller at the General Staff Headquarters, saluted with a blank expression, and counted the commander's graying teeth.
“There have been a lot of grayling since I last looked.”
“Isn’t it all because of you, you little brat? I think I've started losing my hair, too.”
The commander in black uniform grumbled and puffed on his cigarette. Commander Rockefeller was genuinely concerned about Noah. He had been suffering alone, trembling with anxiety over news of his mobilization for war and rumors of the Princess's death.
"Why are you bothering me? If you just stayed still, everything would have worked out."
"Uncle, your plan doesn't seem to be working out. You're overlooking the fact that the secret police and the guards, which are comprised solely of powerful individuals, possess a loyalty bordering on brainwashing."
“I know. And how long are you going to call me uncle?”
The commander sighed and answered, blowing smoke from his cigarette.
"If you were my son, I'd beat you severely. I hope you'll be born as my son in your next life."
“Are you saying that you will hold out until your son is born and then beat him?”
“There have been more than a few times when I wanted to beat you up. Stop rottening my old, weak insides, you little brat.”
Despite the commander's continued scolding, Noah just smiled.
“Commander, you still treat me like a child.”
"Even if your father were alive, it would have been the same. In the eyes of parents, children are forever children. As someone who has experienced life, I'm always unsatisfied with everything my children do. I wonder if I'll ever understand until I have a child who resembles you."
Commander Rockefeller clenched his jaw as he watched Noah's increasingly expressionless face. "Damn it, I heard a rumor that the Princess, that bastard's wife, died. What a mouth." The commander asked, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“Are you okay?”
"Yes."
“Everyone thinks you killed her, but I know. You must have truly loved the Princess.”
“I like her a lot.”
"What else could this world, where people burn each other to death, be but a hell of karma? It's not the sinners who go to hell after death, but the sinful humans who have gathered together to create hell. You came back to protect your wife's hometown, right? I, too, want to end the war, retire, and live a leisurely life, perhaps looking after my grandchildren."
“How about quitting now?”
His voice was so low it was almost too cold to be a sly joke. Commander Rockefeller raised his thick eyebrows and looked at Noah.
“What does that mean?”
"I'll prepare a warship for you, so go far away. If it's the order of the Rotsilt family, they'll gladly take you on board."
The tone was almost commanding. At the same time, his piercingly blue eyes narrowed.
“This place is finished.”
In the commander's eyes, steeped in years, Noah was still nothing more than a young beast. The commander spoke in a stern voice, as befits a soldier.
“Colonel Rotsilt, I’ll finish this.”
"The responsibility for the reality you're experiencing lies with us from the past," he said, taking a deep breath.
"Noah Rotsilt, I am one of those who are fading into twilight. This age, too, is coming to an end. Just as the age of the cathedral and the gods collapsed, the age of humanity arrived."
Noah, leaning back in his chair, smiled at the commander. He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the commander.
The commander's face gradually turned dark as he accepted the paper and unfolded it.
“What does this mean?”
Noah didn't answer. The commander froze, frozen in place, at the sight of Noah's twisted lips and raw eyes. Noah rose from his seat and saluted him.
“I’ll be going now. The Emperor has summoned me.”
The commander stared at the back of the man, broad-shouldered and solidly built, paper in hand. When did he grow so tall? He still remembers the time when he was just a toddler. It felt like yesterday when he held his finger in his tiny hand.
The commander, who had been overlooking the passage of time, suddenly realized something. The man had long since become an adult, and his sharp fangs held a lot of blood.
***
“Noah Rotsilt is here.”
It was the voice of Emperor Mayer III, leaning listlessly against the headboard. Unlike his former self, who had been a lively and proud figure beyond his years, he now looked gaunt and haggard. He resembled a toothless lion. His appearance, so frail that it almost befitted the epithet "senile," with his deep wrinkles, lush white hair, and sunken eyes, made Noah think he alone had been struck by the passing of time.
“Yes. I hope you are well.”
Despite the warm weather, the room with the fireplace was uncomfortably stuffy. The Emperor, dressed in thick robes and sweating profusely, shivered.
“You can’t help but say that after seeing my appearance.”
The Emperor laughed hoarsely. Noah felt suffocated by the heat and pulled at his collar twice.
“You’re just in a room with no sense of season.”
"You're still the same. Ever since you were little, you've never been afraid of me or intimidated by me. I like that spirit, that doesn't discriminate between the weak and the strong."
The Emperor seemed to have a hole in his lungs, struggling to breathe. Before entering the room, Noah recalled the chamberlain's words that the Emperor had just suffered a seizure. The chamberlain added that the Emperor would recover after taking medicine. The Emperor waved a wrinkled hand, signaling the guards, maids, and servants in the room to leave.
“However, Your Majesty, Duke Rotsilt is a dangerous person, as his investigation has not yet been completed.”
As soon as a soldier mounted his horse, the Emperor's golden eyes glared in his direction. Though he was a worn-out old man, his eyes were piercing with madness. Suddenly, his jaws dislocated, and a gnashing sound was heard.
“How dare you...”
Noah sighed as he watched the snarling old lion and pulled his pistol from his pocket. The soldier's face turned pale as he met the muzzle of the gun with the click of a trigger. Before he could even utter a single word of defense, a merciless gunshot rang out, and the soldier fell to the ground. Noah gave orders to the remaining soldiers.
“Clean it up.”
A single gunshot effectively appeased the Emperor's anger. He clicked his tongue and shook his head nervously as he watched the soldier being dragged away, clutching his chest.
"I'm old. Everyone seems to think I don't have the authority and presence I once did. People I never even met eye to eye with."
“I think so.”
"There's no one I can trust. They're all useless. The so-called successor is weak and lost, and the remaining one is a vicious, half-baked bastard. The rest of the royal family is also a bunch of screw-ups. I'm worried about the future."
Noah stood upright, arms behind his back, silently looking down at the tips of his boots. The Emperor grumbled and sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up a cup of medicinal tea from the table next to him.
“You are the perfect fit.”
“What are you talking about?”
The Emperor drank the herbal tea as if to relieve his thirst, then began coughing. The cough, which had been a croaking sound like a goose's honk, soon turned into a sob-like laugh. The Emperor lifted his chin toward the ceiling.
“You know that the Leninist Republic withdrew from the Allied Powers and signed the Allied Peace Treaty.”
"Yes."
"I am old. I know they are barbaric traitors who cut the Kaiser's head in two with a revolution, yet I cannot foresee their betrayal. It is a deplorable thing."
Noah stared down at the tips of his boots, his mouth shut. The Emperor, his teeth clenched, opened his eyes wide. His once clouded eyes now filled with a sharp, determined expression.
"You have the filthy blood of the Esatians, but Eiland has long since been absorbed by the Frogen. You're a spoil of war, possessing only the advantages of superior intelligence and cool-headed reason."
A descendant of a great conquering monarch, a perfect successor who inherited his character. That was the Emperor's desire. The Emperor's gleaming eyes turned to Noah.
"I'm talking about completing my grand plan. I will return the right of succession to the throne to the Rotsilt family. Successfully land on the mainland, destroy Medea and the Allied Nations, and give me the world. That is the condition for your future rise to the top."
There will be a bloody battle over the succession to the throne. The strongest will gain the glory of seizing the empire that dominates the world.
The lion, who reigns as King of the plains, is constantly challenged by other lions. He also knows that as he ages, he must eventually yield his throne to a younger, more capable lion.
“Now, fight like a dog and take the place of the leader lion.”
The Emperor raised both arms and laughed heartily.
Noah's previously expressionless lips parted slightly, revealing a small gap. Then, he smiled along with him, fully revealing the fangs hidden beneath.
“Everything is according to the will of the state.”
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