Chapter 2: The Scribe of the Archives

The next day.

From early in the morning, Rohan left his room.

“No matter how many times I see it, it’s still amazing.”

The scenery of the Imperial City remained just as it was in the past.

The heart of the Schubert Empire, this Imperial City, did not lose its majesty even in the early morning mist.

The palace built of white marble still shone dazzlingly in the morning sunlight.

“It’s so… unchanged.”

Waking up after death and seeing the scenery of the Imperial City again felt strange.

As he walked, Rohan suddenly came to a stop.

“……”

What caught his eye at the end of his gaze was none other than a towering spire.

At the very top of the spire, the imperial symbol—a golden eagle with wings outstretched—was perched, as if declaring that this was the center of the Empire.

And that was the place where, in his previous life, he had met his end.

Pausing for a moment to look up at the spire, Rohan soon continued on his way.

The memory of that time was painful, but for now, returning to this moment as a child was more important.

Thus, Rohan passed by the rear greenhouse, which was finishing its restoration, and arrived at the Imperial City Records Archive of the Eastern Palace.

“Who goes there? You can’t just come in here.”

When Rohan reached the entrance, the guards stationed in front of the archive blocked his way.

“I just need to check something quickly.”

“No, look. I don’t know which family’s young master you are, but this isn’t a place where just anyone can enter.”

“Would you care to take a closer look at my face?”

At Rohan’s words, the two guards peered closely at his face.

“He looks familiar… or maybe not.”

“Who is he?”

His confident manner seemed so unusual that even they felt something was off.

He was young, but his clothes had an air of elegance, and his gaze was resolute.

But the guards simply could not figure out who Rohan was.

“Is he the Information Director’s son?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve heard he only has two daughters.”

Listening to their conversation, Rohan let out a quiet sigh.

‘As expected.’

Yes, around this time, his position was just about this vague.

Rohan took out a golden badge from his breast pocket and showed it to them.

“…!”

“T-that’s!”

At the sight of the insignia that only royalty could possess, the two guards’ eyes grew wide.

“Prince… Rohan Schubert… Hah! Your Highness!”

“What… huh?”

One of the men immediately bowed his head, and the other, only realizing belatedly that Rohan was a prince, quickly followed suit.

“We pay our respects to the illustrious House Schubert!”

“Alright, that’s enough, isn’t it? I’ll be going in now.”

“Yes, yes, Your Highness!”

“Please go in!”

As a rule, apart from a few places exclusively for the Emperor, a prince could enter any building within the Imperial City.

Therefore, now that Rohan had revealed his status as a prince, they had no choice but to let him pass.

“I’ll be coming here often, so you’d do well to remember my face.”

“Yes, understood!”

With that.

After finishing the conversation and entering the archive, Rohan could still hear the guards murmuring behind him.

“Was that really ‘that’ prince?”

“Didn’t they say he hardly ever leaves the Boronia Palace?”

Rohan moistened his dry lips with his tongue.

‘How bitter.’

Even though not many people knew his face, Rohan was, in many ways, famous within the Imperial City.

Known as ‘the Emperor’s one-night mistake,’ he had suddenly appeared in the Imperial City at the age of twelve, along with the current Empress Amanda.

Eyes that shone purple when the light hit them, proof of the Emperor’s bloodline.

And an appearance that resembled the Emperor, without question.

The Emperor acknowledged the existence of Amanda and Rohan, and thus, their entry was secured.

But life for the mother and son within the Imperial City was not easy.

Amanda fell ill after just one year and became bedridden, and her son Rohan was forced to live in hiding, never properly educated in royal studies.

‘Now, I have to regain everything, step by step.’

Clenching his fist tightly, Rohan walked down the long corridor of the records archive.

---

As he passed through the corridor and entered further inside, a man was quickly jotting something down at a desk positioned between towering bookshelves near the entrance.

“Who is it?”

Had he heard the sounds of Rohan arguing with the guards outside?

Without even lifting his head or pausing his hand, the man asked for Rohan’s identity.

“It’s been a while, Jenon.”

Freeze.

At last, the man’s hand stopped, and he looked up.

“Do you know me?”

With a truly puzzled look, Jenon studied Rohan.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Who… huh!”

Clatter.

The pen in Jenon’s hand dropped onto the desk and rolled away.

Startled!

Jenon quickly came to his senses and sprang to his feet.

“We pay our respects to the illustrious House Schubert!”

With an awkward face, he bowed his head deeply in the most respectful manner he could muster.

Looking at Jenon’s bowed head, Rohan slightly curled the corner of his lips without showing it.

‘So this is what you were like at this time, Jenon.’

Jenon Lorans.

The youngest-ever scribe to enter the Imperial City at the age of eighteen, he would become Director of Imperial Information at twenty-three—a brilliant talent who, in the end, was executed at the youthful age of twenty-four.

His execution was carried out by Marquis Fabian.

Rohan had tried to stop it, but with the power he held then, it had been impossible.

‘…And it wasn’t long after that I died too.’

He could never forget the sight of Jenon looking at him from the execution ground, eyes brimming with tears.

His crime: lese majeste and falsely accusing royalty.

Because Marquis Fabian had assassinated the former Emperor, installed Rohan as a puppet Emperor, and spread the rumor that he was trying to put his own grandson, Elliot Schubert, on the throne.

In truth, it wasn’t really a rumor.

At that time, Rohan really had been a puppet Emperor.

—Your Majesty. Please…

He still remembered the words Jenon had spoken to him right before losing his head.

—Please, be well.

Jenon, who had pledged himself to Rohan’s cause, said only that short farewell in case Rohan’s plans might fall apart, and went to his death on the executioner’s block.

Jenon had lost his father to Marquis Fabian and died himself.

His family, being true conservatives, opposed Marquis Fabian and his grandson, the Third Prince Elliot.

‘Back then… it was truly hard.’

—Shouldn’t we also uproot the seeds of disloyalty while we have the chance?

The Marquis ordered the elimination of the children of opposing factions and used the imperial seal as if it were his own.

‘It was after that day, I think.’

From the day Jenon died on the execution block, until the day Rohan himself died, he dreamed of that scene every night.

It tormented him.

Was it really alright to go on like this?

The people starved to death every day in a war started by the selfishness of the nobles, but the capital’s aristocrats cared only about holding onto their own bowls.

Above all, Marquis Cajin Fabian was interested only in gathering power to make his grandson, the Third Prince Elliot, Emperor.

In such a situation, Rohan, with no power, could do nothing despite being Emperor.

Yet Jenon’s final words stabbed at his heart like thorns.

—Please, be well.

Jenon, his loyal adjutant, worried for his safety until the very end.

At twenty, Rohan agonized.

And that moment became a turning point.

After Jenon’s death, Rohan revealed in one blow everything he had prepared over three years, putting pressure on Marquis Fabian and the nobles.

‘We fought so desperately.’

But was three years of preparation far too short to face them?

No matter how hard he tried, in the end, when everything was exposed, Rohan lost both his mother and his own life to the Marquis’s betrayal.

“It’s strange. I thought you wouldn’t recognize me. Hardly anyone here knows my face.”

“Ah… I saw you once before, from afar, by chance.”

Jenon scratched the back of his neck as he replied.

“Do you work here alone?”

Rohan already knew all about Jenon.

Around this time, he had entered the Imperial City and worked in the records archive.

That’s why Rohan had come directly here today, hoping he might see him.

“Yes, well… There are weekend duty shifts, but on weekdays I handle things alone. Sometimes the Information Deputy comes by, but that’s all.”

Somehow, before he realized it, Jenon answered, swept up by Rohan’s air of authority.

Why is he asking these questions?

He’s the famous Second Prince, after all.

‘I heard he can’t even look the servants in the eye.’

Jenon had only been in the Imperial City for two months.

He had heard all sorts of rumors about Rohan, but he’d only ever seen him once from a distance—never this close.

Meeting Rohan in person, he seemed quite different from the rumors.

Far from avoiding his gaze, Rohan was staring directly at him with burning, intense eyes.

And despite supposedly not having received a proper royal education, his every gesture and word exuded refinement.

So much for seven-tenths of palace rumors being nonsense. As expected, they’re not to be trusted.

That’s what Jenon thought.

“Ahem, by the way, Your Highness. What brings you to the archive?”

Jenon asked with an awkward, uncomfortable expression.

He had mountains of work piled up, but the prince was wasting his time with trivial questions.

Rohan glanced around the interior of the archive and spoke.

“I came to look into some documents.”

“Which documents? I can find them for you.”

Rohan rubbed his chin for a moment, looking troubled.

“There are quite a few I need to find… but I have a full schedule today, so I don’t think I can do it myself.”

“…?”

Then, without warning, he grabbed a blank piece of paper from Jenon’s desk and began to scribble something down.

“I’ll be counting on you.”

Thump.

Looking at the sheet that Rohan placed on his hand, Jenon blinked rapidly, glancing between the prince and the paper.

“What is all this?”

Despite the short time spent writing, the paper was packed from top to bottom.

And the handwriting—so elegant it dazzled the eyes, a perfect cursive.

As Jenon stood dumbfounded, Rohan gave him a light pat on the shoulder, smiling.

“It’s the list of documents I need you to find by tomorrow. I’ll be back in two days, so let’s meet then.”

“…What?”

“Well, I have other appointments, so I’ll be going.”

With that, the prince turned and strode away.

At last, Jenon looked over the contents of the paper in detail, and his hands began to tremble.

“I’m supposed to find all of this in two days?”

From documents regarding the current diplomatic issue in the northeastern Gerald territory to records of ancient disputes with neighboring countries.

To find all these files on top of his daily workload, he’d have to stay up all night for days on end.

“…I’m doomed.”

He pinched his tired brow.

He wanted to ignore it and just do his own work, but the request came from royalty.

If he failed to comply, he knew full well he could be kicked out of the Imperial City, a place he’d entered with such difficulty.

He was already working overtime every night, and now the prince had dropped this mountain of work on him!

“What on earth possessed him to start researching old documents all of a sudden?”

Not having the slightest idea why Rohan had come, Jenon trudged toward the stacks, heavy shadows under his eyes.