[Kuzan's POV]
'Would you look at that.'
Even with my expectations high, having delved into the young Prince's deepest thoughts, the real thing is always more impressive than imagination alone.
'This woman, here, now… could this be mere chance?'
I pushed my wandering thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.
"Lady Fiana, I presume? It's a pleasure to meet you." My tone was polite, friendly. I gave a small, respectful nod, adhering to the customs of this nation. Mannerisms are a subtle but powerful force, and neglecting them can make the difference between being accepted or being branded an outsider.
Every culture has these quirks—silent social contracts that guide interactions.
I remembered walking to school on Earth. Cramped sidewalks, everyone moving in the same direction. You fall into a rhythm, know exactly how fast you need to walk to arrive on time. But someone always gets in your way—walking just slow enough to annoy you, but not enough for you to speed past without awkwardly entering their personal space.
So, you're stuck. Either you rush ahead and risk looking rude, or you slow down in silent frustration, bowing to the invisible rules society imposes.
'I remembered those walks.'
And that was only in the West. The East had its own set of rules, its own way of doing things.
How you speak, how you eat, how you show pain—even that varied from place to place. A man in America might say, "ouch" when in pain, while in Italy, it's "ahia," and in Japan, "itai."
My eyes glanced forward, reminding myself of my reality.
But what about this world?
'What does a woman in this place, in this era, say when she's hurt?'
My mind flicked to Pickle and all the trouble he would have stirred up if I hadn't intervened—how easily one could fall out of favor without understanding these subtleties.
Now, I had two choices before me.
'Adapt to the world…'
"BADUMPH"
'…or make the world adapt to me.'
I grinned, and it seemed infectious, as Lady Fiana, who had been scrutinizing me with unblinking focus, finally let her façade crack. She mirrored my expression, gracefully bowing and pinching the hem of her dress in a display of respect.
'Mannerisms.'
The appetizer before any real conversation.
"Would I have the esteemed honor of knowi—"
"Cut it."
My voice sliced through the formalities, silencing the room.
Gone was the respectable King, full of knowledge and courtesy, ready to negotiate.
Gone was the brute, a man relying solely on strength.
Gone were the woman's hopes of easily ensnaring such a valuable, nation-level asset.
Their minds operated differently from the common man's. In their world, it wasn't the words that carried the true weight—it was the mannerisms that held the real power.
Lady Fiana's demeanor shifted. She wasn't expecting this. Her calculating approach, carefully designed to manipulate and navigate political waters, was crumbling. She was losing control of the interaction—and she knew it.
"I don't care who you are, or what you are," I said, and I could tell my words were sinking deeper than she anticipated. Her eyes widened, struggling to regain control, but she was keeping pace—better than most.
"Your kingdom has value. You have value. But only because you can help me achieve my goals."
Her curiosity was palpable. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind as she weighed my words, her eyes begging for more.
"I want strength," I whispered. "No amount of gold, titles, women, or political influence will make me smile. Do you understand?"
She nodded slowly, and I continued.
"You've likely heard I possess knowledge beyond this nation. And you've wondered just how much I know."
I gestured toward the round table beside us, inviting her to sit. From a stack of papers, I slid a document toward her—something meticulously prepared for this very moment.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. The further she read, the more her composed expression began to falter. These ideas, these concepts—this was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. The cracks in her façade deepened, and I could see her drowning in a sea of information leagues beyond her comprehension.
'Poor thing.' My smile grew, lingering in the air like a shadow.
She must have thought I was like some old magician, weaving parlor tricks, but what I offered was knowledge from different worlds—knowledge leagues beyond anything found in her libraries.
And all of that was without mentioning the elephant in the room. The destruction I could wreak with my body alone was beyond imagining. The deterrence I carried was a threat best left unsaid, for now.
The ball was in her court. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, letting the silence stretch. Seconds felt like minutes, each one dragging longer than the last.
Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling under the weight of her admission.
"We cannot afford you. We can't even afford this."
The pain in her voice was evident. She spoke each syllable as if it were a personal defeat, her pride crumbling around her.
I stood, walking slowly to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was a gesture meant to comfort, but the edge of patronization wasn't lost on her.
"Good job," I said softly. She had passed my test.
"But don't worry. I'm a generous man."
Her eyes lit up, hope flickering back into her expression, though doubt crept in just as quickly.
"How generous?"
I let the question hang in the air, teasing her. It had been too long since I last enjoyed the thrill of this game.
"My knowledge and my strength are yours to 'borrow'—if you respect their worth, and as long as they align with my goals."
She mulled it over, her brow furrowed as she weighed the risks against the rewards.
"Your goals..." She trailed off, clearly thinking hard. "You don't want to waste time. That's it, isn't it?"
Her insight caught me by surprise. She was sharper than I had given her credit for.
"Correct," I said with a nod, patting her shoulder again.
"Would you be willing to become a Duke?"
"Yes."
"The Royal Commander?"
"Sure."
"The Emperor?"
"No."
Her rhythm broke, confusion flashing across her face. "Why?"
"Azuleth is too emotional," I replied, casual as ever. "That's why you're here talking to me instead of her."
Her almost inaudible giggle reached my ears. My flattery had struck home, but I didn't let her bask in it for too long. As a result, I left the other half of my response unsaid—the part where I would have spoken about how marrying someone like her would be a monumental waste of time.
"As I said, I couldn't care less about your kingdom. Cleaning up its mess is your responsibility. These gifts I've given you? Use them wisely. Use them for our mutual benefit."
She frowned, clearly imagining the immense burden of work that lay ahead. But then, her expression softened, a quiet smile breaking through her worry.
"Will I be serving you?"
"Yes."
"Only you?"
"Yes."
She sighed, almost as if relieved, and then, she hesitated. "One last question, my liege." Her tone had shifted, now full of deference. "I mean no disrespect, but I must ask... just who are you?"
I blinked. "Do you want to know about my background?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. It's your nature that I must see." And then, in a gesture of total submission, she knelt, her forehead touching the palace floor.
"I beg of you, show it to me."
I rolled my eyes, already knowing it would come to this after analyzing her character earlier in my mind. She wanted to see what kind of 'person' I truly was.
Revealing my true "face," removing the mask I wore, would break her. She wanted to see me for what I was, but I couldn't allow it—such a thing could be used against me.
Even I wasn't entirely sure what I was becoming.
"Please, at least answer me this," she said, lifting her head, pleading with eyes wide and desperate, like a child begging for a favor. They were the biggest puppy-dog eyes I had seen since arriving in this world.
"Who are you?"
It was strange how the same question, asked in a different tone, could mean so much more. Words alone had limits—this was the power of mannerisms.
"Who am I?" A grin spread across my face, wider than ever before.
"You really want to know?"
She nodded, desperate for an answer.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Lady Fiana, but…" I bent down, lowering myself to her level, my eyes meeting hers.
"I'm just a kid."
I bent down on my knees, my eyes meeting hers, her madness stirring my own.
"A kid who wants to have fun."