Ian ascended to the throne at the tender age of a boy.
And before he reached adulthood, his head was severed from his body.
The life of Emperor Ian Verocion would be remembered by those two sentences. Who would even recall the young emperor who came and vanished like the wind during such turbulent times?
The man who entered the underground prison grabbed Ian by the hair. Though he was covered in blood, his eyes alone remained piercingly bright.
"Uncle Ian."
The man's name was Crony. Due to their twisted family tree, he was Ian's nephew, twenty years his senior. Each time Crony gently shook his head, blood-mixed saliva dripped from Ian's mouth.
"How did it come to this? I told you, didn't I? That you lacked the qualities to be emperor and should have refused the position. If you had heeded my words then, this would never have happened."
Ian silently glared at Crony without answering. As if displeased by that gaze, Crony violently struck Ian's face.
Smack!
"No matter how thoughtless and immature a teenager may be, one should know their place before stretching their legs! That measly magic! What's so great about it?"
Ian inwardly sighed.
Magic, a noble and magnificent power, traces of the divine left in this world. And that was precisely the reason Ian could ascend to the emperor's throne.
"Look, Uncle! That vaunted magic of yours can't even stop a single kick from me, can it?"
Thud! Thud!
It was true. Due to the magic-sealing stone shackles binding Ian's limbs, he was now no more than an ordinary nineteen-year-old human. Even if the seal were to be undone, his fate was sealed as death loomed before him.
"One in ten thousand this, the first noble mage that! It's all pointless. Right before this blade."
Shing.
Crony finally drew his sword. Even for a fallen emperor accused of treason, to end his life in such an underground prison—how absurd. Ian couldn't help but let out a laugh.
"…Ha."
"Laughing, are you?"
"…Yes. It's laughable. Crony. You haven't changed, and neither have I. Are you still so envious of me being a mage?"
At Ian's words, Crony's face stiffened.
Just as rarity bestows value, the same applied to mages. In the entire Bariel Empire, their numbers were so few that there might not even be a hundred of them.
As such, it was the first time in the history of the great Bariel Empire for a mage to emerge from a noble family.
"I remember. When I was a mere mana wielder in my childhood, knowing nothing, you told me this. 'Mages are precious, but most are of lowborn origins. Hide it, or you'll be cast out from the estate if discovered.'"
"…Ian. Why bring up the past now?"
"Isn't it amusing? Naturally, with commoners far outnumbering nobles, most mages are bound to be of lowborn origins."
"Shut your mouth!"
"What, are you ashamed?"
"I said shut up!"
Thwack!
Ian's vision went pitch-black. Crony's fist had struck his eye hard. His head, sprawled on the floor, was stomped on mercilessly.
"What does it matter now? I stand here while you grovel on the ground. That's what's important."
Crony pointed the tip of his blade at Ian's neck. The moment he was about to sever his windpipe without hesitation, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside.
"Lord Crony. A letter has arrived from Duke Hilron."
"…Is it urgent?"
"Yes. My apologies."
Clicking his tongue, Crony lifted his foot from Ian's head. Glancing at Ian, who lay motionless as if dead, Crony left the underground prison.
How much time had passed?
Clink. Clank.
"Sir Ian…"
The clinking of unfamiliar chains and a familiar voice. Ian struggled to regain consciousness and opened his eyes. He couldn't even muster the strength to turn his head. Shifting his gaze with great effort, he saw Naum, the head of the Magic Department, sobbing as he undid the shackles.
"Sir Ian. Please, please come to your senses."
"Naum, why are you here…?"
"Now's not the time. Quickly escape and hide. You must live, Sir Ian. Please find the strength somehow…"
But the sealing stone shackles would not come undone easily. Moonlight filtered through the small window, illuminating Naum's hands. His fingertips were completely tattered and rusted.
"…Stop."
"Sir Ian?"
"…I want to stop now."
"Wh-what are you saying?"
Ian smiled faintly and closed his eyes again. Vivid memories of first entering the Magic Department came flooding back.
"Thank you. It's thanks to you all that I could become a mage from a mere mana wielder and ascend to the emperor's throne. Though I was lacking and met this fate, please continue to survive and protect the Bariel Empire."
"No. I cannot. The Magic Department loses its meaning without you, Sir Ian. So come to your senses and take some of my mana. If you die… if you die, it's all over…"
If you die, it's all over? That was precisely what Ian truly wished for. He was so tired, so weary, so exhausted. The past three years he had lived as emperor had destroyed his entire being.
"Sir Ian. Listen to me carefully."
But Naum refused to give up.
Gently grasping Ian's chin, he made Ian look directly into his eyes.
"Next to the central main building of the Second Imperial Palace, there's a separate residence directly under the Magic Department. You know of it, right? The place you sought out whenever you wanted to cry after first entering the palace."
"…I only cried once."
"Right. Anyway."
Why had he cried?
Furrowing his brows, Ian tried to recall the hazy memory as if shrouded in fog. That's when Naum sensed something and glanced toward the prison entrance. It was clear that Crony, having finished his business, was approaching.
"…I'll undo the barrier. Quickly hide."
"I cannot do that. Sir Ian, go there. If you do, you may find a way out."
"What do you mean?"
In response to Ian's question, Naum merely answered with silence. Ian noticed that his face was darkening not due to the gloom of the underground prison, but from worry and concern. Barely clinging to his fading consciousness, Ian grabbed Naum's sleeve once more.
"Naum, I asked you a question."
"I mixed my blood into the magic."
"…Naum!"
"The answer came that if you go there, an opportunity will open up. I don't know why it's that place. Perhaps due to my lacking abilities. Anyway, you must hurry."
The power of magic that defies the laws of nature by its mere existence. If the balance of power is disrupted even slightly, one would fall into the abyss. The Papal Court calls it hell, while among mages, it is known as the Curse of Eternity.
"You mean you distorted space-time?"
"There was no other choice. Sir Ian, so…"
"Why? Why?!"
Creak.
"I knew this would happen. Even if we weed out all the Magic Department scum, it's useless if the head acts like this, isn't it?"
It was Crony. Behind him stood the man being promoted as the next head of the Magic Department to succeed Naum.
Gritting his teeth, Naum chanted a magic circle. The rippling waves from his fingertips. The intricate patterns wavered and did not glow as before. It was due to the immense power of the sealing stone shackles binding Ian's wrists.
"Naum! Please! Don't!"
"Sir Ian. It's alright. There are always, always opportunities. The divine does not give us problems without answers."
Woooosh!
Naum's magic circle began to burn red. But strangely, the flames were not directed at Crony but were consuming Naum's own hands.
"Aaargh!"
"…No! Naum, wait! Stop!"
Ian shouted, his head raised while still lying face down.
He had no attachment to his own life, but he couldn't bear to see those dear to him die because of him.
Only after becoming emperor did he realize. The weight of the crown was the weight of the loyalty of those who followed Ian. And it was they, not Ian, who bore that weight.
Fwoosh!
"Ugh!"
Crony also blocked the surging flames with his left hand. If the mage behind him hadn't cast a protective barrier, his face would have been scorched.
'Ah. Damn it.'
On the other hand, Ian felt his consciousness fading again from the searing heat. As everything turned blindingly bright and even pain became distant, Ian suddenly noticed the sound of metal ringing in his ears.
Clang.
Crony's sword touched Ian's neck. So this was the end of a three-year emperor. He thought he had done his best for Bariel, but those loyal to him were devoured and dying, and Ian, too, was about to be beheaded.
"Ian. Don't be born again in your next life."
With Crony's cruel words, everything vanished. So this is what death feels like, he thought, as his surroundings became eerily quiet. And then, what he saw was…
'A fork and knife?'
Held in his own hands, but in reverse.
***
Ian slowly raised his head.
His body felt as heavy as a thousand tons, but compared to the agony he had endured over the past few days, it was as light as a feather.
"Ian."
An unfamiliar woman across from him was looking down at him.
A vast garden, well-tended flowerbeds, and the lavish food before his eyes. Coming to his senses, he realized that everyone seated around him was watching him.
"Ah."
It didn't seem to be hell. Then, was it heaven?
But the scenery wasn't much different from where he lived. If anything, it seemed a bit lacking compared to the imperial palace.
"What's wrong with him? Ian. You're being rude to our guests."
"His lack of upbringing shows through at any time, it seems."
"Chel. Mind your words."
"Ian. Get a hold of yourself."
A chubby boy sitting next to the woman spewed rough words, but Ian paid little attention. It was because of the enticing aroma of the food that had been stimulating his appetite. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten while imprisoned in the underground dungeon.
'…I don't know what this is. But I'm starving.'
It was an instinctive action that came out without him realizing it. Ian elegantly corrected his grip on the utensils and assumed the proper dining etiquette posture. Then, with more grace and speed than anyone else, he sliced and ate the steak.
"Mm."
It was a refined and dignified gesture that one would never expect from someone who had been clutching the fork with a fist just moments ago. The short, low-pitched, and refined exclamation of admiration was also far from vulgar.
The marquis, his stepmother the marchioness, and his half-siblings across from him watched him with dumbfounded eyes.