Children of the Holy Emperor

Chapter 172

“We have prepared a bed for you in the carriage, Your Highness.”

After a somewhat hectic dinner, Edith approached Seongjin, who was sipping on the after-dinner tea Bruno had brewed for him.

The long-distance imperial carriages Seongjin’s party had brought were designed to allow the luggage chests loaded in the back to be fitted into the seats to be used as beds.

Of course, carrying and moving the heavy boxes was no easy task, but it wasn’t much of a challenge for Edith, an Aura user.

The Wolf Knights, who had been watching wide-eyed as she effortlessly lifted and carried chests that would have taken several grown men to move, soon realized.

‘Ah, so she wasn’t a maid, but a bodyguard knight! That’s why…!’

‘To secretly protect the prince, she was hiding her true identity!’

It was from that moment on that the Wolf Knights began to respectfully address Edith as ‘DameEdith’.

Of course, the dense Edith only tilted her head in confusion, so the misunderstanding would remain unresolved for a long time to come.

[Khuheehek. I’m gettin’ drunk.]

As Seongjin was sipping his tea while basking in the warmth of the bonfire, the Demon King made another bizarre sound as he returned to Seongjin’s mind. He was currently having a blast wandering among the drunken people.

By the way, this bastard, now he even drinks by possessing people?

[I’m just borrowing some of their senses for a bit.]

The Demon King, in high spirits, explained in a sing-song manner.

[Even though we’ve left the imperial capital, due to your father’s barrier, soul detection like before is impossible. However, by possessing creatures with low mental defenses, I can temporarily affect their movements or borrow their senses.]

And currently, there were drunkards sprawled all around. Most of them were humans with extremely weakened mental barriers.

‘Is drinking alcohol that enjoyable?’

Seongjin was dumbfounded by the vivid feelings of happiness conveyed in his mind.

But then.

[Why wouldn’t it be? Even grazing on grass as a horse is delicious.]

The Demon King, who promptly responded, added somewhat wistfully.

[I’ve spent the past several months existing only as a soul. I couldn’t eat or feel any sensations. Can you even imagine what that feels like?]

‘Hmm…’

Indeed, even from Seongjin’s brief consideration, starving as a soul seemed like it would be extremely stressful. Regardless of whether you had a body that could feel hunger or not.

Seeing how irritable Seo Yi-seo had become recently after being deprived of meal times by Cardmos was proof of that.

Then suddenly, a thought occurred to Seongjin.

‘Hey, can you do that to me too?’

[Do what?]

‘That borrowing senses thing. Then you’d be able to feel what I taste as well, right?’

Rather than restlessly wandering around, wouldn’t that be more convenient?

It was a simple thought, but the Demon King fell silent for a moment as if surprised, then cautiously asked.

[…You’d allow that?]

Why would permission even be necessary for that?

[Of course it matters. Originally, it’s only possible for a brief moment when the target’s mental defenses are extremely low. To do it to a normal person, you need to obtain consent through a contract or some other method. Moreover, for some reason, Lee Seongjin, your soul is unusually difficult to interfere with. Even when we’re close enough to exchange thoughts.]

Come to think of it, Seongjin remembered the Demon King complaining that soul detection didn’t work on him when he first arrived in this world.

[This can be a sensitive issue. Allowing the sharing of senses ultimately means permitting the occupation of a part of your body in some way. Without precise contract terms, if a human carelessly grants such permission to just anyone, they could have their body snatched away by a demon in an instant.]

‘Well…’

Seongjin didn’t think much of it.

When you really think about it, aren’t you already residing in my mind without permission? No matter how much I consider it, it doesn’t seem particularly dangerous.

‘Give it a try for now. I’m not sure how to give permission, but I’ll try not to have any reservations about it.’

[Okay, I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ll give it a shot.]

Then there was a feeling of something rustling in his mind. Rather than a sensation of something being touched, it just felt like the bastard was intensely focused on something and grunting with effort.

After doing that for a while, suddenly the objects in front of his eyes began to glow and ripple with strange colors.

‘Hey, are you doing it right?’

[Oh, sorry. I think I messed with your vision by mistake.]

For a fleeting moment, a red glow flashed in Seongjin’s pupils, but it was so brief that no one noticed.

Soon, his vision returned to normal.

[…This is tougher than I thought.]

Seongjin waited patiently.

By the time Seongjin finished his cup of tea and Bruno poured him a new one.

[Phew. I think I got it now.]

The Demon King finally said with a sigh.

Hmm, I’m not sure what’s changed.

Seongjin tilted his head and gulped down the steaming tea.

At that moment.

[Woooow!]

An exclamation echoed in his mind.

[What is this? It’s incredibly delicious! I can’t believe grass-steeped water can taste like this!]

How is it? Pretty amazing, right?

Seongjin smiled triumphantly and took another sip of tea. Once again, an intense admiration burst forth.

[Aaaah! The aroma is superb! I had no idea that blondie could make something so incredible!]

The Demon King was instantly captivated by Melbourne tea. He begged for more so insistently that Seongjin had to ask Bruno for a refill again.

As a result, it was Seongjin who ended up with a full stomach.

‘…All right, I’ll let it slide for today.’

Seongjin decided to be lenient just for one day.

For the bastard, it would be a delicious drink he was tasting for the first time in months.

As the night deepened and the surrounding commotion gradually subsided, the Wolf Knights, except for those on night watch, entered their tents one by one. Now, the only ones still awake were a few heavy drinkers still raising their cups.

Nearby, there seemed to be a group of minstrels, as the sound of string instruments occasionally flowed along with a mournful singing voice.

A fair maiden’s small wish, gently brushing the stars.

Grant that wish, oh silver moon, in the brilliant city of love.

The lyrics seemed a bit cheesy.

Anyway, Seongjin sat by the bonfire and experimented with various sensory sharing with the Demon King.

After a bit of practice, strong sensations like smell and taste became easier to share. They could even transmit hearing and sight for a brief moment.

However, in the case of such senses, the Demon King’s soul could sufficiently perceive them, so there was no real need to practice.

What was unexpected was the sense of touch and pain. No matter how hard they tried, it just wouldn’t transmit properly to the bastard. After several more attempts, they gave up cleanly.

‘Like vision and hearing, there may be no need to share them…’

There was another achievement. After putting in effort to transmit senses like that for a while, at some point, even some memories began to be conveyed!

Even if the Demon King couldn’t explore on his own, at least for the memories Seongjin recalled and wanted to convey, vivid transmission was possible, just like with soul detection.

Thanks to that, Seongjin was able to more accurately convey to the Demon King the memories of the [Gap] that had occurred during the Birthday Celebration.

[Whoa, this is dizzying.]

The Demon King stuck out his tongue after glimpsing a part of the scene in the memory.

[No wonder I couldn’t reach you no matter how much I called out from a place like this! The space-time is so mixed up that it’s not strange at all that I felt your body existing in two places simultaneously.]

The sense of time and space was definitely twisted out of control. Just thinking about that space now made him feel like he would get motion sickness again.

[This seems to be a mechanism to minimize going against causality. It’s what the high-ranking Demon Kings have forcibly warped and twisted the space to interfere with the Delcross dimension without directly moving causality.]

According to the Demon King’s explanation, the amount of causality imposed on each action of beings like high-ranking Demon Kings is beyond imagination.

Unless they directly descend upon this land through their consciousness, they cannot recklessly interfere with other dimensions without any causality.

So they widely spread the attributes symbolizing themselves, such as [Famine], [Plague], [War], and [Death], to first create the foundation of causality for invading dimensions.

‘Then why does my father have restrictions on causality? He’s not even a Demon King from another dimension.’

Naturally, such a question arose. He definitely said something about lacking causality and needing time back then.

Then the Demon King also muttered as if puzzled.

[Who knows? That’s something I don’t quite understand either. If he had forcibly pushed into another dimension, it would make sense, but why would he face such restrictions in his own dimension just for defending against an invasion? Moreover, while your father is undoubtedly a monstrous being, he still falls within the category of human. If anything, he should be the most free from causality.]

The Demon King pondered for a moment but couldn’t suddenly come up with an answer that didn’t exist.

He soon changed the subject.

[More importantly, the problem is the ones who attacked. They minimized causality intervention by creating incarnations through projections, but they are definitely the same Demon Kings who were targeting the Delcross dimension before.]

The Demon King affirmed Seongjin’s remark that they seemed familiar.

They were certainly the same ones encountered at the boundary of dimensions before. It’s just that because they were wearing projections, the terrifying pressure felt from their true bodies was absent.

[And I think I can guess their aliases as well…]

‘Really?’

[Yes, they were probably ‘Famine’ and ‘Plague’.]

[Famine], which devours everything in sight, often appears in the form of a black dog. The hellhounds and demon breeds that guard his hell are also mostly dog-like in appearance.

As for [Plague], he frequently takes on a somewhat plant-like appearance.

[There’s another strange thing. How do they know about Morres?]

Right, come to think of it.

At the time, it was an urgent situation, so he didn’t have a chance to notice, but didn’t they say something like this?

-But why does that face look so familiar?

-Isn’t it obvious? Do you not recognize the one you personally prepared?

What about Morres did they prepare?

The thought didn’t continue further. Suddenly, a sorrowful cry was heard from over there.

“Boo hoo hoo!”

The minstrel who had been singing mournfully all this time threw the lyre he was plucking onto the ground and collapsed. He was a young man with his hair tied back in a long braid.

Twang!

One of the lyre’s strings snapped, making a sharp noise.

At that sudden commotion, the mercenaries who had been blissfully dozing off in a drunken state frowned and got up from their seats.

“What’s going on? What happened?”

“Why is that guy suddenly wailing so wretchedly?”

“Uwaaaah!”

The young man’s crying grew louder in response to the mercenaries’ rough voices.

As a result, the mercenaries who had been asleep began to wake up one by one and glare at the young man.

As the surrounding atmosphere suddenly turned ominous, another minstrel who sensed the mood quickly stepped in front of the young man.

“Please understand, everyone. This friend is just too drunk. He’s quite renowned for his impromptu poetry performances in Carthage. He was invited to Bertrand Street for this Birthday Celebration, but whether it was due to poor condition, he completely bombed. For three days straight, he only received jeers and didn’t earn a single coin.”

Then another fellow minstrel sitting next to him snickered.

“What do you mean coins? He should be grateful rocks weren’t thrown at him!”

“Hey!”

“What? Am I wrong? He always insisted on only composing impromptu poems, relying on his talent, but then he sang the most outdated songs on Bertrand Street!”

At that moment, the young man who had been lying on the ground raised his body and wailed.

“Boo hoo hoo! To hell with the brilliant city of love! Delcross is a dead city! A cursed place!”

At the young man’s sudden blasphemous remark, the surrounding atmosphere instantly sank.

What did that guy just call the thousand-year-old holy city?!

“That city stole my inspiration, all my talent! Everything there is frozen like a still life painting!”

“Calm down, man. You’re too drunk!”

A colleague who realized the gravity of the situation grabbed him, but the young man’s screams continued.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know either! Wandering artists from all over are invited with generous offers, but after a few performances, they all end up returning to their home countries. Don’t you all know why?”

Then the young man jumped up from his seat and shouted.

“It’s because they know well that if they stay there for too long, their artistic spirit will die in an instant! The sparks of a soul that cannot become a flame will simply burn themselves out and disappear into nothingness!”

“Dude, stop it!”

“Passion! Love! Desire! I couldn’t feel any intense longing there! That’s why my songs abandoned me!”

The moment he heard those words, what Sigurd Sigurdsson had said not long ago flashed through Seongjin’s mind.

-In this frozen world, you were the only one who could understand me, my one and only friend.

Even during that time, the drunken young man kept shouting.

“Even the most beautiful woman on the street couldn’t bring back the songs to me! The imperial capital has become the grave of my soul!”

Then the mercenaries began to pour out sharp criticism towards him one by one.

“Why are you blaming the imperial capital for your own shortcomings!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Shame on you! If the grace of the gods took away your songs, it clearly means your art was depraved and impure!”

Then the young man also retorted furiously against that criticism.

“My art is impure? Then I will gladly sell my soul back to the devil! What meaning does my life have now that I’ve lost those brilliant songs!”

Instantly, as if splashed with ice water, the surrounding air turned chilly.

Everyone simultaneously shut their mouths and glared at the young man. In that cold atmosphere, the young man’s face, finally starting to sober up a bit, gradually turned pale.

From behind, someone broke the silence and shouted sharply at him.

“A devil worshipper!”