The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

No, no, no. That can’t be right.

No matter what, people don’t change that easily.

No matter how convincing the Emperor's words sound, I can’t trust them one hundred percent. After all, this is the same Emperor who, in the original story, turned the world into a sea of flames.

Can a villain who once dreamed of world domination so easily relinquish their power?

The same man who claimed, “As long as everyone is equal under me, that’s enough,” is now supposedly dividing his power among commoners? Commoners whose numbers haven’t even been properly accounted for yet, let alone seen the effects of real welfare policies? Does that sound realistic?

Though, to be honest, the way the Emperor spoke about it made it feel like he could actually pull it off.

And yes, I’ve seen some documents where welfare policies were given serious consideration.

But I absolutely refuse to believe it.

“...So, are you really planning to attack the cathedral?”

“That’s correct.”

I replied firmly.

“I can’t blindly trust the Emperor’s words.”

“Well, yeah, I get that. But... are you saying Verati’s testimony alone isn’t enough for you?”

“Verati didn’t know nearly as much as we had hoped.”

The cathedral in question was the largest one in Belvur, located right next to the Holy Nation. That made it an entirely different story. It was an incredibly significant site, even by the Holy Nation’s standards. Not only was it a major holy site, but it also served as a kind of forward base.

In the original story, it was where Sophia had been stationed.

“Well, I guess you’re saying this because you think you can undo the worst-case scenario anyway...” Alice muttered as she plopped onto the bed.

“So, basically, you’re ignoring your father’s plea to stay quiet, huh?”

I thought back to what the Emperor had said just before I left the building. He had specifically asked me not to cause trouble, if only for the sake of maintaining Belvur’s goodwill.

...He must be scheming something to say such a thing. The fact that the Emperor was even in Belvur was suspicious in itself. If it wasn’t for a truly critical reason, there was no way he’d come here personally.

I’d been so preoccupied with the plan he mentioned that I didn’t even think to ask why he was here now. But I could at least guess that he deflected my questions to conceal his true intentions.

“It wasn’t an order,” I said.

“Even if it were, you wouldn’t have followed it.” Alice buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“...”

After a brief silence, she spoke again.

“No matter how many incidents you manage to erase from existence,” she began, her voice muffled as she held her head, “can you really say it won’t bother you to see how Charlotte reacts to the fallout? Even if no one else remembers, you will.”

“...”

This time, it was my turn to be at a loss for words.

Charlotte... she’d definitely be furious. It might even be similar to the way she reacted to Alice in the original story, after the capital was bombarded.

And it wasn’t just Charlotte. Sophia, who I’d grown close to, would be just as affected. While the others might write it off as me acting with some grand plan in mind, for those two, it would be the destruction of a part of their homeland.

“...Fine,” Alice sighed, her voice tinged with resignation. “No matter how hard I try to stop you, you’re going to find a way to slip past me and cause an incident. So, I’d rather be by your side when it happens.”

“Your Highness—”

“Call me Alice.” She frowned slightly at my words. “You only call me ‘Your Highness’ when you’re trying to convince me of something. Be honest: isn’t it a bit weird for one princess to treat the other like they’re more important?”

As a child, she would’ve puffed up with pride every time I addressed her that way. But now, she had grown too much for such flattery to work.

“I’ve made up my mind,” she said firmly. “No matter what you try, I’m going to stick with you. So don’t bother trying to talk me out of it.”

“When I’ve finished—”

“When you’ve finished? And then what? Everything goes back to the way it was, and I don’t even remember what happened? So I shouldn’t worry?”

Alice shot up from the bed, visibly irritated. She strode toward me, leaning down until her eyes met mine.

It was a gaze I couldn’t avoid, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Don’t give me that nonsense. What about me? Am I just supposed to sit here, worrying while you go around blowing things up? Or are you planning to erase even this moment, rewind time to before we left Father, and solve everything before I even get a chance to react? Isn’t that it?”

“...”

When I didn’t respond, Alice smirked.

“You don’t actually want to turn things back, do you? Sure, you’d rewind for something major—some mistake you have to fix. But you’re afraid. Afraid of being erased from everyone’s memories. Isn’t that it?”

I couldn’t deny her accusation.

“You don’t want the memories we’ve shared to become something only you can remember. That’s why you’re trying to persuade me with words instead of just rewinding.”

“...”

“Let me make one thing clear.” Alice straightened her back, crossing one arm over her chest while placing the other on her hip. Her expression radiated confidence.

She looked just like the young Alice who used to make such baseless claims with a smug grin.

But—

“I’m a princess and your sister. So, whether you like it or not, I’ll help you in whatever way I can. Don’t underestimate me—I’m stronger than I look.”

—she wasn’t the same child she once was. Now, her words carried weight.

“Will this be all right?”

After Sylvia and Alice left the building, Damien and the Emperor remained silent for a while, listening intently to their surroundings. Only when their presence completely faded did Damien finally ask.

“Oh, you mean about my power?”

The Emperor’s reply came as a question. Damien didn’t respond further, but the Emperor understood perfectly well that his silence carried an implicit affirmation.

“Well, to be honest, it’s not entirely impossible.”

But that admission implied that it was at least partially unlikely as well.

“Overturning the world... That’s far more difficult than taking control of it through power,” the Emperor mused aloud.

“But, Damien, let me ask you this. What would you do if someone who had the power to decisively strike you down despised your life’s work? Could you still carry out your plans?”

“...”

Damien remained silent, as if deep in thought. However, the Emperor didn’t wait for an answer.

“My goal remains unchanged. I want to seize this world in its entirety. So, what I told Sylvia was merely a compromise. If Sylvia keeps scrutinizing me, it’s the best choice I can make under the circumstances.”

A faint smile played on the Emperor’s lips.

“But compromises are just that—compromises. And there can be many kinds. The kind you show your opponent and the kind you reveal only to yourself.”

“Then, does that mean everything you told Sylvia was a lie?”

“It wasn’t a complete lie. I made plans for it, after all. If I want my brilliant daughter to believe the plan is real, it has to be real, to an extent. And, as I said earlier, it’s a compromise. If my main plan fails, it’s a secondary option to block her potential choices.”

“But... do you really think Sylvia will just listen to you and stay quiet?”

“It would be troublesome if she did.”

The Emperor rose from his seat and began to walk slowly, extinguishing the only lamp illuminating the room.

The windows were boarded up, but faint light from a streetlamp filtered through the cracks.

“She’s far too skeptical to take my words at face value. At least I’ve managed to discern her plan to attack the cathedral. That’s a relief.”

The Emperor climbed the creaking stairs, the faint light casting eerie shadows on the walls. Damien followed a few steps behind him, his movements measured and deliberate.

“Fortunately, the target is a building belonging to the Holy Nation,” the Emperor remarked as he opened the door to the second floor.

The room should have been pitch-black, but several faintly glowing mana stones provided just enough light to make out its contents.

Maps lined the walls, covered in red markings and pinned photographs. The table was a chaotic array of scattered maps and multicolored pins.

This was the trove of information Damien had painstakingly collected on the Holy Nation over the years.

“If Sylvia had fully understood my intentions, she would have undoubtedly tried to stop this.”

The Emperor chuckled, his voice carrying a note of amusement.

“My daughter is brilliant, but her brilliance stems from experience. And right now, it seems she hasn’t gained enough of it.”

He leaned over the table, placing his hands firmly on its surface as he studied the maps.

“I still have opportunities left. And, it seems, an ally from the future as well. The path to victory remains open. The order of the plan may have shifted, but this might be more effective in the end. I should thank Sylvia for pointing out the gaps.”

Bathed in the dim light, the Emperor—Arthur Fangryphon—smiled, a grin far too youthful for a man of his age.