The Wastrel Prince Becomes Ruthless-Chapter 4

Chapter 4
‘It worked…!’
Watching the Emperor’s expression, Yuwon cheered inwardly.
‘Whew, I didn’t get to use the lines I prepared, but it’s a success nonetheless.’
For a moment, it had seemed that his plan might fall apart under the Emperor’s sudden outburst of anger, but fortunately, Yuwon had managed to regain control and wrap up the situation without faltering.
He had achieved the initial goal he sought by personally requesting an audience with the Emperor. His purpose in meeting him had been fulfilled.
As Yuwon felt a sense of relief, chaos erupted in the minds of everyone else present.
‘The Fifth Prince has entered the struggle for the throne!’
From the Emperor himself to Marquis Bradman, the Captain of the Imperial Guard, and even the knights under his command—all wore grave expressions, frozen in place.
The fierce tug-of-war between the four princes for the imperial throne had just gained an unforeseen variable.
‘Damn it, that wastrel prince may pose no threat by himself, but if he sides with the Second or Third Prince, the current balance will collapse….’
‘That fool’s too late to redeem himself anyway. All we need to do is keep the First Prince in check.’
‘It’s already hard enough keeping up with the First and Second Princes’ dominance, and now this worthless brat is adding to the nuisance.’
‘This is good news for our Fourth Prince’s faction! Now that the Fifth Prince has stepped forward, he’s bound to gather at least a small following. He’ll never surpass his elder brothers, but his emerging faction… that might just be worth using!’
Even the Imperial Guards, despite being sworn to protect the Emperor above all else, were still men—with their own families, interests, and loyalties.
They served closest to the Emperor, guarding his life, yet each was entangled in the subtle political undercurrents surrounding the imperial succession.
Now, every guard was busy calculating how this newly introduced piece—the Fifth Prince—might alter the game.
In contrast, Yuwon seemed perfectly at ease, either unaware or unconcerned about the ripples his actions had set in motion.
Amid the silent confusion filling the hall, Yuwon calmly bowed and asked if he might take his leave.
“I seem to have taken too much of Your Majesty’s precious time. Since I have already paid my respects to my father, I believe I shall take my leave for today. Would that be acceptable?”
“…Very well. You may go.”
Though it seemed as though he was asking permission, in truth it was closer to a polite declaration that their conversation was over.
“Then, I shall see you again soon. May Your Majesty’s body remain in good health.”
With the Emperor’s permission, Yuwon bowed respectfully, then turned and began to walk out of the great hall.
He passed between the rows of Imperial Guards standing at either side of the throne.
‘Even without looking, I can imagine their faces.’
He didn’t need to see them to know what expressions hid beneath those helms. Yuwon swallowed a laugh.
Having stirred up quite a commotion, Yuwon left the hall with a straight posture and confident stride.
Even that alone made him seem nothing like the hunched, gloomy Fifth Prince of the past.
The Emperor could not tear his eyes away from his son’s back as Yuwon walked down the long expanse of the throne room and out of sight.
‘Amnesia, is it…? It’s as though he’s been reborn overnight….’
The Emperor’s heavy gaze followed his son’s retreating figure, sharp enough to pierce through his skull and beyond.
The youngest son he remembered had never been like this. Even before earning the title of a wastrel, back when he was still bright and clever, he had never displayed such boldness.
A boy who had always preferred music, art, and books over politics or swords. Had he grown without illness, he might have become a great scholar or artist.
‘But this side of him today… did he always have such fire within?’
Tap— tap— tap—
In stark contrast to the confusion inside everyone’s minds, Yuwon’s departing footsteps echoed rhythmically through the tense throne room.
When Yuwon had finally left the chamber, the Emperor gestured for the Captain of the Guard to approach.
“Rev, let’s have a word in private.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Understanding instantly, Marquis Bradman dismissed his men.
“Withdraw. His Majesty and I must speak privately.”
“Yes, sir!”
The guards responded in unison and quickly vacated the space, leaving only the elite knights closest to the Emperor standing a few paces away to avoid disturbing the conversation.
“Rev.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You know I’m not speaking to Marquis Bradman right now, don’t you?”
“….”
“Hah… right, that’s not the point. What did you think?”
“…Are you referring to the Fifth Prince, Your Majesty?”
“That’s right.”
“…I must apologize, Your Majesty. I’m not entirely certain what to say.”
“As I said before, I’m not asking Marquis Bradman—I’m asking my friend Rev. Marquis Bradman might not know, but Rev surely has an opinion.”
When the Emperor put it like that, even Marquis Bradman could do nothing but comply.
“Ahem… Then, if I may speak freely, Your Majesty.”
“Of course. That’s why I sent everyone else away. Speak your mind.”
Relaxing his formal stance, the Marquis adopted a more natural posture and continued.
“His eyes—they’ve changed.”
“His eyes, hmm… yes. They looked as though he might devour his own father. Hah, for a moment I thought I was staring at my second son.”
The Emperor let out a faint laugh, but the Marquis shook his head lightly.
“I wasn’t joking, Your Majesty. You, of all people, know how important one’s eyes are in swordsmanship, do you not?”
“I know it all too well. And who do you think taught me the sword?”
At the mention of the late Marquis Bradman, his son smiled faintly.
“Indeed.”
“So you’re saying he’s truly changed?”
“Yes. We’ll need to observe him longer, but it doesn’t seem like he’s pretending to have amnesia just to escape his current situation.”
“Hmm…”
The Emperor slowly nodded, agreeing with the Marquis’s assessment—it matched his own thoughts.
“And you—what do you think?”
At the Emperor’s words, a figure materialized soundlessly against the empty wall.
A tall man, dressed from head to toe in black. He stepped forward and knelt before the Emperor.
“My lord, what is it that troubles you so?”
If fog could speak, it might sound like this. His voice was as eerie as an echo within a cavern.
“Troubles me? Me?”
The black-clad man’s words seemed to slightly irritate the Emperor.
“To my humble eyes, it appears that Your Majesty is merely concerned that the gentle youngest prince might be harmed should he become entangled in the fight. But… it was the Fifth Prince’s own choice. You have seen and heard it yourself, have you not?”
“Hmm…”
The Emperor let out a low sound. Though he had always acted coldly toward his youngest, in truth, that boy had always been his weakest spot.
“My lord, when you ascended to the throne, bloodshed was inevitable as well. The Fifth Prince must have known what awaited him, and yet he stepped forward of his own will. Surely, he has his reasons. Showing favoritism does not suit you.”
Though phrased politely, his words clearly meant: Do not show favoritism.
Only this man would dare to speak to the Emperor—sovereign above all—in such a manner.
Not even his close friend, Marquis Bradman, could do the same. While others tiptoed around the Emperor, this black-clad man spoke freely.
That was why the Emperor could not help but value him.
“Your words are right.”
Until now, the Emperor had always kept the princes’ battle for the throne within his own sight, watching everything unfold before him.
The princes might have believed they were fighting in secret, hidden from their father’s eyes—but they couldn’t have been more wrong.
From the very beginning, their struggle had taken place under the Emperor’s permission.
The arena itself existed in the palm of his hand. Every move the princes made was as visible to him as lines drawn upon his palm.
‘Now I think I understand how Father must have felt when he slew his own brothers….’
After a brief moment of contemplation, the Emperor came to a firm decision.
“Assign men to the youngest as well.”
The man in black asked in return,
“What kind of men…?”
That time, his words were a mistake.
“Twice…”
The black lion growled low.
“…Do not make me repeat myself twice. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
The Emperor’s eyes burned fiercely, as though they could spew fire at any moment.
For the Emperor to assign men personally—this was a silent acknowledgment that the Fifth Prince was now a legitimate contender for the throne. It was tacit permission to engage in the deadly struggle.
“My apologies. This foolish servant has overstepped his bounds. It shall be done as my lord commands.”
The man in black answered in that same eerie, chilling tone.
It had been nearly thirty years since the Emperor, who had won the blood-soaked contest for the throne, came to rule over tens of millions of his subjects.
Even if his youngest son caused him trouble, he had at least thought the boy would live a peaceful, if disappointing, life.
But the Fifth Prince, who until now had done nothing but waste away outside the arena—drugged, drunk, and idle—had walked into it of his own accord.
There was nothing more the Emperor could do to protect him. It was now beyond his reach.
‘I’m sorry. It seems I won’t be able to keep that promise.’
The Emperor’s gaze clouded as he saw, over the image of his worthless son, the face of the one woman he had truly loved.
At that moment, Marquis Bradman carefully broke the Emperor’s thoughts.
“Come to think of it, Your Majesty, didn’t the prince’s hand seem… a bit bare? Did you happen to notice?”
“Hm… now that you mention it….”
The Marquis was right.
The Emperor recalled that Yurion’s hand had looked unusually bare when he stood before him today.
After finishing his audience, Yuwon returned straight to the Fifth Prince’s Palace.
“Ah, Your Highness! You’ve returned at last.”
At the main gate of the Fifth Prince’s residence stood the Chief Attendant, Marcellus, greeting Yuwon with a respectful bow, as though he had been waiting all along.
“How was His Majesty’s health?”
“Ah, he looked well.”
“That’s a relief. Of course, it should be so. Still, I must admit I was terribly startled when Your Highness personally requested an audience with His Majesty.”
It was understandable.
The Yurion of old would never have done such a thing. But for Yuwon, it was different.
“Is it so strange that a son who regained consciousness after half a month would go greet his father?”
“Haha… indeed, that’s true.”
At Yuwon’s response, the usually talkative Marcellus gave an awkward laugh. Seeing that, Yuwon smiled faintly.
“Or perhaps you’re just surprised that the infamous wastrel, the White Dog himself, actually did something proper for once. For even the Chief Attendant of the prince’s palace to wait out here so anxiously.”
“Oh, heavens, no! It’s just that this foolish old man couldn’t help but worry….”
Startled at being hit right on the mark, Marcellus bent his back at once, bowing deeply. His obsequious manner only made Yuwon more displeased.
“It’s nothing worth fussing over, so don’t make a scene.”
“Y-yes, Your Highness. Your grace is beyond measure.”
Yuwon knew that his unexpected actions today would soon reach the ears of those who sought Yurion’s downfall. Every minute, every second mattered to him now.
‘The Chief Attendant is still one of the prime suspects behind Yurion’s poisoning, but there are far more important matters at hand. His punishment will have to wait.’
He had thrown a stone; now it was time to prepare for the ripples. He couldn’t waste time quarreling here.
“That’s enough. I’ll go in now.”
Having collected his thoughts, Yuwon ended the conversation and moved past the attendant.
“Ah! Oh, my heavens, how forgetful of me—Your Highness! Please, wait a moment!”
Marcellus hurriedly stopped Yuwon’s steps.
“What now.”
“Please confirm this.”
The attendant pulled out a small box from his robes—no larger than half a palm—adorned with red silk threads and jewels, its craftsmanship exquisite beyond compare.
“What is this?”
“As I thought, Your Highness doesn’t remember. I thought this might help you recall…”
“…Are you trying to make me ask twice?”
Sensing the faint irritation in Yuwon’s tone, the quick-witted Marcellus immediately hurried to explain.
“It is the heirloom of Your Highness’s maternal family—Her late Majesty the Empress’s keepsake. You cherished it dearly and never let it leave your side. Since waking from your illness, however, you haven’t looked for it once, and today you even left it behind….”
As Yuwon had always thought, the attendant talked far too much.
“Something I kept close to me, you say?”
Quickly sifting through Yurion’s memories, Yuwon’s face stiffened.
‘Impossible.’
Yuwon remembered everything, even the memories Yurion himself could never recall from infancy. But this item was not among them.
“So, it truly doesn’t come to mind? Then please, take a look for yourself.”
Marcellus carefully opened the small box to reveal its contents.
“…Hmm.”
Though he had braced himself, a faint murmur still escaped Yuwon’s lips. That he managed to contain it this much was already impressive.
‘Why is this here…!’
Inside the box lay something he had never expected to see—but something all too familiar.
Yuwon’s face froze in shock.