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Chapter 48: The Forbidden Prince (1)
All the incidents within the Papal Curia had been resolved.
The Saint had faked his death and left, and Historia began working busily to reorganize the internal affairs of the Papal Curia.
I recalled the conversation we had on the last day I saw her.
—…I’ll do my best to help. Please do the same.
After I shared the whole truth, that’s what Historia had said.
Her expression at the time was—strangely unfamiliar—filled with rage.
—I can’t forgive them. What they’ve done, what they did to Verheim. If evil exists, it would be that. I…
She was so angry that she couldn’t even finish her sentence.
I calmed her down for the time being.
Frankly, I had planned to make her help, even if she didn’t want to.
It was only natural.
After all, divine powers and holy knights were in even greater demand the more brutal the war became.
Anyway, that was the extent of it.
There were still minor issues, but the most urgent fire had been put out.
Of course, that didn’t mean we could rest now.
‘I figured as much…’
They had infiltrated deep within the group.
It was both a crisis and a blessing.
Because it meant our course of action had become all the clearer.
I revisited my conversation with the Crown Prince.
—I’ve organized a pursuit team. But I doubt they’ll catch anything.
—If they were going to be caught, they would’ve been already. These guys are meticulous.
—Still…
—Yes, even with the time that’s passed, they’re likely still within the Empire. Unless the enemy has a high-level mage capable of teleportation, that is.
—I don’t believe they’ll flee so easily.
—Same here.
They were the type to dig in persistently.
They’d definitely try to make their next move.
One particular fact made that suspicion even stronger.
‘They stole the forbidden research journal.’
I already knew the contents, thanks to the Saint, who had copied most of it before he left.
But let’s talk purpose.
Why go through the trouble of stealing it?
I tried to backtrack their mindset.
‘If they hadn’t stolen it, maybe we wouldn’t have caught on so soon.’
But since we were investigating the Saint, their exposure was inevitable.
So, if they were going to be found out anyway, they might as well take something useful?
Would it really end there?
Ridiculous.
—They must’ve thought it was useful—even if it meant speeding up discovery.
—Then what would they use it for?
—Isn’t it obvious?
A covert war was always about intelligence and psychology.
The likely goals began to take clear shape.
—There are still people left.
—The Grand Duke. The underworld.
—Could be a flexible tool to shake them up.
—The North is far, and well-controlled. That only leaves one likely destination.
—The underworld. A place isolated from the Empire, despite being within it.
—It’s perfect for hiding, and no ID is needed.
The underworld.
If they were going to move, that would be the fastest option.
More importantly, it was an ideal setting for twisted experiments.
Black markets, undocumented residents.
In other words, materials and test subjects.
If we could confirm that, we could catch their trail.
No, not just their trail.
—They were around Beatrice. Around Verheim.
—There must be a spy next to the ruler of the underworld too.
—If there’s going to be contact, that’s the place.
—We might even catch a big fish.
We could net them all at once.
At last, we had a lead.
Interrogation would surely reveal more about the enemies.
So, we made a decision.
—Covert action. We need to go there ourselves.
—There’s no other way. If we delegate, the information might leak.
—Let’s move as quickly as possible. We’re already delayed cleaning up the aftermath.
We leave in two days.
We should rush off immediately, but what’s the point of covert ops?
Secrecy.
But whenever the Crown Prince or I vanish from public sight, rumors spread fast.
If someone well-known suddenly disappears, people start talking.
It’d be like shouting from the rooftops, “We’re heading there now!”
So it made more sense to delay the schedule by a few days and preserve secrecy.
Our movements had to be hidden at all costs.
For that, the Crown Prince needed a double.
With Erilda’s help, he was training one himself, and had placed a curse of silence on them.
The Crown Prince was now handling all major ceremonies.
He even looked the part—basking in the glory of his heroic feats.
And me?
Not much.
Just working on my health, asking my sister for understanding about staying locked up in the estate, and building an image of seclusion.
Other than that—
“Pharos! Like this! Is this how it’s done?!”
I was taking care of a little troublemaker who would lose her mind the moment I disappeared.
“Yes, you’re doing great.”
“Will Aria become a hero too?!”
“Of course. Your swordplay is amazing.”
In the gardens of Pharos.
Aria was swinging a hollow wooden sword with a flushed, excited face.
Honestly, she looked more like she was being flung by the sword than wielding it.
Still, she was swinging it—so let’s call it training.
Why was she swinging a sword?
The reason was hilariously simple.
“Aria will become a hero too! Being a princess sounds boring now!”
The problem was the Crown Prince.
After the Papal Curia incident, the Saintess and the Crown Prince had received the most attention—especially the Prince for physically beating down Verheim.
Though it was just a smokescreen, he’d bragged about defeating the Saint and was being praised across the palace.
Naturally, Aria heard all about it.
That’s the kind of kid she is.
She craves praise, acts mature to get it, and builds her own little world.
Now imagine that kind of kid—addicted to cheeseburgers—hearing all this glory about the Crown Prince.
You think she wouldn’t be jealous?
She came right up and said:
—A-Aria wants to train too!
If I didn’t play along, she’d cling to me all night.
So I hollowed out the wooden sword to make it lighter and let her swing it around a bit.
Aria wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Her cheeks were red, and her mouth curled up in a smile of pride.
She looked genuinely satisfied.
“Swordplay is hard. But Aria won’t give up!”
“Yes, keep it up.”
“Just wait! Aria will become the legendary hero Cheeseburger and cheer for Pharos!”
“You’ll cheer me on?”
“Yup! I’m a cheering hero!”
Hmm.
Doesn’t look like she plans to fight.
Then why is she learning swordplay?
I was a bit confused—but when I saw her bright, determined eyes, I figured it didn’t really matter.
“Just grow up healthy. That’s the biggest support kids can give.”
“Yup! Aria eats three meals a day and will grow up big! Then I’ll cheer for Yuren with a big ‘yo-heave-ho’!”
“Stop being so picky about food.”
“Ehh…”
Aria instantly looked repulsed.
It seemed like she really wasn’t going to grow up right.
It was in that moment, as I rested my chin on my hand.
“Oh right! Did you hear?”
Aria threw her wooden sword aside and came to sit beside me.
Maybe she got bored of playing.
Just as I thought that, a pretty interesting topic came up.
“A book from the Sealed Archives is coming to the Imperial Capital!”
It was about a forbidden book.
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Aria, always one to overhear imperial gossip during the day.
Most of her chatter was nonsense, but sometimes she’d bring back useful things she’d picked up from around the palace.
“Is that so?”
I had heard some of it before, but this was the first time I’d heard it would end this way.
It wasn’t much—just that the Crown Prince had used this incident to negotiate with Historia, hoping to bring all the forbidden books from the Sealed Archives to the imperial palace.
From Historia’s side, there was no issue.
But the bishops of the Church of Fate, whose positions were already shaky, were the problem.
They had made a desperate fuss, trying to cling to what little authority they had left.
‘Looks like it worked out.’
Lately, with everything resembling my past life more and more, I figured their methods must’ve been aggressive.
In any case—
“The forbidden archives are going to be pretty full, huh.”
It wasn’t something that affected me personally.
Just then, Aria suddenly stood up.
She spread her tiny hand wide and covered her face with it, peeking through her fingers with sharp eyes as she declared,
“Do not succumb to the darkness!”
Her eyes were unusually intense.
It was immediately clear who she was mimicking.
“How is it? Do I look like our youngest brother?”
What a ridiculous sight.
Still—
“Hey.”
Flick!
“Ow!”
I flicked her forehead.
Aria let out a high-pitched squeal, then protested indignantly.
“H-he really was like that, you know!”
“He was actually sick, though.”
“B-but still!”
“You mustn’t do that again.”
“…Okay.”
Aria agreed quickly and sulked.
I patted her head to cheer her up.
And I thought,
‘So that’s how the kids see it.’
I clicked my tongue.
Children imitate what they see without any bad intent.
Still, letting them mimic the Third Prince like that in front of others wasn’t a good idea.
‘You never know what kind of slander might start circulating.’
Especially when it came to the Third Prince, one had to be cautious with words.
He was 14 years old, and people would whisper that he was obsessed with darkness, that he had to hide his nature because of royal decorum…
Unfortunately, these weren’t just embarrassing rumors.
I scratched my cheek.
‘Who would’ve thought the prince would be chosen by the Forbidden Archives.’
Third Prince Fried Ortaire.
In my opinion, a clever coward who had ascended the throne, only to hang himself and flee to the afterlife within six months.
But at this point in time, I’d describe him differently.
‘A contractor.’
Chosen and forcibly contracted by the Forbidden Archives—a cursed prince with a reaper’s scythe hanging over his neck.
Currently, that little prince was managing the Imperial Forbidden Archives.
* * *
The history of the Ortaire Empire spans a thousand years.
It was founded at the same time as humanity’s independence, and because of its long history, the Imperial Capital—especially its heart, the Imperial Palace—still retained many mysteries.
The Forbidden Archives were one of those mysteries.
No one knew exactly how it was built, but from what had been discovered, this was true:
The space itself was imbued with mysticism and possessed a sort of “will.”
It restricted access to anyone it did not approve of and isolated itself from the outside world, sealing off energy flows both in and out.
Thus, the founding emperor of the empire designated it as the “Forbidden Archives.”
It was used to store dangerous items.
That was the origin of the Forbidden Archives.
Afterward, the imperial family began training and assigning individuals to manage it.
When a qualified person appeared, the archives would contract them.
It was clearly a structure that could lead to incidents.
Yet, it hadn’t—because the archives had a will of its own.
‘The Companion’s Curse.’
A unique power of the Forbidden Archives: if a contracted person tried to betray it, the curse would consume their life.
If they attempted to speak of the knowledge obtained inside to outsiders, it would again take their life.
That’s how the Forbidden Archives had survived for a thousand years.
And that’s why the current generation also trained people to manage it.
But then an incident occurred.
‘The Forbidden Archives chose a contractor on its own.’
There had been trained candidates ready for the contract.
But the archives rejected them all and suddenly formed a contract with the Third Prince in the palace.
Naturally, chaos erupted in the imperial capital.
No, the entire empire stirred—because in a thousand years, nothing like this had ever happened.
To make it worse, the chosen one was a five-year-old prince.
The noblest bloodline, no less.
There were frantic efforts to undo the contract and curse—but all failed.
What the Forbidden Archives had done was irreversible.
What could they do?
They had no choice but to leave the archives under the Third Prince’s management.
Everyone was worried.
They feared the child might accidentally spill knowledge and die.
The only saving grace was that the Third Prince was a remarkably intelligent child.
And that he didn’t seem too troubled by becoming the archives’ master.
His acceptance and willingness to serve the empire melted the hearts of its people.
If Aria was a royal that people hesitated around, Third Prince Fried was one they pitied.
Which is why no one could speak of him carelessly.
It could be politically dangerous.
In any case, that same person—now 14 years old—was standing right in front of me.
“Is it possible?”
…he asked.
Golden hair brushing his shoulders.
A thin frame, with delicate, fragile features and glassy blue eyes.
And a sickly smile.
Third Prince Fried Ortaire.
Why was I suddenly meeting this kid?
To explain that, I had to recall today’s events.
‘…I came to meet the Crown Prince before leaving tomorrow.’
While I was there, the Third Prince suddenly showed up and asked to speak.
I thought it was about the transfer of forbidden books from the Sealed Archives—but it was something else entirely.
Something that even surprised me.
“…So, you're asking me to come to the Forbidden Archives?”
“Yes.”
He was asking me to go with him into the archives.
It was such a bold request, I had to ask again in disbelief.
“Can I even go? Only you’re allowed in there, aren’t you?”
The Forbidden Archives reject anyone not permitted.
So why was he even making such a request?
He gave a strange answer.
“Of course. Dea asked me to.”
That was…
“After I told her about the recent incident with the Holy See, she said there was a promise she once made with Pharos. That if the young master was worthy, now would be the time to fulfill it.”
It was a request I simply couldn’t refuse.
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