* * *
Hearing such vulgar lines directed at him, Eren nearly gagged.
They hadn’t even been talking for five minutes, and already his ears felt tainted.
“Y-Your Grace! The Empress was looking for you!”
Panicking that Helid might redirect his focus to Ashard, Eren jumped in.
He added that the Empress was worried, emphasizing the urgency.
“…I’m fine. This emperor, on the other hand, doesn’t look so lucky.”
Ashard’s gaze shifted to a nearby corpse.
The body, ruthlessly severed and drenched in blood, was hard to recognize—except for the pale pink hair that marked him as the Emperor of Epentel.
“No need to look so shocked, Count Nependes. I simply expedited the inevitable.”
Unlike Helid, this voice was polite, almost slick.
The only one who could talk so sweetly with such a formal tone was—
“…Marquis Renan.”
‘Why is he here too?! Don’t tell me Carlyle came as well…’
It was exactly what he feared.
The man walking gracefully behind the waving Julius was none other than Carlyle.
“So much for cooperation. You deceived me, Duke Fridit.”
Carlyle’s voice was icy.
He looked at Eren with an unreadable expression before clicking his tongue in disapproval.
A subtle tension sparked between Carlyle and Ashard.
With Epentel men appearing one after another—in other words, the main characters of the novel—Eren was on the verge of losing it.
He had fought so hard to escape them.
“I know it’s a touching reunion, but I think that’s enough.”
Contrary to the Empress’s fears, the Trovien Emperor Cidrein appeared completely unscathed, dressed impeccably as if nothing had happened. Every eye turned toward him.
Only Eren, still confused, looked at the Emperor as if begging for an explanation.
The Emperor, noticing, opened his mouth again.
“The war is over. Epentel wants to be annexed by Trovien.”
‘What the hell is that lunatic talking about? Annexed?!’
Eren gawked at him.
He’d suspected Cidrein was a bit off ever since he asked him to become Empress, but this confirmed it.
Annexed? Did that mean Epentel had surrendered?
It was unbelievable.
But neither Carlyle, Julius, nor Helid refuted the Emperor’s words.
As if it were the absolute truth.
“…Did I hear correctly? Epentel… surrendered?”
“You heard right. That’s exactly what happened.”
‘This is insane.’
He understood the words, but truly comprehending them was another matter entirely.
Of course he couldn’t make sense of it.
Why?
The former Emperor may have been obsessed with war, but Epentel wasn’t exactly weak.
Thanks to his own efforts, they’d become the victorious nation and even expanded their territory.
If they had simply managed things well from there, they could’ve become a great power.
If they didn’t like the Emperor, they could’ve just staged a regime change.
Take the throne themselves, govern how they wanted—there were plenty of options.
But instead, they killed a perfectly alive Emperor and committed treason.
Which meant they could’ve done anything they wanted.
“But they surrendered? Why?”
He wanted to ask, but there was no one to ask.
Carlyle surely wouldn’t give an answer, and Helid would just spout off some nonsense unrelated to the question.
When he looked toward Julius, who seemed most likely to say what he actually wanted to hear, Julius smiled gently.
“You seem curious about the reason.”
“……”
“You’re not in Epentel, are you? So there’s no need for Epentel to exist either.”
Clearly, something was wrong with his ears.
All he could hear were incomprehensible things, and Eren just blinked in stunned silence.
“…What are you talking about…?”
“It was you, Count, who did the most to strengthen Epentel’s power. Without you, of course things would fall apart.”
It was a well-wrapped sentence dressed in pretty words, but Eren understood the meaning immediately.
In short: ‘Since you’re not around, we don’t give a damn what happens to the country.’ That was it.
“What kind of absolute lunatics are these people…?”
Eren was speechless.
He should’ve realized back when they abandoned the war just to go look for him, or even earlier, when he first read the original novel.
He never imagined they’d actually go so far as to sell out their entire country just because he was gone.
He felt like a complete fool for devising all those strategies and helping them win—helping them win.
Under the rule of such unhinged people, being absorbed by Trovien might be a hundred times better for the citizens of Epentel.
Any guilt he had about handing his strategies to Ashard—wondering if he’d done it just to save his own skin—completely vanished.
Stunned by their insanity that far exceeded expectations, Eren froze in place.
Something was very wrong here.
Still unable to feel any sense of reality, Eren bit down hard on his tongue.
Pain, followed by the distinct taste of blood. So this wasn’t a dream.
“…His Majesty agreed to that?”
“Didn’t seem like he had any reason to refuse.”
Well, of course.
No one with a brain would pass up such a golden opportunity.
And just who was standing before him now?
The Emperor of Trovien, who had gone so far as to announce Eren as his future consort just to keep him close.
Holding his pounding head, Eren let out a sigh.
Things were spiraling more and more out of control.
If Epentel really did get absorbed into Trovien, then his reason for fleeing there in the first place would be gone.
“…It’s like the original plot is trying to play out anyway, just with a different backdrop.”
It wasn’t an absurd assumption.
Even though he’d changed the original story, events had recently begun aligning with it.
The thought made too much sense to ignore.
“Since everything wrapped up without bloodshed, I’ve decided to preserve the titles and lands of the three nobles involved. And yours as well, of course.”
As if that made up for anything.
After dropping this bomb of a situation, the Emperor looked rather proud of himself, stealing a glance at Eren as if expecting gratitude.
“Wow. So gracious of you, Your Majesty. Truly.”*
Technically, this whole mess was instigated by Carlyle and the other two, but for some reason, it was the Emperor who annoyed Eren the most.
He clenched his fists tightly, grinding his teeth.
Eren stared blankly ahead, slowly sipping his wine.
Why? How had things turned out like this?
Nobles in dazzling, multicolored outfits laughed merrily, enjoying the banquet.
The soft orchestra music, the blindingly luxurious chandeliers, the flawless spread of food—it was all perfect, despite the suddenness of the event.
That’s right. Eren was at a banquet.
A victory banquet, no less—celebrating Trovien’s win following Epentel’s surrender.
“Haa…”
So much for twisting the original plot.
Everything he’d done felt like it had been for nothing.
The setting might have changed—from the Epentel Empire to Trovien—but all the major and supporting characters were still present.
It was only a matter of time before things fell back into the original storyline.
Since the Epentel nobles had come all the way to the Trovien palace to surrender, the three instigators were naturally the talk of the event.
And Eren, by extension, was dragged into that spotlight.
Like characters obeying the rule that the protagonist enters last, Carlyle, Julius, and Helid had yet to appear in the hall.
Downing the last of his wine in one go, Eren set his empty glass down, a firm decision made in his mind.
“…I need to get out of here before they show up.”
* * *
