#742 (Patreon)

Chaos (3)

“Sometimes, I do.”

Deep beneath the capital’s center, in the underground.  

In that place cloaked in the stillness of death, Puppet spoke, as if lost in thought.

“People often fall into a delusion. When blessed with things like striking looks, exceptional talent, or a prestigious family, they start to think they’re the center of the world. That maybe, just maybe, they’re loved by the gods. But, you see…”  

Puppet paused briefly, stood up, and walked toward Edward, who was slumped on the blood-soaked ground.  

For the record, Edward had collapsed there not from any external injury but because his legs gave out in fear.  

Kneeling on one knee, Puppet lowered himself to meet the frightened prince’s gaze.  

“That’s not evidence of being special, let alone proof of being loved by the gods. Wealth, power, fame, beauty—these things are insignificant in the eyes of a god. Like sugar cubes, if you will.”  

Puppet smirked faintly, as if amused by his own metaphor. It wasn’t a cheerful smile but one steeped in futility.  

“To ants, a sugar cube might be a priceless treasure, but to humans? It’s nothing—just something forgotten in some corner of the cupboard, existing or not. Saying it aloud feels cruel, doesn’t it? Because you took that gift and deluded yourself into believing you were the protagonist of this world.”

“All corpses have been cleared.”  

Lilith approached Puppet and reported, her tone calm. She had gathered the bodies of those killed by Unbending Knee and moved them aside.  

Puppet rose to his feet and responded, “Thank you, Lilith… Anyway, Prince, here’s my point. You’re neither the center of the world, nor beloved by the gods, nor its protagonist. If anything, you’re closer to a minor character—a flimsy, insignificant tool meant to serve the plot. Do you understand my point?”  

The prince, who remained crumpled on the ground with his legs unable to bear his weight, was too stricken with fear to reply.  

“What I’m saying,” Puppet continued, “is that you should start fulfilling your role as a minor character by initiating the royal succession. That’s the reason you were born and exist.”  

Puppet commanded Edward X, looking down upon him—the heir to the throne of the most powerful nation in the world.  

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the prince still had a shred of pride left. Despite his trembling hands, he mustered the courage to defy.  

“I-I won’t… yield to such threats…”  

Of course, even this courage was tinged with a shallow calculation. Edward believed that, no matter the circumstances, Puppet wouldn’t harm him. After all, Puppet needed him to bring about the end, making Edward essential for his plans.  

But there was a problem.  

It was the same issue underlying the rebellion Edward had attempted earlier.  

That calculation—if it could even be called that—was made within Edward’s limited scope of understanding. The person standing before him, however, was Puppet.  

“I assumed you’d be terrified. You’re a coward, after all.”  

Puppet locked eyes with the prince, who remained silent.  

“You know it too, don’t you? Just how despicably cowardly you are.”  

Puppet approached Edward, step by step. The prince stayed silent again.  

“You want the glory of being a prince but not the responsibility. You crave love and admiration but aren’t willing to put in the effort. That’s why you so easily took my hand.”  

Puppet moved so close to the prince that they were nearly touching.  

The prince remained silent once more.  

“And this is the result, even after receiving more blessings than anyone else. Yet you dare to defy me to preserve your pitiful pride?”  

Puppet crouched down and placed a hand on the prince’s trembling shoulder. Still, the prince said nothing.  

“Well then, I’ll cheer for you. Though, in the end, you’ll meet your demise, torn apart by the wrathful hands of your own people... But, I can guarantee you, that won’t happen. Do you know why?”  

The prince, who had been silent the entire time, slowly shook his head.  

“Because you’re far too much of a coward to even attempt something so shallow… Lilith.”  

“Yes?”  

“I hate to ask you for another favor, but could you prepare the prince for his coronation? All the collaborators are already here, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to proceed.”  

“There are plenty here who aren’t collaborators.”  

“Kill a few, and they’ll cooperate. Use some finesse, if you can.”  

Though it was an imperious demand, Lilith responded with only a slight grumble before complying. Supporting Edward X, she began to lead him out.  

Considering the palace was already effectively under their control, as Puppet suggested, a little finesse would likely suffice to resolve any issues.  

“Ugh, how annoying… Fine, I’ll handle it.”  

“Much appreciated, as always.”  

Exchanging a brief farewell with Puppet, Lilith left with the crown prince in tow.  

Thus, the underground chamber was left in silence, occupied only by the motionless corpses and Unbending Knee.  

In the deafening stillness, Puppet turned to Unbending Knee and asked,  

“So, have you decided? What will you do about your brother?”  

The mention of his brother caused the atmosphere in the shadow-drenched chamber to ripple, brushing against Puppet’s face.  

A sharp pain flared across his cheek as the air passed, and Puppet smiled.  

Even with his pain receptors dulled, the sensation reached him. A narrow victory, but it seemed he had successfully emulated the Prince of Hell.  

Puppet asked again, this time more specifically.  

“Will you kill your brother with your own hands—for the sake of avenging your clan?”  

The shadowy air raged violently for a moment, seemingly threatening Puppet, before settling once more.  

As calm returned, Unbending Knee very slowly nodded. He had chosen vengeance.  

***

The sudden revelation of the relationship between the crown prince and Puppet threw the capital into chaos.  

The upheaval was evident. Within the palace, Puppet and Edward X were forging a new dynamic, while outside, the streets were plagued by fires and the horrific hunting of orphans, the noise never ceasing.  

Even the safe house where Edith, Philip, Terence, Prince Albert, and the woman with pink hair were staying wasn’t untouched by the turmoil.  

Compared to the palace or the streets, there was no major conflict or commotion there, at least on the surface. But beneath that calm exterior, everyone was grappling with their own struggles and headaches.  

“The outside is practically a slaughterhouse,” Terence said, his face grim as he reported back after surveying the situation.  

“Terrified people have armed themselves with shotguns, hoes, and clubs, hunting down orphans indiscriminately and executing them. They’re even clashing with the military.”  

“Executing them?” Edith echoed in shock.  

Prince Albert was stunned by the shocking report and asked again in disbelief.  

Terence, maintaining a soldier's composure, explained respectfully, "Exactly as I said, Your Highness. Panic-stricken citizens are gathering in mobs to execute orphans they suspect of starting the fires."  

Truthfully, the act of hunting down and killing children whose guilt was uncertain—if not outright nonexistent—was closer to slaughter than execution. Yet Terence chose his words carefully for the sake of the prince’s mental well-being.  

It wasn’t without merit; Albert’s face had already turned pale.  

As someone who once took great pride in his kingdom, witnessing such barbarity must have been deeply shocking.  

Philip Roar helped the prince to a seat, urging him to rest briefly, then turned to Terence and asked in a hushed voice, “So, do you think escape on foot is possible?”  

“To be honest, I’m not sure.”  

Terence frowned and shook his head.  

“Frankly, I’m against leaving. The outside is utter chaos right now—like a battlefield where even a stray bullet can kill a Military wizard. However—”  

“—However, staying here isn’t an option either, given that the capital itself has become a dangerous place,” Philip interrupted, finishing the thought for him.  

Terence nodded, as if that was precisely what he had intended to say.  

The radio broadcasts had mentioned that the entire capital would be sacrificed, so staying here would be akin to pigs in a slaughterhouse, waiting for their inevitable end.  

Thus, the conclusion was clear: they had to move.  

However, moving immediately posed its own challenges. According to Terence’s report, the situation outside was sheer pandemonium.  

If it were just the group, it might have been manageable, but escorting the crown prince during such chaos was perilous. Worse still, if the prince’s identity were discovered during their journey, the consequences were too grim to imagine.  

They were effectively caught between a rock and a hard place.  

Even so, a decision had to be made, and Philip, the head of a prestigious family of Military wizards, was well aware of that.  

Despite the dire circumstances, he understood the importance of choosing a course of action—and fortunately, he had the courage and capability to do so.  

Yet, decisions like these required hearing everyone’s opinions.  

For instance, from that mad fat man who had approached him out of nowhere to reveal Edward X’s schemes and push for their escape.  

“Edith. What’s your take on this…?”  

Philip paused mid-sentence, his gaze darting around. Edith was nowhere to be seen.  

For someone with such a large frame, hiding should have been near impossible.  

For a moment, the thought crossed his mind: ‘Did he run away?’

But no, that couldn’t be it.  

As crazy as he was, Edith wasn’t the type to flee in cowardice. Besides, no one in their right mind would choose to escape alone amidst this chaos.  

“He went that way, sir.”  

The exhausted Prince Albert gestured in one direction.  

“He went over there.”  

Albert pointed toward a secret escape route tucked in a corner of the safe house.  

“The pink-haired woman—Jane, I think her name is—called for him. Looked like she had something important to say.”  

***  

"What’s your game, Edith?"  

In the secret passageway tucked into one corner of the safe house, Jane, her pink hair glowing faintly in the dim light, addressed the man who looked as though he’d swallowed three or four pigs whole.  

“You crazy bitch… Tossing around my name like that? A dim-witted brat without a shred of manners. How someone like you—without a mother or father—managed to survive is beyond me.”  

Edith, as if it were second nature, hurled the insult with ease.  

Jane, however, seemed unfazed, replying just as naturally.  

“You’re right. I am a girl without parents. So I don’t expect to treat anyone like a father. Unless… would you prefer me to treat you like one?”  

“You crazy bitch.”  

Edith let out a slimy, bitter laugh.  

“If not, then let’s drop this line of conversation. You’re the one who told me there was no need to put on a show.”  

“Playing hard to get, huh? Not bad. Your mother didn’t have even that much skill; she fell to being a cheap floozy in no time. In that sense, you’re better. Satisfying, even.”  

Jane didn’t simply hear those words as a slur. Watching her mother plummet into degradation, Jane saw them as a form of violence, one that struck at her as well.  

Yet Jane’s feelings were more complex than mere resentment or hatred.  

The reason was simple:  

“Are you afraid the trophy you earned to erase your sense of defeat will lose its value?”  

Jane referred to herself as a ‘trophy’. Borrowing Edith’s own term—he often called her that. A symbol of his revenge, a proof of his victory.  

Jane hated the word. It made her feel as though she wasn’t even considered a daughter or a person.  

And yet, ironically, that same contemptuous word had once saved her life.  

Because she was his ‘trophy’, Edith had stopped Lady Miranda from stealing Jane’s inheritance after she had been kidnapped by one of Edith’s fans.  

This left Jane with a complicated, almost indescribable feeling toward Edith—one that lingered faintly despite her overwhelming loathing and anger.  

Of course, Edith’s behavior made sure such feelings disappeared as quickly as they came.  

“If you’re going to have a trophy, it’s better for it to be valuable rather than cheap… Although, it can be fun to turn something precious into something worthless. Want to try groveling again? Sometimes I miss that nauseating pretense of yours.”  

Jane responded with a cold smile, one filled with contempt and disgust.  

“Is that why you brought me here?”  

“Would you do it if I said yes?”  

“No. I’ll decline. I never asked to be saved, and now I’m far too rich to grovel like that.”  

“Ha! Hahaha! Good. I was worried you’d refuse because you’d fallen for some pathetic notion of love.”  

“...Excuse me?”  

“Women are such simple creatures. But when they fall in love, they get even simpler. Nobody asks them to, but they cling to their stupid principles and throw themselves into devotion, like idiots. I thought you were one of those idiots… Speaking of which.”  

Edith paused for a moment before continuing.  

“Where are your little guards? Those bratty Warlocks.”  

Edith was asking about Kirby and Slightly, the two young warlocks who had followed Jane all the way to the capital to protect her.  

The children who had been trapped in Neverland, role-playing their assigned characters, were now living with Jane. Some had even followed her to the capital, serving as her guards.  

“You didn’t abandon them, I assume... Ah, I see. The situation was dire, so you cleverly tricked them into evacuating, didn’t you?”  

Edith, with an insight that starkly contrasted his dimwitted appearance, quickly pieced together the truth.  

“Wow… Not only did you take in orphans, but you also made sure to send them to safety when it mattered most. I didn’t think you were such a good Samaritan. Or is this all an act to impress someone? Playing the saint, perhaps?”  

“...I only sent them back because they wouldn’t have been of much help.”  

“And yet, you’re no different. Why on earth did you come to the capital? You have no ties here. Sure, Lady Miranda invited you, but you could’ve ignored her. Or are you here to help ‘him’—”  

“—I have a question too,” Jane interrupted, cutting him off before he could delve deeper into her thoughts.  

“What is it?”  

“Why did you bring me here, Edith? I never asked for your help. Do you have some pathetic reason for it?”  

Jane deliberately asked the barbed question to block Edith from prying into her mind further.  

Edith grinned widely.  

“Because it’s fun.”  

“What’s fun about it?”  

“Helping someone who despises me as much as you do. Giving you a favor you can never repay—not just one, but two of them.”  

“...”  

“That’s why I helped you. No matter what you do, you can’t deny or forget it. Not ever. Not even on your deathbed. And I find that endlessly amusing.”  

“That’s a disturbingly perverse reason.”  

“And you’re only realizing that now? Your mother never told you what I did to her, did she?”  

Just as Jane bristled and was about to snap back, the door burst open.  

Through the doorway stepped Philip, a hulking figure over two meters tall. Without preamble, he laid out the current situation and asked for their opinions on what to do next.  

It wasn’t as though Philip, a lieutenant general in the kingdom’s army, didn’t know what to do. Likely, this was a mere formality before taking action.  

Regardless of the formality, Edith—whose appearance was the polar opposite of Philip’s—voiced an opinion in perfect alignment with the general’s.  

“Of course, we have to run. It’s already screwed, but we need to get out of this godforsaken city before it gets any worse, no matter the risks. Stay here, and we’ll all be dead anyway.”