Chapter 17

I am Crown Prince Kistihart.

The son of the current King Remodanies of the Spiritual Kingdom. And eventually, I will succeed my father and become the new king.

That was decided from birth.

Aside from my bloodline, I was even more blessed with a massive pool of innate magical power and a proficiency in the rare light attribute.

That was why I was told I was “a once-in-a-century prodigy” and raised with an extraordinary amount of care.

People told me that once I grew up and inherited the throne, I would surely build the greatest era of prosperity in history.

From the time I was a child, many people gathered and surrounded me.

Every single one of them either fawned over me, worshipped me, or sought to use me to their advantage if they had the chance.

Around when was it that I grew philosophical enough to think that this, too, was simply the destiny of being born into a powerful royal family?

If they intended to use me, then I would simply use them in return.

To a king, his subjects were pieces. Just like moving them across a chessboard, I only needed to make use of them for my own benefit.

Before I knew it, I had come to view people in that manner.

It was on a day like that. I caught sight of a certain young girl.

She looked to be about eight or nine years old.

I had business to attend to at the magic training grounds, and after that business wrapped up quickly, it happened on my way out.

The girl was frantically swinging a staff, yet not a single bit of magic came out.

I couldn’t feel even a scrap of magical power from her.

What on earth is that girl doing? I must have been staring at her so intently that my attendant offered an explanation.

“That would be the young lady of the Eldenvalk family,” he said.

Speaking of the Eldenvalk family, they were a prestigious house that produced high-ranking mages generation after generation, and if I recalled correctly, the current head was among the top ten practitioners as well.

When I confirmed that fact, the attendant offered transparent flattery, saying, “As expected of the Prince, you know your-,” before immediately turning up with a tacky, spiteful expression…

“However, that young lady seems to have inherited none of her parents’ talents whatsoever. In fact, she lacks any magical ability to the point where one might wonder if it was a mistake for her to be born a noble, earning her the nickname of the ‘one with no magic’ young lady…”

He spoke with an abundance of vulgar amusement.

While I thought to myself that I ought to dismiss this attendant, my gaze was still drawn to the girl who continued to swing a powerless magic staff.

What on earth must it feel like to keep trying with zero results to show for it?

I was blessed with everything.

My bloodline, my status, my magic, my knowledge.

I put in the effort, and it was fun to get results proportional to that. Given my talent, I had grown accustomed to the fruits of my hard work coming right back to me.

Yet not everything in the world worked that way.

There were clumsy people out there whose efficiency in putting in effort was poor, and even if they tried their hardest, they might only get one-tenth… or perhaps even one-hundredth back.

In that girl’s case, it was a complete and absolute zero.

Why on earth could she try so hard?

It was a question that bubbled up in my life for the very first time.

At the time, that was all there was to it.

Would that girl eventually realize someday that all her efforts were in vain?

Around that period, the plans to officially back me as Crown Prince began taking concrete shape, and my busyness grew by leaps and bounds.

Chased by trivial chores, my impression of her quickly sank to the recesses of my memory.

When I suddenly recalled her at one point and asked someone close at hand about her current whereabouts…

“Are you speaking of Lady Eltriede of the Eldenvalk family? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her around lately.”

The fellow spoke as though he himself had forgotten all about her for a long time.

“In the past, she used to barge into tea parties and banquets uninvited, making quite a racket, you see…” he said with a wry smile. “Even though the ‘one with no magic’ young lady isn’t welcome anywhere.”

“Since the Duke of Eldenvalk himself has retreated to his territory, she must have accompanied him there. Well, it’s for the best that someone as incompetent as her is tucked away out of sight where respectable people don’t have to look at her.”

No matter how many times I dismissed people like that, someone with such a foul character always managed to slink in.

People like that invariably had dark secrets hiding in their background once you ran a proper personal background check, so I would have them investigated as usual and pushed out the door.

Even as I thought that, I was shocked to find myself feeling a mild jolt of impact from the words I had just heard.

Had she… given up on trying?

Returning to her territory and moving away from the capital meant just that. She must have stopped trying to be a proper noble.

Once that realization hit me, I felt a strange sense of discouragement.

It was probably for the best, for her sake. There was nothing more pointless than futile effort.

Yet would I really never lay eyes on that striving girl again?

Several more years drifted by.

I smoothly completed the ceremonies to establish my position as Crown Prince, and barring any extraordinary circumstances, it was set in stone that I would become the next king.

That meant the next thing to decide was my partner.

The position of Crown Princess… the seat of the future queen, which caused a sudden surge of fervent competition all around me.

Our nation’s method of choosing a queen was unique, placing the utmost importance above all else on the sheer strength of the candidate’s magical power.

In truth, practically nothing else mattered.

That was why, regardless of factional ties or social standing, every single noble young lady was gathered at the royal castle once, and candidates were selected from among them.

The young ladies with the most formidable magic and the greatest mastery of magical pressure.

Once upon a time, I had casually mentioned that custom to royalty from another nation during a light conversation.

At that, he had worn a bitter smile and remarked…

“My, as expected of the Spiritual Kingdom, a true superpower of magic. Even your method of choosing the mother of the nation is quite distinctive, isn’t it?”

There was unmistakable derision in his tone.

He had even gone so far as to say, “In our country, to breed faster horses, we cross-breed racehorses that have posted the best records. Is it something similar to that?”

Ever since around that time, I had begun to sense it vaguely.

Was our country looked down upon by the surrounding nations?

Magic belonged solely to our kingdom.

Long ago, the first king obtained magic as a fruit of fulfilling a pact with spirits. That power dwelt within the bloodline, handed down unceasingly through the royalty.

Our nation took heartfelt pride in that, and precisely for that reason, we treasured magic above all else.

The criteria for choosing a bride were based on that legacy as well, but lately, I found myself wondering if it was truly right.

Every time I recalled the derisive smile of that foreign royal, I thought of it.

Someday, I would have to become king and steer this country in the direction it ought to go.

Which way was the ‘direction it ought to go’?

Should we maintain a system that prioritized magic above all else, just as we always had?

Or should we actively introduce something new from the outside?

I couldn’t possibly let such inner conflicts show on the surface and cause anxiety among my subjects.

Sealing the doubts deep within my heart, I went about fulfilling my duties as Crown Prince with a calm, business-like composure.

And finally, the selection of the Crown Princess began.

The first day was a grand evening banquet.

While it served to entertain the young ladies gathered together by royal decree, its true purpose was to measure the magical power of each candidate through the court’s resident magic examiners.

Self-reporting in cases like this was entirely unreliable, after all.

Having trustworthy personnel on our side measure them directly was the best course of action.

Still, my mood upon welcoming this day was hardly clear skies.

Even though it was a matter of choosing my own marriage partner, my personal will was being completely ignored.

Then again, that was no different for royalty in any other country.

Becoming the king’s wife simultaneously granted no small measure of political power; it was never something to be decided purely by individual emotions.

I understood that.

Still, having it decided solely by the magnitude of one’s magic power felt…

Nursing such thoughts, I looked down from the royal castle’s terrace toward the area surrounding the castle gates.

From up here, I could check on visiting guests one by one.

Even so, our country’s young ladies were dazzlingly bright tonight as well.

It was a unique culture of ours known as magical dresses.

They were designed with a mechanism that allowed magical power to flow directly into the fabric, causing the dresses to glow with various elemental attributes of earth, water, fire, and wind.

They also served to showcase the high level of magical power possessed by the wearer based on how brilliantly and steadily the gown continued to shine.

Though to me, it wasn’t all that pleasing to the eye.

After all, with my own light-attribute magic, I could produce the most radiant illumination of all. Besides, the cutting-edge designer dresses I had seen in other countries, born from fierce competition among top creators, struck me as vastly superior in sheer chic elegance.

Perhaps it was an ideological problem in our nation, where people blindly believed magic was supreme.

Yet pointing that out openly would hardly be fitting behavior for a Crown Prince.

As I idly gazed out at the lines of young ladies aiming for the seat of the Crown Princess… my eyes caught on a single young woman.

What in the world is she wearing?

She wasn’t wearing the nation’s customary magical dress.

Far from it—was the attire she wore not a masterpiece of the highest grade, one that would look out of place even if worn to a royal ball in a foreign country?

The rich sheen of that fabric… it was the highest-quality silk, dyed a deep crimson like a rose without the slightest drop in quality.

The young lady wearing it was breathtakingly, startlingly beautiful.

So much so that even from the long distance of this terrace, I could tell clearly.

Did a beauty like that even exist in this country?

If so, it wouldn’t make sense for her not to have been the subject of at least some rumors.

Damn it, even from the terrace I couldn’t make out her detailed features clearly…!

I wanted a closer look. The moment that thought crossed my mind, I couldn’t stay still a moment longer; I burst out of the waiting room and dashed down the stairs.