Changing The Course Of The Royal Succession

The next day.

The capital of the Polia Kingdom, Pullea, was in an uproar over unexpected news. Prince Ian, who had recently become the center of national attention, had been shot by someone. What made it even more shocking was that it happened in front of a massive crowd—there was no way to downplay the impact.

-“Prince Ian shot during a public briefing at the Central Plaza!”

-“The suspect has been captured, but they are strongly denying the act.”

-“The assassin identified as a junior baron? Said to have long harbored resentment toward Prince Ian.”

-“Prince Ian, targeted in an assassination attempt, has safely regained consciousness in the hospital. Thankfully, the bullet struck his shoulder.”

-“The royal family of Polia declares the attempt on Prince Ian’s life a direct challenge to the monarchy and vows to punish the culprit without fail.”

-“Princes speak out: ‘We will uncover the mastermind behind the assassination!’”

-“Some say the attack was orchestrated by forces threatened by Prince Ian’s rising achievements and influence.”

-“The incident has refocused attention on Prince Ian’s feats—developer of trench warfare, key figure in capturing battleships and defeating colonial fleets in the war against the Doicheun Empire, and recently famed for slaying a kraken.”

Pullea Central Hospital.

In a private room, little Charlotte sniffled quietly. Ian, seeing his younger sister in tears, tried to comfort her with a slightly helpless look.

“This brother of yours is fine now. No more tears.”

“But… you were shot, Brother…”

“It hit my shoulder, not my heart. It’s not life-threatening.”

“Still…”

“Charlotte, don’t cry. If you cry like that, I won’t be able to recover properly.”

“A-Alright, I won’t cry.”

Hearing that he might not heal well, she quickly wiped away her tears, and Ian felt a swell of emotion seeing her like that. So this was what it felt like to be worried over by family—it wasn’t such a bad feeling. But at the same time, he thought it wasn’t something he wanted to see too often.

‘Anyway, the matter is settled now.’

He had found a way to stay in the capital and resolve the issue of his engagement cleanly. That’s right—this whole assassination attempt had been orchestrated by Ian himself. It was an extreme measure, yes, but without such drastic action, he would have been backed into a corner.

‘Now, there won’t be anyone who can find fault with me.’

Granted, the only time he had now was for healing, but recovery from a gunshot wound would take at least a few months. It was enough time. Of course, it saddened him to see his mother and sister distressed by it all.

Once again, Ian saw his mother, who had requested special permission to visit. Her face was unusually dark. Wanting to reassure her, he spoke kindly.

“Mother, you really don’t need to worry so much. I’m completely fine.”

“Ian, can you stop now?”

“…Pardon? What do you mean?”

“Can’t you just live a normal life?”

“…What do you mean, exactly?”

“I’m just so worried about you. It feels like you’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately.”

“Me…?”

Ian looked at his mother, confused, but her gaze was filled with deep concern. Apparently, in her eyes, he was overextending himself.

‘Well, I have changed a lot. Attending parties often, surrounding myself with nobles… And now, this assassination attempt. She must think I’m building a faction.’

On reflection, he supposed her concern made sense. But that didn’t mean he intended to stop now. He had started this path—and he had to see it through. Besides, if he gave up now, Charlotte’s fate would be tragic.

“I’m not overdoing it, really.”

“But still…”

“I understand what you’re worried about. Even if I’m gaining fame, it may look reckless to you, right?”

“……”

She didn’t say anything, but her silence confirmed it. His fame might be rising, but in practical terms, it wasn’t yet enough to make real change. The nobles around him weren’t that strong, so from the outside, it looked like a fool’s errand.

“All I can ask is that you wait. I’ll make sure everyone can be happy.”

“All I want is for you to be happy.”

“And I am. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all be happy together? Ha ha ha.”

Emily couldn’t understand what made her son so confident. The assassination attempt had left her shaken—so much so that she felt like she might lose her son overnight. She sighed constantly.

‘I must ask my brother to help Ian.’

She resolved to send a letter seeking help. Though her family was a count family and not especially powerful, they could at least provide a stepping stone. Whether her brother would help or not was uncertain.

If it was just a regular matter, maybe. But if it involved succession to the throne, he might react unfavorably. Still, she had to try. For her beloved son, there was nothing she wouldn’t do.

To her, Ian was everything. The idea of him becoming despondent after realizing the harshness of reality—of giving up—was unbearable.

Of course, these thoughts only stemmed from her not truly knowing the real Ian. If she had even a hint of what he was really doing within the Polia Kingdom, she’d never have worried like this.

A few days passed.

‘So many visitors…’

As his fame grew, many came to see him. Most were saying the same thing: they were determined to find the mastermind behind the assassination attempt. Even his princely brothers, who rarely visited, were now coming forward.

Their remarks made it clear—they suspected each other. Likely, each brother thought someone had acted rashly and failed, and now everyone was hunting for the perpetrator.

‘They must think pinning the act on someone will eliminate a rival.’

But they wouldn’t find anything. Ian had orchestrated the whole thing—how could they find a mastermind that didn’t exist? Still, someone might fabricate a scapegoat to blame.

‘No way… would they really go that far?’

He didn’t think anyone would create a lie from nothing. But he underestimated human greed. When Ian saw the article in a newspaper a few days later, he couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

-“Rumors suggest the mastermind behind the March assassination attempt on Prince Ian is the Third Prince. A letter allegedly ordering the murder has been discovered.”

-“The Third Prince’s faction denies the accusation, calling the letter forged and entirely baseless.”

-“The First and Second Princes’ camps claim the evidence is legitimate and cite the Third Prince’s longstanding animosity toward Ian. The Fifth Prince has also stated the accusations are true.”

-“Public outrage mounts against the Third Prince. Forensic analysis reveals the letter’s handwriting matches the Third Prince’s exactly?! Accusations against him intensify even further.”

‘What is even going on anymore…?’

Suddenly, the wave of criticism turned toward the Third Prince. A letter? He had never written such a thing. It must have been fabricated by the First or Second Prince’s faction. Given that the handwriting was an exact match, it was clearly the work of a skilled professional.

‘So this is what happens when someone really goes all in on a setup.’

They had clearly prepared thoroughly for this. In other words, they were always ready to frame someone and push them into a crisis. It made Ian realize that politics was far trickier than it seemed.

‘They can fabricate false evidence about me anytime they want.’

It was something he would have to be extremely cautious about. If it were later proven false, the backlash could be significant. Still, even without any such forgeries, he knew how to turn false testimony into something that appeared real. Testimonies held surprising power when spoken by the right people.

‘Will the Third Prince back down like this?’

That sly silver-haired man—Ian was curious to see how flustered he looked. He was smart and would try to find a way out, but the situation seemed too difficult to escape. At worst, he might even consider rebellion.

But with the King still alive and well, no one would join such a rebellion—it lacked any justification. Five days later, the Third Prince abruptly surrendered.

Of course, he never admitted to the assassination attempt. He merely announced he would renounce his right to succession. This alone made it clear that the First and Second Princes had been negotiating something behind the scenes.

To think the Third Prince, known for his cleverness, would give up the throne so easily—perhaps it was to save his own life?

‘So now it’s down to two contenders?’

It had become a contest between the First and Second Princes. The Fifth Prince had hovered around occasionally, but he quickly vanished. For some reason, he suddenly left the capital. Perhaps someone gave him a firm warning, and he fled in fear.

‘All this upheaval triggered because of me, huh?’

While Ian lay still in bed recovering from a shoulder gunshot, the royal family had plunged into political chaos. It hadn’t even been two weeks since the incident began—proof of how quickly things could change.

‘If I’d been outside the kingdom, and the king had suddenly died, the situation would’ve exploded right then and there.’

He was glad the staged assassination had played out well. Though his shoulder still ached a bit, it had been worth it. Less than two weeks had passed, so the wound wasn’t fully healed yet. But doing nothing in the hospital had made his stay quite restful.

Time passed, and soon it was time to be discharged. The day he was admitted—March 1st—was nearly a month ago. Now it was March 29th.

Thankfully, the treatment had gone smoothly with no signs of infection.

“Captain, are you sure it’s okay to leave like this?”

His aide, who had come to see him off, spoke with concern. And no wonder—Ian had insisted on leaving through the hospital’s main entrance. A large crowd had gathered there. Once word of his discharge spread, people had begun to gather one by one until they filled the entire front of the hospital.

Some feared there might be another assassination attempt, but Ian felt no such worry. No one had a reason to kill him now, and even if someone tried, there was no reason for him to let it happen.

“Don’t worry so much. They’ve all come to see me—I can’t just disappoint them.”

He reassured his aide while acknowledging the officers and crew members who had arrived from his assigned ship to serve as his escort. Their presence filled him with confidence. He also exchanged farewells with the hospital staff.

“Saying ‘see you again’ might be awkward, so how about a meal together sometime?”

“Yes, I hope we can meet outside next time. Ha ha ha.”

Joking that seeing them again would mean getting hurt again, Ian shared a lighthearted goodbye with the hospital director before walking through the main entrance.

And what greeted him outside was a sea of people. The crowd had to be in the tens of thousands.

‘Once again, I realize my popularity isn’t a joke.’

Waaaaaaaah—!

“Prince Ian! Congratulations on your discharge!”

“Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Long live Prince Ian!”

“You look healthy—we’re so relieved!”

“Prince Ian! Over here, please look this way!”

Everyone was celebrating his recovery. Has there ever been a prince in the history of the Polia Kingdom this popular? Likely not. After all, none of the other princes had ever slain a kraken—a monster of myth.

‘At this point, I might as well be a celebrity.’

It felt strange but satisfying. All of them were fervent supporters. They would be the foundation upon which he could one day ascend the throne.

He raised his hand to show he was doing fine. His shoulder still hurt a bit, but that only made the crowd cheer louder—Waaaaaaaah! He waved as well. Reporters snapped away with their cameras.

By tomorrow, news of his discharge would be known throughout the kingdom.