Chapter 9. The Resolve of a Professional Power Abuser (1)
Pwooom—!
A crystal bottle that looked expensive at a glance shattered in an instant.
No one had even touched it. It had just been sitting on the table. But a mass of water explosively fired from the palm of a hand struck it, and it was blown to pieces.
It was bewildering.
'W-What was that?'
All he had intended to do was release some water with his hand. He'd thought that if the water was discharged while riding on mana, it would just trickle out like tap water.
That was why he'd carefully prepared an empty bottle to catch it without spilling. But instead of not spilling, a full-on water bomb had gone off.
'Huh… is this for real?'
Even after causing it himself, he couldn't believe the result. Stunned, he could only look around the bedroom. It had become a complete mess. Water was everywhere.
With a water bomb of over eight liters exploding, the table had been shoved aside, and the floor and bed were soaked. Water had even splashed up onto the ceiling.
And it wasn't just water that had scattered.
"Ow!"
As Rakiel stepped back, he suddenly felt a sharp sting and reflexively pulled his foot back. A grain-of-rice-sized shard of crystal was embedded in the sole of his foot.
"Ah, damn."
The bottle had been shattered so thoroughly that crystal shards were everywhere. There wasn't a spot on the bedroom floor without them; the entire place glittered. A few fairly large chunks of debris had even lodged themselves slightly into the wall.
Seeing that made chills run down his spine. If he'd been hit by those shards, he would've been seriously injured. While thinking that, and wondering how on earth he was supposed to clean up this mess—
"Your Highness the Crown Prince!"
Bang—! Crash!
Two doors to the bedroom opened at the same time.
One was the small inner room door inside the bedroom. Sir Gardin rushed out, his face still heavy with sleep, looking frantic.
The other was the door leading out to the hallway.
"Your Highness! Are you unharmed?!"
More than ten royal guards poured into the bedroom. Every one of them wore a tense expression, ready to draw their swords at any moment.
But Sir Gardin, who had come out of the side room, and the guards who had rushed in—after taking in the disastrous state of the bedroom—ended up wearing the exact same expression.
"Huh?"
They must have heard something explode and come running.
A terrorist attack on the crown prince?
Or an assassination attempt?
They'd probably rushed over imagining some kind of urgent crisis.
But here the crown prince stood, perfectly fine, while the bedroom was a flooded wreck, glass shards scattered everywhere.
They couldn't possibly understand what had happened.
'What do I even say?'
For a moment, he felt awkward. It was like being caught doing something bad in secret. Telling the truth didn't feel right either.
'When I stretched out my hand, the water bomb stored in my circle got amplified and exploded like this. Sorry to startle you in the middle of the night when you're already working so hard, haha.'
…Saying that would be even weirder. He'd be treated like a lunatic.
After a brief moment of thought, he came up with a half-baked excuse.
"Uh, well. I got a little angry."
"…Pardon?"
The captain of the guards responded with a tense expression.
Rakiel gave an awkward smile and continued.
"In a fit of anger, I swung a bottle full of water and smashed it on the table."
"Your Highness?"
"That's why it ended up like this. Sorry."
"..."
The guards. Sir Gardin.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
Seeing that, regret immediately set in.
'Didn't work, huh. Tch. Even I think it's a pretty sloppy excuse.'
The crown prince suddenly throwing a tantrum in the middle of the night, swinging around a glass bottle and smashing it, leaving the bedroom in total chaos—it was an awkward, flimsy excuse even by his own standards.
'Tch. No way they believe this. They're not idiots. Then what am I supposed to say now—'
Just then—
The captain of the guards bowed his head.
"It's all right, Your Highness."
"…Huh?"
"Have you been injured anywhere?"
"Uh, aside from stepping on some glass, not really?"
"Please wait a moment. There are many shards over there, so we will escort you safely this way."
"Ah, um, sure."
He felt dazed.
It was because the captain of the guards had accepted his words far too easily.
'Why? How?'
He couldn't understand it.
Was it because he was the crown prince, a member of the royal family?
Or was there some other reason?
But he didn't have time to dwell on it.
The captain of the guards crunched over the glass shards in his boots, came over, and lifted him onto his back, then carried him to a safe area.
"This room is in disarray, so we will escort Your Highness to the second bedroom. Sir Gardin? Before we move, please tend to His Highness's foot first."
"Ah, yes."
After that, everyone grew busy.
The guards checked whether any dangers remained in the bedroom. Sir Gardin broke into a sweat as he removed the glass shard embedded in Rakiel's foot and applied medicine. During all that, Rakiel had to swallow down the doubts rising in his mind.
'Tch. No matter how I look at it, the excuse I gave was really sloppy.'
And yet, everyone seemed to believe it without the slightest suspicion. Was this what people meant by the convenience of being royalty?
'Well, I'll count myself lucky.'
Guided by the captain of the guards, he moved to the second bedroom. Lying on an unfamiliar bed, his eyes wide open, he tossed and turned for a long while, replaying what had happened earlier.
'That… what was it?'
The sensation from the moment he had detonated the water bomb fused with mana still lingered vividly in his palm.
No— it wasn't just his palm.
From the circle in his heart, through the surrounding blood vessels, the torrent of mana that raced through his shoulders and arms, the amplification, the explosion, the release—
It was a refreshing, exhilarating sensation, like something inside him had been blown wide open. It was a feeling he wanted to experience again if he ever got the chance.
"..."
For now, sleep.
At this rate, he'd cause another accident.
He forced his eyes shut.
He reminded himself that there were far more important matters at hand. That improving this damn body's constitution was far more urgent right now. Repeating that to himself, he drifted toward sleep.
And at the same time, he made plans.
A circle slot whose performance test was now complete. He thought, pondered, and planned how he would use it for his own treatment—until he finally fell asleep.
♣
The next day dawned.
As soon as he opened his eyes, he called for Sir Gardin.
"I'm going to brew a decoction. You know the drill, right? Clear out the kitchen like last time."
Once again, the status of royalty proved convenient.
With just an order, everything moved swiftly.
The setup for brewing the decoction was completed in no time. In the now-vacant kitchen, he brewed Mahwang Bujasesin-tang just like before. This time, however, the quantity was a bit larger than last time.
A bit larger.
Exactly ten liters.
After brewing it and dividing the Mahwang Bujasesin-tang into large bottles, he waited for it to cool, then spoke to Sir Gardin.
"Sir Gardin? Could you step outside for a moment?"
"Pardon, Your Highness?"
"I said, wait outside the kitchen for a bit."
"Um, b-but Your Highness?"
Sir Gardin had been fidgeting the entire time Rakiel brewed the decoction, radiating anxiety and unease.
He looked like a parent who had left a small child by the water's edge. Or like someone who suddenly remembered, mid-haircut, that they'd left the gas stove on at home.
"Your Highness. I hesitate to say this, but—"
"If you hesitate, then don't."
"B-but—"
"It'll only be a moment. I've got something to do on my own."
He was about to one-shot ten liters of Mahwang Bujasesin-tang. If Sir Gardin saw that, he'd surely faint from shock.
"But Your Highness. I am deeply worried."
"Hmm, is it this?"
He pointed at the bottles filled with Mahwang Bujasesin-tang.
Sir Gardin nodded.
"Last time as well, after drinking that, didn't you suffer greatly?"
"That time, I just choked on it."
"But this time you brewed far more than before, so it's a bit…"
"So that's what you're worried about?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"It's fine. I brewed a lot because there's something I want to test. I'll just drink a little and throw the rest away."
He pointed toward the drain in one corner of the kitchen. Only then did Sir Gardin's expression relax a little.
"I-is that so?"
"Of course. Do you really think I'd drink all of this?"
"Indeed. Naturally, that must be it. Common sense would say no person could drink all that…"
"Right. It'd be ridiculous."
"Yes. Only some empty-headed fool would do something so ignorant."
"..."
"Your Highness?"
"Get out!"
He forcibly chased out the startled Sir Gardin.
After locking the kitchen door, he picked up a bottle.
The Mahwang Bujasesin-tang sloshed inside.
He tilted it back and gulped it straight down.
Gulp, gulp—one liter, two liters, five liters—until finally, all ten liters were gone.
"...Khaaah. Ghk."
The Mahwang Bujasesin-tang filled the circle slot to the brim.
And from that moment on—
Little by little.
All day long, in tiny amounts.
At every opportunity, he opened the circle slot. He injected a precise dose of Mahwang Bujasesin-tang into his body, like a custom IV drip running twenty-four hours a day.
The effect was immediate.
Ding-dong!
[Your heart rejoices.]
[Your lungs dance.]
[Your large intestine skips rope with its sphincter.]
[Your heart has sponsored 100 HP.]
[Your lungs have sponsored 200 HP.]
[Your large intestine has sponsored 100 HP.]
[Current HP: 500]
His activated internal organs cheered in unison and donated HP. But Rakiel was not satisfied.
'My life expectancy has to increase.'
Only then could he say the effect was real.
He continued to cycle the circle slot.
Not a drop too little.
Never too much.
He administered the Mahwang Bujasesin-tang with meticulous care.
In the meantime, his internal organs suffered an unexpected ordeal.
[Your heart grumbles.]
[Your lungs grumble.]
[Your large intestine grumbles.]
[Your internal organs are sick of Mahwang Bujasesin-tang.]
At first, such messages appeared only occasionally.
Later, the grumbling turned blatant, and their conversations even started appearing as messages.
[Heart: Hey, kid. What's today's side dish?]
[Large Intestine: Mahwang Bujasesin-tang, sir.]
[Heart: Then what about tomorrow morning?]
[Large Intestine: Mahwang Bujasesin-tang, sir.]
[Heart: ...]
[Large Intestine: Looks like dinner tomorrow will be Mahwang Bujasesin-tang too, sir.]
[Heart: And you're happy about that?]
[Large Intestine: Hehe.]
[Heart: ...Get your head on the ground.]
But Rakiel didn't give in to his organs' complaints about the menu. If anything, he rotated the circle slot even more carefully and thoroughly. Five days passed, then ten, then fifteen—and finally, the message he'd been waiting for appeared.
Ding-dong!
[Your estimated life expectancy has increased by (+) 50 days.]
[Estimated life expectancy: 133 days]
"…Yes!"
It happened just as he was about to eat dessert after dinner. The welcome message appeared without warning.
Unable to contain his joy, Rakiel threw his arms up in triumph. Perhaps the shout was too sudden—because the maid attending the meal was startled.
"Ah!"
A panicked cry.
Startled, the maid dropped the glass she had been about to place on the table.
Crash!
The glass shattered.
Honey water spilled across the floor.
"Ah…"
Rakiel froze. Because he'd suddenly shouted, the maid had been startled into making a mistake. He felt a pang of guilt. He was about to ask if she was all right.
But before he could speak, the maid reacted first.
"...I-I beg your pardon, Your Highness!"
The maid's face went deathly pale as she threw herself flat on the floor. Her shoulders trembled like aspen leaves.
It was strange.
'What's this? It's just a broken glass. Is that really something to apologize for like it's a capital crime?'
Was it simply respect and fear toward royalty? Even so, the terror she showed seemed excessive.
Frowning in confusion, he reached out his hand.
To say it was all right.
To tell her it was nothing.
He meant to reassure her.
But for some reason, his attempt at comfort only made the maid grow even paler. Cold sweat poured down her face.
"I-I was at fault. I will make sure this never happens again, Your Highness. So please—please, just not the caning like last time…"
She pleaded as if begging the worst kind of tyrant.
A near-tearful appeal.
Hearing that, Rakiel flinched.