It was transmitted to the main body alongside everything it had perceived.
Area 1009 — Room of the Ninth Prince, Halkenburg.
"You... you guys?!"
The Ninth Prince sat on his bed, staring at the scene before him in disbelief, and instinctively rubbed his eyes.
But even when he opened them again, nothing had changed. The unease in his chest grew, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Are you... human or ghost?!"
His voice was dry and hoarse.
It wasn't an overreaction. Standing right in front of him were all the guards who had died just hours earlier—restored to life and standing as if nothing had happened!
Even Halkenburg, who had endured the vicious undercurrents of political warfare, who had seen bloodshed and betrayal firsthand, could hardly believe this surreal reversal.
"Of course we're human?"
The soldier who responded was one of Halkenburg's most loyal subordinates. Hearing such a question from the prince, he looked confused.
But seeing Halkenburg's dazed expression, he quickly added, "Your Highness, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"
"A dream? That was a dream?"
The Ninth Prince furrowed his brow, trying to recall the vivid memories that lingered like fog.
"But if it was a dream, it felt way too real..."
He pressed a hand to his forehead.
And that was when he noticed something strange.
"...What the...?"
A single feather had appeared on his wrist.
It hadn't been there before. It was unnaturally pristine, yet it seemed to be connected to his own blood, almost pulsing faintly in sync with his heartbeat.
Halkenburg stared at it silently. Whatever that vision had been—dream or not—something beyond his comprehension had indeed occurred.
As the prince sank into thought, the particle clone on his shoulder glanced at the one-eyed bull-like beast that had appeared and silently concealed it once more.
...
A roar came from the room next door, making the door marked 1008 rattle on its hinges.
"Salé! Are you done yet?!"
Salé-salé flinched, nearly choking on his breath.
He was lying on a soft bed, his heavy makeup smeared, naked, with two beautiful women trembling beside him. They'd barely made it through a drunken haze when the Fifth Queen—his furious mother—stormed in with her bodyguards.
Even the gas pinball beast perched on his head had vanished, seemingly out of fright.
"M-Mom... I..."
The Fifth Queen stood there, glaring at the chaotic scene, her rage boiling.
"Remember this! You are the only prince from the Fifth Queen's family! Even the Ninth Prince, younger than you, is already working to govern and prepare—what about you?!"
She was livid, resembling a more irate version of the Eighth Prince.
Honestly, looking at the absurd mother-and-son duo, one could easily believe Salé-salé was the product of a drunken mistake—twice-cooked pork that never quite got done.
The children of Nasubi Hui Guo Rou weren't exactly stunning, but they had their own charm. The princes were well-mannered, some even handsome. But two stood out as particularly unfortunate: the Sixth Prince Tyson, and the Eighth Prince, Salé-salé.
Even the Third Prince, Zhang Lei—a bald monk—and the Fifth Prince Tubeppa, who had a double chin and a long, thin head, had their own kind of appeal.
But Tyson and Salé-salé seemed to have inherited every unfortunate feature the Kakin royal family had to offer—without any of the redeeming ones.
"Mom... I got it," Salé-salé said, scratching his big head and laughing awkwardly.
At the same time, he casually pulled the two trembling women back into his arms.
"You don't got anything!!"
The Fifth Queen's anger flared again.
"This succession war is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I'm backing you with everything I have! But if you keep messing around like this, you'll be the first one eliminated!"
She was trying her best to reason with him, but Salé-salé wasn't listening.
Once he calmed down and slipped back into his usual flippant mood, he hugged the women tighter and replied lazily:
"Mom, trust me a little, okay? I'm your son, after all."
"...Huh? So you actually have a plan?"
"Of course I do!" Salé-salé puffed out his pale chest, full of confidence. "Just wait and see—the world will be changed at the next dinner party!!"
The world will be changed...
The Fifth Queen almost burst out laughing.
She knew better than anyone what kind of fool she'd raised.
He was a hopeless case—a hedonist who only knew how to enjoy himself. He hadn't inherited any of her sharp mind or his father's cunning. All he had were delusions of grandeur and a big mouth to match.
His bragging was the only thing that had improved lately.
Looking around the messy room—empty wine bottles, scattered clothes, and all sorts of daily debris—she could only sigh.
"Fine. Since you claim to know what you're doing, I won't interfere—for now. I hope things go the way you imagine."
"Of course, Mom! Just you wait!"
Even the particle clone who'd come to observe the situation found it funny.
"This guy... his heart is way too light~"
...
While the Eighth Prince Salé-salé was living in blissful ignorance, the rest of the princes were tense, burdened by the pressure of the succession war.
Only the Seventh Prince seemed to operate on a completely different wavelength...
...
In Room 1007, Prince Luzurus let out a slow exhale of white smoke.
It curled upward, lazy and dreamy, as he floated in midair with a satisfied grin.
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Fanfic is completed on patreon.com/FanficsHub (799 chapters in total)