En Travesti - I Became a Fake Prince - Chapter 1

Thump, thump.

Leticia didn’t raise her head, curled up despite the approaching footsteps.

Nobody would want to talk to her anyway. Even if it was a guard coming to drag her to the execution ground.

Since she was found alone without a scratch in the massive fire that consumed her family, she became a death row inmate without a trial.

It took only a moment for her to fall from a promising young actress to a murderer. Now, all that clung to her was infamy.

The culprit of the Borba Theater Great Fire.

The worst arsonist in the Herta Empire, and the youngest death row inmate.

At the age of 10, Leticia Borba gained the heaviest notoriety in the empire.

Tap.

The footsteps stopped in front of the prison bars where she was confined.

“Raise your head.”

As she lifted her head at the cold voice, a man was looking down at her.

He was a man so splendid that his very existence in this filthy prison seemed unreal.

The man whose eyes met hers clicked his tongue.

“Do you really think this filthy thing can substitute for the prince?”

Then the older woman behind the man answered.

“Your Majesty, this death row inmate is the only child with eyes the same color as the prince’s. We can’t send the real prince as a hostage, can we?”

“Of course not. Send my son to the land of barbarians? It’s obvious he’d die if he went unless I’m crazy…”

The man snapped sharply. Still not satisfied, he kicked the prison bars.

“Ah.”

Leticia lifted her head with a startled moan.

Two pairs of similar purple eyes met.

The Emperor commanded.

“Murderer of Borba, you shall become my son.”

It was arrogance as if everyone would willingly follow his orders.

But Leticia just asked blankly.

“…Why me?”

“Because otherwise, you’ll die tomorrow.”

Leticia blinked slowly at his threat.

Even if the man before her was the real Emperor, she wasn’t afraid.

Because she wanted to die.

“I don’t care.”

“…!”

“My father, my aunt, my brothers and sisters are all dead… What’s the point of me living?”

To Leticia, who was born an orphan, the Borba theater troupe was family. Leticia didn’t want to live in a world without them.

That’s why she didn’t resist even knowing she was falsely accused. She just wanted to die like this.

The Emperor was momentarily overwhelmed by the eyes of the girl who, despite her young age, sincerely wished for death, and was at a loss for words.

But soon he regained his composure and turned his head as if even that moment of confusion was shameful.

Then, towards the dirty prisoner locked in the cell, he muttered softly.

“Not everyone from the Borba troupe is dead.”

“…!”

Leticia raised her head abruptly.

“Even if they’re injured badly enough that death might be better, there are a few still alive.”

“W-who…”

The Emperor sneered at Leticia’s hopeful gaze.

“If they don’t receive proper treatment, they’ll all die soon enough.”

Leticia was young, but not foolish.

She realized that even if those caught in the terrible fire had survived, they wouldn’t be in good condition and that the Emperor saying this to her was both a threat and an offer.

“What do I need to do?”

“You’re not completely stupid. I thought you’d whine and beg to see the survivors.”

“You wouldn’t show me anyway.”

Leticia, who had been limp and lifeless, sat up straight, her eyes suddenly sharp. She looked up at the Emperor and spoke clearly.

“If I behave well, you’ll tell me who’s alive, right? If I behave even better, you might deliver a letter or two. And if you want to control me more surely, only then will you let me see them once.”

A pretty little girl with fluttering golden hair and soft white cheeks.

Leticia knew well how others saw her.

An innocent child.

Most of the roles she played were similar.

The innocent child of the protagonist, a baby angel comforting the protagonist, a young master ignorant of the world, and so on.

But how could a girl born an orphan be ignorant of the world and innocent?

Leticia only became weak and innocent in front of the members of the Borba troupe. Her family loved her even though they weren’t related by blood.

For those family members, Leticia could do anything.

“What do you want from me?”

She asked in a cold tone that didn’t match her childish voice.

“What should I do for the surviving members of the Borba troupe?”

The Emperor, who had expected a whining child, stroked his chin as if he had found something quite useful. Seeing that he wouldn’t need to threaten her further, he immediately stated his business.

“The land where the uncivilized barbarians live has demanded one of my children as a hostage.”

There was only one place in the empire that could be disparaged as “the land where barbarians live.”

The Grand Duchy of Basilinte.

Nominally part of the empire, but practically an independent kingdom.

It was a land so infamous within the empire that if a villain appeared in a play, they were almost always from the Grand Duchy of Basilinte.

Rumors said that the Grand Duke there had about three eyes and four arms.

“Hostage…”

“You will take the place of my youngest son as that hostage.”

He meant to switch the hostages. To make a death row inmate act as the prince.

Leticia muttered without realizing it.

“If we’re found out…”

“We won’t be. They won’t keep you alive long enough to find out.”

The Emperor was certain of the death of the one to be sent as a hostage.

Leticia asked.

“The hostage?”

“Yes. I made a secret agreement with that crazy Grand Duke. We agreed not to care what happens to the life of the prince sent as a hostage. There’s no way the Grand Duke who demanded such an agreement would keep the prince alive.”

The Grand Duke of Basilinte had the power to force such an agreement on the Emperor. Even 10-year-old Leticia knew the Grand Duke’s nicknames.

The White Devil. The Noble Mercenary, The Mad Wolf…

“So, you shall become my youngest son.”

The Emperor’s purple eyes darkened with anger and humiliation. As if it was shameful to entrust the role of his youngest son to a mere death row inmate.

“You said you didn’t want to live anyway. Whether you die in that barren Grand Duchy or on the execution stand, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

With the lives of the Borba troupe members at stake, Leticia had no choice.

“A life that will end anyway, die as a prince.”

From that day on, Leticia Borba became a fake prince. To die in place of the real prince.

The Emperor’s 8-year-old youngest son, Sion Herta.

And the first order given to her by the imperial family to imitate Prince Sion was starvation. Under the pretext that 10-year-old Leticia needed to look smaller to appear like a prince two years younger.

Despite the hunger that’s hard for a child to endure, Leticia persevered.

When she collapsed after starving for three days straight, she received the names of the surviving Borba troupe members as a reward for doing well.

“Sister Eiri and Brother Luka…”

Leticia smiled, savoring those names.

Perhaps if she continued to obey like this, they might let her see their faces once before she went to die as a hostage.

“I want to see them before I die.”