Chapter 22

“So, I became a d*ldo?”

So the trigger for this absurd situation was just that? He sat on the bed and asked,

“Funny. So what’s the price?”

“Your memory.”

“Take it.”

“The memories held by the name George.”

Only then did his face show emotion. With a cold voice, he refused without hesitation.

“That won’t do.”

“I thought so too.”

“What?”

She said the price was memory, but now agreed that it couldn’t be taken. What kind of twisted logic was that? As he looked at her as if she were crazy, the witch explained.

“I usually grant wishes in exchange for intense human emotions. New feelings, or those that might fuel me.”

So what?

“But what I was supposed to take from you was ‘new memories.’”

Literally, the memories of the life she’d changed.

“So.”

What did that have to do with her change of heart? As he looked at her askance, the witch continued.

She planned to grant his wish and take his memories a month later. More precisely, the emotions he’d feel as a tool, just as he wanted. The feelings of a powerless prince were predictable. They wouldn’t be much different from before. He’d lived as a tool, and now would live as a tool again. The emotions she targeted were the stale ones he already had.

In short, the wish was just a pretext.

But her prediction was off.

“I wanted to be needed?”

He wanted to become someone needed by another. He’d lost meaning, conformed to life, and now sought meaning again. Probably… since the moment he was given the name ‘George.’ A simple tool had found a sense of self again.

And her prediction was off again.

“…There’s a problem. The feelings you experienced were different from what I expected.”

“…”

“When I take the memories, those feelings will disappear, and they won’t serve as payment… So I can’t take those memories.”

“How can you be sure?”

“What?”

“That the memories and feelings will disappear together.”

George nitpicked a different part.

“It sounds like you’re asking me to take the memory.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“I have no intention of taking it. …It seems remembering is more painful.”

The witch muttered, “That’s right, exactly,” and spoke.

“So I’d like to propose a different price.”

“Say it.”

This time, George was cooperative.

“The feelings you’ll have when your memory returns. I’ll take those as payment.”

“That’s all?”

It wasn’t a price he’d lose out on. It was as if luck was on his side. The witch shrugged, and George agreed.

“All right.”

“Then I’ll consider the contract safely amended.”

Magic was less visually dramatic than expected. In other words, as soon as the witch spoke, he became Dieldo Edem Kate Otranie, the Prince with restored memories. It happened in the blink of an eye.

Instead, the emotions that poured in were like a wild storm.

* * *

“It’s time for you to play your role.”

The tragedy of Dieldo Edem Kate Otranie began with that one phrase.

Until the not-quite-proclamation, Dieldo’s life was simply ‘Second Prince.’ A comfortable position, free from the struggle for the throne. He’d never wanted more. Dieldo liked being a Prince, and above all, he had an exceptionally talented brother. Also… being the child the King rejected from the start meant he never had a chance.

After his wife died giving birth to Dieldo, the King ignored him. Only the Crown Prince was treated as a child. The only time the King paid attention to Dieldo was when he was drunk.

“I know it’s not your fault. But every time I see you, I think of your mother.”

“…”

“If I’d had the chance… If I did, I’d have chosen your mother over you.”

What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Seventeen-year-old Dieldo thought.

When he was younger, he’d cry and beg, “I’m sorry,” but after hearing it over and over, he changed. Maybe it was after the King, acting like a legendary lover, started chasing after women of all kinds. At seven, he’d wonder, “When will he send me some tart?” At eleven, “So what does he want?” And at fifteen, he’d finally think, “Was it my choice to be born?”

Of course, that was just his inner thoughts; in front of the King, he pretended to be a meek lamb.

Because he was a Prince. To enjoy a Prince’s life.

It was a kind of survival instinct.

That didn’t mean his childhood was miserable. He was just invisible to his family, but as a ‘Prince,’ he had attendants, and none dared treat him like a street orphan—no starving, beating, or ignoring him.

He had a nanny, maids, and royal etiquette teachers.

Young Dieldo especially liked his etiquette teacher. She was strict, but talked with him the most and taught him his worth.

“Your Highness, you have value as a Prince. So you must be properly educated to keep your place.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“That is why you exist, Your Highness.”

He met her at ten and studied under her until fifteen. He learned from her how to eat elegantly, speak and smile like a noble. He also learned how to kiss, share tongues, and soothe loneliness.

One day, Dieldo asked,

“Teacher, what does this mean?”

It was during a kiss. He later learned she was a widow, fourteen years older, who’d lost her husband in an accident.

“Did you know? This soothes loneliness, Your Highness.”

B*llshit… Seventeen-year-old Dieldo thought whenever he recalled that day.

It was a messed-up act, and the fact that he copied it was a messed-up ending, but he took comfort in not becoming the worst kind of person who’d say, “I’m having s*x with you because my childhood was crap and I’m just lonely.”

Anyway, the etiquette teacher was caught having an affair with an attendant in the palace and dismissed by the Crown Prince. She was exiled to the countryside, but he didn’t care enough to know more.

Still, he was grateful to her for one thing. Thanks to her, even when he felt angry, he could avoid rebelling against the King. Every time his father said, “If I’d had the chance… I’d have chosen your mother over you,” he remembered her teaching—“Your Highness, you have value as a Prince”—and preserved his only worth.

Because he was a Prince. To enjoy a Prince’s life.

That’s how he managed to live as a Prince.

Back to the present, Dieldo was also the ignored younger brother. His only brother, for the same reasons as their father, hated him. For young Dieldo, that was painful. As he grew, he understood that his brother was just young then… but back then, it hurt.

Well, that’s the past.

Of course, even as adults, his brother ignored him. Then, it wasn’t because he’d made him lose their mother, but because Dieldo was worthless. A royal out of favor was a failure, or just worthless.

“Do you even know where your privileges come from? Pathetic. You don’t even realize you’re royalty.”

What does it matter? I’m a failure—did I ever get anything from you?… thought seventeen-year-old Dieldo.

He knew he was a failure. At ten, he’d been bold enough to kiss a teacher whose name he couldn’t remember, and by then was deep in a libertine lifestyle, leaving the palace to fill a void he couldn’t name. But in the end, that emptiness just became his constant companion.

Nobles would look at the libertine and say the Crown Prince was a model, and his position grew stronger every day. It was natural for the exemplary brother to hate the libertine brother.

So when his brother invited him to a meal, Dieldo was surprised. So much so that he asked, “What drugs are you on?” and got a look of contempt.

Thus, at nineteen, Dieldo was told at his first meal with his brother, “It’s time for you to play your role.”

My role…? When he heard that, Dieldo was a bit stunned. He hadn’t even started drugs yet.

‘Wasn’t living and dying as a libertine my role?’

He stood there, thinking, and his brother explained, as if humoring him one last time.

“After the coming-of-age ceremony, there will be a royal marriage. The partner will be a noble or royal from another country.”

“Okay, congratulations. So what’s my role?”

Twenty-two… His brother’s coming-of-age ceremony was soon. That guy was due to get married. They were barely more than strangers in passing, but Dieldo was willing to bring a partner. However.

“Marriage.”

“Marriage?”

“Yes. The royal marriage will be for you, Dieldo. You’ll go to the country where your bride lives.”

That was probably the first time he met his brother’s eyes. The man who always passed by as if he didn’t exist, locked eyes with him, those same blue eyes.

“Dieldo, you need to do your duty as a Prince now.”

‘That’s your value. The only value you’ve preserved is this.’

Dieldo, who had wandered the palace unable to find his place, discovered for the first time in nineteen years the reason for his existence, but it was never something to be happy about.

Rather, it was miserable.

If words didn’t work, it was a physical fight. The only consolation was that the royal marriage partner hadn’t yet been decided. The Crown Prince was still sorting the list, and it would take time. Dieldo decided to use that time to devalue himself as a marriage candidate.

Nothing new. He lived as he always had, except now every move was covered by the media. He became an anonymous sponsor of Dustane Company, who published provocative articles: ‘This guy is trash. This guy is a disgrace.’ Those crazy people took bribes and went even wilder. Of course, their wild stories eventually reached the Crown Prince.

“Is this what you call journalism? How vulgar.”

The Crown Prince was furious. He tried to uproot those lunatics, but the nobles protested, not wanting their entertainment taken away. The crackdown only fueled the dirty rumors and backfired.

So Dieldo became the official scoundrel. He was branded, but with a ruined life, he had no regrets. He thought the deeper he sank into the mud, the more fitting the label became. To them, the Prince was just a tool, so he was determined to become a broken tool.

As things reached their worst, the Crown Prince summoned his brother again.

“Your marriage partner is decided. The Imperial Princess of Cadis. We’ll send a proposal, but she won’t care about being the first husband, so she’ll accept. Still, it’s your marriage, so I’m letting you know in advance.”

It was a warning that nothing he did would change the outcome.

Dismissed, Dieldo left the office. Petricks, not knowing what had been discussed, suggested he refrain from going out from now on, but Dieldo just walked to his room without answering.

“I’ll be alone today. Leave.”

He didn’t even have the energy to get angry. Or maybe he didn’t know how. He lived crookedly, but never learned how to rebel properly. How could he get angry at someone who treated him as if he didn’t exist? He felt pathetic.

And on the day he felt utterly powerless, the witch appeared.

“Would you like to make a deal with me, Prince?”