The Cat Who Weeps in the Dark - Chapter 94

Anaka was right.

“Good heavens. This is absurd.”

Zrot’s eyes widened as he glanced around. The Empire’s outskirts had been the embodiment of poverty and ruin.

But the capital was different. Every street was as clean as those inside the royal palace. Around the central square with its fountain, shops lined up—so dazzling they made one’s head spin.

The people who had come to see the envoy delegation were all finely dressed. The nobles, of course, but even the commoners’ clothes were the same.

In the Kingdom, many children had no clothes and wandered bare. They barely covered themselves with scraps of cloth, dressed in rags. Compared to them, the commoners here might as well have been nobles.

“Not a single child starving on the streets. Truly unbelievable.”

“That’s not the point now. It’s daytime, yet the shops have their lights on. Just how much surplus do they have to afford this?”

“Everyone, quiet. Too many people are gathering.”

Only after Anaka’s warning did Zrot close his gaping mouth. The other knights did the same, fixing their dazed expressions and forcing sternness into their eyes.

Anaka scanned the wealthy attire of the Empire’s citizens. His mood darkened rapidly.

‘If only the alliance had succeeded ten years ago…’

What he saw now might have been the future the Kingdom could have shared. A decade ago, the Kingdom had been lacking, but not yet this ruined. The war had destroyed everything.

Yet Anaka didn’t blame the Empire. There was no point. The ones who had brought the Kingdom to this state were its own incompetent leaders. His father, Ahyul, chief among them.

The Kingdom was a rotten tree. Nothing new could grow from decay. The roots had to be torn out, and new seeds planted.

Anaka wanted to be that new seed. And if that was possible, he was ready to endure any bloodshed.

“Anaka. The welcoming party is coming.”

Anaka set aside his thoughts, pushing them to the back of his mind. Leaning his arm on the window, he stuck his head out—making Zrot grimace in dismay.

“You can’t possibly be planning to receive the welcoming party sitting like that?”

“Literally, they’re here to welcome me. Do I really need to go out? Tell them my legs hurt from the long journey, so I can’t come out.”

“Absolutely not. This isn’t just any welcoming party. What on earth were they thinking sending that guy here?”

Zrot let out a deep sigh. Anaka stole glances at the expressions of him and the other warriors. Everyone looked grim.

Just from the atmosphere, it was obvious. That bastard had come.

“The Emperor truly is something. To include his own son in the welcoming party. I guess he’s really hated, huh?”

“As much as I’d like to tell you to stay inside, just as the Emperor intended… Well, as you said earlier, there are too many eyes watching. Let’s save the humiliation for later.”

When Anaka closed the window, Zrot’s voice rang out from outside—”I said come out!”—as if he assumed, like always, that Anaka was ignoring him and hiding. But Anaka had only closed the window to open the door.

“So impatient. Can’t even wait a moment before shouting?”

“Well, given your track record, can you blame me?!”

Ignoring Zrot’s outburst, Anaka stood straight. The welcoming party was drawing closer. At the very front was the Empire’s First Prince.

Jet-black hair streamed back with the horse’s movement, revealing a broad forehead and a strong, prominent nose.

The man wore a military uniform—black, embroidered with a golden sun motif over his left b****t, where the heart lay.

But more dazzling than the embroidery were his eyes. Anyone who saw them would have no choice but to acknowledge it.

He was born to be Emperor.

Those sun-like eyes burned into whoever met his gaze. Just as mortals cannot stare directly at the sun, most people instinctively bowed their heads before him.

This was precisely why the Emperor feared him. Born before Damian, born superior—Helion was fated to die.

“You’ve had a long journey. You must be tired.”

Helion stood with the sun at his back, its harsh light pouring over him. Anaka widened his eyes, refusing to be outshone. He must’ve looked ridiculous, but it didn’t matter—everyone else had already lowered their heads.

Then Zrot jabbed him in the ribs. With his head still bowed, he mouthed.

“Bow.”

[“What are you doing? You should respond.”]

Anaka shook his head. Zrot, who had let out what must have been his hundredth sigh of the day, spoke instead.

[“We greet the rising sun. As you said, the journey was long, but the thought of arriving in the Empire lightened our hearts, so it was no hardship.”]

[“What nonsense are you spouting? ‘You must be tired’ was directed at me.”]

[“…Huh?”]