The Awakening

When Electro was around twenty-two years old, his mother, the Empress, passed away from illness.

She had never been a woman of deep affection, but neither was she the type to turn her back on her own son.

Born as the legitimate son of the Empress and crowned Crown Prince at a young age, Electro was surrounded by enemies. They were hyenas, waiting for him to make even the slightest mistake.

His mother often advised him.

“No matter how precarious the situation, you must never show it. Hide your expression and guard your words. From now on, everyone in the palace will be divided into allies and enemies, and they will act solely for their own gain, regardless of whether you are good or evil.”

It wasn’t the kind of conversation typical between a mother and son, but then again, Electro and his mother were never an ordinary, harmonious pair.

Perhaps thanks to that advice, when Electro opened his eyes in Merwell’s body, though he was highly disoriented, he kept his mouth shut to assess the situation first. He gathered information from Chelen, whom he had met first, and spied around his surroundings.

“I’d have no complaints if I could just smoke a cigarette in peace.”

Merwell muttered gloomily as he sat in a secluded corner he had found, fumbling in his pockets.

He finally got a cigarette between his lips and raised a match to ignite it when Eddie came rushing over from nowhere. Merwell had been hiding, but Eddie found him like a bloodhound.

Whether it was due to a growing fondness or because he liked the changed Merwell, Eddie was among the friendliest toward him. Actually, it wasn’t just ordinary friendliness.

“Eddie, you’ve got a dog’s nose,” Merwell said with a mix of admiration and annoyance.

“You! I told you not to smoke!”

Eddie yelled and snatched the cigarette from Merwell’s mouth. In an instant, Merwell’s cigarette was stolen, and his expression looked as if he had lost everything. Even when the empire had faced a poor harvest during his reign, he hadn’t felt this despairing.

“Ha… but it’s a habit I’ve had for over half a century…”

“Half a century, my ass.”

“Can’t I just smoke this once and then quit? Give it to me, kiddo.”

“…You crazy bastard, calling me ‘kiddo’? No way.”

Merwell had once successfully snatched a cigarette from a dazed Eddie’s hand after calling him ‘kiddo,’ but Eddie wasn’t about to fall for it twice. Merwell let out a mock whimper, but Eddie didn’t give in.

Eddie sneered at the twenty-two-year-old Merwell’s muttering about wanting to smoke out of habit, then snapped the cigarette in two and tossed it out the window.

“I told you, if you get caught smoking, you die, didn’t I?”

“…”

For a while, rumors had circulated that Emperor Electro Chaman had died from lung problems caused by his heavy smoking habit. Because of that, Grand Duke Berlowen had supposedly developed a pathological hatred of cigarettes, even going so far as to brutally tear apart a knight who was caught smoking in the grand duchy.

It was said that the Grand Duke, drenched in blood, had growled that if he saw anyone smoking, he would tear off their limbs and cut out their tongue—a truly terrifying sight.

Well, tsk. Of course, it might have had some effect, but I lived a full life and closed my eyes naturally. I don’t know how much longer that boy wanted me to live.

“If you’ve eaten a hundred years’ worth of rice, that’s plenty. Why spread false rumors about dying from cigarettes?”

Clicking his tongue, Merwell stroked his chin and stood up.

About another half month passed. Electro was gradually bridging the gap between his past self, the supreme emperor, and Merwell, the common orphan.

He had grown somewhat accustomed to the bland meals, and he could now fall asleep on the shabby bed after just a few tosses and turns. Most importantly, he had developed some tolerance for the grueling knight training.

Merwell had once attempted to escape from the unproductive training volume and the instructor’s hellish commands, only to be caught and lectured in one spot for over two hours.

It wasn’t like he’d accidentally erased a village from the map; being lectured was a novel experience he hadn’t faced since his prince days. Of course, it was only novel for the first thirty minutes. After an hour, his back ached and he grew restless.

The instructor was a man in his forties with no left foot. He claimed he had lost it fighting a monster over five meters tall, but according to rumors, he was just stupid enough to step on a landmine.

While adapting to Merwell’s body, Electro did not neglect gathering information. He collected all the intelligence he could on Grand Duke Berlowen within his limited ability.

He stood at a crossroads: should he trust Bain and reveal his condition, or not? While hesitating, he learned two things: first, Bain was not currently in the grand ducal castle; second, smoking was absolutely forbidden anywhere on the estate while the Grand Duke was in residence.

“Merwell.”

A man with plain brown hair and a giant X-shaped scar on his face—Jex—was Eddie’s drinking buddy. When Merwell had asked how he got the scar, Jex had laughed heartily and said his girlfriend, a fellow mercenary, caught him cheating and gave him this.

The guy was pretty close with Eddie and was thirty-two years old. Like Merwell, he was a commoner and an orphan from a remote region, but having been born with a large frame, Jex could wield a massive longsword with one hand without trouble—a world of difference from Merwell’s frail physique despite his physical training.

Looking at Jex, who was muscular everywhere from his pectorals to his forearms, Merwell said, “Impressive muscles as always.”

“Hahaha, this guy’s really funny,” Jex said jestfully. “If you were this funny before, why didn’t you talk more?”

Merwell hadn’t intended to be funny, so he simply plopped down in a corner of the training ground.

This damn training was so mentally draining and physically exhausting that it made Electro seriously wonder if he might die all over again.

Even when he had sentenced his beloved nephew to death for treason and personally cut off his dear brother’s head, it hadn’t felt this hard.

“Anyway, be careful today,” Jex said with a mischievous grin.

Merwell, tired just thinking about training, wiped his sweat and turned his head.

He recalled how, back in his crown prince days, he had admired knights and asked his mother to teach him swordsmanship, only to be coldly rejected. Lost in old memories, Merwell replied to Jex’s vague warning.

“About what?”

“That bunch over there… they seem to be in a pretty bad mood today.”

Jex gestured with his chin toward a group glaring at Merwell with contempt. They were the ones who had bullied the previous Merwell. Electro dismissed it, thinking, ‘How bad can kids’ bullying be?’

Jex warned him a couple more times to be careful and then left. Jex had a surprising knack for knowing all sorts of incidents within the grand duchy.

He also had a loose tongue, so whenever Merwell traced the source of a rumor, Jex’s name often came up. But as they say, there’s no smoke without fire—most of the rumors he spread had some basis.

‘There’s no harm in being careful, as he said.’

Electro narrowed his eyes as he looked at the ominous group.

After training, Merwell went to his room and pulled a small notebook from a drawer. It was the diary he had found in Merwell’s room last week.

Merwell was a commoner but could write; the diary was penned in a fairly neat cursive. It mainly detailed how he had luckily drifted into the grand duchy, completed four years as a trainee, and finally joined the knight order.

Electro was investigating why he had awakened in Merwell’s body, but the diary was so ordinary that it offered no clues at all.

Giving up, Merwell closed the diary and sat on the bed, closing his eyes. The old bed creaked noisily.

The biggest question was how long he would remain in this body. Electro did not think he would stay long.

All living things die eventually, and if reincarnation is allowed, they are reborn. Though the emperor was God’s vicar on earth, he was still human—a mortal who could grow old, fall ill, and die.

Electro had little greed for life. He had already lived long and achieved feats others could only dream of.

He wasn’t a saintly ruler, but he prided himself that during his reign, the empire enjoyed vast territories and a glory that would be remembered in history. If he closed his eyes and passed on to the afterlife like this, he could reflect that his life had been perfect.

“But more than that, why did this guy live so uninterestingly?”

The diary was mostly filled with training stories, occasionally showing a desire to get along with his comrades. It turned out the rumors were true: because he had joined on a fluke rather than through actual skill, his comrades gave him the cold shoulder. Indeed, whenever Merwell walked by, he received sharp glares.

Knock, knock— click.

Good thing he had locked the door, because someone tried to enter without permission. Assuming it was one of Eddie, Jex, or Chelen, Electro put down the diary and said, “It’s late. Come back another time.”

“I have something to say, Merwell.”

The voice was familiar yet unfamiliar. It wasn’t Eddie, and it certainly wasn’t a woman’s voice. Wondering who it was, he opened the door. A man with a nasty grin strode into the room.

He was the largest and most vicious-looking among the group Jex had warned him about. Even to Electro, he didn’t seem like good news. The man stepped forward, grabbed Merwell’s chin, and said, “This time, suck it properly. I’m in a f*cking bad mood.”

“…?”

Electro met the eyes of the jeering man who tugged his chin without care, his brow furrowing. He knew that Merwell had been picked on and bullied by the nasty lot, but he hadn’t expected them to invade his private space so boldly.

“If you refuse like last time, you know you’ll get beaten again.”

“…Huh?”

What in the world was this nonsense?

Merwell narrowed his brow and reached out to push the man away. He thought he recalled the guy’s name, but couldn’t remember it clearly.

This was definitely the one both Eddie and Jex had warned him about. He was skilled but had a terrible temper and had caused trouble several times. While Merwell hesitated, trying to remember his name, the man started unbuckling his belt in front of him.

Merwell’s eyes went wide in momentary incomprehension. He had seen a baby’s privates, but why the hell was he seeing a stranger’s?

“What’s this? Did you come to show me a trick?”

“…?”

The man also failed to grasp Merwell’s question and scowled fiercely, then raised a rough hand to strike Merwell’s cheek. Or rather, he tried to.

Before the man could raise his hand, Merwell—whose delicate, refined face had twisted into a smile—picked up the flowerpot beside him quicker than the thug could react. He now roughly understood the situation.

‘This poor kid, Merwell Humanjack. There’s only one reason a man drops his pants in front of someone.’

“You little brat…”

And Merwell, with no mercy whatsoever, smashed the half-crouched thug—who was busy unbuckling his belt—square on the head with the flowerpot.