MPSN Ch 6

Chapter 6

The royal palace was breathtakingly beautiful.

‘Feels like I’m on a free trip to Europe.’

It didn’t exactly resemble Rococo or Byzantine styles, yet it felt like an exquisite fusion of various European castles.

For the past month, Nikiel’s world had been confined to his room, the small front yard, and the garden where he exercised daily. Now, walking through the corridor toward the king, he found himself honestly marveling at the brilliant sunlight pouring in.

“What’s that?”

“Lighting made of ore, Your Highness.”

The corridor was far too evenly bright to be illuminated solely by sunlight. As he looked around, he noticed light fixtures lined up along the corridor. When Nikiel asked Paul about them, he explained that they were lamps made of ore imbued with natural luminescence. Some ores emitted colored light, while others were colorless; among them, the milky-white ores were traded at the highest price.

The ores lining the royal corridor were all milky-white. Come to think of it, Nikiel vaguely recalled seeing similar ones in his own room. He had probably failed to notice them earlier because he had been too preoccupied with thoughts like, “I need to get this wreck of a body back in shape.”

It was while he was lost in such thoughts and continuing down the hall that his eyes caught a grand door, decorated with raised carvings of trumpets gilded in gold leaf. Two palace guards stood at rigid attention on either side, facing each other. This was the White Flower Hall, where the king took his meals.

“Announce us.”

Paul hurried forward and spoke to the attendant standing beside the guards. The attendant cast a quick glance at Nikiel, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“His Highness Prince Nikiel has arrived before His Majesty—!”

With that, the massive doors slid open. Nikiel thought to himself, unimpressed:

‘Looks like wood, but it isn’t heavy at all. Opens smoothly, too.’

Whatever tension had built up within him had already dissipated the moment he reached the White Flower Hall.

Having grown up in a country that prided itself on democracy, the title of “king” did not particularly inspire awe in him.

This was not even his first time meeting the king—though in the past, he had never been in a clear state of mind. Now, for the first time, he felt lucid as he prepared to greet the monarch.

‘King? He’s no different from a professor. Both treat people like dogs. I’ve served even crueler kings before.’

The thought unexpectedly stirred up a sense of hostility. To him, this was like going to meet the department head of another world.

While Nikiel was lingering on such musings and had momentarily stopped walking, Paul shot him a wide-eyed look, as if wondering why he wasn’t moving.

Before the perpetually startled attendant could be further shocked, Nikiel resumed walking.

Inside stood a walnut dining table that easily stretched eight meters long, and at its far end sat the king.

This was Nikiel’s father—the man he had seen only once since awakening in this world. Beside the king stood another man, towering and broad-shouldered, who had risen to greet him.

The man was so tall and robust that he rivaled Yullan Balt, whom Nikiel had seen a few days prior.

‘Seriously, what’s with these people? Are they all ancient trees?’

Nikiel himself was not short, yet the man seemed overwhelmingly imposing. Regardless, one could hardly forgo proper greetings before the king, so Nikiel hastily bowed according to the court etiquette he had crammed into memory.

“Have you been in good health?”

…Of course, it was rather curt.

Proper etiquette, as Paul had drilled into him, would have been: ‘I pay respects to the Master of the Eight Provinces and Sun of Ossinis. Have you been in good health?’

The king blinked in mild surprise at Nikiel’s abbreviated greeting. Unfazed, Nikiel maintained a straight face, radiating a shameless air of ‘Is there something wrong with what I said?’

Perplexed by his son’s demeanor—and perhaps by the stark contrast between his son’s usual flamboyant entrance and the plain, almost funereal clothing he now wore—the king spoke slowly.

“…Very well. You look well, and I am relieved. Be seated.”

Without hesitation, Nikiel took the seat beside the king—the place of honor—and directly across from the towering man.

The man seemed to study him for a moment. With straw-colored light brown hair and striking green eyes, he was exceptionally handsome.

Though Yullan was also handsome, this man’s features carried a different charm. Slightly downturned eyes lent him a gentle and kind impression, while the straight bridge of his nose and strong jawline emphasized his masculinity.

‘Even among handsome men, his face is superior. Mine looks too delicate. I really should up my training weight…’

Irritated at his own slender frame—constantly worrying about muscle loss to the point where even yawning felt like an indulgence—Nikiel inwardly sulked.

If he was going to become a character in a book, why couldn’t it have been with that face and that body? His physique was as solid as his frame was large; even his Adam’s apple jutted out like a walnut.

As he took in the man’s appearance, Nikiel was reminded of a Korean actor famed for his warm smile. At that very moment, the man’s Adam’s apple shifted subtly—like someone nervously swallowing upon sensing a gaze.

That little movement jolted Nikiel back from his musings, just as the king began to speak.

“Come to think of it, this must be your first time seeing Duke Boltwick since last year.”

Ah—so this man was Raymond Boltwick.

In the original novel, Raymond had been a character who looked after the protagonist Nikiel with a kind smile, even as his tongue wielded words as sharp as blades.

His warm demeanor contrasted sharply with his cutting words, often disarming opponents and allowing him to quietly secure real power and political advantage.

Like most heroes’ companions, he supported the idealistic and reckless protagonist from the shadows, orchestrating political maneuvers and schemes to ensure success.

Lucian Turun was dubbed a genius in the story, but Nikiel had always preferred these politically shrewd types. In this otherwise miserable novel, Raymond was one of the few characters he actually liked.

Realizing this, Nikiel felt an odd sense of nostalgia.

“…My boy, staring at someone so intently is rather impolite, don’t you think?”

Only then did Nikiel realize he had been blatantly staring at Raymond. Across the table, Raymond wore a slightly puzzled yet faintly bashful smile.

His gentle features belied a husky voice; though polite, there was an undeniable masculinity in his tone.

“It is quite all right, Your Majesty. It has been long since I last saw His Highness, and I am simply delighted to see him again.”

He smiled once more as he spoke. That single smile seemed to dispel the intimidating aura he had exuded moments before, making him seem refreshingly approachable.

But Nikiel feigned indifference, shifting his gaze toward the vase behind Raymond.

“I’m not sure what you mean… I was merely wondering if Father might grant me those splendid flowers as a gift.”

“Hm? Flowers? Ah… you mean those? Very well, I’ll instruct the steward to give them to you.”

The king, bemused by his son’s sudden remark about flowers, nodded quickly—as if pursuing the matter further would serve neither of their dignities.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nikiel caught Raymond smiling again. He truly suited that smile. Yet, knowing the original story, Nikiel recognized it for what it was.

‘…If the descriptions are accurate, that’s his “I’m extremely irritated” smile.’

The brighter Raymond’s smile, the angrier he was. He was not a man known for his temperance.

His older sister, Lia Boltwick, had once been the head of their family and the one cursed with Nashiu’s Curse¹, transforming her into a reindeer. She had harbored unrequited love for Yullan Balt and followed him to a hunting ground, where she was mauled to death by hounds.

At the time, she had inexplicably transformed into a reindeer, and—like the past heads of the Boltwick family—had become an enormous creature, the size of two small cottages combined. That such a creature could be killed by hounds was unthinkable. After all, hundreds of monsters had perished beneath her hooves.

Raymond had believed her death to be the Balt family’s scheme. Enraged, he had thrown a white glove at Yullan’s face and challenged him to a duel.

Yet shortly after his sister’s death, Raymond himself succumbed to Nashiu’s Curse. In the middle of their duel, he suffered a fit of madness, unable to control his newly transformed reindeer body.

The berserk reindeer had charged toward a nearby village; Yullan, desperate to stop him, fought with all his might and ended up with a scar across his cheek from Raymond’s antlers. Raymond, for his part, had his ankle broken by Yullan.

Ever since, Raymond had remained wary of Yullan.

But there was one fact that only Nikiel knew: the true mastermind behind all this was not Yullan, but Raymond’s uncle, Dimus Boltwick.

‘If I remember right, after returning from the monster subjugation tournament, Nikiel reveals with his holy power that Raymond’s madness was orchestrated by Dimus…’

That revelation earned Nikiel Raymond’s loyalty.

Raymond believed that Nikiel had vindicated his sister—not exposing her as a laughingstock mauled by dogs, but as a tragic victim of conspiracy.

‘So no matter how hard you glare, you’re already destined to be mine.’

Though Nikiel had no plans to embark on any adventure, having a loyal subordinate like Raymond didn’t sound bad at all.

Yet something still puzzled him. Why did Raymond seem to hate him so much? Even now, while smiling at Nikiel, there was a faint trace of contempt in his expression—something either carelessly left behind or deliberately unhidden.

Had the real Nikiel done something to offend him? Nikiel once again fixed his stare on Raymond.

And in that subtle tension—one gaze saying “Become my subordinate” and the other silently retorting “You’re infuriating”—the king suddenly blurted out something absurd:

“The duke is also one of your potential marriage candidates, so I thought we’d all enjoy a harmonious meal together.”

Has the old man lost his mind?

Nikiel had to muster all his strength to swallow down those seven words burning on his tongue.

¹ Nashiu’s Curse (나시우의 저주): A hereditary curse afflicting the Boltwick family that transforms the afflicted into colossal reindeer-like beasts, symbolizing both immense power and uncontrollable madness.