Raizen scanned the tavern quietly.
Most seats were empty…
Except for a few tables near the wall where two or three drunk men were slumped over their mugs—faces red, voices low, completely out of their senses.
They were so drunk they didn't even notice Raizen or the knights entering.
Raizen took one glance at them.
Too drunk to even stand.
Useless for information.
He ignored them immediately.
Only one person caught his attention—
A single man sitting in the far corner.
An old man.
His skin was pale, his cheeks sunken, and his body thin like dried branches.
His hands trembled slightly as he held a cup of lukewarm tea.
His eyes were distant—
Not sad, not angry…
Just tired. Exhausted. Like someone who wanted to die, but for some reason… couldn't.
His breathing was shallow, and every few seconds he sighed, staring at the table as if trapped in memories.
Raizen's eyes softened.
He looks… alone.
No one to talk to.
Perfect.
I can talk to him, get information…
And he'll get someone to talk with.
Raizen turned to his knights.
"David. All of you wait here.
I'll talk to that old man for a few minutes."
"Yes, my lord."
Raizen walked over with a gentle smile.
His steps were light, careful—showing he didn't want to startle the man.
He stopped in front of the table.
"Hi, sir…"
The old man flinched slightly—like waking from a heavy thought—and slowly lifted his head.
His cloudy eyes focused… and widened.
"Oh… Raizen…"
He spoke Raizen's name with familiarity.
Raizen blinked.
So he knows me.
Good.
Before Raizen could speak, the old man continued, voice shaky:
"I was worried…
You didn't come to town for two whole days.
I thought something had happened to you."
Raizen quickly used the excuse he prepared.
"I… don't remember anything.
I woke up in the forest.
My head was hurting… I feel like I forgot everything."
He pointed toward his knights.
"These guys found me and brought me back."
This memory-loss excuse should help reduce suspicion.
And this old man didn't look at me with the same disgust as the others.
The old man's face twisted—
Worry first… then anger.
"That bastard must have hit you again…"
His fists tightened uselessly.
Then slowly relaxed…
As if he knew he couldn't do anything about it.
Raizen narrowed his eyes.
Bastard… must be talking about the fat man.
Raizen leaned closer.
"Sir… can you tell me about myself?
It would really help."
The old man stared at Raizen for a long moment.
Then he sighed deeply, eyes heavy with something painful.
"I think… it is better for you to forget everything."
"But people will keep looking at you with disappointment, calling you a failure…
And you'll wonder why."
His voice lowered.
"I will tell you.
And also because…
your life might be in danger."
Raizen's heartbeat skipped.
My life… is in danger?
The old man took another breath—slow and shaky.
Then he spoke:
"Your name is Raizen stromhart.
And you… are the youngest son of the Supreme Emperor—
the man who rules over all of humanity and the entire human continent."
Raizen's face went blank.
His eyes widened.
His brain short-circuited.
"What the f—"
WHAT THE FUCK!?
Raizen is the son…
of the Supreme Emperor!?
His heartbeat thundered, but after a few seconds he forced himself to calm down, breathing slowly.
He looked at the old man.
"Then… why do people treat me like that? With disgust? Like I'm nothing?"
The old man lowered his eyes.
"Because you cannot become anything, Raizen.
Not a knight…
Not a magician…
Not an archer…
Not even a normal warrior."
Raizen blinked hard.
"Why not?"
The old man sighed.
"Your body cannot accumulate even a single grain of mana.
And not only mana…
You cannot even build basic muscle.
You cannot reach even the Trainee level."
Raizen felt something twist inside him.
"What? Why? Why can't I…?"
"I don't know," the old man replied. "No one does."
Raizen clicked his tongue in frustration.
Tsk… I'll have to ask the system about this later for now let me ask more about myself,this world, the Emperor, the commander, the vice commander…
But first, I should ask the most important thing — the danger.
Raizen leaned in.
"You said… my life might be in danger.
Why?"
The old man's eyes darkened.
"Because your siblings, and everyone close to them…
and that filthy vice commander's group…
they beat you and torment you every day."
His hands trembled.
"One day… I fear they will beat you to death."
Raizen's breath hitched.
"Siblings…?"
The old man nodded slowly.
"You have almost died four times since your birth.
Everyone in the continent knows who caused it."
Raizen's heart dropped.
My siblings want to kill me?
For the throne? For power?
He asked quietly:
"Why do they want to kill me?"
The old man looked at him with pity.
"Because many believe the Supreme Emperor will soon choose his successor—
a new Supreme Emperor.
And even though you are weak…
you are still his youngest son."
Raizen clenched his jaw.
Damn… I was right.
He forced himself to stay calm.
"Then… the vice commander and his group.
Why do they beat me?"
The old man's voice held anger.
"Because you are weak.
And because your siblings support them.
They know you cannot fight back."
Raizen's fingers tightened into fists.
So just because I'm weak… they treat me like trash?
He exhaled slowly.
"Fine. Next question…
Who is the commander?"
The old man looked straight at him.
"You."
Raizen's eyes widened.
"Me!?"
I'm the commander… but I got beaten by the vice commander and the subordinates who are supposed to be under me…?
The old man gave a small smile.
"It seems you really lost your memory.
Do you want to know why you became commander despite being weak?"
Raizen answered instantly.
"Yes."
The old man spoke clearly:
"Because you asked your father—the Supreme Emperor—to make you the commander of a team."
Raizen clenched his teeth.
Why the hell would the original Raizen ask for something like that?
Why ask to be commander if he was this weak?
Before Raizen could ask his next question, the old man spoke again.
"You've forgotten where you used to stay as well… haven't you?"
Raizen opened his mouth to reply—
But then—
CREEEAK.
The tavern door slowly opened.
Every head in the room turned.
A girl stepped inside.
And even Raizen's knights—who never reacted to anyone—
widened their eyes subtly.
Not because she wore fine clothes.
Not because she looked powerful.
But because her beauty shone through poverty.
She had long, fiery red hair, cascading down her shoulders like falling strands of sunset.
Her eyes—sharp, piercing blue—glowed even under the dim tavern lights.
Her skin was fair but smudged with dust, dirt, and exhaustion.
Her clothes told the real story.
A simple peasant dress—
once white, now faded and stained.
Loose seams, worn fabric, laces tightened unevenly.
Frayed sleeves.
Patches of dried mud clinging to the skirt.
Bare feet, scraped from travel.
She looked like she owned nothing.
Yet her beauty was enough to make the tavern fall silent.
As she walked forward, the old wooden floor creaked under her tired steps.
She didn't look around.
She didn't hesitate.
Her eyes were fixed straight ahead—
toward Raizen.