CHAPTER 12

"Prove Your Worth (2)"

"I apologize for saying this, but I must refuse."

The Crown Prince's voice rang clear across the vast throne room. He had always been sickly and weak—never once had he stood tall before his father, the Emperor.

But today, for some reason, was different.

And it wasn't just his voice that had changed.

"…What?"

The Emperor flinched involuntarily. A rejection, with no sign of hesitation or reluctance. It was too direct, too firm.

To hear such a refusal from his own son—especially his weakest son—was beyond his expectations.

No, it was something he had never experienced in his life.

"What did you just say?"

He asked again, seeking confirmation.

The answer remained the same.

"I cannot accept Your Majesty's proposal."

"...."

The Emperor was momentarily taken aback by the unexpected defiance. Then, his expression hardened, his gaze filled with cold fury.

"Refusal? Of my proposal?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The Emperor's lion-like presence carried a quiet rage.

The weight of his voice pressed down on Rakiel.

Yet, Rakiel nodded, unwavering in his rejection. He couldn't back down. No, he must not.

Because he knew.

This proposal… it wasn't in the original story.

This situation never happened in The Swordmaster Emperor.

But that wasn't a reason to panic. He could see right through the Emperor's intentions.

'It's simple. He wants to give the Second Prince a stronger justification for inheriting the throne.'

Transferring the title of Crown Prince wasn't difficult. The Emperor didn't even need Rakiel's consent. He could strip him of his title with a single command.

'But instead of doing it forcefully, he's asking me to step aside willingly. That way, he saves face for the imperial family and gives the Second Prince even greater legitimacy.'

Rakiel needed to surrender.

He needed to make it look like a noble sacrifice.

'It's a propaganda move—presenting me as the gracious elder brother who acknowledges the ability of his younger sibling and yields the throne willingly. A competent successor who receives the title through virtue, not force… it's the perfect narrative.'

If things played out that way…

The imperial family would maintain its dignity while installing the Second Prince as Crown Prince. Not only that, but it would also brand him as a capable ruler—one with both pedigree and legitimacy.

A brilliant piece of political theater.

'And it looks far better than simply deposing me and handing him the position outright.'

If Rakiel were stripped of his title against his will, the public perception would be entirely different.

'It wouldn't be a noble transition—it would be an act of usurpation.'

The Second Prince would carry the stigma of a "throne-stealer."

And that was exactly what the Emperor wanted to avoid.

That was why he was trying to persuade Rakiel instead of simply commanding him.

Rakiel looked up at the Emperor.

The sovereign loomed over him, exuding authority and barely concealed frustration.

'Of course he's frustrated. He doesn't trust me. I'm weak. I look unfit. But I won't die. I won't conveniently collapse and make things easy for him.'

He recalled the early chapters of The Swordmaster Emperor.

The original Rakiel had been far worse off—so frail that he couldn't even leave his bed. After coughing up blood while writing in his diary, his condition deteriorated beyond recovery.

That was why, in the novel, the Emperor had never made this proposal. He didn't need to. The Crown Prince was already at death's door.

But now?

The situation had changed.

Because of me.

Rakiel smirked inwardly.

This version of him had been doing everything possible to survive—eating well, taking medicine, even practicing self-administered acupuncture.

He was still terminally ill.

He still had abysmal stamina.

But at least he could walk around and function like a human being.

And that was enough to throw the Emperor's plans into disarray.

That was why the Emperor seemed uneasy.

And why, despite his anger, there was also disappointment in his eyes.

"You truly do not understand my generosity, do you?"

The Emperor's voice deepened, filled with a mix of anger, regret, and reproach.

"Even though you are weak and frail, I still had hope. I believed that, at the very least, your mind would not falter. That you would not lose your wisdom and sense. But I was wrong."

His voice turned cold as steel.

Like a father casting his child off a cliff.

"You disappoint me. Truly, you do. Tell me, is it the mere illusion of power that binds you so? Do you cling to an empty title that will serve you no purpose? Do you desire it so greatly that you would tarnish the name of our family and inconvenience countless others?"

"...."

"Why do you not answer? Is this truly your wish?"

His gaze turned icy. He had believed his offer to be an act of mercy, and now that mercy had been rejected, his disappointment was palpable.

Rakiel swallowed a bitter laugh.

'Man, he's really going all out just because I said no.'

Honestly, he was tempted to accept the Emperor's proposal.

It was the easy way out.

'Why the hell would I want to be Emperor? I'd be terrible at it.'

After all, Rakiel wasn't really Rakiel.

He was just a failed Korean acupuncturist—an ordinary guy who had spent his free time reading novels, watching movies, and playing video games.

Becoming Emperor?

That was ridiculous.

'I have zero confidence in ruling a country. I'd probably run it into the ground.'

That was why he had no interest in the position.

Ideally, he'd hand over the Crown Prince title, enjoy the luxuries of being royalty, and live the carefree life of a noble.

The Emperor's proposal was incredibly tempting.

But if he accepted it?

Everything would go to hell.

For him.

For the imperial family.

For the entire empire.

Because of the Second Prince.

Not because he was evil or incompetent.

The Second Prince was intelligent, diligent, and capable. The Swordmaster Emperor made that clear.

But those traits only suited an era of peace.

'The problem is, war is coming.'

Rakiel had read the novel.

He knew what was coming.

He knew the devastation that would sweep across the empire.

He knew how the Second Prince would meet his tragic end.

'He's not fit for war. He's the worst possible choice for the coming era.'

In times of crisis, he hesitated.

When swift action was needed, he faltered.

He let opportunities slip away.

A textbook indecisive ruler.

Rakiel refused to let the empire fall.

'If the empire collapses, I lose everything.'

To live in luxury, the empire had to survive.

And the Second Prince wouldn't be able to protect it.

Giving up the throne wasn't an option.

Rakiel reached his conclusion.

"Now, how should I respond?"

He glanced at the Emperor.

The ruler of the empire stared down at him, exuding overwhelming authority.

It was intimidating.

'Damn, he's intense.'

Rakiel might be his son, but he wasn't really his son. He had to be careful not to give himself away.

But if he stayed silent…

The Emperor would push ahead with his plan.

'Tch. Guess I've got no choice.'

Rakiel forced his facial muscles to relax.

He took a deep breath.

And then, he spoke.

"I find this unjust."

"…Unjust?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He nodded firmly.

With unwavering conviction, he declared:

"It is true that I am weak. But my mind is sound. My wisdom is intact. That is precisely why I reject your proposal."

"What?"

"The title itself does not matter to me. But I cannot ignore what it represents."

"And what would that be?"

"The peace and prosperity of this empire."

And my own survival.

"…So you refuse to yield the title for the sake of the empire?"

"Precisely."

The Emperor let out a mirthless chuckle.

"Preposterous."

"Then allow me to make a proposal of my own."

"A proposal?"

"Yes."

"Speak."

Rakiel met the Emperor's gaze without flinching.

"Let us prove who is more worthy of the title."