Published: February 1, 2026
A story from the original world. More of a side story or extra.
It also serves as an explanation for settings that don’t appear in the main story. There’s no problem if you skip it.
The young man works at the castle as a scribe.
His family is that of a low-ranking noble. His father, the head of the current generation, actually got himself involved in corruption, and after various things happened, the family went up in flames.
That’s not a metaphor. Their family mansion literally exploded with a deafening roar.
It was actually the work of the current king—said to be the greatest in history—but we’ll skip that part.
The young man himself had nothing to do with the corruption. In fact, he was the one who tattled, which is why he escaped disaster.
Every time he recalls the destruction of the estate, he quietly thinks to himself how glad he is that he reported it. And how glad he is that he was competent.
Precisely because he was capable, the current prime minister picked him up, and he was able to continue working at the castle as a scribe.
Under the gentle prime minister, at first people said this and that about him because of his father, but he calmly fulfilled his duties.
That same young man was now sprinting full speed through the castle.
He feared no criticism thrown at him. He feared no maids who looked at him like he was trash and in the way.
Even if some noble far higher in rank than himself complained because he failed to lower his head while rushing past, he was afraid of nothing.
At this point, he was doing a hundred meters in the high nine seconds. Amazing.
The deeper into the castle he went, the more knights appeared to block his way, yet he shook them off, never slowing even as they chased him, and charged straight toward the door he was aiming for.
It didn’t matter that the knights were treating him like some kind of national-level traitor.
“Your Majesty the King!”
Bang!
He didn’t make it in time to open the door and slammed into it face-first.
There was no way he could push on after that, and the knight guarding the door, along with the ones who had been chasing, moved to restrain him.
But the young man was writhing in so much pain that the knights had no idea how they were supposed to restrain him, so for the moment they simply surrounded him and leveled their weapons at him.
Footsteps could be heard approaching from the other side of the door.
Hearing a voice from inside ordering someone not to open it, the young man clutched his throbbing face and forced himself upright.
An instant before they could restrain him, he slammed his voice against the door as if to make sure it reached the other side.
“Lord Rizel has disappeared!”
Boom!
The door flew open, knocking down the two armored knights who were supposed to be heavy and solidly braced in front of it.
Appearing there was a young man with a sharp, handsome face. His hair was a perfectly pure silver, with not a single clouded strand, and he was the true and rightful king of this country.
No one who looked at him would dare criticize him for being young.
The dignity that overflowed from his being naturally inspired awe in those around him and made them kneel. He was a born king.
“Where is he!”
“In his office—”
Before he could even finish, his arm was grabbed.
Before he could follow that hand up to the king, the scenery around them flipped in an instant.
From the king’s private chamber to Rizel’s office. The young man realized this must be teleportation magic.
It was an experience granted only to the chosen few, and the mana that enveloped him was simply overwhelming. Thinking about it, the missing Rizel had apparently made fairly casual requests of the king to use this spell for him.
But there was no time to be moved by his first experience with teleportation magic. Striding heavily across the room toward Rizel’s desk, the king shouted in a voice that crashed into the young man’s skull like a blow.
“Liz!”
No answer.
The king fell silent for a while, as if trying to sense something, then clicked his tongue and looked at the young man.