Rebellion Rising from the Depths: Mocked by the Hero Who Impregnated My Childhood Friend Before My Very Eyes. - Chapter 12: The Second Princess's Proposition.

The Second Princess’s Proposition.

Noah and Fiona hadn’t exchanged a single word since leaving the alley behind the main guild building.

The night air was biting, carrying only the faint, lingering scent of the festival over the Royal Capital as the wind blew. Even the sound of their boots clicking against the cobblestones felt dangerously loud, prompting them both to instinctively shorten their strides. It wasn’t just the lingering tension of potential pursuers; the sheer weight of what they had witnessed within the Original Registry still felt tightly lodged in the backs of their throats.

Erased names. Processing outside auxiliary bounds. Publicly inappropriate. Proxy position. Commendation matter.

This was no longer an issue that could be chalked up to Leon’s arrogance alone. That man’s glory was a “masterpiece” polished by the collective efforts of the Church, the guild, and the Public Relations Bureau. Behind that glittering facade, Noah had been chipped away, rendered paper-thin, until finally, his very existence was wiped clean.

Returning to their semi-basement storeroom, Fiona shut the door and wedged a thick wooden rod into the frame to secure it. She lit a candle. As the orange glow illuminated the cramped stone walls, Noah felt as though he could finally breathe.

Noah sat on the edge of the collapsed cot and stared at the duplicate crystal he had stolen. Submerged faintly within the transparent plate were the letters of the directive and registry ledger from earlier. It felt light in his hand, yet when he rested it on his palm, it carried an immense, suffocating weight.

Fiona spread the contents of their cache across the floor. The record crystals from the Sacred Dragon war, copies of the medical treatment ledgers, duplicates of the merit adjustments, and the registry numbers for the compensation logs. As she laid them out, the scattered dots finally began to connect into a single, cohesive line.

“…We can see it now,” Fiona said softly.

Noah didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up a sheet of the duplicated documents. The heading read: Standardization of Public Relations Regarding Heroic Commendation Matters. No matter how many times he looked at it, the phrasing made him sick to his stomach.

“Publicly inappropriate, huh?” Noah muttered, his voice dry.

Fiona cast her eyes downward. “A person like you is simply inconvenient to include in a heroic epic. A hero standing at the vanguard, covered in scars, is a beautiful image. But a story where someone in the shadows takes all those wounds in his place? That doesn’t make for a pristine fairy tale.”

Noah gripped the paper, nearly shredding it, before catching himself at the last second.

“A pristine fairy tale.”

He rolled the words around in his mouth. They had cut off his father’s medicine, leaving him to die. They had thrown Noah into the Abyss. And on top of that, they enjoyed a betrothal, a coronation, and a grand heroic epic.

It wasn’t even remotely funny.

“It’s still not enough,” Noah said, his voice dropping an octave.

Fiona nodded. “Yeah. This alone won’t suffice. With just copies of directives and records, those bastards will just push through by claiming they’re ‘falsified’ or ‘stolen goods.'” “We need to unearth the location of the originals, the people who signed them, and the connections between them.” “Exactly.”

Fiona placed her finger on a specific sheet of paper. It was the directive prohibiting inquiries, stamped with the Guild Vice-Director’s seal.

“This Vice-Director is likely the key. He bridges the gap between the Church and the Guild, and he’s also in direct contact with the Commendation Bureau.” “If we break him, will he talk?” “If it’s just making him talk, yes. But that won’t end everything.”

Noah set the duplicate crystal down and leaned his back against the stone wall. The pain throughout his body rushed back, delayed but agonizing. The laceration on his flank, his swollen ankle, and the old wounds that had reopened in the Abyss. Now that the tension from their guild infiltration had broken, the physical toll felt twice as heavy.

Fiona offered him a cup of water. Noah took a sip, forcing the dryness in the back of his throat down.

“What would you do if you were me?” “If I were you?”

Fiona paused to think, a bitter smile touching her lips.

“The old me would have given up. I would have taken the evidence, fled the country, and never looked back.” “And now?” “I learned that running away doesn’t end anything. So, I’d look for a different answer.”

She cut her words short and looked Noah straight in the eyes.

“The Royal Family.”

The air inside the cramped storeroom instantly grew taut.

“…What?” Noah’s brow furrowed.

“There are individuals within the Royal Family who do not look upon Leon favorably.” “Sounds a bit too convenient.” “I thought so too at first. But starting a few years ago, there were several inquiries into the Church’s records regarding the discrepancies between the Hero’s treatment history and his commendation records. The names were withheld, but the clearance seal belonged to the Royal Family.” “Who was it?”

Fiona lowered her voice slightly.

“The Second Princess, Her Highness Clarisse.”

Noah remained silent.

Royalty. The Royal Family. They were the ones sitting at the very apex of the system that had left his father to die. He had absolutely no reason to trust them.

“Are you telling me to trust her?” “No.”

Fiona shook her head immediately.

“There’s no need to trust her. I’m just saying that if we can use her, we should.” “Use the Princess?” “Yes.” Her voice was entirely calm. “Slitting Leon’s throat from the shadows achieves nothing. If that man dies as a hero, his death will simply become another piece of the legend. ‘The tragic hero fallen to a dastardly foe.’ If that happens, you remain the villain until the very end.” “……” “That’s why what we need is a public execution under the guise of the law. A stage where he cannot escape anyone’s gaze, where that man himself is forced to vomit up his own rot.”

The corner of Noah’s mouth twitched into a grim line.

She was absolutely right. Even if he tore Leon’s throat out right now with the momentum of a man crawled back from the Abyss, Leon would only gain a heroic death. That wasn’t nearly enough. The oath he had sworn before his father’s grave didn’t call for such a cheap conclusion.

Right then—

A faint noise echoed from the other side of the door.

A sharp, metallic creak of something shifting. Followed immediately by a presence.

Noah bolted upright in an instant, his hand flying to his dagger even as he grimaced from the sharp pain in his flank. Fiona immediately snuffed out the candle flame with her fingers, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

There wasn’t just one presence.

There were at least three. Moreover, their footsteps were entirely too light. This wasn’t the way private soldiers or town guards walked.

The wooden rod holding the door shut was quietly nudged from the outside.

An instant later, a slender blade slid through the gap in the door, expertly lifting the internal bar. It made almost no sound. The rod clattered away. The door swung open.

Noah lunged forward.

But his opponent was faster. A hand extending from the darkness redirected Noah’s wrist outward, while another hand pressed a short blade directly against his throat. The movement was far more refined than that of the private soldiers who had transported him to the Abyss. The total absence of killing intent made it all the more terrifying.

Fiona gasped.

Standing outside the doorway were three figures dressed in black garb. The lower halves of their faces were concealed by cloth, and the silver embroidery of the Royal Family gleamed on their chests. They weren’t private soldiers. They were Shadows—the Royal Family’s covert operatives.

“Could we ask you not to make a scene?”

The woman at the front spoke. She had short black hair and looked to be around thirty. Her eyes were cold, but she didn’t press the blade any deeper into his throat.

“If you came to kill us, you would have stabbed me already,” Noah replied, staring straight at the blade at his neck.

The woman’s lips curved just a fraction.

“A dead man who keeps his wits, I see.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed at her phrasing.

They knew. They knew that he was supposed to be dead.

The woman pulled her blade back, though she didn’t lower her guard. The two behind her remained perfectly positioned to move at a fraction of a second’s notice.

“The Second Princess, Her Highness Clarisse, requests your presence.” “I refuse.” “I figured as much.”

The woman nodded, showing no surprise at Noah’s immediate rejection.

“However, neither of you has the right to veto this. We kept watch tonight on the assumption that Fiona Lumiere would return to the Original Registry. And tonight, we confirmed that you are indeed alive.” “…Since when?” “From the moment you visited the communal cemetery.”

A chill ran down Noah’s spine.

They had been watching him at the graveyard. Even the oath he had sworn before his father’s grave had taken place entirely within someone else’s line of sight.

Fiona took a step forward. “If your intention was to capture us, why wait until now?”

“Because from the very beginning, Her Highness placed guards not to capture you, but to protect you,” the woman answered flatly. “However, the moment you entered the guild tonight, your grace period expired. The Commendation Bureau and the Vice-Director will begin resealing the relevant documents first thing tomorrow morning. This is Her Highness’s only window to meet you.”

Protection. When uttered by royalty, the word sounded indistinguishable from a threat.

Noah glanced briefly at Fiona. She hadn’t let her guard down either, but she didn’t look entirely blindsided. She had likely deduced that the Princess’s Shadows were operating in the background.

“…If we go with you, what happens?” “A discussion.” “Do you honestly think we can trust her?” “You don’t have to.”

The woman in black took a step back.

“However, Her Highness is currently the only person in the Royal Capital who can explicitly state she is not your enemy.”

It was an infuriatingly persuasive argument.

Noah slowly lowered the hand he had kept wrapped around his dagger.

“Lead the way.” “A wise choice.”

Exchanging a glance with Fiona, the two followed closely behind the Shadows.

The destination they were guided to was not the royal palace.

Located slightly away from the Southern Residential District stood the ruins of an old astronomical tower. It appeared to be a defunct auxiliary facility belonging to a royal villa; covered entirely in ivy, it looked like nothing more than an abandoned tower from the outside. The interior, however, was a different story. In a circular room near the top floor, a fireplace blazed warmly, a desk and chairs were neatly arranged, and the presence of guards was minimal. As a secret meeting place, it was entirely too well-prepared.

A lone woman stood by the room’s window.

The moment she turned around, Noah’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She was likely in her early twenties. Her night-colored hair was tied high, and she wore a deep navy dress with remarkably few adornments for a princess. Yet, the sheer quality of the fabric and her posture made her high social standing immediately obvious. Her features were sharp and elegant, but her fierce strength of will caught the eye long before any softness could. Her pale, grey-blue eyes were not the eyes of someone who trusted people easily.

“Should I say it is an honor to meet you?” the Second Princess, Clarisse, spoke, a faint smile gracing her lips. “Or perhaps, ‘I am glad you made it back alive’ would be more appropriate, Noah Feld?”

Noah did not bow.

And no one reprimand him for it.

Clarisse gestured toward the chairs as if his defiance was only to be expected.

“You may remain standing if you wish, but you are bleeding. Please, sit. You too, Fiona.”

The Shadows withdrew from the room, and the door clicked shut. Only the three of them remained.

Noah sat in the chair but did not lean back, keeping his posture primed to spring up at any moment. Fiona sat shallowly beside him. Clarisse took her seat across the desk.

“First, let us confirm the facts,” the Princess said, her tone devoid of any useless pleasantries. “Tonight, you removed records of the proxy role, directives for merit adjustments, and duplicates of documents regarding the commendation matter from the guild’s Original Registry. Am I incorrect?”

Fiona caught her breath, while Noah silently locked eyes with the Princess.

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders.

“Rest assured, I have no intention of reprimanding you. In fact, I am quite pleased you took them. They happen to be items I desired myself.” “So you were targeting them from the start?” “Yes.” She was remarkably forthcoming. “However, if I were to lay my hands on them personally, it would immediately tip them off to the Royal Family’s intervention. Therefore, I allowed the two of you to act first while I observed.”

Noah’s brow furrowed tightly. “Observed, you say?”

“It is only natural that you are angry. However, I am not so naive as to carelessly make contact and move before I can even verify whether you are truly the real Noah Feld.”

It was logical. It irritated him, but it was far better than listening to hollow platitudes.

Clarisse placed a sealed letter on the desk and slid it toward Noah.

Upon breaking the seal and opening it, Noah found a copy of the order to terminate medicinal supplies. Termination of dependent medical vouchers, invalidation of priority prescriptions, immediate execution by order of the Hero’s household steward.

Noah’s fingers froze.

The exact date and time his father’s medicine had been cut off, along with the name of the pharmaceutical merchant who had executed the order, were written with clinical precision. The reasons why he hadn’t been able to buy the medicine that day, no matter how hard he ran, were laid bare in cold, unfeeling print.

“Where did you get this?” “Through royal audit channels,” Clarisse said, a slight stiffness creeping into her voice. “For some time now, the circle surrounding Leon Vals has been plagued by unnatural medical terminations and sealed records. I have been investigating it. Your case is not the only one.”

Noah stared at the letter, letting out a slow, deliberate breath.

It was just as he thought. It wasn’t just him. It wasn’t just his father. There were others who had been discarded by the exact same mechanism.

“Why go to such lengths to pursue this?”

When Noah looked up, Clarisse tilted her chin slightly.

“Because heroes are convenient.” “…?” “For the country, that is.”

The Princess turned her gaze toward the night sky outside the window.

“Following the war, anxiety lingers. The populace demands a powerful symbol. The King wishes to exploit that. The nobility wants to bask in his reflected glory. The Church desires a monopoly on miracles. Therefore, ‘Hero Leon’ is highly convenient. Even if things are a bit unnatural, even if a few people disappear, everyone looks the other way.”

There was unmistakable disgust in her words—more than enough to indicate her feelings toward her own kin.

“However, a hero who is entirely too convenient will eventually swallow even the Royal Family.”

Clarisse shifted her gaze back to Noah.

“In terms of raw popularity among the masses, Leon currently ranks above royalty. If he were a true hero of irreproachable integrity, that would be perfectly acceptable. In reality, however, he steals the achievements of his proxies, forces his wounds onto them, and eliminates inconvenient witnesses.” “So you want to bring him down?” “Yes. However—”

Clarisse interlaced her fingers over the desk.

“Not through assassination. It must be legal. Public. In a manner that ensures he can never be spoken of as a hero again.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed to thin slits as he absorbed her words.

“Killing him would be easier.” “I am sure it would be.” “If I demanded his location right here and now, I could probably go do it.” “You could,” the Princess replied calmly. “But if you do, he dies a tragic hero. You become nothing more than a vengeful ghost striking from the shadows. The Church and the Guild will simply burn the inconvenient documents, and that will be the end of it. The system will remain intact.”

Noah fell silent.

She had voiced the exact realization that had begun to take root in his own mind.

Clarisse spread a different parchment scroll across the desk. It was a layout diagram of the Royal Capital’s Central Square. The dais, the VIP seating, the Church’s stalls, and the placement of recording magical tools were all marked with meticulous detail.

“In half a month, the Hero’s Coronation will take place. Following the announcement of his betrothal, it is the next grand ritual that will draw the eyes of the entire nation. The King, the High Priest, the Commendation Bureau, and the major nobility—everyone will be gathered.”

Noah’s throat tightened slightly.

Clarisse’s finger traced the central dais on the map.

“Bringing him down here will be the most effective strategy.”

The air in the room grew even tauter than it had been in the storeroom.

“Witnesses, records, unalterable originals, and a slip of the tongue from the man himself. Gather all of these, and even the great Hero will not be able to maintain his myth. I can provide that stage.” “And what do you want in return?” “There is a price, of course,” Clarisse answered without a shred of hesitation. “You will testify. You will tell the world what you were forced to bear, and how you were erased. Fiona will provide the verification for the records. In exchange, we will provide protection, funding, a safehouse, and information extracted through auditing authority.”

“Your Highness,” Fiona finally spoke up. “Is your reason for going to such lengths to use us truly strictly political?”

Clarisse’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then a very faint smile appeared on her face.

“Half of it is, yes.”

It was a smile that suggested it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

“I despise Leon. That man does not consider any pain other than his own to be real pain. Having such a person stand beside the Royal Family is poison for this nation.”

Even hearing those words, Noah did not easily buy into them. A princess wouldn’t move this far based purely on the emotion of hatred. At the very least, however, he understood that the woman before him was not intoxicated by Leon’s glory.

“…I have no intention of serving the Royal Family,” Noah stated.

Clarisse nodded immediately. “I do not require it.” “Nor do I offer my loyalty.” “I have no need for it.” “We are simply using each other.” “That is far healthier.”

The Princess’s responses were instantaneous every single time, as if she had anticipated his stance from the very beginning.

Noah clenched his fist. He hated the Princess, the Church, and the Guild—all of them. He couldn’t trust a single soul here. Even so, if this woman could construct the shortest path to reach Leon and Lydie, he had no reason not to exploit it.

Clarisse posed one final question.

“What is it that you wish to do, Noah Feld?”

Her voice was quiet. It wasn’t a persuasion; it was a test.

Noah remained silent for a long moment. His father’s grave flickered into his mind. His seized home. The bottom of the Abyss. The two of them smiling upon the grand dais. The erased names. The records of the proxies crushed before his time. All of it lay submerged deep within his chest.

It took some time to transmute each of those memories into words.

“I want to kill him.”

The first thing to slip out was his brutally honest, unvarnished desire.

Fiona held her breath. Clarisse’s expression remained entirely unchanged.

“Naturally.” “But,” Noah slowly raised his head, “that isn’t enough.”

His voice was so quiet it surprised even himself.

“I don’t want him to think it just ends with death. I refuse to let the things they stole from me be written off with a single life.”

The wound on his flank throbbed. The trauma of the Abyss and the void left by his father’s death were still raw and bleeding. Bearing the full weight of all of it, Noah spoke.

“Before I kill him, I will strip him of everything.”

Clarisse’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

Noah continued. “His glory, his trust, his future, his escape routes. Every single thing they believe belongs to them, I will drag down into the dirt. If he wants to die after that, he can die however he pleases.”

The room fell into a dead silence.

The one to break the stillness was the Princess, letting out a small, soft breath.

“Very well.” Clarisse nodded slowly. “In that case, we can cooperate.”

She pulled a fresh, sealed envelope from the desk drawer and placed it in front of Noah. The wax seal bore the Princess’s private crest.

“This is the first man you must break.”

Noah tore the seal open. Inside was a single name, a brief history, and a location.

• • Becker Durant, Chief Warden of the Royal Capital Underground Detention District.

• • Liaison to the Hero’s private interrogation chamber.

• • Officer in charge of Noah Feld’s apprehension and transport.

The light in Noah’s eyes turned ice-cold.

The dungeon. The torture. The transport to the Abyss. This man had been the lynchpin connecting every single piece.

Clarisse spoke quietly. “He handles the dirty work between the Hero’s household and the Guild Vice-Director. There is a high probability they will attempt to silence him before the night is out. If you secure him first, you will gain invaluable testimony.” “Secure him, huh?” “Assuming he is still alive, that is.”

The Princess’s ruthlessness bled through her choice of words.

Noah gripped the paper tightly. Deep within his chest, the black embers he was supposed to have left at the bottom of the Abyss began to burn anew.

The recipient of his first payment had been decided.

Fiona asked in a small voice from his side, “…Can you do it?” “I will do it.” His response was immediate.

Clarisse stood up and walked toward the room’s door.

“Then, starting tonight, you will operate as a dead man. The dead are highly convenient; no one looks for them out in the open.” “Your Highness.” “Yes?”

Noah hesitated for a fraction of a second, but forced the question out anyway.

“What if I choose a method that is far filthier than you anticipate?”

Clarisse turned back. The moonlight faintly illuminated the profile of her face.

“As long as the outcome remains the same, I will not fault you.”

It was a cold answer. But for Noah, it was more than enough.

The door opened, and the Shadows stepped back inside, likely prepared to guide them to their new safehouse. Noah’s mind, however, was already elsewhere.

The Underground Detention District. Chief Warden Becker. The stench of the interrogation room. The cart that had hauled him like cargo to the Abyss.

That man likely still thought of him as nothing more than a useless chore boy who had quietly disappeared. If so, he would make it his priority to teach him the truth. The man they threw into the Abyss had crawled back out.

Noah stood up and slipped the sealed letter inside his coat.

The night was far from over. In fact, it was finally about to begin.