Chapter 160

Chapter 160
Chapter 160: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

Kyle shifted silently, his gaze sweeping across the room’s interior.

“Waaaah!”

“You got three coins?”

“No! That was everything I owned!”

While the crowd wasn’t massive, wagers involving ‘Egg Coins’ were actively passing between them.

Most individuals took losses, though a tiny fraction managed to secure a substantial pile of tokens.

“Hahaha!”

A man who appeared quite capable let out a hearty laugh, scooping up the Egg Coins scattered across the surface.

“Next challenger!”

His voice carried a youthful ring alongside a fearless disregard for blending in.

Eccentric, one might even venture to call him…

*He’s not Lion Asteri.*

Yet, having spent considerable time here, he figured this spot would serve nicely for gathering intelligence.

As it happened, the man seemed to spot him as well, raising his voice to address Kyle directly.

“Hey, why don’t you step over here and join a match?”

“Are you addressing me?”

“Yeah. Pal. You, the one who just walked in.”

That saved him the trouble of wandering aimlessly.

Just as Kyle prepared to drift slowly in his direction,

“……!”

Kyle’s movement froze instantly.

Instead of looking at the man, his gaze snapped toward another corner.

“What? Getting cold feet?”

“Hahaha!”

Open taunts echoed behind him, but Kyle quickened his stride, making a beeline for an unpopulated zone.

*That way.*

A door resembling a lounge area caught his eye.

He shoved the portal open and scanned the interior, breathing a sigh of relief upon finding it empty.

Everyone else appeared entirely consumed by the gambling tables or had already departed after getting cleaned out.

A genuinely fortunate turn of events.

Kyle retreated to the deepest corner of the room, pressed a handkerchief to his mouth, and surrendered to the hacking coughs he had been suppressing.

“Cough.”

When the violent fit finally subsided and he pulled his hand away, the cloth bore streaks of dark blood.

*Tsk.*

The sight of the blackened blood failed to rattle Kyle.

Instead, he merely clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.

*I figured I could hold out for at least a full day.*

It appeared the backlash from overexerting himself at the hunting grounds had finally caught up.

Or perhaps the ‘First Prince’s spite’ had intensified.

Coughing up blood was certainly crossing a line.

*Ha.*

A grim, chilling smile touched Kyle’s lips.

The further it crossed the line, the better. He would trade his own flesh and bone to strip away theirs.

This was a race against time.

If he could simply endure until the Emperor’s birthday, victory would be his.

As these thoughts settled and he regained his composure,

“Are you holding up alright?”

A voice broke the silence.

*I didn’t sense anyone approach?*

A careless oversight on his part.

Keeping his expression deadpan, Kyle folded the blood-stained fabric to conceal the stains and slipped it into his pocket.

“It’s nothing. Something got lodged in my windpipe.”

He turned his head naturally to face the newcomer.

Fortunately, a heavy stench of alcohol drifted on the air, and the man’s swaying stance revealed he was thoroughly intoxicated.

*Opting for polite speech was the right call.*

There was no sense in drawing unnecessary scrutiny by acting dismissive toward random strangers in a place like this.

Wasn’t Kyle’s entire purpose tied to a single target from the outset?

Consequently, this drunkard was merely an obstacle to navigate politely and leave behind.

*No need to render him unconscious.*

He was already plastered; the odds of him registering the coughed-up blood moments prior were practically zero.

Besides, even if he had caught a glimpse, he wouldn’t remain this composed.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Indeed.”

Kyle offered a deliberately brief reply, snapping the conversation shut.

Unfortunately… the other party had no intention of letting it drop.

“I figured you might be dealing with some serious ailment. Haha. Though, honestly, you might want to steer clear of that gaming den out there.”

“…….”

What an absolute pest. He had zero desire to babysit a drunk.

Under normal circumstances, he would have dropped the fellow with a blow, shoved him aside, and gone about his business.

This was Easter, however, and drawing complications served no purpose.

Suppressing a sigh, Kyle addressed the drunkard’s rambling.

“And what’s the reasoning behind that?”

“Apparently, there’s some whale hoarding all the wins out there. Word is they’ve cleared over ten Egg Coins already… and the staff are at their wit’s end.”

“And you?”

“Haha.”

The man offered no direct reply, merely shrugging his shoulders.

Safe to assume he had blown his entire stake.

“Well, gambling isn’t really my scene anyway.”

Kyle let out a soft huff of amusement at the transparent lie.

If gambling held no interest for him, what possible reason brought him here?

“Looks like you got cleaned out at the tables.”

“Hey, believe whatever you like. Though, even after hearing all that, your expression hasn’t shifted an inch—must mean you’re still heading back out there.”

“……And if I am?”

A flicker of irritation washed over Kyle, and instinctively, his eyelashes fluttered beneath his mask.

The sharp agony pulsing from his half-brother’s pathetic curse noticeably dulled.

Just as a sense of wariness toward the stranger crept in,

*Clink.*

Kyle’s reflexes took over, snapping out a hand to catch a glittering object slicing through the air.

This is…

“An Egg Coin.”

It matched the tokens he had acquired at the hunting grounds down to the last detail.

“Tokens like these carry more weight than a thousand gold pieces around here, don’t they?”

“I’m well aware. Figured backing a wildcard like you beats handing my money directly to those professional card sharks.”

“What makes you put your faith in me?”

“Just a hunch.”

With that, the man slouched back onto the sofa, settling in as if he truly harbored zero investment in the outcome.

Peculiar, certainly, but not entirely out of character for a wealthy degenerate burning through cash while sloshed.

“If you pull off a win, we’ll share a drink.”

“…….”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the figure lounging comfortably on the cushions.

He maintained an attitude of total indifference now.

Chances were, the alcohol had already dragged him off to sleep.

Even so.

*A deeply suspicious character.*

This went beyond deciding whether he was friend or foe—the man was undeniably an enigma.

He didn’t come across as a mere reckless loafer, yet pinning down his exact angle remained impossible for now.

At first, a passing thought suggested Lion Asteri, but this clearly wasn’t him.

*This lacks the careless air of someone who only recently reached adulthood.*

Wasn’t Lion Asteri just a youth who had barely wrapped up his coming-of-age rites?

This individual, however… while possessing a youthful appearance, carried all the hallmarks of someone seasoned by real experience.

*If he isn’t tied to the Second Prince’s camp.*

Suring him up as an ally wouldn’t hurt.

Especially if he held the key to lifting this agony…

*No. I can’t afford to jump to conclusions.*

Pushing the train of thought aside, Kyle pocketed the Egg Coin and stepped toward the door.

“I won’t be long.”

His tone carried a firm, unwavering confidence.

*Click.*

As the door clicked shut behind him,

“……Oh.”

The man.

Or rather, Lion Asteri, let out a curious sound.

While scouting the upper sectors to gauge the prevailing currents of the area, the fellow had crossed his path.

An unusual energy clung to him, leaking through his disguise despite his best efforts.

Suspicion had prompted the tail…

Only for the man to hack up blood and hastily sweep it under the rug.

Which naturally led Lion to inspect that discarded cloth.

『 Blood-Stained Handkerchief 』

* This handkerchief is crafted from textiles woven by master artisans from beyond the continent.
* Its intrinsic value has been severely degraded by the corrupted essence of a cursed soul.

Premium-grade fabric originating from outside the known realms.

He had spotted identical swatches within the Asteri household’s textile inventory.

An astronomical luxury, on par with elf-hair silk or fairy breath.

Andrié had once remarked, practically choking on his words, that even billionaires struggled to source it without elite connections.

*That points to at least a Duke’s backing.*

Yet holding high rank alone…

*Does not rule out the heavy probability of being cursed.*

Worse still, the temples offered no sanctuary for the cursed.

Which meant he was actively concealing his affliction from the public eye…

What sort of lunatic actively hides a curse?

Rational individuals sought out the root cause eating away at their lifespan and pursued a cure relentlessly.

Unless, of course, an exception applied.

A scenario where concealing the curse offered a distinct advantage.

Someone forced to stake their very breath just to turn the tide of a desperate struggle.

Did such a figure even exist?

*The Second Prince.*

Not the legitimate heir, nor the eldest son, but a stray who had clawed his way up from the gutter to claim a royal title.

Surrounded by wolves, stripped of allies… at least for the present.

Which explained his maneuvering to pull the underworld elements into Easter.

Wasn’t that precisely why he scheduled a clandestine meeting with Rikschel here in a few days?

The mystery of why he arrived early remained unsolved.

Even so, he stood as the most plausible candidate.

*Presenting a sickly facade to lower everyone’s guard.*

Objectively speaking, it was a remarkably solid strategy.

Above all, he kept his true hand hidden while meticulously assembling a shadow network behind the scenes.

If he unleashed his accumulated power at the absolute breaking point, shattering the First Prince’s claim to legitimacy became entirely possible.

Yet that assumed an ideal outcome.

*What kind of madman actually executes a plan like that?*

A curse wasn’t a common sickness—it operated like an internal time bomb.

Moreover, the slightest crack in psychological fortitude would allow the curse’s whispers to devour them from within.

*…This man is dangerous.*

Willing to weaponize his own decaying body, regardless of how bleak the odds grew.

Paradoxically, the logic held together.

It spoke to a desperate, unyielding resolve.

If he failed to secure the crown, death awaited him anyway.

Therefore, he was squeezing every remaining asset for all it was worth as a final gamble.

Even his own mortality.

Very well… let us grant that this individual possessed the stomach for such a path.

*What about the Emperor, though?*

Useless as he might be, he remained the sovereign of this nation.

At the very least, fragments of intelligence reached his throne, meaning he likely knew of the Second Prince’s curse.

Yet he chose apathy.

*The answer is obvious.*

The Emperor’s general temperament was common knowledge across various intelligence channels.

Strip away the political spin, and the summary boiled down to one stark truth:

* A selfish parasite who cares for nothing beyond his own skin.

An illegitimate offspring born of the Emperor’s reckless indulgence. Neglected simply because he lacked immediate utility.

Since the curse was terminal and the Second Prince made no move to seek a public remedy, the Emperor likely intended to watch him wither away in silence.

“Hoo.”

Lion reined in the sudden surge of indignation with a measured sigh.

What good would losing his temper accomplish?

A flicker of genuine human anger stirred within him anyway.

*…Normally, walking away and pretending ignorance is the smartest play here, but.*

Standing by felt impossible.

Staking his own flesh, grinding his bones to powder, and hurtling toward a distant objective?

Wasn’t that dedication almost admirable?

Besides, intervening served Lion’s own interests as well.

Recalling the archaic vial resting dormant within his inventory, Lion mused quietly.

The deeper his understanding of curses grew, the better equipped he would be.

*…That said, to pull it off.*

He would first need to breach the ironclad walls protecting the Second Prince’s guarded heart.

Lion glanced back as the door clicked open once more.

True to form, the man presumed to be the Second Prince stepped back inside.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Lion tossed an Egg Coin through the air.

“You lied to me.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. The guys at the tables swore they had never laid eyes on you before.”