I Possessed The Worst Character In The Hellish Game
Chapter 32: The Other Protagonist [2]

Chapter 32: The Other Protagonist [2]

"You travel a lot..." Mikael said, steering the conversation toward more useful territory. "Or so I heard you telling those ladies."

"I do. It’s one of the few perks of being a baron’s son with no real responsibilities. I’ve been all over the kingdom. Northern provinces, the coastal cities, a few of the more civilized frontier towns."

He took a sip of his wine.

"Why do you ask? Thinking of doing some traveling yourself?"

"Possibly. I’ve been out of circulation for a while. Trying to get a sense of what’s changed."

Mikael paused, as if remembering something.

"You know, I heard a curious phrase the other day. A foreign merchant used it when he was frustrated with someone. He said, ’It’s not rocket science.’"

Silas tilted his head.

"Rocket science? What in the realms is a rocket?"

"That’s what I wondered. He tried to explain it.... something about a metal tube that shoots into the sky using controlled explosions, without any magic at all. He claimed people flew to the moon with them in his homeland."

Silas stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Flew to the moon? With explosions? That’s either the most outlandish tall tale I’ve ever heard or the man was sampling his own merchandise. Without magic? Preposterous. Physics alone couldn’t possibly—"

He shook his head, still chuckling.

"I’ve met some colorful merchants in my travels, but that one takes the prize. Where did you meet this lunatic?"

"Just someone passing through Thornhaven." Mikael said, watching Silas’s face carefully. "I thought maybe you might have heard the phrase before, given how much you travel."

"Never in my life. But I’m going to remember it. ’It’s not rocket science.’ What a wonderfully absurd thing to say. I might start using it myself, just to see the looks on people’s faces."

Silas raised his glass with a grin.

"To rockets, whatever they are."

Mikael clinked his glass against Silas’s as a faint chill settled in his chest.

There was no flicker of recognition or any hidden understanding.

No moment where Silas’s expression slipped and revealed that he knew exactly what a rocket was because he’d grown up in a world where they were real.

He had reacted exactly as a native of this world would react.... with genuine amusement at a foreign absurdity.

An awkward pause threatened to settle between them, but Silas seemed constitutionally incapable of allowing silence to become awkward.

He leaned against a nearby pillar with an easy grace and gestured at the ballroom around them.

"So what’s your honest opinion of all this? The banquet, I mean. First royal event in years. Be honest."

"It’s kinda overwhelming." Mikael admitted. "And loud."

"Isn’t it just? I’ve been to a dozen of these things, and they never get less exhausting. The trick is to find the right people to suffer through them with."

He gestured at Mikael with his wine glass.

"You seem like you might be one of the right people. You don’t talk too much, you don’t seem impressed by titles, and you’re not trying to sell me anything. That puts you in the top one percent of banquet companions already."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You should. I don’t hand them out freely."

Silas grinned again, and this time it seemed slightly less performative... and more real.

"We should do this again sometime. Assuming we both survive the rest of tonight’s festivities. Are you applying to Astralspire Academy?"

"I am."

"Perfect. So am I. With any luck, we’ll both be accepted, and then we can complain about the coursework together."

He pushed himself off the pillar and clapped Mikael lightly on the shoulder.

"Don’t be a stranger, Lord Mikael. The academy’s going to be full of the same tedious nobles we’re surrounded by tonight. It’ll be good to have someone around who knows how to have an actual conversation."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

Silas gave him a two-fingered salute.

"Do that. And don’t let vultures get you down."

Silas flashed him one last grin and then disappeared into the crowd as he made his way towards the new cluster of young women near the orchestra balcony-- different from the group he had been charming earlier.

Mikael stared at his retreating back quietly.

Silas hadn’t reacted to the "Rocket science" phrase.

There was not even a brief moment of confusion that might have betrayed a deeper recognition hastily covered up.

He had laughed at the absurdity of rockets and dismissed the idea of traveling to the moon without magic.

There was a reason why Mikael had chosen such a direct approach with Silas specifically.

It wasn’t just impatience or a willingness to take risks, but something he remembered from the game.

It was Silas Islington’s curse --

Tongue of Truth.

His curse prevented him from telling a direct lie to anyone.

If someone asked him a straightforward question, he had to answer it truthfully.

He could deflect, he could misdirect, he could answer a different question than the one that was asked.

And he had become extraordinarily skilled at all of those things.

But

He couldn’t look someone in the eye and say something he knew to be false.

It was a debilitating weakness in a world built on courtly intrigue and careful deception.

But Silas had turned it into an art form.

His reputation as a charming playboy wasn’t just a personality trait; it was his survival mechanism.

People expected him to be glib, to joke, to flirt his way around serious topics.

But they never noticed that his most outrageous statements were always carefully constructed mazes of implication and misdirection, never outright lies.

So when he’d asked Silas if he’d ever heard the phrase ’rocket science’, he had asked it as directly as possible.

And Silas had said he had never heard of rockets before.

"Huu...."

Mikael exhaled slowly, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hoping for a different answer until the answer came.

But there were still four other protagonists who might be transmigrators from Earth like him.

Aldric Vane, Kyle Umbralis, Seraphina Ishtar.

And Princess Elara Von Valerion herself.

Mikael was still lost in thought, his mind turning over possibilities and probabilities, when he started walking again without really paying attention to where he was going.

The crowd had thickened near the center of the ballroom, nobles pressing closer together as the hour grew later and the anticipation for the royal family’s arrival.

*Bump!*

That was when someone suddenly collided with him.

He felt the impact of a shoulder against his chest.

"Ah, I’m truly sorry, I—"

Mikael started to apologize, but the words died in his throat as he saw the blonde woman who had collided with him already walking past.

She didn’t even seem to register that she had walked directly into someone, and kept moving forward in a stiff gait.

Her shoulders were hunched slightly forward as her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

She was sweating and kept muttering something under her breath, which Mikael wasn’t able to hear amid all the sounds.

The crowd swallowed her quickly as her lavender silk gown blended into a sea of other gowns, and within moments, she was gone.

Before he could follow the thought any further, the herald’s staff struck the floor.

*Thump.... Thump.... Thump.... *

The orchestra and crowd fell silent.

Heads turned toward the grand staircase at the far end of the hall, where the royal guards stood at attention, their halberds crossed.

── Her Royal Highness Princess Elara Von Valerion.

The herald’s voice boomed across the room.

The crossed halberds slowly parted.

A breathtaking young woman stepped into view, pausing gracefully at the top of the marble staircase beneath the radiant glow of enchanted crystal chandeliers.

She began her descent with unhurried elegance, each step poised and effortless, as though the palace itself had been built to witness her arrival.

Her flowing gown of pale sapphire silk trailed behind her like a gentle stream, its delicate embroidery shimmering whenever it caught the crystal light as the luxurious fabric embraced her slender figure before cascading into graceful folds around her feet.

Long strands of light-blue hair spilled down her back in soft waves, swaying gently with every step she took.

Framed by that ethereal beauty was a face of flawless refinement, while her luminous golden irises carried the quiet dignity expected of the Empire’s First Princess.

Her gaze drifted calmly across the assembled nobles, acknowledging none of the admiring stares lingering upon her.

Until, her golden gaze found him.

Among the sea of jeweled nobles and ornate gowns, they settled upon the young man whose ghostly grey irises stood out with quiet, unsettling intensity.

For the briefest of moments, the bustling hall seemed to fade into silence.

******