"The Seventh Prince Ron is coming back."
"That mixed-blood prince? Wasn't he exiled to the City of Chaos to live out his retirement?"
"You're not very well-informed, are you? In mid-October, the Seventh Prince triggered a miracle and became a Chosen One of the Goddess of Harvest!"
"So this time he's returning—"
"Do you even need to ask?"
"Tsk tsk. Just became a Chosen One and already can't sit still?"
"Exactly. The underground gambling houses have already opened betting pools—whether this Seventh Prince can even make it to the Royal Capital alive. And if he does, how many arms or legs will he be missing?"
"Oh? Let's go take a look."
From early December, when word of Ron's decision to return to the Royal Capital leaked to those with ulterior motives, conversations like these began circulating throughout the city.
Like an undergarment accidentally blown off a balcony by the wind, the news fluttered through the air, catching everyone's attention.
Certain bored "media outlets" even packaged it into "news" and spread it to cities surrounding the Royal Capital.
Very soon, headlines such as "Shocking! Seventh Prince Becomes Chosen One—Is He Eyeing the Throne?" swept across the region like a tornado, making it known to all.
Even ordinary commoners who paid little attention to imperial affairs had heard something about it.
Of course, by the time such gossip passed through countless hands and reached the common folk, it had long since changed flavor.
Rumors like "Emperor André III personally welcoming the Seventh Prince's return," "The Archbishop of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest traveling thousands of miles to escort His Highness Ron," or "Duke Christine sweeping his residence clean in preparation to host him" were thrown around as if they cost nothing.
Ron hadn't even arrived at the Royal Capital yet, and already stories of "His Highness Ron rampaging through the city, bullying men and women alike" were filling the streets.
Whenever Ron—disguised as the young guard Buffett—overheard passersby discussing what "His Highness Ron had done in the Royal Capital," he felt utterly helpless.
He hadn't expected that even in another world, people would be so adept at waging public opinion wars.
Even after the Church of the Goddess of Harvest stepped forward to refute the rumors, it couldn't stop their spread.
In the end, it was Ron who halted further clarifications, and the Church chose silence instead.
Having witnessed the fleeting attention spans of online onlookers in his previous life, Ron understood well: this wave of public opinion was nothing more than an attempt to disgust and unsettle him.
Especially in a world still resembling a feudal system, most of the populace was ignorant and uninformed.
Coupled with the existence of battle aura and magic, ordinary commoners—powerless to even truss a chicken—were destined never to have the right to take up arms in resistance.
They might be numerous, but they had virtually no voice.
To the upper echelons, these spreading scandals and slanders about Ron were little more than amusing conversation pieces.
After all, Ron was now a Chosen One of one of the Three Great Churches and held real authority as the Acting Voice of the Goddess. He was no longer the powerless mixed-blood prince of the past.
That was also why, so far, the strongest assassins sent after him had only been around Tier Four.
It was the root of this entire public opinion campaign.
It wasn't that those behind the scenes didn't want to deploy higher-level forces.
They simply didn't dare.
Especially with the northern front still locked in winter warfare, all they could do was annoy Ron a little.
The dramatic scenes Ron had once imagined—Legendary-tier experts personally making a move, or at least several Tier Six powerhouses joining forces—never materialized.
And so he could only privately lament that the puppet never had the chance to make a dazzling debut.
That evening.
"What did you have for lunch today?" Ron projected his consciousness into the puppet far away in the City of Chaos, chatting with Nora, who was reading.
Nora happily closed her book, hugged the puppet, and carefully listed the entire lunch menu.
This silly girl…
Ron listened to her recite dishes one by one, feeling a little speechless.
After a bit of small talk, he "hung up," just like a long-distance boyfriend ending a call.
Nora remained there, still hugging the puppet, savoring the brief exchange over and over.
Yuna walked over with a wine glass. One look at Nora and she knew the call had just ended. Rolling her eyes, she downed the wine in one gulp, plopped onto the sofa, and wrapped an arm around Nora.
"Ah! Yuna~"
"Thinking about your dear boss again? Let me see if this little girl's fallen head over heels~."
"Ah! No! Don't— not there—"
"Heh heh heh, Nora's body is so soft~."
"Mm…"
As Yuna and Nora rolled around on the sofa in playful chaos, Ron connected to another puppet—this one with Mia.
"How are things in the Royal Capital now?"
"Same as always, but there are new fake rumors," Mia said, propping her chin on her hands with a troubled look. "Brother Ron, you apparently have six wives now."
"…." Ron's face darkened. "Damn it! If I find out who's spreading that, I'll make him compensate me with six actual wives!"
"Brother Ron! That's what you're focused on?!" Mia covered her face in disbelief. "Shameless!"
"Forget the scandals. Let them talk." Ron waved it off. "How's the shop selection going? Any results?"
"Mhm! I've shortlisted more than a dozen locations, all based on your requirements. Once you arrive, I'll take you to see them."
"Good." Ron nodded. "And how are the elemental cards selling? The Gemstone Trade Alliance told me they're doing well."
"They are! That's my contribution~" Mia puffed out her chest proudly. "A lot of noble youths love playing Duel of Magic, so I pretended to love it too and often played a round with them at banquets."
"After word spread, even those who weren't interested before bought elemental cards to study."
"I've sacrificed a lot, you know!"
Ron laughed. "Yes, yes, all thanks to Princess Mia. Otherwise, the cards would still be gathering dust in storage."
"Hehe, not that bad. Things you invent are always attractive, Your Highness." Mia deliberately used a formal honorific, giggling. "But I still deserve credit. How will Brother Ron reward me?"
"How should I?" Ron almost blurted out I'll offer myself, but caught himself just in time. He coughed. "When we open the branch store, you can choose whatever plants you like from the shop."
"Huh? That's it?"
"Don't sound so disappointed. I've kept many plants hidden instead of selling them. Once you see them, you'll understand—they're all my precious treasures."
"Then I'll look forward to it."