The evening sun hung low on the horizon.
After settling down at the convent and storing the puppet in his [Backpack], Ron's true body boarded a carriage and headed toward the palace at the center of the Royal Capital, accompanied by Sylvie.
"Ah~ I can finally ride in a carriage as myself…" Ron leaned comfortably against the carriage wall, looking utterly content.
Sylvie watched him with a faint smile. His handsome, gentle features hadn't changed much, yet the look in his eyes was completely different from when they were in the City of Chaos. She couldn't help but feel a bit sentimental.
In terms of behavior and speaking style, Ron was still the same as before—but in certain aspects, he was changing at an astonishing pace.
"Sylvie, have you met my father before?" Ron rested his right arm against the window frame, gazing at the snow-covered scenery under the sunset as he suddenly asked.
"I have," Sylvie replied after a brief pause. "I've seen His Majesty from afar many times, mostly during grand ceremonies. As for close contact, only once, when His Majesty personally visited the Church of the Goddess of Harvest to meet the Archbishop. I was present at the time."
"What kind of person do you think he is?" Ron asked curiously.
After all, this would be the transmigrator's first meeting with Emperor André III.
In the original host's memories, Emperor André III had always been stern, serious, and distant.
Even though the original Ron had grown up in the palace, he had only met Emperor André III a handful of times.
It had to be said—although this mixed-blood prince had never lacked material comforts since birth, his emotional upbringing had been rather tragic.
Who knew—maybe it was precisely because he had been so repressed in the palace that, once he left the Royal Capital and finally felt free, his excessive joy had somehow opened the door for Ron's transmigration.
"His Majesty… is what a ruler ought to be, I suppose," Sylvie said thoughtfully. "He appears imposing, and when he speaks, he is stern yet tempered with gentleness. If you ask me what kind of person he truly is, I'm not sure I can say."
More like a womanizing old radish.
Ron pursed his lips, silently mocking in his heart.
His father had far more women than the rumors ever claimed Ron had—yet no one dared joke about Emperor André III.
There were far fewer pedestrians in the evening. Half an hour later, the carriage arrived at the outer perimeter of the palace.
The entire palace complex was essentially the inner city of the Royal Capital, enclosed by a wall twice the height of a man and occupying roughly one-fifth of the city's total area.
After being inspected and granted passage by the guards at the gate, the carriage followed a cavalry escort toward a side hall.
The architectural style within the palace was similar to that outside, but the details were far more refined and intricately crafted, lacking the roughness of the outer city.
The hundred-meter-tall Royal Observatory Tower stood out sharply beneath the sunset, like a giant finger pointing straight toward the heavens.
Of course, Ron preferred a different comparison.
Because that would make the phrase "screw the heavens" feel especially vivid.
The carriage stopped before the side hall, and attendants immediately stepped forward to receive him.
After entering, two young and beautiful maids led the way ahead.
Ron and Sylvie followed behind, observing their surroundings as they walked.
Seeing Ron's curious expression, Sylvie couldn't help but ask, "Your Highness Ron, haven't you been here before?"
"I have." Ron shrugged. "In eighteen years, I've been here about eighteen times."
"…What?"
"Every year at the end of the year, during the Winter Feast Festival, a banquet is held here, inviting high-ranking officials, noble elites, and wealthy merchants."
"That's the only time I could sneak in, eat and drink in some corner, and watch others dance in the hall."
"Normally, you can't enter this place. Only those personally permitted by Father can dine with him here."
Sylvie nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "No one ever invited Your Highness to dance?"
"Look at this face of mine—do I look like someone no one would invite?" Ron turned to her and asked seriously.
"Then why did Your Highness only watch others dance?"
"…Alright, because no one actually invited me."
"..."
"In truth, many pretty girls wanted to invite me, but their elders stopped them. After all, I was a mixed-blood destined to have neither power nor influence—hardly worth cultivating ties with. They were probably even afraid their daughters might get entangled with me."
Ron spoke calmly.
It was only because this wasn't truly his own experience that he could say it so lightly.
"Sister Sylvie, please dine this way." At a fork in the corridor, a maid bowed and led Sylvie in another direction.
Ron continued forward alone and entered the dining hall.
In the center stood a long table large enough to seat over twenty people at once.
Emperor André III, wearing a serious expression, sat at the head of the table. Before him was a large pot, bubbling vigorously and releasing plumes of white steam. Around it were neatly arranged platters of uncooked ingredients.
Ron recognized it at a glance.
He hadn't expected his father to prepare hotpot specifically to show goodwill.
And sending Sylvie away—clearly so the two of them could better guide and control the atmosphere alone.
Truly thoughtful.
Under the guidance of a maid, Ron stepped over the threshold and bowed from the far end of the long table.
"Father."
Emperor André III looked up at him and nodded. "The water is already boiling. Come sit."
The maid led him to the seat of honor at the Emperor's left.
As soon as he sat down, Ron noticed bowls of dipping sauces, clean plates, and a pair of chopsticks placed before him.
His gaze shifted to Emperor André III—and sure enough, there was also a pair of chopsticks set before him.
All he could say was… truly thoughtful.
After exchanging a few polite words, Emperor André III dispensed with further formalities and personally picked up various ingredients, dropping them into the hotpot.
Though his grip on the chopsticks looked rather awkward, with the strength of a legendary-tier powerhouse, he steadily placed the food into the pot without issue.
The maids withdrew, leaving just the two of them.
If not for the long, empty table that somewhat broke the illusion, Ron might have thought this was simply a wanderer returning home after years away, sharing hotpot with his aging father by the hearth.
They ate quietly. Emperor André III even personally placed slices of cooked fatty beef onto Ron's plate.
During the meal, the Emperor offered words of concern in a gentle tone—entirely different from the cold figure in the original Ron's memories.
Ron found it somewhat unbearable. His gaze drifted beneath the hotpot to the dining table, and he changed the subject.
"Father, how is this hotpot heated? There doesn't seem to be a stove underneath."
"Heh." Emperor André III lightly tapped the outer casing of the pot, where faint red patterns were etched. "A heating magic array engraved with powdered fire-element stones. No stove required."