Abraham, the Emperor of the Empire, King of Fortune.

When describing Abraham’s life, the title “King of Fortune” is an absurdly innocent joke.

In his days as a prince, Abraham ended up ruling half the world because his brothers, who were ahead of him in the line of succession, had “accidental” accidents before their competition for the throne. Shortly after he took the throne, some nobles, who aimed to undermine the royal authority, conspired to manipulate the “lucky emperor.” They accidentally brought down a building’s floor, resulting in the death or dismemberment of all his opponents.

So, the nickname “King of Fortune” was just a silly joke created by those who feared Abraham’s “good luck.”

The Emperor was embraced by luck in an annoyingly strong way.

When you consider that the King of Fortune himself has not stepped into Parliament even once since his ascension, in the name of respecting “the rule of law,” it really shows just how “horrific” his kind of luck is. He leaves no one as an enemy, and causes no one to have a chance of ever becoming his enemy.

This was a different sort of talent than that possessed by the much-loved “Lazy King” adored by all Harenites.

Every subject of the empire.

Fears Abraham, the King of Fortune.

“Can I speak casually? There’s no set ceremony for Transcendents, you know.”
“Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.”

However, the actual figure of King Fortune was not as authoritarian or intimidating as one might think.

To be more specific… he was a dignified person. He was the type of leader who intentionally displayed an authoritative manner out of fear that others might feel uncomfortable being “friendly.” He really felt like the exact opposite of the “Lazy King,” who exuded zero authority.

“Charity auction… The proceeds will be used to improve the treatment of border soldiers and the welfare of veterans, right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Honestly, I’m quite grateful. First off, I was dealing with that kid asking for an increase in the military’s weapons development budget… This will give me a bit of breathing room. Oh, and by the way, when I mention ‘weapons development budget,’ I don’t mean preparing for war or anything. I’m talking about new technologies like military jets, tanks, submarines… the good stuff.”
“Tsk, you seem to be having a pretty good time with life.”

On the side, Abel couldn’t help but click his tongue in disapproval.

Despite his son’s sarcasm, King Fortune remained unfazed and defended his first prince coolly.

“Well, isn’t it his own sincerity?”
“Is it sincere to insist on taking part in aerial stunts yourself?”

“Ultimately, if someone has to do it, even cleaning sewers is on the table.”
“If kids want to climb up the tightrope just because the circus looks fun, shouldn’t we stop them?”

“Come on, Abel, you’re underestimating your brother too much.”
“Well… yes, I can’t deny that.”

Standing awkwardly on the side during this sudden family squabble, I just felt a bit out of place.

Noticing this vibe, Abel threw a late apologetic glance, and the Emperor chuckled lightly while looking my way.

“Well, that was an awkward situation, wasn’t it? In front of family… I’m not the Emperor, I’m just ‘Dad,’ you get me?”
“Oh, yes.”

Oddly enough, seeing the Emperor like this reminded me of Princess Is.

To be more accurate, it brought back memories of my conversation with her.

She had said that he was the type of person who wouldn’t shed a tear for the Imperial authority, even if a sword pierced his heart.

– “Dad… you’re a rather pitiful person, too.”
– “Is that so?”

– “You love your family so much, yet you pretend like you do… and that’s just absurd. Or wait, is it the opposite? Anyway, you care so much about what other people think…”
– “………”

– “He pretends he accidentally showed his bad side out of loyalty to his family, while acting like he’s the only one keeping the family and imperial family intact… How can I trust him as a family man? If I took him to see you, he’d probably act light-hearted, like a ‘dad who can’t win against his daughter’ and then cough to act like he’s all serious, like, ‘Oh dear, I can’t look bad in front of my son-in-law.’ It’s just too predictable.”

– “Son-in-law?”
– “Oh, I meant ‘guest.’ Just a guest.”
– “………”

– “If you ever meet the Emperor, just think all his words are lies. His demeanor, his habits, his actions—they’re all performances. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s really thinking, just obsessed with how he appears. It’s no wonder he doesn’t get along with my second brother.” … Abel has some strange family feelings, huh.

Abel. Abraham.

Princess Is had pointed out that they were two people with ‘mismatched personalities.’

I started to grasp what that really felt like.

“This fountain pen that this child casually tossed into the charity auction… it’s fate, so I’d like to gift it to you, Homeros. I think it’ll come in handy.”
“Oh, that’s alright. I already have one from Princess Is.”

“Oh, I see. That kid… hmm. Anyway, what are you planning to do with the increased influence?”
“Yes?”

“You’ve made it pretty obvious during your preparations for this banquet… and in the charity auction and other events, showing off the power you wield in the Empire, and the ‘people’ whose strength you can borrow at any time. Those who’ve dedicated their lives to the Church and those marginalized by it, scholars trying to grasp the truth and those aiming to obey it, merchants making money selling goods and usurers lending money and collecting interest—everyone who’s turned their backs on each other gathered for the sake of ‘Homerus.’ After tonight’s banquet, you might even have some nobles wary of you.”
“…….”

“Now that everyone knows you hold ‘power,’ it’s completely natural for them to be curious about what you’ll do with it. Some will be terrified of you, predicting losses because of you, while others will hope to gain benefits from your strength.”

There was an odd tension in his voice. No, it wasn’t just in his words, but rather in the air that had settled between him and me, thick with tension.

A jewel-like mist of icy fog shimmered between us.

“… There’s really no ulterior motive. I just prepared the banquet because His Highness Prince Abel requested it.”
“Is that because he’s Princess Is’ brother?”

“No, he’s proposed opening the Empire’s central library to the public.”
“Hmm?”

“I’m right about that, right, Your Majesty?”
“Oh, yes. Indeed, I made that promise.”

Honestly, I didn’t really care about the details of this banquet, which was supposed to symbolize the new millennium for the Empire and show off the royal grandeur—it’s just not my scene. I barely step into social circles, so what do I know?!

Not just banquets, really…

In most matters, I’ve never found value beyond ‘literature.’ My creating a welfare foundation, accepting the church’s proposal, founding an academy, and being dragged into various businesses were all done for the sake of literature. After all, literature is a thing that’s made by people, so things revolving around literature inevitably involve people.

So, as a translator, I was closer to an editor than a writer.

I was a planner who prioritized the environment in which pieces are sold, read, and appreciated over the actual creation of the works. While I was on the outside of the ‘literature’ scene, it’s ‘literary works’ that kept me locked outside, and this stance won’t change going forward.

“You asked about how I would make use of my ‘power.’”
“…….”

“Neither the deciding nor the answering rests with me.”

Because I’m not a real author.

“My life revolves around literature, so I believe literature will decide. If literature stumbles while taken the long route, I’ll ask the people walking alongside me to help it up; if literature sprints ahead too quickly that people miss it, I might just give others a little push to keep up.”
“You’ll only use all your power for the sake of literature?”

“For literature, by literature, and literature-focused power. If I’m not the one in charge of the power, what can I even say?”
“Shall we say you’re in the way of literature, and to advance it, you need to give up all your rights—would you still agree?”
“If one person’s sacrifice can advance literature, it would indeed be an honor.”

“… Ha, ha!”

I’m not quite sure if this was the answer he was hoping for, or what kind of intention the King of Luck had behind his question.

But King of Luck seemed pretty pleased, bursting into laughter.

He laughed for a long time, almost to the point of tears.

Then he fished out a coin from his robes and held it up.

“Let’s make a wager.”
“Yes?”

“It’s a little different from you, but I have a more convincing way of choosing something than just ‘my opinion’.”
“…….”

“You said you didn’t need a fountain pen… so… How about I open the royal library? That should satisfy you, right?”
“What do you want?”

“Literature.”
“Yes?”

“The signed manuscript of The Great Gatsby was sold for 20,000 gold coins, right? I’d love to get a copy from you. If I win, I’ll buy it from you for 30,000 gold coins.”
“Oh, in that case… yes. Sounds good.”

King of Luck flipped the coin, showing his palm up first.

The face of the ‘King of Dignity’ etched on the coin looked a lot like the ‘King of Luck’ standing before me.

“If it’s heads, I win; if it’s tails, you win.”
“Okay.”

“Let’s test your luck then.”

Coin toss.

The coin flipped by the King of Luck spun through the air.

Soon, it landed perfectly back on the back of his hand.

.

.

.

“So, you paid 30,000 gold coins for that handwritten manuscript?”
“Indeed.”

“That feels like a bit of a rip-off, don’t you think, just for winning a bet?”
“Isn’t that a fair price for a present for my daughter?”

The Empire’s millennium banquet.

Only two individuals knew why it wasn’t held on January 1st. Abel, who organized it, and the Crown Prince, meant to succeed the Emperor—even Homeros, the literary transcendent, wasn’t aware of the true host of the “most splendid banquet in the world.”

A daughter who spent her birthdays locked in a small room since childhood.

What feelings did the father, who kept her in that room, experience every year as he marked the occasion?

Now, nobody remembers that at all.

“Huh?”
“Idris… Isis. My dear, dear daughter.”

“……”
“Happy birthday!”

With quivering hands, King of Luck passed the manuscript he had held close to Princess Is.

Princess Is met his gaze, alternating between the manuscript and King Luck, took a deep breath, nodded, and hugged the manuscript tightly. In a low, murmuring voice, she responded.

“Yes… thank you… Dad…”

King of Luck is a beloved figure of fortune.

Since childhood, every time he looked up at the stars and wished to shine like them, his lamp would topple, his palace would ignite, and the thin nightgown he wore would catch fire—this had been the disaster of a lifetime.

After witnessing his brothers fight over the throne, the day he wished “I hope they stop fighting”—ever since being handed the ridiculous nickname of “King of Luck”—he had vowed to wish for nothing more.

I planned to not wish for anything, to expect nothing.

But.

Who can really do that?

– “Your Majesty! You’re pregnant?!”
– “Yes, Your Majesty. The mage confirmed that a child is nestled in my womb.”

– “Oh, haha, I’ve already had two sons; I hope this one is a pretty little girl like you.”

The sore luck that torments King Luck always fulfills his “wishes” in ways he never anticipates.

When Idris declared herself a girl.

Dressing up like a girl, presenting herself as a girl, even acting like a little girl.

What King Luck felt, however…

Was not the feeling of a parent regarding their child.

It was the feeling of “I messed up.”

The even worse part was…

Princess Is was astute enough to sense that emotion, leading to a misunderstanding and conflict that’s now irreparable. Two wise individuals, capable of picking up each other’s feelings, acted foolishly because they failed to grasp one another.

King Luck was not a wise parent, and Princess Is was too young to understand her parents.

But King Luck was genuinely the darling of fortune.

He had been granted an opportunity to mend an irreparable rift. Thankfully, King Luck was not foolish enough to make the same mistake twice.

“Daughter.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“The day you were born, Isis, was… the greatest fortune in my life.”
“…Yes, Dad.”

“I just wanted to tell you that.”
“……”

Princess Is hugged the manuscript tightly.

The bundle of paper, purchased for 30,000 gold coins, crumpled under her hold. Yet, neither the giver nor the receiver took it lightly.

What truly mattered was.

That they could realize each other’s feelings….

[Gatsby believed in the green light, that great future fading year by year before us.]
[Today it eludes us, but that’s no issue; tomorrow we’ll run faster, reach farther.]
[And one fine morning—.]
[We’ll keep moving forward, like a boat going against the current, persistently pushed back into the past.]

.

.

.

“Oh goodie—! No, it’s the other side?!”

“Sir, it’s time for dinner.”
“Ugh, my luck is trash…”

“Sir?”