When something is added to one's daily life, it often goes unnoticed, but once it disappears, the void it leaves is deeply felt.

For example, when a web novel author updates daily, readers may take it for granted, but if the updates suddenly change to five days a week, the frustration is palpable.

This was the exact sentiment felt by the residents of this otherworldly realm.

“Mark Hughes, he was a true soldier.”

“Indeed. His final moments were perfect, both as a soldier and as a father.”

“Oh, look, it's raining again.”

The men wiped their eyes with their hands, despite the clear skies above.

Passersby who witnessed this scene had puzzled expressions, but the men themselves were completely absorbed in their world, oblivious to everything else.

“Scal was truly pitiful. His entire life was manipulated by artificial beings, even his rage.”

“Hold on, I can't agree with that. He caused the deaths of innocent people.”

“What? You heartless fool, are you like Kimberly?”

“Come here, you scoundrel! It's a duel!”

Recently, arguments like these, centered around the content of The Alchemist of Steel, had become increasingly common.

The reason for the clashes was the difference in what each person considered important. Each man swung his fists, determined to uphold his beliefs.

Considering that even the philosophers of ancient Greece, when their debates reached an impasse, resorted to physical confrontations, this was a solution steeped in history and tradition.

However, the number of such individuals had increased to such an extent that the Empire’s guards were now overwhelmed with prisoners who had fought over comic books. The situation had become a headache.

Moreover, those who were captured continued to brawl even after being imprisoned, leaving the authorities at a loss on how to resolve the issue.

“The next volume... the next volume will surely be Alex Eldric’s time to shine!”

“Nonsense! What has he done other than get his armor destroyed every time he shows up? This time, the Flame Alchemist will awaken and teach those artificial beings a lesson!”

“That’s not the point! Why did Lieutenant Hawkeye only appear in one scene in the third volume?! Does that even make sense?”

In fact, this chaos erupted every time a new volume was released, but the reason it was particularly intense this time was due to the delay in the release of the fifth volume mentioned at the end of the last installment.

Usually, no matter how heated the arguments got, the anticipation for the new release would eventually bring everyone together, counting down the days with excitement. This had recently become one of the few joys in life.

“Hey, has the release date for the new volume been confirmed?”

“The author’s health isn’t good, so we can’t say when it will be released.”

If there were a definite end in sight, there might at least be some hope. But with an indefinite delay looming, the readers of this world, now plunged into the abyss of despair, began to lose their sanity.

“I’ve come up with a brilliant idea!”

“What is it?”

“If we just wait one day, we’ll get to see the next volume!!!”

The man who spoke had a crazed look in his eyes.

In his hand was a hammer.

“Hit me on the head with this.”

“What?”

“If I erase my memory before today ends, it’ll feel like the new volume comes out in just one day!”

“You’re a genius!”

“Let’s do it!”

Certainly, there was a risk of losing something more precious than just memories before the new release arrived. But they were already losing their grip on reality. Their dopamine-deprived brains craved stronger stimulation.

Occasionally, out of boredom, some tried reading the chivalric literature or history books that originally existed in this world, but somehow, they found them too bland.

“The next volume! It’s equivalent exchange, author! I’ll trade my memories for the next volume!”

And so, yet another day in the Empire was marked by the sound of a hammer, and someone collapsing in a typical, everyday scene.

A suspicious man, cloaked in a thick robe, walked into the Somerset merchandise store.

Although it wasn’t uncommon for people to conceal their identities when visiting the store, this man’s large order drew attention from those around him.

“Is he insane? The cost of all that will be astronomical.”

“It’s not just the cost. Did you see that he picked out a limited-edition figure that only platinum badge holders can buy?”

“He must be a complete rookie. Getting a platinum badge is no small feat.”

The murmurs of the customers filled the store.

Their assessment was sharp.

Occasionally, people who were simply curious about the Somerset store’s popularity would wander in and naively choose items, only to embarrass themselves when they realized the price.

The figures, handcrafted by artisans, were priced in gold coins, making them difficult for even nobles to purchase impulsively.

Moreover, certain exclusive items required at least a gold badge, and some could only be purchased by those with a platinum badge.

Many had turned away, red-faced, after realizing they couldn't afford the items they’d picked out.

“Excuse me, sir, but these items can only be purchased by customers with a platinum badge or higher. May I see your badge, please?”

The man carefully pulled a brightly shining badge from his robe and presented it to the clerk.

“Gasp! It’s real!!!”

“A real platinum badge... I’ve never seen one in person!”

“He must be someone extraordinary. They say that to get a platinum badge, even a noble would have to sell half their estate.”

The man’s display of the platinum badge caused another stir in the shop.

But the man, unfazed by the reactions around him, remained calm as he inspected the merchandise. He then quietly asked the clerk who was packing his order.

“Can this figure’s outfit be removed?”

“Pardon? I-I’m not sure…”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, the clerk stammered, unable to provide a proper answer. The man, dissatisfied, picked up the figure and began examining it more closely.

“It’s disappointing. In my memory, Wendy’s thighs were slimmer. The detailing here is lacking.”

He continued to rattle off detailed criticisms, noting that this outfit was from volume three, but the accuracy was off because the sleeve should have been folded three times, not twice.

The man’s remarks were so absurd that they seemed to destroy brain cells just by listening to them. The female clerk had already taken a step back from him.

However, the reactions of the other customers were somewhat different.

“Who is this guy? He knows his stuff.”

“Exactly. To know that detail, he must be part of our Ironblood Guild.”

“I agree. This guy is the real deal.”

For someone to come all the way to the Somerset store, it was rare that they weren't a passionate fan of the original works.

Occasionally, there were those who, despite having wealth, didn’t truly understand the value of the items and purchased them mindlessly. Such people were seen as the true enemies by those who considered themselves real fans.

However, this man not only knew as much as they did but even picked up on details they had missed, which drew their admiration.

Although it was a bit concerning that most of the figures he bought were female characters, they chalked it up to personal preference. After all, if they could buy only one, they’d likely choose a female character too.

“This should do.”

Finally, after clearing out one section of figures, the man, looking satisfied, seemed to be done. Everyone thought it was over.

But then he turned and walked over to the section containing The Kingdom of Ice merchandise.

“I’ll take all of these as well, from here to here. Please pack them up.”

His shopping spree was just beginning.

“At your service, Your Highness, Crown Prince of the Empire!”

At the front gate of the Somerset estate.

The newly appointed soldiers, the attendants of Somerset, from the head of the house to Rupert himself, all knelt on one knee, showing utmost respect to a single figure.

“Rise, please. It is improper of me to visit so suddenly.”

“Not at all, Your Highness. It is an honor for our family that you would grace us with your presence.”

Recently, Rupert had become accustomed to greeting guests at the estate, but for this particular guest, Count Bradley, the head of the house, had to personally come out to greet him.

“Daddy! This man saved Ada!!”

Ada, who was cradled in the Crown Prince’s arms, waved cheerfully at Count Bradley.

However, unlike Ada’s bright smile, the expressions of the count and the estate’s staff turned ashen.

The first shock was the Crown Prince’s missing right arm, an alarming sight in itself.

But why on earth was Ada, of all people, being held in the Crown Prince’s remaining left arm?

And to call him “mister”? That was a title so far removed from what one should call the Crown Prince that it could be considered almost blasphemous.

If the Crown Prince were offended, he could charge them with treason for insulting the royal family.

However,

“Our little lady here would’ve had her cheeks pinched if I still had my right arm.”

“No! I hate that!”

The Crown Prince, seemingly unbothered, looked down at Ada with affection, while Ada, comfortable in his arms, nuzzled her head against him, shaking it back and forth.

Anyone watching might think that the Crown Prince and Ada were siblings, not Rupert.

“Rupert.”

After playing with Ada for a moment, the Crown Prince set her down on the ground and finally addressed the reason for his visit.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You’ve done well. You can rest easy now.”

The Crown Prince spoke in a gentle tone as he approached Rupert, who was still kneeling, and patted his shoulder.

The scene could have been taken straight out of a novel about a lord and his knight.

But all Rupert could think was,

‘What on earth is happening?!’