Chapter 12 – The Emperor's Secret
As the four Dukes were sharing their rare moment of levity—
A new presence stepped into the room.
"Talking without me?"
The voice was friendly, light, and carried an effortless authority that didn't need to be shouted.
The Dukes turned as one.
Standing there was Frederick von Ace, the Emperor of Aeternum. He looked relaxed, almost casual, dressed in robes that were elegant but lacked the stiff formality one would expect from a ruler of his status. To his closest friends, he didn't look like a strict monarch; he looked like a man who had seen too much to be bothered by protocol.
"Frey," Alexander said, acknowledging him with the familiarity of an old comrade.
"We were just discussing Igna. His temper finally flared up, and he's currently in the garden trying to cool his head."
Frederick raised a brow, a spark of genuine interest in his eyes.
"He can actually get angry?"
Then he smiled, a faint, knowing curve of his lips. "I think that's a good sign. It means he has truly recovered from that little… accident of his."
Alexander's gaze flattened into one of slight annoyance.
"You're the one to talk," the Duke muttered. "You're the one who gifted him that laboratory in the first place. He only became interested in those dangerous theories because of you."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave.
"He picked up your hobby of blowing things into orbit, Frey. And last time, he almost didn't come back. He almost died."
Frederick scratched his cheek, looking a bit sheepish.
"Come now… I truly thought he was someone like me. I felt a kindred spirit."
Alistair, the Duke of Diamond, frowned, his eyes narrowing at the Emperor's choice of words.
"…Don't tell me you mean he's transmigrated?"
Leopold's expression turned unusually serious, his playful mood vanishing.
"Don't joke about that, Frey. Igna doesn't act like you at all. He isn't some soul from another world playing at being a noble. He's still himself. He's our Igna."
Frederick didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a small, rectangular object. It had a perfectly smooth surface and a dark, glass-like screen. Its design was sleek, alien, and bore no resemblance to the ornate magical artifacts of Aeternum.
It was a mobile phone.
"Do you know what this is?" Frederick asked, holding it up.
All four Dukes stared at the device. They looked at each other, searching for any sign of recognition, before simultaneously shaking their heads.
Laurence stepped forward, squinting at the black screen. "…What is it? A new type of mana stone? A storage device?"
Frederick smiled faintly, a trace of homesickness flickering in his eyes.
"In my old world, it was called a mobile phone. A communication device."
He turned it over in his hand.
"Where I come from, almost everyone carried one. It was a lifeline. It held maps, photos, videos, games… it was a window to the entire world, far more than just a tool for speaking."
He let out a weary sigh.
"I've spent years trying to recreate it here. But we lack the fundamental technology—the electricity, the silicon, the infrastructure. So, I tried to bridge the gap with magic."
He gave a wry, self-deprecating smile.
"And as you know, magic and high-frequency signals don't always mix. Sometimes, we lose control of the resonance. And then—boom."
His eyes then locked onto Alexander's.
"But when Igna first saw it… before the explosion… do you know what he said? He looked at it and whispered the word 'mobile.' I was stunned. There is no such word in our language. How could he possibly recognize it?"
Alexander crossed his arms, his heart beginning to thrum with a new kind of tension.
"Did you remember your past life through dreams, Frey? Is that how it works?"
Frederick shook his head.
"No. My case is simple. I transmigrated. I died there and woke up here with my memories intact, like a passenger moving from one carriage to another."
He looked toward the garden doors.
"But your son… he is different. He isn't a transmigrator."
"He is reincarnated."
The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming cold and heavy.
"Reincarnation is the natural cycle," Frederick continued, his voice low. "Souls move from one life to another, washing away their pasts. Most people forget everything—their names, their families, the people they loved. It's a mercy."
He paused, his gaze turning sharp.
"But some… some souls are too strong to be washed clean. They remember through dreams. They see flashes of who they used to be."
"I think Igna is recovering eons of memories that way. He isn't just one person. He is a collection of lives."
Alexander frowned, trying to reconcile this with his son's words.
"But he told me those dreams stopped. He said the noise went quiet after he woke up from the coma."
Silence stretched through the room, thick with unanswered questions.
At that moment—
The sound of crisp, light footsteps echoed against the stone floor.
Ignes had returned from the garden.
He stopped at the entrance, his red eyes taking in the sight of the four most powerful Dukes and the Emperor of the Empire standing in a tight, secretive circle.
He felt their eyes on him—heavy, searching, and filled with a sudden, intense scrutiny.
"…Why are you all looking at me like I'm a specimen in a jar?" Ignes asked, his voice flat and unimpressed.