The World Is Mine For The Taking

Chapter 89 - The Sword Festival, Part 3 (3)

I gently laid Yr back on the bed, watching as she instinctively curled into the mattress, her breathing evening out almost instantly. She slipped into slumber like it was the most natural thing in the world, her small body barely making a dent in the sheets.

A soft sigh left my lips as I turned back to the table, eyeing the mess she had made. The spilled food, the overturned glass, and the scattered utensils told a story of just how carefree she was. Yet, despite the mess, I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed. She was cute—too cute. Even her clumsy moments were endearing. Maybe it was just part of her charm. Messy or not, she was a good girl.

I cleaned up the table, wiping away the remnants of her chaotic meal, then washed her plate while I was at it. The faint sound of water running filled the small room, mixing with Yr's soft, steady breathing. When I was done, I stepped out into the hallway, where Princess Myrcella was still waiting for me, standing with an air of quiet patience.

"It's fine now," I said. "Sorry for making you wait—and for keeping you standing there."

She tilted her head slightly, her long golden hair catching the dim hallway light, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Then she smiled, effortlessly charming.

"Oh, it's no trouble," she said softly. "I'm not inconvenienced at all. If anything, I wonder if I'm the one inconveniencing you instead."

"No way," I said, shaking my head. "Anyway, come in."

"Thank you."

With that, Princess Myrcella stepped inside with the grace of someone born to be admired. Her every movement was deliberate, calculated, yet naturally elegant. Meanwhile, Angelica stood rooted in place, her arms crossed, her sharp eyes lingering on me. She didn't say a word, but the way she glared made it obvious she wasn't pleased.

I met her gaze for a brief moment before deciding I didn't care. Since she wasn't planning to come in, I shut the door.

When I turned back, I found Princess Myrcella standing in the middle of the room, her gaze sweeping across the space. She looked slightly uncertain, as if unsure where to sit. Not that I could blame her—this dorm room was barely meant for one person, let alone three. It was small, cramped, and lacked any real luxury.

"Take the seat here, Princess Myrcella," I said, gesturing toward the single couch near the wall. It was the only real piece of furniture aside from my bed and the table.

"But what about you?" she asked, her eyes flickering with curiosity.

"I can just sit on the edge of the bed," I told her. "Oh, and by the way, I don't have anything to offer you. This dorm room isn't exactly stocked with fancy drinks or food."

She chuckled lightly, the sound delicate yet amused.

"It's fine," she assured me. "You don't have to worry about that."

With a graceful motion, she reached behind her, smoothing out the back of her skirt before lowering herself onto the couch. Even the way she sat down carried a regal air, her every action effortlessly elegant.

I moved to the edge of the bed, but as I did, Yr let out a soft, sleepy grumble. She shifted positions, rolling from her side onto her back, and in the process, my shirt which she was currently wearing—the oversized one draped over her small frame—slid up, exposing the soft, pale skin of her stomach.

Her father was no fool. He knew what she was capable of, and this marriage was his way of ensuring she never became a threat to his rule. It was checkmate—or at least, that's what he thought.

"My father knows that," she continued, her gaze darkening. "That's why he's doing this. He wants to permanently cut off any path I have to rebellion." Her fingers resumed their slow tapping, a sign of restless calculation. Then, she turned her eyes back to me, sharp and expectant. "Which is why I need your help."

I didn't respond immediately. My mind was already running through potential strategies, weighing every possible counter-move. There had to be a way to flip the board, to tip the scales in her favor.

But before I could settle on an answer, she spoke again.

"I want you to do what the Emperor did to my father," she said, her voice like silk, but beneath it, there was steel.

I didn't move, didn't speak. I let her finish.

"I want you to introduce yourself to my father... and ask for my hand in marriage as well."

The moment the words left her lips, the air between us shifted.

It wasn't just a suggestion—it was a calculated power play. The only real move left on the board. And she was entrusting me to make it.

The thought had already crossed my mind before, but hearing it from her directly solidified the reality of it. This wasn't just about stopping the engagement—this was about tipping the entire kingdom into chaos.

If I did this, there would be no turning back. The moment I stepped into that battlefield, the first domino would fall... and from there, the entire world would start to crumble.

"Would you do it?" she asked, her voice smooth yet laced with something deeper—something testing. Her eyes locked onto mine, unwavering, as if searching for hesitation, for doubt.

I let the silence stretch between us, dragging the moment just enough to make her wonder. Then, a slow, knowing smirk pulled at the corner of my lips.

"Well," I exhaled, tilting my head slightly. "I'm the only one who could do it, after all."

What she was asking wasn't just a favor—it was a declaration of war, a power move so bold that even the slightest misstep could send everything crashing down. She wanted me to march straight into her father's court and introduce myself, not as some nameless suitor, but as Christopher Faust—the man who controlled the Leonamon, the largest company in the world.

Right now, its influence remained locked within the borders of Milham, a carefully maintained monopoly that Myrcella had wielded like a blade, ensuring no other factions could sink their greedy hands into it.

But I wasn't content with just that. No, my ambitions stretched far beyond the confines of this kingdom. I wasn't building a business. I was constructing an empire. And soon, after Myrcella was done using it, Leonamon would extend its reach beyond nations, beyond kings, beyond emperors—until the entire world bent beneath its weight.

And surely... a man who held an empire in his hands could stand face-to-face with an Emperor and make him flinch.