In the morning, I woke up, gave Ney’s little butt a light squeeze as she slept like she’d passed out next to me, and then stood up.
Then I looked into the mirror in my room, staring at the face reflected there, and found myself thinking back on things.
I leaned toward the glass and muttered, “But man, no matter how many times I see it, it just doesn’t feel like my face. Who is this pretty boy?”
What’s in the mirror is a slender, delicate pretty boy.
Hair like spun gold, thin eyebrows that give off a sharp, noble vibe, blue eyes like sapphires.
His nose is straight, his cheeks are white like alabaster, and the four-character phrase “handsome features” fits him without any awkwardness.
His neat, refined looks are like a sculpture made by a master craftsman–if he smiled, his white teeth would probably sparkle.
Arses Urgulius, fourth prince of the Urgalia Empire. That was my position and name until not long ago.
Since in Japan I had black hair, black eyes, and a chubby body, I still get confused trying to accept that the blond, blue-eyed handsome prince in the mirror is me.
It’s been over ten years since I reincarnated1 into this country, and I can read and speak without any problems now, but I still think in Japanese. Words that slip out of my mouth by accident are Japanese too.
Probably because I still haven’t been able to accept the situation I’m in.
Though, it’s not like I want to go back to Japan or anything.
I don’t remember how I died in Japan, but in my past life I didn’t get along with my parents or siblings, and I had few friends or acquaintances. After a long search for a partner, I finally managed to get married, but my wife cheated on me and ran off with a younger guy. At work, my boss nagged me every single day.
My salary never went up, overtime never went down, and my health check numbers got worse every year. I didn’t have the energy to try the marriage hunt again, and every day was just anxiety about the future piling up.
There’s no way I’d have any regrets about a thirty-five-year life like that. When I found out I’d been reincarnated, I celebrated like crazy as a baby.
I didn’t have a speck of anxiety about living in an unknown world. I was just so happy I could change from who I used to be.
And on top of that, I was born as a prince of one of the biggest powers in this world. You could say I was born a winner, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Because my mother’s status was low, my chances of becoming emperor were slim, but I didn’t care about that at all.
I’d already learned plenty in my past life that I’m incompetent and untalented. I’m also lacking in personal charm, so if someone like me tried to push aside my brothers and go for the throne, the only thing waiting would be a one-way road to hell.
I got reborn as a prince of a great empire–no way I’d throw myself into a hopeless fight and get destroyed. That’d be the height of stupidity.
Arses Urgulius will live as an ordinary royal, grow old ordinarily, and die ordinarily. That was fine by me.
And yet–I let out a sigh in front of the mirror without thinking.
I couldn’t help but sigh. “My three older brothers killed each other on their own and all three ended up dead. Honestly, who could’ve predicted that?”
Thanks to that, I’m the emperor now.
If even one of the three had survived, the job never would’ve come around to me, but all three died like it was planned. What a pain.
Well, even though I became emperor, the one actually holding real power is a noble who used to be my guardian.
This noble has now risen to become the empire’s prime minister and is running things at court with skill and ruthlessness.
The role demanded of me is: one, sit quietly on the throne during audiences; two, stamp the policies the prime minister submits during work sessions to give approval. Just those two things.
I was a puppet straight out of a picture book, but honestly, I’ve got zero complaints.
I just do easy work a kid could handle, and they treat me like an emperor. If I complained, I’d get punished for sure.
Outside of audience and work hours, I’m free to do whatever, so in my spare time, I fool around with Ney2 and the maids trying to make a baby.
The adult age on this continent is thirteen, and I’m eleven now. An emperor who isn’t even an adult yet acting like a sex fiend–the courtiers would probably frown at that, but actually, my baby-making was welcomed by the courtiers.
For royalty and nobles, having an heir is the top priority. That part’s the same in this life as the last.
Because three princes died at once in the recent war, the current Urgalia imperial family has very few direct male heirs. Specifically, just me and my father, who abdicated.
My father is also bedridden from the heartbreak and shock of losing three sons at once, and having more children is basically impossible for him.
So if I died without producing an heir, the direct Urgalia bloodline that’s lasted over two hundred years since the founding emperor would die out. That’s why the courtiers welcomed my baby-making efforts.
Some nobles even send their wives or daughters to me.
Having had my wife run off in my past life, in this life my motto is “turn no one away, let no one escape.” Naturally, I enjoy all the women offered to me–or so I’d like to say, but when it comes to noble daughters, the prime minister3 puts a stop to it, so I can’t lay a hand on them.
Why won’t the prime minister let me sleep with noble girls? The answer’s simple.
For example, with slaves like Ney or maids working in the palace, even if they bear the emperor’s child, they’re no threat to the prime minister. That’s because low-status women like them have no backing force.
But if a noble’s daughter bears the emperor’s child, it’s a different story. The noble who sent his daughter would try to make her empress and wield power as an outside relative–the empress’s family.
For the prime minister who controls the country with me as his puppet, outside relatives are the same thing as political enemies. There’s no way a prime minister known for his ruthlessness would allow something that increases his enemies.
I don’t want to make an enemy of the prime minister who’s my backing just to sleep with a noble either, so I pick partners it’s okay to touch.
Last night I was with Ney, so today, also to give Ney a rest, it’d be better to be with someone else. And when it comes to someone other than Ney, there’s only one candidate.
After finishing my afternoon work, I called out to my personal maid who’d made me tea.
”So anyway, Shiron, we’re going to the bedroom,” I said smoothly.
”What do you mean ‘so anyway’? The sun’s still high, Your Majesty,” Shiron sighed, setting down the teacup.
The one who replied like she was fed up was a girl with beautiful blond hair like moonlight, grown down to her shoulders.
This girl named Shiron is sixteen, five years older than me, and a veteran maid who’s served me since I was four.
Because of that, our relationship is closer to brother and sister than master and servant–well, even if we’re like siblings, we definitely do the deed.
Shiron’s good point is that she doesn’t flatter or get too familiar just because she’s favored by the emperor.
Even now she put her right hand on her hip, stuck up her left index finger, and scolded me.
”Your Majesty, pillow talk is for after the sun goes down,” she scolded.
Shiron, small with a baby face, forcing a frown to scold me–it’s really cute.
I gave a nasty grin and checked with Shiron.
”So basically, once the sun goes down, I can hold Shiron, right?” I asked with a grin.
I said that and reached for Shiron’s chest.
The maids of the Urgalia court wear a long black dress with a white apron over it, and a white hair ornament on their heads. It’s basically what my past life would call a maid outfit–seems like this kind of clothing ends up similar in any world.
Anyway, I casually groped Shiron’s chest wrapped in the white apron.
A soft feeling like freshly pounded mochi came through my palm, and I couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.
Like I said before, Shiron is sixteen, but with her baby face she looks much younger than her real age. To my senses, she feels like a girl who just started middle school.
On the other hand, the flesh on her chest and hips is fuller than her age suggests, showing off a loli-big-boobs look that’s the total opposite of Ney’s small chest and small butt.
Shiron’s reaction to having her chest groped was quick.
”H-hey, Your Majesty! Please stop teasing me!” she gasped.
Shiron turned bright red and twisted her body, trying to escape from my hand–but she didn’t try to slap it away.
I said our relationship is close to brother and sister, but it’s a fact that there’s an absolute status difference between me and Shiron. So if I seriously demanded it, Shiron couldn’t refuse.
Well, I’d also be in trouble if Shiron hated me, so I don’t plan to ignore her wishes and force things. Instead, I often lead her into sex by making it so she can’t refuse and gets embarrassed.
”If you want me to stop, answer my question properly. Once it’s night, I can hold Shiron, right?” I replied.
”…Y-yes. After the sun sets, I’ll, um, keep you company, Your Majesty…” she stammered.
”Good, then tonight’s bedtime is Shiron, decided,” I declared.
I said that and let go of Shiron’s chest, and my personal maid hurriedly put distance between us and fixed her messed-up clothes.
Then, after letting out a big sigh of relief, she looked at me with resentment.
”Your Majesty… is it fun teasing an ugly woman like me?” she asked quietly.
”Teasing? That hurts. It’s a fact that I want to hold you, Shiron. If you’d nodded, we’d be heading to the bedroom right now,” I said with a laugh.
I said that and laughed loudly, and Shiron shut her mouth, looking like she didn’t know what to say.
Like I said before, Shiron is an attractive girl with a young face and a body that doesn’t match her age, but she stubbornly insists she’s ugly.
This isn’t modesty–it’s because one of the conditions for being a “beauty” in this country is being slim.
A skinny body like Ney’s is praised, and a fuller body like Shiron’s gets classified as ugly.
Every time I hold Shiron, I go on and on about the beauty and greatness of a full body, but she still won’t believe me.
Can’t be helped, I sighed internally. If words won’t convince her, I’ll just prove it with actions. Tonight too, I’ll love her so thoroughly she won’t have time to sleep.
Maybe Shiron sensed what I was thinking, because she kept fidgeting and fixing her hair.
I watched her like that and curled up one corner of my lips into a small smirk.
Trivia:
1. Arses’ pragmatic acceptance of his role as a puppet emperor highlights his self-awareness and desire for a comfortable life over power struggles.
2. The prime minister’s control over Arses’ actions, especially regarding noble daughters, underscores the political tensions within the empire.
3. Shiron’s insistence on her ugliness, despite her attractive features, reveals the cultural beauty standards of Urgalia, which prioritize slimness.
Translation Notes:
1 ↩ The process by which Arses’ soul from his previous life in Japan is transferred into the body of an 11-year-old prince in Urgalia, allowing him to retain memories and perspectives from his past life.
2 ↩ Ney’s race, believed to be tree spirits with long lifespans, often targeted by humans for their secrets of longevity. Their relationship with humans is hostile due to historical attempts at control.
3 ↩ The noble who holds real power in the empire, using Arses as a puppet emperor to maintain control and eliminate potential political threats.