A Tale of Strategies For the Throne

…………

From the time they can remember, the only thing a child feels is hunger.

So hungry.

Hunger was always gnawing at his body, and he never knew what it felt like to be full.

He had been living in the dump, in a hole dug into the mountain of garbage. The stench that would be unbearable to others was something he had become accustomed to.

The stench seemed to have soaked into his body and blood, permeating his entire body, making him exude a disgusting stench from the inside out.

Everyone shunned him.

But only in this way can he survive.

Only by staying in the garbage dump could he grab the discarded scraps of cold food for the first time and fill his hungry belly a little.

Only in the smelly garbage dump would those beggars who were taller than him not come to rob the shelter he had finally dug out.

He couldn't remember how many times he fought with others to a bloody battle over a bit of food.

No matter how much stronger the opponent was, he never backed down.

Because he had seen people who starved to death because they couldn't get food. Those ugly, shriveled corpses were lying on the ground, no longer alive, rotting bit by bit, emitting an unpleasant corpse smell, attracting vultures and rats to gnaw at them. Holding the body.

He didn't want to be like that at all, so he wanted to live no matter what.

How on earth could a skinny kid survive by snatching food from those who were taller and stronger than him?

Cruel, crueler than anyone else.

In this place where the jungle prevails, no one will help you, you can only rely on yourself. You must be like a mad dog, even if your legs are broken, you must bite off a piece of flesh from the opponent's body fiercely.

He once was beaten black and blue but refused to let go. He bit off a finger of the man who wanted to snatch his food.

That's how he survived.

He could no longer remember how many times he had been injured and how many times he had been in critical condition.

Once, when he dragged his broken leg back into a hole in the garbage dump, he had a high fever for a whole day and night. He once thought he would die like this.

But maybe it was because people were so lucky that he just endured it.

Slums are the darkest and ugliest places in a city. These filthy beggars all stay in that kind of place, the gathering place of garbage, the place where the city dumps garbage... Maybe they themselves are part of the dumped and abandoned part.

They only deserve to live in this putrid, dark place.

Occasionally, when he went out to beg from the slums, all he saw were looks of disgust, disgust, and avoidance. Even the so-called well-wishers who gave him alms looked at him condescendingly and contemptuously, like looking down at ants.

Those people looked at him as if they were looking at a humanoid piece of trash.

He didn't like the way those people looked at him.

…

Suddenly one day, his whole life changed.

Several well-dressed persons, who were unattainable to him, found him, fell at his feet weeping, and called him an unknown name.

They cried to him, little master Heimos.

These high-ranking people who would never even give him a glance when walking on the road in the past, call him master?

At that time, he was confused and a little overwhelmed. He couldn't react and could only stand there blankly.

"Heimos!"

A sweet voice with a crying tone came, and a pleasant fragrance came to the face.

The child raised his head and saw the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. The woman ran toward him at a trot, with an excited face and tears in her eyes. She stretched out her hands as if she wanted to hug him.

When he met the woman's eager eyes, he felt as if his chest was filled with something and became warm.

The woman's footsteps stopped abruptly the moment she was about to approach him.

The hand that was originally intended to reach out to him was stuck halfway, and was retracted to cover the lower half of his face, covering his nose.

He saw a familiar look in the woman's eyes.

disgust.

What he had seen in the eyes of countless people, he saw again at this moment in the eyes of this woman who made his heart beat.

The chest that was originally warm sank and became cold at this moment, becoming devoid of warmth again.

After calming down, he saw clearly and understood.

Those who knelt in front of him, looked at him with flattering eyes, and seemed to call him "little master" with respect, looked at him with deep disgust in their eyes that they tried hard to hide.

He thought, it turns out there is no difference.

These people, this woman who claimed to be his mother, that person, those people, no matter who they were, were all the same.

All people are the same.

…………

……………………

The boy suddenly opened his eyes from the darkness and woke up from the dream of the past.

It was dark all around, it was already night, and only a faint moonlight shone in from the window, shining on his cheek.

The body is heavy and hot.

It was a hard feeling that he hadn't felt in a long time... but it was somehow familiar.

When he was still very young, when he was just a humble little beggar that everyone could beat and trample on, at that time, he dragged his bruised body and lay in a hole dug in the garbage, feeling hot all over. , burned to the point of unconsciousness.

…Now it seems like it’s back to the past.

He struggled to hold up his heavy body, and large drops of sweat slid down his hot chin and dripped on the sheets.

He tried shouting twice in a hoarse voice, but no one responded. There was no one inside or outside the house.

As expected, it's just the usual flattery and contempt. Anyone with a discerning eye can see that the younger brother King Camos loves is just a child, and he is just a dispensable gift.

He took a breath and rolled out of bed.

His whole body was feeling hot, so hot that he needed cold water.

Heimos shook his weak body and walked slowly outside.

However, his body was too weak to recover. Just as he reached the door, his vision suddenly went dark, and he could no longer hold on, and he suddenly fell forward.

"Wow--?"

The shout was certainly not shouted by Heimos, who fell to the ground and lost consciousness.

The one who yelled was Garlan, who was almost hit by Heimos who fell down as soon as he reached the door.

...hiding too slowly.

Garlan thought as he fell to the ground after being hit.

Really troubled by the look in Heimos's eyes before he left, he asked the servant where Heimos lived. At night, he pretended to be asleep on the bed, and after all the maids had left, he sneaked out through the window.

He thought he would secretly break through the window when he arrived at Heimos, but when he saw there was no servant, only a doorkeeper was still dozing, so he slipped in without any difficulty.

As soon as he ran to the door, he suddenly saw a figure crashing down on him.

Garlan instinctively shrank back, but before he could completely dodge, the young man fell to the ground and knocked him down. Now, the young man's head was pressing on his thigh.

What are you doing?

Gallan was confused as his legs were pinned down. He reached out to push, but as soon as his hand touched Heimos' head, he froze.

So hot.

Huymos's face felt hot to the touch.

In the moonlight, he saw that the face of the other person pressing on his lap was red, as if it was on fire, and nothing looked right.

Looking at it again, the scars on Heimos' body had only been roughly cleaned, but not cleaned at all. The young man's body was covered in bruises and bruises under the moonlight, and his face was burning red, which made him look shocking.

So your temper, which is about saving face and suffering, will never change in a few lifetimes.

If you don't like me, why don't you take the ointment I gave you? Aren't you the one who suffers in the end?

If I hadn't run over to you on a whim tonight, you might have become mentally retarded that night.

Thinking so unhappily in his heart, Garlan got up from the ground. The night wind was cool, and he already had a fever. If he continued to be exposed to the night wind, his fever would only become worse. Gallan, who wanted to take Heimos back into the house, grabbed one of the arms of the burned-out boy and tried to lift him up.

Once it was pulled, let alone setting it up, it didn't even move.

Garlan looked at Heimos lying on the ground, which was more than a head taller than him, and then looked at his little arms and legs.

Well, I can't pull it, stand it up, or carry it.

He thought about it.

Okay, let's drag it on.

With this thought in mind, he did just that, grabbing Heimos' hand and starting to drag him into the house.

Heimos is on the thin side and shouldn't be very heavy in theory, but he has a big frame and looks like he has a lot of muscles on his skinny body. For a seven or eight-year-old kid who hasn't exercised since he was a child, even just dragging him up is difficult. It doesn’t work.

Gallan almost used all his strength to drag Heimos into the house little by little at a snail's speed.

As soon as he entered the room, he gasped and looked at the half-meter-high bed and was dumbfounded. He can drag Hermos, but picking this guy up and putting him on the bed is simply impossible for him now, okay?

……etc.

Why did he, a little kid, have to drag Heimos into the house and put him to bed with his own hands?

Couldn't he just run out and call someone over?

The kid who finally had his brain turned around cursed himself for being stupid, then turned around and ran towards the door. As soon as he reached the door, there was a thud, as if he kicked something hard under his feet.

The hard thing was kicked out by him, hit the edge of the door with a bang, and rolled back again.

Garlan looked down and saw that the moonlight shining in from the door reflected on the thing that rolled back to his feet, reflecting a cold silver light in his eyes.

It was a bright silver dagger without any unnecessary decoration. It should have fallen from Heimos when he dragged him through the door.

He leaned over and reached out to hold the bright silver blade. The cold air seeped into his fingers, making them cold.

Deep in the spiral grooves at the junction of the handle and the sword body, a faint trace of dark red can be seen, indicating to people that this shiny silver dagger is not a decoration, but has actually seen blood, as if it can feel a little bit. The evil spirit seeped out from above.

Garlan was half kneeling on the ground, staring blankly at the dagger in his hand.

The moonlight shone on the dagger, reflecting a bright light on his side cheeks, causing the edges of his golden irises to reflect a strange light.

...There is something stirring in my heart.

The evil spirit seemed to penetrate deep into his blood through his skin, making his blood throb at this moment.

He turned to look at Heimos beside him.

The boy who was still young and childish was lying on the ground next to him, his whole body hot and unconscious, his face burned crimson, his mouth slightly open, breathing rapidly. Sweat flowed down the young man's slender neck, and the tips of his wet black hair stuck to his neck. Even a thin layer of sweat oozed from his chest. His slightly reddish honey-colored skin reflected a moist sheen under the moonlight.

Heimos was lying there, opening his chest, exposing his most vulnerable neck, without any resistance.

Garlan clenched the cold dagger in his hand, his heart beating violently at this moment.

It was as if an invisible force from the abyss was bewitching him, and there was an invisible voice hissing in his head.

Now.

It's now.

All he had to do was pierce Heimos' heart with the blade——

This guy who killed him four times—

This boy who might kill him again in the future——

As long as he takes action now——

The moonlight was like water, falling on half of the cheek of the child kneeling on the ground.

The child lowered his head, his soft blond hair shimmering, and the skin on his cheeks reflected the moonlight like snow.

He gripped the silver dagger in his hand tightly with his fingers, so hard that his knuckles were already bloodless.

There was a deathly silence in the dark night.

In this terrifying silence, Garlan suddenly raised his dagger——

With a clang, the bright silver dagger was pressed heavily to the ground by him, making a harsh sound of metal rubbing against the stone ground.

The child who pressed the dagger to the ground raised his other hand and slapped himself hard without any warning.

This slap was so hard that after the snap, you could see the red finger prints on the delicate skin.

Garlan knelt on the ground, pressed his hands on the ground, and gasped for air.

The blond hair was messy and scattered in front of his wide eyes. The child's face looked as if he had just escaped from a nightmare. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and his pupils were trembling slightly.

He gasped for breath, and it took him a while to calm down.

Garlan stood up, turned around and walked to Heimos, then leaned down and squatted down again.

He half-knelt beside Heimos, pursed his lips, stuffed the shiny silver dagger into Heimos' waist, and tied it tightly to Heimos' belt.

As if a big stone had been lifted off him, he breathed out a sigh of relief and stood up.

You have to call someone over immediately.

He thought so.

But just when he was about to stand up, a hand suddenly stretched out and grabbed his wrist——