The man behind the desk looked at the Faceless Man, a trace of wariness hidden in his eyes.
The man came and went like a ghost, and the organization behind him was just as strange and sinister.
If he had any choice, the Crown Prince would never have dealt with that organization.
But he had no choice.
The Dynasty's Old Emperor had lived too long.
What Crown Prince remained a Crown Prince for over twenty years? And he was the second to hold the title.
The first Crown Prince, his dear elder brother, had died before their imperial father. He had squandered more than half his life in that position—over fifty years.
He had endured until the bitter end, only to die before he could outlast the Old Emperor.
Just thinking about it filled the Crown Prince with resentment.
No wonder his elder brother had eventually tried to rebel. Unfortunately, the Old Emperor had controlled the court for nearly a century, more than enough time to make his word the only word that mattered.
Whenever the Crown Prince imagined himself sharing his brother's fate, growing old and dying without ever taking the throne,
he could not contain the viciousness rising in his heart.
How could that be? How could it? If that was his fate, what was the point of being Crown Prince?
He would be nothing but a puppet.
Since that's how it is, Father, don't blame me for turning against you when you've wronged me first.
If you want Longevity, why not cultivate in peace? Why insist on having your throne as well?
"How certain are you?"
He voiced the question aloud.
The Faceless Man was unsurprised that the Crown Prince had asked.
"Certain? Your Highness, you need only remember this: once the Longevity Banquet ends, it will