Crown Prince Sells Medicine

Chapter 15

Are we going to fight on that bridge? I rather like that.

Raciels lips curled into a sly grin.

What if the Emperor has come out like this?

It only fuels his desire to emerge victorious.

Yet, Gardins contemplations appeared to diverge slightly.

Your Highness. This is really too much. No matter how its your decision Isnt this too cruel?

Gardins eyes welled up with tears as he tightly clutched the sleeve of his robe.

Your Highness. You should not do this. How about returning to the palace immediately?

Return to the palace? Why?

Why? To meet His Majesty.

And after I meet him?

Ask him to cancel todays decision. Or at least, ask him to reconsider. Who knows, His Majesty might change his mind.

Do you really think so?

Yes?

Unfortunately, I dont think so.

What do you mean by that?

I mean the duel on the Lloy-Javi Bridge, where tens of thousands of imperial citizens can watch. Do you think His Majesty made that decision on a whim? No, absolutely not.

Then

It means its a decision with political intentions and purposes.

Naturally, this entails broadcasting his own defeat to the entire empire. It serves the purpose of engraving the perception that the Second Prince is a more suitable leader for the days to come.

Consequently, the Second Princes legitimacy will grow even more formidable.

People might sympathize with the loser, but they will hesitate to let that loser rule them.

Such is the nature of human hearts.

Irrespective of the outcome of the duel, it holds no significance. Even if the loser elicits sympathy and compassion, they remain branded as the defeated.

People will not embrace a loser as their leader. Conversely, the victor of the duel will be bestowed with immense legitimacy.

The problem is that everyone except me expects the Second Prince to be the winner.

A bitter smile graced his lips as he pondered upon it.

The Emperor, the nobles, the citizens, the Second Prince, and even Gardin standing beside him not a single soul held even the tiniest bit of faith in his potential for triumph.

Well, at least theres no pressure.

In truth, a sense of exhilaration surged within him.

He was resolute in shattering everyones anticipation of his impending loss.

That was the catalyst.

With 14 days remaining until the appointed duel, Raciel wholeheartedly dedicated himself to prepare for the fateful day.

Three times. If I just block the Second Princes attack three times, then I win.

He had a secret weapon at his disposal.

His own calculations and foresight.

Using these, he gradually bolstered the fundamental stamina required for three defenses. He did not need an extraordinary level of stamina.

Only three times.

Just enough to withstand three attacks without faltering.

Hu, huff.

Initially, he strolled along the palace corridor.

Deliberately unhurried, he maintained a steady pace, never pausing, for a duration of 20 minutes. He accomplished his goal. Afterward, he took a 5-minute rest before resuming his walk. The time extended to 25 minutes, then 30 minutes, gradually increasing.

Consequently, his feeble legs became laden with the ache of muscular fatigue.

Ah!

The following morning marked the onset of a tormenting ordeal of muscle agony. His thighs, hamstrings, inner thighs, and even his buttocks resounded with excruciating pain. Each time he attempted to sit or stand, involuntary groans escaped his lips, and his legs trembled unsteadily.

The pinnacle of this ordeal arrived when he confronted the challenge of descending the stairs. Unfortunately, his bedroom happened to be located on the second floor.

Geez, this sucks. Is this how bad my fitness is? Just because I walked a little more in the corridor for a day?

Nevertheless, giving up was never an option.

The defense strategy he envisioned against the onslaught of the second princes attack demanded formidable lower-body strength.

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If my lower body is weak or stiff, its over. I wont be able to deflect or withstand any impact.

Hence, he had to diligently cultivate his lower body strength to its utmost capacity without delay.

At least to a level comparable to an average person.

In pursuit of this goal, he walked tirelessly, over and over.

Descending to the first floor of the star palace, he ventured into the garden.

Amidst the breathtakingly beautiful and sunlit surroundings, he trudged forward, gasping for breath, resembling an elderly man.

Oh, damn it!

Naturally, he made sure to maintain a nourishing diet throughout this process. Given his delicate health condition, he couldnt simply indulge in indiscriminate meat consumption; his digestion was too frail for such fare.

He directed the star palaces chef to grind and boil all the food into a hearty soup. With each meal, he ate to the point where his belly felt ready to burst. He filled his circle slot with nutritious soup. And then, he resumed his walking routine. He walked, rested, walked again, stumbling at times, and then rested once more.

During this arduous journey, it wasnt just his lower body muscles that cried out in agony.

Ding dong!

[You are overworking and torturing your body. Excessive torture may lead to a worsening of your illness.]

[All parts of your body are complaining about the sudden increase in workload.]

[They want regular hours. They want a beautiful life with evenings. Please respect your bodys work-life balance for health.]

Shut up.

Ding dong!

[Your internal organs have sent you a message.]

[Heart: Hey, bastard! Were all dying here!]

[Lungs: Th wa ck]

[Large intestine: I bet youd like it if I just let go, wouldnt you?]

Shut up

He silenced the cascade of complaining thoughts that bombarded his mind relentlessly. He found himself in a dire predicament. The second prince was far from being a foe to be underestimated.

Indeed, even with his secret weapon or any other preparations, assuring a definite victory proved to be a formidable challenge.

I just want to give up.

Such thoughts plagued his mind frequently, a consequence of the tremendous strain his body endured. Yet, he couldnt allow himself to succumb to them.

No. If I lose here, the second prince will inherit the throne and hell ruin this country.

The alternative would be either perishing amidst the chaos or surviving only to face a life of destitution. Such a fate would be far more dreadful than a peaceful death in bed.

That was not the outcome he desired in the slightest.

I definitely refuse.

Whenever the temptation to give up crept in, he clung to this steadfast thought. He persevered, walking, resting, and nourishing his body with the mana-infused soup from his slot. In the evenings, he sought relief from the strain in his lower body muscles through acupuncture, ensuring a deep and restful sleep.

Day after day, the count increasedone day, two days, five days

With the passage of time, his steps grew more resolute. As his strides steadied, the burden on his physique diminished. Enhanced stamina allowed him to venture on lengthier journeys. The extended walks engaged a greater array of muscles, consequently strengthening his tendons and sinews.

Finally, when the 13th day dawned.

Huff! Huff!

Gradually, he regained the ability to run, taking small strides of progress.

Furthermore, he received unexpected messages.

Ding dong!

[You have consistently performed exercises that push the limits of your physical capabilities.]

[During this process, you have consistently engaged in ideal forms of rest and nutrition intake, which has slowly improved your health status.]

[As a result, your cardiovascular endurance has slightly improved.]

[Your hearts rank has increased.]

[Heart Rank: F -> D]

[Your heart can maintain a steady heartbeat for 10 seconds even in situations that exceed the physical activity limit.]

[Your lungs rank has increased.]

[Lungs Rank: F -> D]

[Your lungs can withstand and maintain respiration for up to two instances of strong impact to the chest and abdomen without losing breath.]

[Your heart has sponsored 100HP.]

[Your lungs, very happy, has sponsored 200HP.]

[Current HP: 800]

Huh?

Raciel abruptly halted his run, his eyes widening in astonishment.

The message conveyed an elevation in the ranks of his heart and liver, along with an unexpected boost to his HP sponsorship. It was akin to an unforeseen gift, a delightful surprise that caught him completely off guard.

If its a gift like this, its always welcome.

A contented smile graced his lips.

There was a peculiar satisfaction derived from subjecting his body to such torment.

But it wasnt solely the ranking of his heart and liver that had transformed.

Pulse diagnosis.

Ceasing his panting, he employed the Pulse Diagnosis skill. Amidst the rugged rhythm of his pulse, a gratifying message emerged, like a warm welcome.

Ding dong!

[Basic Comprehensive Examination Form]

[Subject: Raciel Adria Magentano]

[Species: Human]

[Gender: Male]

[Age: 21 years]

[Height: 176.3 cm]

[Weight: 58.9 kg]

[Blood Type: Rh+ O]

Phew, Ive gained weight again.

The numbers, while still not particularly impressive, showcased a notable improvement. He had grown 0.1 cm taller, and his weight had increased by over 5 kilograms.

Im gaining weight. Ive also put on a little muscle.

He appeared somewhat more substantial than before. If he had previously resembled a minuscule speck of dust, invisible even under a magnifying glass, he had now ascended to the level of being playfully referred to as a nuclear anchovy.

Its the day before the match now. Ive met the minimum requirements.

Three defenses for triumph.

Dedicated preparation for three defenses.

He exerted himself, perspiring profusely, giving his utmost effort.

Thus, the moment had arrived to scale the pinnacle of his readiness.

Gardin?

Upon completing his last exercise, he summoned Gardin.

Bring me some liquor. Only the strongest ones.

Excuse me?

What do you mean, excuse me? Isnt there any liquor in the palace?

Of course, there is-

But?

Why are you looking for liquor at this hour?

Obviously, Im looking for it to drink.

Excuse me?

Gardins eyes widened, and he hastily responded.

Yo-you mean to drink liquor?

Yes. So pick out the best and bring it to me. Only the strongest ones, carefully selected.

What? Why? What are you going to nag about again?

Crown Prince.

Yes.

I was taught that no matter what hardships or adversity one faces, one should always hold a single flower of hope in their heart.

What does that mean? Who taught you that?

My father.

Hmm, he left you with a great lesson. But Im not really interested in flowers. Sorry.

Its not about flowers, its about living with hope.

I am sufficiently hopeful and optimistic.

Your Highness!

Whoa, you startled me.

No matter how worried you are about tomorrows match, no matter how scared you are, to drink liquor! And only the strongest ones at that!

My ears hurt. Speak gently.

No, thats what Im saying. Your Highness, I know.

You know what?

Your desperate struggles over the past few days.

Oh, lower body and stamina exercises. What about them?

Surely you must have been trying to shake off your fear by working hard and sweating like that. Ive seen and felt the desperation in your struggle, the desperate attempt to glimpse hope even in despair.

I dont think I was that desperate.

Thats how it felt to me!

So?

Ive come to respect you a little!

Even in the face of an inevitable future! Even as you approach a predetermined defeat! How noble you seemed in your efforts not to fall apart! Do you realize this?

Uh, not really sure.

But I know!

Hey, I said my ears hurt.

So, Your Highness! Dont break down now. You cant drink strong liquor. No. Even if tomorrows match is frightening, keep up the will youve shown so far and meet your defeat honorably, Your Highness!

Honorable defeat? I dont want that.

But Your Highness, even if you lose, the dignified

I said I wont lose.

Excuse me?

Im going to win.

Gardin, in the midst of making a plea, suddenly halted and directed his gaze towards the crown prince.

Involuntarily, a gasp escaped his lips.

The countenance on the Crown Princes face mirrored within his own eyes.

I need to win, so I need it. Bring all the strongest liquor.

It wasnt the countenance of someone preparing for an honorable defeat, but rather that of someone scheming for a shrewd triumph.