Chapter Text
The traditional attire of the sand clans was, in Isagi’s opinion, the epitome of absolute comfort.
He was dressed in lightweight, flowing desert robes of breathable white linen, fastened loosely at the waist by a simple leather sash. His midnight-blue hair was pinned up to keep it out of his eyes, leaving his forehead exposed to the refreshing, chilly draft of his floating ice orb. It was infinitely better than the heavy, restrictive layers of the capital, allowing him to sit cross-legged on a woven rug for hours without feeling stifled or overheated.
"Honestly, Tori should mandate this as the official estate uniform," Isagi muttered, dipping his quill into the inkwell. "It’s so much easier to sit and think when your collar isn't choking you. My brain actually functions when I'm not sweating through silk."
"I doubt Tori would approve of the lack of formal tailoring, Master Yoichi," Hiori replied, not looking up from his own stack of parchment. He was also wearing lighter robes, though he had neatly pinned his wide sleeves back to avoid getting ink stains on the fabric. "Though I suppose it's better than you passing out from heatstroke. Dealing with a medical emergency in the middle of a desert is a pain I'd rather not manage."
"I wouldn't pass out. I'd just bill the tribe for a climate-control surcharge," Isagi said deadpan.
"Isagi-chan! Look! I found a giant scorpion!" Bachira’s voice chirped through the open-air tent. He scrambled inside on all fours, completely abandoning human composure, holding a massive, twitching desert arachnid by its stinger. "It wants to play! Can we keep it?"
"Keep it outside, Bachira," Isagi said calmly. "It's too warm for that much chaos in here. And if it punctures the carriage cushions, it's coming out of your paycheck."
"Aw, you're no fun!" Bachira pouted, tossing the terrifying creature away into the sands like a discarded pebble. He bounced over and flopped down right next to Isagi, leaning his head completely onto Isagi's lap, his golden eyes blinking happily. "But you smell like cold water. It's nice. Let me stay here."
Hiori looked up, a polite yet hostile smile crossing his face. "Bachira. If you get mud on the trade agreement, I am going to test a new high-pressure wind blade on your ears. Move."
Before Bachira could respond, the dry desert wind suddenly quieted, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thud of armored hooves and the blare of imperial horns echoing through the desert outside.
The flap of the tent was ripped open with a dramatic, sweeping motion.
A squad of elite royal knights clad in pristine, silver-and-blue armor marched in, splitting into two perfect lines. And right down the middle strode Michael Kaiser.
The foreign crown prince looked exactly like a protagonist. His golden hair swayed perfectly in the wind, his blue eyes scanned the room with an arrogance greater than a king’s, and his velvet cape didn't have a single speck of dust on it.
The moment Isagi’s eyes locked onto the golden-haired prince, a massive mental alarm went off. The words of the web novel ’The Sunken Throne’ slammed into his head: The ultimate protagonist, the blessed hero destined to defeat the dark forces and execute the villain.
“Wait, that’s Michael Kaiser,”* Isagi thought, his posture instantly straightening. *“The guy who is supposed to chop my head off at the end of the book. And more importantly...” Isagi’s eyes drifted from Kaiser's flawless face down to the high quality glowing blue mana gems encrusting his sword hilt, the heavy gold embroidery on his royal cape, and the enchanted silver armor that probably cost more than a small kingdom's annual budget. “...he is absolutely, blindingly rich. The protagonist's funding is insane.”.
Kaiser stopped right in front of the low wooden desk, crossing his arms and looking down at the scene. He had expected a tense standoff with the terrifying villain. Instead, he found Isagi sitting comfortably on a rug in breezy linen robes, looking entirely relaxed while a beastkin used his lap as a pillow.
"So," Kaiser began, his voice dripping with theatrical authority. "The elusive Lord Isagi. To think the supreme water talent of the Western empire would hide away in the dirt, playing merchant with stray mutts. Have you no shame, abandoning your noble duties?"
Isagi blinked up at him, entirely unfazed by the threat of execution because his brain was currently calculating Kaiser's net worth. Because if this guy was the protagonist, his royal treasury back home was practically infinite.
"I'm just fulfilling a contract," Isagi said, his voice completely calm as he adjusted his comfortable robes. "If you're here to talk about imperial borders, you're in the wrong tent."
Kaiser laughed, a sharp, melodic sound as he stepped forward and slammed his gloved hand onto the edge of Isagi's desk, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. "I am Michael Kaiser, Crown Prince of the North, you ridiculous creature. I don't care about your borders. I came here to see what kind of game you're playing. A talent like yours belongs under my command."
Isagi didn't flinch. He was craving something sugary, wanting to finish up his ledger and go home to his couch, wrapped in blanket, but looking at Kaiser, he realized a massive financial opportunity had just walked through the door.
Seeing the utter lack of fear and the subtle, calculating look in Isagi's blue eyes, Kaiser's fascination grew. So he shifted his strategy, a smirk spreading across his lips. He reached into a small, enchanted satchel at his hip a subspace storage bag that preserved goods perfectly.
"You don't seem interested in standard power, Isagi Yoichi," Kaiser murmured, pulling out an elegant, miniature crystal display case. Inside was a flawlessly crafted, multi-layered strawberry cream cake, topped with spun sugar that looked like morning dew. The rich aroma of vanilla and fresh fruit instantly filled the warm tent. "But I did my research. I know what actually gets your attention."
Isagi’s eyes instantly locked onto the pastry. His pupils dilated slightly, and his strict, business-first posture softened into pure, sugary longing.
He hadn't had a high-quality capital cake since he left his mansion, and this guy had the infinite budget to import them.
Isagi didn't hesitate. He reached out, took the miniature crystal case right out of Kaiser’s hand, and popped it open.
Ignoring Kaiser’s smug smile, Bachira’s whines, and Hiori’s speculative gaze, Isagi picked up a small silver fork, broke off a small chunk of cream, sponge, and enchanted winter berry; he ate it.
The reaction was instantaneous. The sheer contrast of the cold, tart berry against the rich, melt-in-your-mouth vanilla cream hit his palate like a spiritual awakening. It was light, perfectly chilled by the northern magic, and exactly the kind of top-tier comfort food he had been desperately missing since leaving Tokyo.
Isagi’s shoulders visibly relaxed. His eyes half-closed in pure bliss, and a genuine happy smile washed over his face.
Kaiser, who had been expecting a smug retort or a cautious negotiation tactic, completely froze. Watching the usually deadpan, money-crazed mage look so utterly vulnerable and content over a single bite of pastry, that hit him harder than any spell.
The transmigrated prince felt his chest tighten, and a weird tingling feeling in his chest.
“Are you kidding me?” Kaiser thought, his gaze locked onto the slight trace of cream at the corner of Isagi's lip. “How can a villain look this innocent?”
"Wow," Isagi whispered, staring at the remaining half of the cake as if it were a holy relic. He looked up at Kaiser, his eyes completely serious. "This is the best thing I've eaten in two lives.. I mean, since I got here."
Bachira scrambled up, sniffing the air wildly. "Isagi-chan! Let me taste! Give me a bite of the shiny guy's trap!"
Before Bachira’s tongue could make contact, Isagi fluidly swerved the plate out of reach, shielding it with his elbow. "No. It's mine. Go eat a desert melon."
Hiori cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses while staring intensely at the prince. "A whole carriage of these, you said? Master Yoichi... as your financial advisor, I must admit the benefits of luxury provisions and partnering with an imperial treasury of that scale are astronomically high. We could fund three new mana ships."
Kaiser quickly recovered his composure, leaning back and crossing his arms, though his smirk was noticeably softer now. He knew he had the upper hand, but he also felt the desire to make the boy smile genuinely again.
"I'm a man of my word, Isagi," Kaiser purred, his blue eyes flashing with a mix of royal authority and deep, personal interest. "The entire carriage of northern pastries is sitting right at the border. But a protagonist doesn't just give away his premium inventory for free. Let's talk business."
Isagi carefully finished the last bite of the cake, the indulgent smile still on his face, licked the fork clean, and set the plate down.
The corporate accountant mindset was back, with the addition of an intense sugar craving. "What do you want, Prince? If it's a political alliance, forget it. Too much paperwork."
"Simple," Kaiser said, stepping closer to the desk. "My northern empire is preparing a major maritime trade route through the frost-locked seas to bypass the imperial blockades. Fire magic is too unstable up there; it causes the ice shelves to collapse onto the ships. I want your ability. I want you to act as our exclusive maritime consultant. You clear the northern ice sheets safely, and my treasury will ensure you receive a monthly shipment of these cakes, alongside a fifteen percent cut of all shipping tolls."
The cogs in Isagi’s brain immediately started clicking. The north was cold, which meant his water magic would require very little effort to control. He could just manipulate the currents beneath the ice to part them naturally. It was low-risk, incredibly high-reward, and it came with a lifetime supply of gourmet comfort food funded entirely by the protagonist's infinite budget.
"Make it a twenty percent cut of the tolls, and the cakes must be delivered every two weeks, fresh and kept in subspace storage," Isagi countered, his blue eyes locked onto Kaiser's with absolute determination.
Kaiser let out a genuine, delighted laugh, thoroughly charmed by Isagi's blunt negotiation style. "Twenty percent? You're a greedy little siren, aren't you? Fine. Deal. Sign the contract, and the first carriage is yours."
Hiori fluidly slid a fresh sheet of parchment between them, dipping his quill with a sharp, victorious smirk. "A perfect transaction, Your Highness. Please sign on the dotted line."
Bachira hissed at Kaiser from behind Isagi's chair, entirely displeased that this golden-haired prince had just successfully bought his way into Isagi's schedule.
Kaiser grabbed the quill from Hiori, his movements fluid and grand. As the ultimate protagonist of this world, he was used to everything going according to his grand design, but Isagi's presence kept throwing off his mental pacing. He leaned over the desk to ink his royal signature, but the heavy cape caught the corner of Isagi's inkwell.
With a sharp clatter, the well tipped over. Dark, waterproof indigo ink began rapidly pooling across Isagi's beautifully organized, completed ledger.
His entire world stopped. The calculation sheets he had spent the last six hours meticulously writing by hand were turning into a solid black smudge.
Kaiser stared at the mess, his royal composure completely shattering for a split second. Without thinking, the instincts of his past life overrode his high-fantasy dialogue.
"Oh, shit, I really fucked up," Kaiser blurted out, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Are you kidding me? That's so cringe. My ba guys."
The tent fell into absolute, deafening silence.
The imperial knights stood frozen, their eyes wide. They had been trained to interpret Kaiser's words as divine decrees, but they had absolutely no idea what language their prince had just spoken. Hiori paused, his quill mid-air, his sharp eyes darting between Kaiser and the ruined ledger, trying to decipher if "shit" was some sort of northern military curse.
Bachira stopped hissing, blinking in confusion.
Isagi, however, didn't look at the ink. His eyes snapped directly to Kaiser's face, wide with a completely different kind of shock.
‘Shit? Fucked up? Cringe?’
Those weren't words from the dark fantasy novel. Those were terms coined by sleep-deprived teenagers and internet users in modern Tokyo.
Isagi slowly lowered his hands onto the desk, his eyes drilling into Kaiser's.
"What did you just say?" Isagi asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Kaiser immediately caught himself, his posture stiffening as he realized his slip-up. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his dramatic, aristocratic tone. "Ahem. I merely meant to express my profound dissatisfaction with my uncharacteristic clumsiness, Lord Isagi. An unfortunate accident of the physical form."
"No, before that," Isagi pressed, leaning across the desk, entirely ignoring the ink ruining his robe. "You said ‘shit’, You said ‘fucked up’. Why are you talking like a guy who spends fourteen hours a day losing matches in an online lobby?"
Kaiser’s jaw dropped. The haughty prince stared at Isagi, his mind reeling as the puzzle pieces frantically slammed together. The weirdly practical financial mindset, the total lack of interest in his dark villain future, the absolute obsession with modern corporate efficiency...
"Wait," Kaiser whispered, leaning closer, his royal aura completely vanishing as his real, past-life personality surfaced. "No way. You're... you're a transmigrator too?"
"You're the guy who died and took over the protagonist, aren't you?" Isagi accused, a dry, disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. "And here I thought I had to worry about the ultimate hero executing me. You're just a gamer who got lucky with a royal stat build!"
"Hey! I earned this build!" Kaiser snapped defensively, completely abandoning his regal script. "Do you know how hard it was to clear the prologue chapters without breaking character? And what about you? You're supposed to be a terrifying, power-hungry villain, and you're out here dressed like a beach resort guest, selling ice cubes and demanding strawberry cake!"
"Because running a rebellion involves taxes, supply lines, and getting stabbed!" Isagi yelled back, throwing his hands up. "Why would I do all that when I can just get rich and eat pastries? It's called optimization, Kaiser!"
Hiori watched the two of them bicker, a slow, incredibly sharp smirk spreading across his face as he realized his master had just gained leverage over the most powerful man on the continent. "Well, Master Yoichi," Hiori purred softly, setting a fresh ledger on the table. "Since the Crown Prince has just caused severe data loss and admitted to a bizarre existential secret, I believe we can increase our shipping toll cut to twenty-five percent as a non-disclosure fee."
Bachira cheered, completely oblivious to the modern terms but loving the chaos. "Yeah! Twenty-five percent! Pay up, shiny gamer guy!"
Kaiser let out a defeated groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose, but the look he shot Isagi was brighter and more intensely fascinated than ever before. "Fine. Twenty-five. But you're riding in my carriage on the way back, Isagi. We have a lot of things to discuss about this world's economy."