The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 401: What’s your goal?

"That is not comforting," Milan said.

"It’s realistic," Jolthar replied.

Nora ran a hand over her face.

"Shouldn’t there be more drama? More... existential crisis?"

"Oh, I had that phase," Milan said.

Milan added, "I even punched a priest when I was young, asking him for answers to get back to my world."

"It was an exploratory gesture," Jolthar said.

Jolthar cleared his throat.

"The point is, panic is temporary. Survival is permanent."

Milan shook his head.

"You are disturbingly adjusted."

Jolthar gave him a look. "You were slapping your own face ten minutes ago."

"That was stress management!"

Nora looked between them, her internal screaming apparently intensifying.

"Alright," she said finally, steadying herself.

"Let’s assume there are others like you."

She met Jolthar’s eyes.

"Are there any more like us in the capital?"

Jolthar’s playful tone faded just a fraction.

"Because if gods live on faith," he said quietly, "and we come from a world where gods were... stories..."

Milan’s expression slowly shifted from comedic anxiety to dawning realization.

"...Then we’re not wired to worship," Milan finished.

Nora’s breath caught slightly.

"And that," Jolthar said, a faint glint returning to his eyes, "might make us very dangerous."

Silence settled in the courtyard again.

Then Milan muttered, "I preferred when we were joking about pizza."

Jolthar allowed himself a small smirk.

"Yes," he said.

"But where’s the fun in that?"

Nora clapped her hands and said in a little loud tone, "I asked you if there are any others in the capital like us."

"Good question," Jolthar replied in English.

"Though im not sure if there are any others like him here in this city, but in this realm, there are more, I think."

Milan gestured to a seating area in the courtyard.

"Please, sit. If we’re going to have this conversation, we might as well be comfortable."

They settled onto stone benches arranged around a small fountain. The sound of water provided cover for their conversation, though they continued speaking in English as an extra precaution.

Milan understood English, and he spoke in a hushed voice in this world’s language.

"How long have you known?" Milan asked Nora.

"About being reincarnated? Since birth, more or less. The memories came back gradually."

Nora paused.

"About Jolthar being like me? Since shortly after he arrived at the barony. He made certain references and had certain attitudes about things that didn’t fit a native of this world. We eventually had a conversation about it."

"We had an interesting conversation, and I was the first one to recognize her," Jolthar added with a slight smile.

"Dropping references to Earth things, watching to see if I reacted. Very paranoid."

"Careful, not paranoid," Nora corrected.

"I had no idea how others like me would react to being discovered. For all I knew, you might have been dangerous."

"Fair enough," Jolthar conceded.

He looked at Milan.

"So what have you been doing all this time? You said you’ve been silently studying this world?"

Milan nodded, his expression becoming more serious. "From the moment I realized this was real—that I had actually been reborn into what appeared to be a fantasy world—I started observing. Learning. Trying to understand the rules."

He leaned forward, his earlier embarrassment around Nora apparently forgotten in the face of this deeper conversation.

"And what I discovered was shocking. This world is nothing like the anime or light novels I consumed in my previous life."

"How so?" Nora asked.

"The power structures are more complex," Milan explained.

"In anime, you usually have clear hierarchies—demon lords, heroes, kingdoms with predictable politics. Here? The deities are real, active, and terrifyingly powerful. They interfere in mortal affairs constantly. And they’re not benevolent guardians—they’re beings with their own agendas, often cruel or indifferent to mortal suffering."

"I’ve noticed that too," Jolthar said darkly, thinking of Borehym and Aphyana and a few more others he had come across.

"The magic system isn’t consistent like in games," Milan continued.

"It’s chaotic, unpredictable, and dangerous. And the social structures—" he shook his head"—they’re more nuanced than any fantasy world I read about. The imperial court alone has layers of intrigue and power dynamics that would take years to fully map."

"Yet you’ve been mapping them anyway," Jolthar observed.

"Haven’t you?"

Milan smiled slightly.

"Of course I have. What else was I supposed to do? I was reborn as one among many princes and princesses. A minor one, son of a concubine, no real power or prospects. If I wanted to survive, let alone thrive, I needed to understand the world I was in."

Nora was watching Milan with new appreciation.

"That’s actually quite impressive. Most people in your position would have just accepted their lot and lived comfortable but meaningless lives."

"I’m not most people," Milan said simply.

Jolthar replied to him, "I can see that."

Milan looked at him, he didn’t say anything.

Nora then asked, "What’s your plan ahead? Are you going to stay in the capital?" Or are you going to fight for the throne?"

Jolthar and Nora watched as he looked at the both of them. He hadn’t quite told anyone about what he was gonna do in the future or his plans.

Milan trusted Jolthar; it was something he had learned as he spent his time with Jolthar, and it was clear to him that Jolthar was a man of virtue.

Then he paused, seeming to wrestle with whether to continue.

Finally, he spoke again. "There’s something I haven’t told anyone. Not my closest advisors, not even Arvant, who’s served me for years. But if we’re sharing secrets..."

He looked at both of them directly. "Yes, I am going to aim for the throne."

Silence fell over the courtyard, broken only by the sound of the fountain.

Nora’s eyes widened.

"You’re... you’re serious?"

"Completely," Milan confirmed.

"But that’s—" Nora struggled for words—"that’s nearly impossible. The Emperor has dozens of children. The favorites are the sons of the Empress and the Second Wife. They’re the acknowledged front-runners. You’re just the son of a concubine. No offense intended, but you have essentially zero chance at succession."

Jolthar looked at Nora, furrowing his brows. She was being brutally straightforward.

"According to conventional wisdom, yes," Milan agreed calmly.

"Which is exactly why no one sees me as a threat. I’m the idealistic prince who concerns himself with minor administrative reforms and unfashionable causes like justice and fairness. Everyone thinks I’m politically naive."