Category: About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 145

    It was a cold night, enough to make one reluctant to step outside.

    At that hour, the Prince gazed up at the scattered star sky, lost in thought. It wasn’t just because of Sophia’s parting words.

    There were far too many issues weighing on his mind.

    But the most troubling among them was the piece of news he had unintentionally learned through Sophia—something concerning the co-emperor.

    “Co-emperor, huh…”

    The conflict between Emperor John and Prince Dragases of Morea had only deepened the divide between the capital and Morea.

    Even under normal circumstances, the central government and the provinces were distant from each other, both geographically and politically.

    That was precisely why Manuel had attempted a system of divided rule, giving power to Dragases and his two brothers—because the crumbling authority of the empire could no longer govern the provinces on its own.

    The Prince had always feared a complete split between the empire and Morea, which was why, until now, he had avoided any civil war in pursuit of the throne.

    And yet, the capital had now completely changed its course.

    The message sent through the Pope’s letter—that Morea would no longer bow to the capital’s will—had made a far greater impact than expected.

    But what concerned him most was the uncertainty of the motive behind it.

    Had the capital truly resolved to establish a co-emperor? Or was this merely a ploy to remove him from power?

    The Prince couldn’t help but lean toward the latter possibility.

    “What exactly is their true intent?”

    Two images of John surfaced in his mind—one, the emperor passionately advocating for war against the Ottomans, and the other, the emperor watching him with relentless suspicion.

    The rise of war faction in the capital was understandable, given that Timur’s invasion had shattered the Ottomans.

    But their wariness of him? That stemmed from the fact that Morea, despite being a mere province, had grown far too powerful—surpassing the capital itself.

    Naturally, the nobility in the capital grew uneasy, and now, with a new emperor rooted in the city, they had likely chosen to stand by his side.

    The capital’s pressure had been severe enough that he had once joined hands with his elder brother, Theodoros, just to withstand it.

    But now, the political landscape had completely changed. Theodoros, his former ally, had vanished, and the emperor—his longtime adversary—was suddenly offering to share power.

    If only he could believe those words.

    But he couldn’t.

    The moment he set foot in the capital for the coronation, he would be left with only two choices.

    —Civil war, or surrendering everything.

    Either option would be enough to undo the eight years he had fought to secure.

    And while the empire wasted precious time, the enemy it had barely driven back would finish its preparations and advance once more—this time, fully ready to bring an end to the empire and rise in a new era.

    They had learned from their greatest weakness—the instability of their succession—and would have already devised ways to prevent it from hindering them again.

    The empire had already exhausted all its schemes. There were no longer any tricks left to hold its enemies at bay.

    Yes. From now on, it was a battle against time.

    He needed to rebuild an army that had nearly collapsed, fortify a foundation that would withstand war, and prepare for the future—no matter how faint the hope beyond it might be. Before everything came to an end.

    Now, more than ever, it was time to gather strength and forge alliances.

    But how? How could he amass power? How could he form alliances? Morea was the only force that had to accomplish all of this—without plunging into civil war.

    “…I must prepare for the worst.”

    Even his younger brother, Thomas, the Prince of Epirus, had ended up pledging fealty to the Ottomans, reduced to little more than their vassal.

    At this point, it was impossible to tell how many among the capital’s influential figures could still be trusted.

    And yet, there were a few individuals in whom he could place his faith.

    That was his final hope.

    Among them, the most prominent was his father and predecessor, Manuel II.

    From the beginning, Manuel had taken notice of him, and even when it led to his own imprisonment, he had done everything in his power to support him.

    But it wasn’t Manuel II whom the Prince sought to contact this time.

    Rather, it was someone with whom he had so little connection that he might as well have never met him in person.

    Yet, despite their lack of direct interaction, a strange sense of understanding had begun to form between them through the letters they had exchanged.

    Their passion might not have been identical, but the Prince had developed a strong conviction that this man would help him.

    “You, of all people, will be able to tell me.”

    At this moment, the one who held the Prince’s expectations was Andronikos.

    Once the ruler of Thessalonica, he was also the prince who had agreed with the Prince’s strategy of handing the city over to Venice.

    No one had ever seriously considered abandoning Thessalonica, so he had stood alone, bearing the relentless pressure of the Ottomans and sustaining the city against all odds.

    Andronikos, who had carried out his lonely struggle, unacknowledged and unnoticed by the public, and had always included words of concern for the Prince in his letters.

    “One man alone cannot do everything—use people wisely.”

    “Do not trust too easily, but do not hesitate to make use of others.”

    “I will not tell you to never give up. But at the very least, promise me you will not break under the weight of it all.”

    They might have seemed like ordinary words of advice, but the Prince could feel the raw emotions behind them.

    No doubt, Andronikos, too, had once sworn to aid his father with the conviction of saving the empire.

    But Thessalonica had been powerless. Once the heart of the anti-Ottoman front, the city had crumbled after its first fall, slowly wasting away.

    This was precisely why the Prince had chosen to abandon Thessalonica—it was indefensible.

    Through countless trials and hardships, Andronikos must have come to understand the empire’s wretched reality.

    The bitter truth that they no longer even had the power to decide their own fate.

    A state so weakened that it was nothing more than a small boat adrift on a stormy sea, helplessly tossed by the will of foreign powers.

    That was what the empire had become. And so, the letters Andronikos sent were filled with longing, admiration, and concern.

    Rather than lamenting his own failures, he had chosen to place his hopes on the one who would come after him.

    He would help.

    As certainty took root in his mind once more, the stars overhead flickered. The Prince watched them for a moment before turning his back to the night sky. As always, his destination was his study.


    TL : In real life too, Andronikos surrendered Thessalonica to Venice way before the fall of the Byzantine Empire due to the prolonged blockade on the city, which lasted for 7 years even under Venetian rule.

    Historically, at this period of time, mc is 19 years old but I am not sure since things are unfolding much earlier in his world.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 144

    Maria and the Prince’s conversation lasted only a brief moment.

    While Maria’s submissive responses came from being overwhelmed by the Prince, the primary reason was that she had been revealing the position of the Jews.

    It all began when, after answering the Prince’s questions consistently, Maria suddenly hesitated and opened her mouth.

    ‘Um, I’m really sorry to say this, but… we won’t be contacting Your Highness directly.’

    The Prince could guess why. These were people who had admitted they were walking a tightrope between the Ottoman Empire and the Empire.

    Although they were cooperating with the Empire for now, it was obvious which side was stronger from an objective standpoint.

    If the Ottomans won, the Jews could be purged for having aided the Empire. In this way, the Jews had their own standards for dealing with the shifting political landscape. The Prince’s assumption was correct. There was no need to get angry over it.

    After all, the Empire had only just been acknowledged as a possibility.

    Without a word, the Prince nodded in understanding. However, Maria seemed to have another lingering concern. She cautiously widened her eyes and gazed at the Prince.

    ‘…But how did you know that I’m not the leader?’

    The Prince pondered how to respond. It was a trivial question, yet that was precisely the problem.

    There were times when one received a question so obvious that it became confusing—was she truly unaware, or was she pretending not to know? After some thought, the Prince chose to answer kindly.

    ‘Because the Jews would never recognize a woman as their leader. I simply assumed that there must be a true power acknowledged among them.’

    Only then did Maria realize what she had asked and, felt embarrassed with shame. She was certainly someone amusing to tease, but there was already a thorny path ahead.

    Stirring up unnecessary rumors would only bring trouble. More importantly, there was a woman waiting for him.

    It was at that moment, as the Prince reaffirmed his earlier resolution, that he stepped into the corridor.


    “How was she, Your Highness? An interesting woman, wasn’t she?”

    Sophia. The Serbian princess and the Prince’s wife was waiting a step ahead of him. Her gaze, much softer than before, was filled with playful amusement. Sophia must have fully understood who Maria was when she arranged the meeting. The Prince could not remain silent in response.

    “In the end, she was not the leader of the Jews.”

    “Hehe… Please understand, Your Highness. The Jews are extremely cautious. Even I have never seen his face. I can assure you, meeting him will require a great deal of effort.”

    “What my lady says is reasonable, so I have no choice but to believe it.”

    “In that case, I’ll tell you his name in advance.”

    As she spoke, Sophia’s delicate shoulders trembled ever so slightly.

    The sound of clear footsteps echoed through the corridor.

    The Prince, lips tightly sealed, silently watched as Sophia approached.

    How long did he watch her? By the time she stopped walking, the distance between them had closed enough that they could feel each other’s breath.

    The Prince, not particularly amused, turned away, but soon realized that ignoring her would only prolong their closeness.

    With a faint sigh, he accepted it and finally met her gaze. At that moment, Sophia’s expression changed ever so briefly.

    Unconsciously, the Prince found himself chasing the change in Sophia’s eyes, trying to decipher the emotions swirling in her dark pupils.

    Yet, what he found was little at best. Admiration, respect, resentment, sorrow, regret—each emotion was present in differing proportions, creating only further confusion.

    But as those scattered emotions gradually subsided, a single, fleeting desire flickered before disappearing.

    Before he could identify it, Sophia had already steadied herself and moved her lips.

    “Kyrikos.”

    Despite her whisper-like tone, the name reached the Prince’s ears with perfect clarity. Kyrikos—the true leader of the Jews.

    Would the day come when he would meet him face to face? It was a pure question, devoid of even the faintest expectation, and it quickly turned into a self-mocking chuckle.

    The Prince reminded himself of who he was. A ruler. One who leads and represents his people.

    “I appreciate my lady’s consideration, but I don’t believe I needed it.”

    “And why is that? Haven’t you shown great interest in the Jews?”

    “Of course. However—”

    As he spoke, the Prince reached out and gently placed both hands on Sophia’s shoulders.

    Startled by his unexpected action, she shuddered slightly. Yet, paying no mind, the Prince slowly pushed her back.

    Only when the space between them widened, their breaths no longer mingling, did the Prince allow a faint smile to form on his lips.

    “An audience is not something a ruler seeks—it is something requested of him. They approached me for protection, so I shall wait until they lower their heads.”

    It was a statement that could sound utterly aristocratic and arrogant.

    However, Sophia keenly understood that words always depended on the speaker.

    The weight of the Prince’s words was entirely different from those of a noble merely intoxicated with authority.

    She could guess why he refused to bow his head, and that only made it clearer—this was why someone like her, so deeply practical, could never truly grow close to him.

    Even knowing this, Sophia opened her mouth once again.

    “…Your Highness, just earlier, you told me to take my time, didn’t you? To seek out someone I hold in my heart or someone I could come to love.”

    “I gave you a period of six months.”

    “What if I were to choose Your Highness as that person? What would you do then?”

    “…For the sake of our alliance, I would endure it.”

    “And if we speak only of personal feelings?”

    “Well… I’m not sure.”

    It was clearly an vague answer. The Prince chose to guard himself rather than respond directly.

    Yet, despite the wary glint in his half-lidded eyes, Sophia did not hesitate to approach.

    The distance between them shrank—but not in a physical sense. Of course, the Prince was not one to sit idly by and allow this, but Sophia simply acted before he could.

    “Oh? That’s unexpected. I thought you would be utterly repulsed.”

    “Since my lady insists on speaking so plainly, I shall do the same. It is uncomfortable.”

    “You really are being straightforward now… Hehe. But for the sake of the alliance, you would tolerate it, wouldn’t you?”

    “A person’s heart does not move so easily. Neither of us has the luxury to waste time, so I would prefer if my lady put in proper effort.”

    “Then, shall I try persuading you with a rational reason?”

    A rational reason? The Prince was about to dismiss her words as nonsense when Sophia suddenly stepped back, slipping free from his touch.

    The moment she met his gaze, now fixated on her newfound freedom, she offered a fleeting smile before slowly beginning to walk—circling behind him.

    “I don’t know which women Your Highness has held in your heart, but I do know there is more than one. And that your relationships with them are far from honorable.”

    Her footsteps echoed through the corridor, her voice cutting through the air with clarity.

    The Prince found himself unconsciously hardening his expression. Not missing the shift, Sophia gazed at him with amusement before smoothly continuing.

    “Would a spouse, and their family, so easily accept such relationships? No matter how insignificant a noble house may be, feeling humiliated beyond repair might lead them to sharpening their blades in secret. Surely, Your Highness can imagine that much.”

    “…”

    “If Your Highness wishes to resolve your affairs with these women, wouldn’t it be most urgent to secure a spouse who understands such circumstances?”

    “I have already stated, my lady will never become Empress Dowager.”

    “The Empress Dowager was never my goal. I simply wanted to understand Your Highness better.”

    With those words, Sophia took a deep breath.

    Then, as the still-wary Prince watched, she turned toward him with a graceful motion, her lips curling into that characteristic, mysterious smile.

    “Isn’t it about time we became a real couple?”

    At that moment, the Prince felt a genuine headache coming on.


    TL : Didn’t our MC had a system at the beginning? It even had something like ‘Solitary Growth,’ which allowed him to grow when he was alone and had no significant relationships. That’s why MC stayed far from women at the beginning. Did the author forgot…?

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 143

    A few days after the Crown Prince concluded his long conversation with Sophia.

    The Crown Prince could not hide his surprise upon meeting an entirely unexpected person.

    He was well aware of the cliché that extraordinary individuals often lurk unnoticed among the ordinary, but he had never expected such a thing to happen to him.

    More than the revelation of the person’s identity, what astonished him was the realization that he was experiencing one of those “predestined developments” so often spoken of.

    And the figure who had remained faintly in his memory turned out to be none other than a mere maid!

    “If you thought I was just an ordinary maid, that’s unfortunate!”

    A troublemaker known for her excessive energy, constantly drawing attention wherever she went.

    Many would have found such a situation unbelievable, yet the Crown Prince, surprisingly, accepted it rather easily.

    It wasn’t just that she often appeared near him—every time she entered his field of vision, she had an oddly captivating presence.

    She was the kind of person who managed to get under one’s skin, but only ever so slightly, making it difficult to openly suspect her. And yet, to think the cliché had come true after all.

    “But really, I never expected to have a conversation like this with Your Highness! Given how poorly you got along with Miss Sophia~. The fact that this meeting was arranged must mean your relationship has improved somewhat, hasn’t it?”

    As she smiled at him, the Crown Prince’s expression hardened. Maria. Such a common name that he never thought to be wary of it.

    She had acted clumsily enough that he had never paid her much attention.

    By the time he realized that those very qualities made her the perfect spy, it was already too late. Their standoff did not last long, as Maria was relentless in her approach.

    “Well then, considering Your Highness’s temperament, shall we get straight to the point? You don’t like long-winded introductions, do you? Such a shame for the atmosphere~.”

    “…Fine. In that case, I will ask the first question.”

    “Oh my? You’re suddenly seizing control of the conversation? So much so that one might wonder which of us is the more desperate?”

    “Naturally.”

    To lead a conversation, one must first seize control. The fact that Maria—who claimed the name of the Jews—was trying to do the same meant she understood this well.

    One could not simply denounce such actions as wholly improper. However, knowing full well that she was speaking to the Crown Prince and still daring to behave this way—he would never tolerate that.

    Not because he was an aristocrat. Not because he looked down on Jews.

    A ruler is one who leads their people.

    An insult to the ruler is an insult to those who follow them. A ruler’s authority is the source of their people’s pride, and the ruler’s glory and achievements are the fruit of their subject’s labor.

    In that case, between two people carrying such vastly different weights of responsibility, was it not obvious who should rightfully hold the upper hand?

    —A ruler is one who represents their people.

    Having come this far for those who trusted and followed him, the Crown Prince had no intention of yielding, not even a little.

    The sharpness he had honed in preparation for his enemies was on full display. And yet, there was nothing odd or condemnable about it.

    “You have wagered your own abilities, while I have staked the fate of those who follow me.”

    He had endured a ceaseless tightrope walk, where a single misstep could mean utter ruin.

    The empire stood on the precipice of survival and destruction, and he bore the hopes of those who still believed it could rise again.

    Maria, who stood before him as the leader of the Jews, and the Crown Prince, who upheld the millennial empire—there was no comparison between the weight of their burdens.

    “I do not know what purpose you serve by aiding the Lady. But I can at least guess why you have chosen to do so.”

    A people who had wandered for over a thousand years, finding no true place within either Christianity or Islam.

    A people who, in a world that constantly changed around them, had no choice but to preserve themselves through the accumulation of wealth. And so, what could they possibly desire?

    “If you wish to receive my protection, then bow your head first. If you wish to remain an ally, prove your worth. But if you expect me to lower my head before you, then do not speak to me of laws written millennia ago—crush me with rightful, non religious authority instead.”

    He did not think cooperation with the Jews was necessarily a bad thing.

    They were a people who never lacked for wealth, and financial support from them could even be an advantage. In the bleak reality the empire faced, this was a rare opportunity to reclaim what had been lost. But in pursuing this, he could not overlook what mattered most.

    His people had already been wounded too deeply. He had risen as their leader to protect even the tattered remnants of their pride. How could he now turn his back on that?

    This conviction was reflected in his unwavering gaze, which burned with resolute determination.

    Faced with that, Maria could only let out a pained groan.

    “…You’re way too harsh. Ugh… Miss Sophia, you actually went up against someone like this?”

    “Whatever you were thinking is beside the point. As I said earlier, there’s something I must ask you first.”

    Maria trembled, exaggerating her movements. A more ordinary person might have been swayed by the sight of a delicate woman appearing weak and vulnerable. But a leader, a ruler, could not afford such indulgence. Not when the fate of those they led was at stake.

    The Crown Prince’s eyes gleamed sharply, even in the dim light.

    “Why are you helping me?”

    If the source of Sophia’s remarkable intelligence network truly lay with the Jews, then they, too, must have had a keen understanding of the current state of affairs.

    They would know just how drastically the balance of power between the Empire and the Ottomans had crumbled, as well as how difficult it was to form a Crusade.

    It was futile to say they were intervening to restore balance—this war had already been completely lost, to the point that even the involvement of the Jews would barely make a difference.

    Among those the Prince had been forced to confront, there were Greeks as well—but the power disparity was so overwhelming that he could not even afford to resent them.

    The past two hundred years had been a brutal reality in which it was only natural for them to lose faith in their homeland. It had taken every ounce of strength to gather the shattered fragments of that faith and reforge them into something resembling unity. In the past, it had been Manuel who had achieved that; now, it was the Prince.

    And now the Jews were choosing to side with them?

    Some might dismiss his doubts as paranoia.

    But those who bear the responsibility of leadership cannot afford to be swayed by personal feelings. Those burdened with the fate of others must always seek the most rational judgment.

    And if the woman standing before him—Maria—held any position of authority among her people, then she, too, would have approached matters with the same logic.

    And sure enough, the Prince’s suspicions were correct.

    “Would Your Highness believe me if I told you that we are still debating which side to choose?”

    “Between the Ottomans and the Empire?”

    “The debate only started recently. Until then, our main considerations had been the Ottomans and Serbia. Phew… let me take a deep breath before continuing, if you don’t mind?”

    The Prince gave a silent nod, and Maria composed herself before continuing, as if steeling herself for what was to come.

    “The land is in turmoil, as I’m sure Your Highness knows better than anyone. With rulers constantly changing, we had to prepare in advance. As part of that preparation, we debated what to do in the event of a Crusader victory versus an Ottoman victory.”

    “But every Crusade has failed.”

    “Which is why, for over a decade, most of us leaned toward supporting the Ottomans. But then we heard news that the Ottomans had been defeated by a conqueror from the East and had fractured. That caused a shift in opinions among our people. Though… I imagine this next part may be unpleasant for Your Highness to hear.”

    Was that why she had hesitated before? The way she carefully watched his reaction made it clear she was gauging his mood.

    But could she truly think that he, of all people, would not understand? A man who claimed to seek the Empire’s salvation had no choice but to confront brutal realities head-on.

    There was nothing shocking about what she was about to say.

    “It’s fine.”

    “…Are you sure?”

    “I’ve already come to terms with it.”

    “………Up until then, the Empire was never even considered. That, I believe, is why I sought out Sophia before Your Highness.”

    Who could have imagined that the Empire, once believed to have ruled the world, would become so pitiful? What would those who once sang of its eternal glory and prosperity say if they saw it now? Would they sigh in lamentation—or scream in despair?

    But.

    The Prince clenched his fists tightly.

    “So, what you are saying is that the reason we are having this meeting now is that the Empire has once again earned your people’s recognition?”

    “H-hearing it phrased that way makes it sound like we were being incredibly arrogant…”

    “…..Forgive me. The way I speak has become a habit. I was simply reflecting on things.”

    After reassuring the flustered Maria, the Prince silently reaffirmed his own resolve. How many had chosen to flee from reality rather than face it?

    —The Empire had turned to ashes.

    The so-called “Pax Romana,” the rule that had once claimed dominion over the world, had left no trace—not even remnants. Its once-glorious prosperity and splendor now existed only in records. With despair and resignation clouding the hearts of its people, they no longer seemed capable of moving forward.

    “Maria, you are not the ‘true’ leader of the Jews, are you?”

    “Y-Your Highness! Wh-what kind of question is that?! I have no idea what you mean!”

    “Then, as their representative, let me say this—I am glad to have regained your people’s recognition.”

    “…..!”

    “Even if, for now, it is only half-hearted belief…”

    Between the Ottomans and the Empire, the Jews—caught between the rising forces of Islam and Christianity—would never support just one side.

    Their cooperation at this stage was nothing more than an effort to keep their options open. They likely also understood that in the Ottoman realm, where regional rulers held great power, Jewish advisors would never be allowed to exert true influence.

    But the Prince had already made up his mind.

    “…One day, I will win your people’s full faith.”

    He would make the world believe in the Empire again.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 142

    “I may accept you as empress, but I will never allow you to become empress dowager.”

    It was a firm declaration of intent—Sophia’s demands would be met, but the empire’s political stability would never be put at risk.

    Hearing this, Sophia remained silent for a moment before grasping the meaning behind his words.

    She understood why the prince was willing to reject even the rightful privileges granted to the imperial family and himself.

    He hadn’t stated it outright, but his intentions were unmistakable.

    Sophia couldn’t help but feel a momentary sting of humiliation.

    After all, she was still nobility—a member of the royal family, no less. But she had been the one to bring up this matter first.

    So, she steadied herself with a few deep breaths and regained her composure.

    Then, with a smile that had never surfaced before, she looked directly at the prince, signaling that she had fully recovered from her initial shock.

    The only thing she needed now was certainty.

    “So, in short, we’re agreeing to cheat on each other?”

    There was no need for elaborate wording. The two had clashed too many times for such formalities to matter.

    Where once they would have circled around the issue until exhaustion set in, they could now speak without pretense. The prince took it a step further, nodding without hesitation at Sophia’s blunt remark.

    “We will turn a blind eye for each other. A fair negotiation, wouldn’t you say?”

    “Fine. Now that I’ve heard your reasons, let’s hear the one you’ve prepared for me.”

    As soon as those words were spoken, their gazes met in midair.

    A subtle change flickered across the prince’s expression.

    His eyebrows tensed ever so slightly, and a faint vein stood out on his forehead.

    Countless thoughts must have been racing through his mind as he assessed Sophia’s reaction. She, too, was making her own calculations.

    Then, she raised her hand to partially cover her mouth—but not entirely.

    The prince saw it. The corner of her lips, barely concealed, curling upward.

    The intent was clear. Malice so pure it left no room for doubt.

    Yet it was nothing more than a childish prank, a mere trifle to him. Had he not endured far greater trials? Feeling the flicker of irritation cool within him, the prince spoke.

    “…The reason I am allowing you this is because you have found love.”

    The response was so far from what Sophia expected that she was momentarily dumbfounded.

    The prince—her long-time adversary. Did he really claim to be acting out of mere goodwill?

    She couldn’t believe it.

    The man before her moved as if every word and action were meticulously planned solely for the salvation and survival of the empire.

    This was the same man who had once burned an entire city to the ground for his homeland, who had weighed not just the lives of thousands of soldiers but even his own existence on the scales of war.

    This was also the man who had willingly relinquished his claim to the imperial family name and all its privileges, fearing that his coronation might spark a succession war with Serbia.

    And now, he spoke of goodwill?

    Nothing could be more absurd.

    Sophia responded with a smirk mixed with mockery.

    “You might as well join hands with the Turks. That sounds more plausible.”

    It was a statement made precisely because it was an impossibility.

    For a fallen empire to survive, it had to reclaim its lost territories.

    For a rising Ottoman power to truly ascend, it had to conquer Constantinople.

    The two could never coexist under the same sky.

    Their inevitable conflict guaranteed the utter downfall of one side.

    And there was no doubt about what the prince, devoted to preserving his empire, would choose.

    Yet, instead of refuting her sarcasm, the prince merely shrugged.

    “It seems I have been misunderstood. Allow me to explain in more detail.”

    “Misunderstood? And where exactly is there room for misunderstanding?”

    “Indeed. I envied you, for you had the courage to declare that you had found love.”

    Envy?

    As Sophia stared in disbelief, the prince’s gaze drifted into the distance, his eyes tinged with regret.

    What was it that he was looking back on with such remorse? She couldn’t even begin to guess.

    And then, he began to speak.

    “At first, I didn’t even understand why I felt envy. There were too many pressing matters, and I never had the time to dwell on it. But now, I finally understand.”

    From an early age, he had been acutely aware of the empire’s grim reality. He had searched tirelessly for something—anything—that he could do to change its fate.

    Even if he was an outsider from a distant future, the sight of the capital’s wretched state must have been enough to stir his sense of duty.

    A thousand-year-old city? The city of cities?

    Once a beacon of prosperity, it had become a place where sighs of resignation and despair weighed heavier than air itself.

    A city where people, unable to bear reality, clung desperately to past glories.

    In that moment, as the faint breath of a dying nation brushed against his face, the prince had realized the weight of his royal blood—the duty and responsibility it carried.

    How cruel it was.

    How heavy it was.

    And so, even when he was granted a rare and precious opportunity, he had to cast it aside without hesitation.

    —For he was nothing more than a prince of a doomed nation.

    When the moment of destruction came, the conquerors would never allow imperial blood to remain. Nor would they spare those closely tied to the royal family.

    Better to sever all ties from the start than to subject them to disgrace.

    That resolve was what had carried him this far.

    He did not regret that choice.

    But he had come to realize—it was not enough.

    And so, he would not walk just one path.

    “I had forgotten something fundamental.”

    Duty and responsibility alone could not sustain an empire on the brink of ruin.

    Had the people of this world not always lived bearing their own duties and responsibilities?

    The empire had reached this state because its people had mistaken their obligations as something exclusive to themselves, fighting amongst one another in their self-imposed burdens.

    What he could do, others could do as well.

    His duty was not his alone.

    And neither was his desire.

    Morea had achieved miraculous victories not because of his strategies.

    But because its soldiers had believed in him enough to risk death itself.

    That was what changed history.

    For history, or the tides of fate, was not shaped by a single person.

    But by people.

    “Talent alone accomplishes nothing. Even the most capable ruler can achieve nothing if they do not have the trust of the people. That is a lesson I have learned all too well. And so, I will gather their faith.”

    If the soldiers of Morea had doubted him—if they had refused to follow his plan to burn Nemephatre to the ground—this war would never have even begun.

    And yet, they had obeyed.

    Three hundred of them had chosen to fight to the last man rather than surrender.

    Even amidst the horrors of retreat, the number of deserters had been barely a handful.

    They had stayed, despite overwhelming odds, despite suffering humiliation after humiliation—because they believed in him.

    They believed that he was the empire’s last hope.

    “And yet, how could one who seeks the trust of the people remain ignorant of human relationships?”

    That was why the prince could no longer turn away from what he had once dismissed.

    He would learn.

    This conversation was the first step.

    It might seem like a return to a path he had once abandoned for the empire’s sake.

    But it was too late to turn back.

    Instead, from now on, he would not only look forward—he would occasionally glance sideways as well.

    Ivania had been the first.

    And when he was certain of his path, he would do something so audacious that all would be left in shock.

    “I was the one who was lacking.”

    A single phrase he had once uttered had left a woman before him deathly pale.

    Now, looking back, he felt only shame.

    Why had he called her lacking?

    The truth was, the one who had been lacking—was himself.

    Somewhere along the way, he had begun to believe that the salvation and survival of the empire rested on his shoulders alone.

    That was arrogance.

    A ruler who walked alone could never achieve the salvation he truly sought.

    An empire that could only stand under the rule of a perfect monarch would crumble the moment that monarch was gone.

    And now, at last, the prince had accepted everything.

    He acknowledged that he had been unreasonable, that he had only considered a single path while neglecting others, that the emotions gradually accumulating in his heart were real, and lastly, that his arrogance in believing he alone could save and sustain the empire had been wrong.

    A leader is not someone who does everything alone.

    A leader is one who guides.

    And what people truly needed was neither mountains of gold nor honour that everyone revered.

    To begin with, an empire that had already fallen into complete decline and ruin had no such things left.

    Instead, he would reclaim what the empire had lost for a very long time.

    Only then would the empire be saved.

    Not by the prince, but by the people themselves.


    “That must be why I envied your choice to embrace your relationship, despite the inevitable criticism. Watching you boldly pursue what I had deliberately ignored.”

    “…There is no one in this world who would feel envy for such a reason.”

    “In any case, that is one of the reasons I prepared this for you. And also why I am asking for your cooperation.”

    “…You are truly a ruthless man.”

    Sophia let out a sigh, filled not with shock, but with admiration.

    He had sought to understand how to earn people’s trust and, in doing so, had accepted the very passion he had long ignored?

    To those who sought power, such a notion was utter madness.

    Even if the empire had declined, he still held the position of emperor of what had once ruled the world.

    And yet, he abandoned that position—for emotions he had long disregarded and for the future of the empire.

    How could one not sigh at such a thing?

    It was almost astonishing that someone like him had emerged among those blinded by the name of the “Millennial Empire,” who had been so quick to turn their blades upon one another.

    Now, she understood why she and the prince had continuously clashed.

    Though they shared a singular similarity, there had never been a point of intersection between her pursuit of power and his pursuit of the empire’s well-being.

    Her assessment of him had not been wrong.

    For the sake of the empire, he was willing to be as ruthless as necessary.

    And that ruthlessness extended even toward herself.

    In the end, Sophia’s shoulders slumped.

    She no longer had the energy or will to argue.

    The man before her was someone who had even embraced affection for the sake of the empire’s salvation.

    Compared to his unwavering resolve to protect his homeland, how insignificant were her own ambitions?

    Moreover, she was sharp enough to perceive the unspoken reason behind his actions.

    Before deciding on marriage with her, the prince had once been engaged to another woman.

    She was taken as empress by the current emperor to secure an alliance with the imperial family.

    Sophia was certain.

    Abandoning the imperial name and status must also carry the meaning of atonement. Atonement for what he had done. And at the same time, a declaration—a declaration that he was prepared to endure the people’s condemnation.

    Furthermore, it must have been tied to his decision to relinquish the throne. He was already taking measures to solidify the position of an unknown successor.

    Having thought this far, Sophia accepted her “defeat” without hesitation.

    “I can’t argue anymore. Very well, Your Highness. I now understand that your words hold sufficient persuasion.”

    “…If your conclusion is going to sound so negative, you should have rejected me outright from the beginning, my lady.”

    “First, I’d like to address the fundamental flaw in Your Highness’s premise.”

    “And what part do you find unsatisfactory?”

    “It’s not about dissatisfaction—it’s simply reality.”

    Sophia’s expression was different from before.

    The usual arrogance or mocking smirk on her lips were no more.

    “…The one I held in my heart is already dead. And has been for years.”

    “Half a year is more than enough time to find new love.”

    The prince was resolute.

    At his response, the faint expectation Sophia had unknowingly harboured dissolved like melting snow.

    He is needlessly consistent in such matters.

    She couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud, only muttering it inwardly before continuing.

    “…Do you know who did it? Do you know why a woman like me was able to wield such influence over my father in the Serbian court?”

    “…I see.”

    Even amidst the chaos of war, his insight allowed him to piece things together in an instant.

    Letting out a sigh, the prince lifted his gaze to the ceiling.

    She had avoided explicitly naming the culprit for the sake of her father’s honor, but her words were practically a confession.

    Of course, it was mere guess, but—

    For a mere princess, not even a queen, to wield enough influence to shift a nation’s stance in the midst of war was absurd.

    And as her words combined with that absurdity, cause and effect became strikingly clear.

    “It happened not elsewhere, but in the royal court. I went to my father to find the culprit. Not that it took long to discover them.”

    “What kind of person were they?”

    “…He was a servant my father had assigned to me. That was likely what sealed his fate.”

    “I see.”

    Upon hearing her story, the prince could not bring himself to condemn Stefan Lazarević.

    He had no sons, only a single cherished daughter.

    Not only as a father, but also as a ruler, he had to consider his position.

    His most valuable political asset, who could solidify alliances or forge an anti-Ottoman coalition, had fallen for a mere servant.

    In modern times, such a thing would be unthinkable.

    But this was the twilight of the medieval era.

    For the future of his beloved daughter, Stefan had likely wielded the blade without hesitation.

    That is, assuming all of her words were true.

    “Madam, even as you say all this, I trust you are well aware of how difficult it is to accept your words at face value.”

    “Hmm… So the man who seeks to understand human relationships in order to earn trust cannot bring himself to trust me?”

    “…Even if you say that now.”

    “Then allow me to teach you something, Your Highness.”

    Suddenly, the prince was enveloped in the faint scent of flowers.

    Sophia had closed the distance between them in an instant.

    Suppressing his instinct to retreat, he stubbornly held his ground and glared at her.

    But Sophia, unfazed, simply beamed with an entirely different smile from her usual one—a radiant, unrestrained grin.

    “Trust is always paid in advance. Remember that.”

    With those words, she retreated just as quickly as she had approached.

    Still as unpredictable as ever.

    Reaffirming his resolve, the prince pondered the meaning behind her words.

    But before he could reach an answer, Sophia spoke first.

    “Then allow me to offer you my trust first.”

    “And how will you do that?”

    “You are aware of the Jewish contacts I manage, aren’t you?”

    Of course.

    They had made invaluable contributions in this war.

    As a people without a nation, they had naturally turned to trade, which made them ideal spies.

    This was precisely why the prince had always been wary of Sophia.

    And she knew it well.

    “I will arrange a meeting with their leader. This is my trust, Your Highness.”

    Winking mischievously, Sophia gave him a mysterious smile.

    Now that he had resolved to be honest with his emotions, the prince could only look at her with cold, unimpressed eyes.


    TL/N : Please don’t create a romance between them. And it was kinda obvious that her lover was a slave.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 141

    The concept of free love seems simple yet remains nearly impossible to achieve.

    It is a custom that only began to take shape in modern times, after numerous revolutions and transformations.

    Naturally, in the medieval era—when individual freedom was far more restricted—it was an unavoidable reality.

    This was especially true for noble bloodlines, where the union of families carried immense significance.

    Marriage was not merely about two individuals becoming husband and wife.

    It was a means of binding people by blood because trust alone was insufficient.

    In the present age, this was what marriage had become.

    Most nobles accepted arranged marriages as their destined path.

    Some sought pleasure or followed their hearts in secrecy, avoiding public scrutiny, but they could not escape scandal and condemnation.

    Moreover, what nobleman, raised with the belief in his sacred duties and rights, would stand idly by upon discovering his spouse’s infidelity?

    Worse still, what if he learned that his wife had borne another man’s illegitimate child?

    The humiliation and disgrace would surely lead to retribution, and such a betrayal could even fracture alliances between noble houses.

    Yet, Prince Konstantinos was telling Sophia to commit adultery.

    As if he still remembered the promise Sophia had once made herself.

    If things had turned out the way she wished, she should simply be happy—but it was too weighty a decision to take so lightly.

    Even for Sophia, the prince’s words were not something she could easily accept. And if the reason behind it was related to the imperial succession, then all the more so.

    “Is that truly all there is to it?”

    Her voice came out much calmer than she had expected. She was almost impressed with herself, wondering if she had ever hidden her emotions so thoroughly before.

    However, it made no difference to the prince’s demeanor.

    He furrowed his brows slightly before responding.

    “It seems you require further explanation. Very well.”

    Though his reaction was sharp, Sophia noticed that the wariness in his gaze had unexpectedly softened. Was that a good thing? Or did it signify a growing distance between them? She had to find out.

    The fate of Serbia would be greatly influenced by how her relationship with the prince was defined.

    Unconsciously, she bit her lower lip. Even as she did so, the prince’s expression remained unchanged.

    He merely continued speaking in an indifferent tone.

    “Are you asking for a reason that benefits you? Or for the reason that I have considered?”

    “I’d like to hear your reasoning first.”

    Sophia chose the latter without hesitation.

    Whatever came from this prince’s lips would undoubtedly be too faint for her to feel anything.

    Their relationship had never been personal. They had met not as man and woman, but as the Princess of Serbia and a Prince of the Empire.

    To put it more bluntly, they stood before each other as the representatives of their respective nations. Understanding his thoughts, even in part, was of utmost importance.

    That was Sophia’s judgment, and so she had chosen the latter. The prince, without hesitation, gave his answer.

    “It is to prevent any future conflict over the Serbian throne or the imperial succession.”

    At that, Sophia let out a hollow laugh. A succession dispute? Already? Words she had long held back surged to the tip of her tongue.

    Even with the formidable enemy that was the Ottomans sharpening their blades, he was worried about the imperial succession? And he considered Serbia—a nation he sought to form an alliance with—a potential rival? It was only natural that such thoughts crossed her mind.

    She almost let slip her usual sharp retort but held it back. Instead, she murmured to herself a few times before finally speaking aloud.

    “Don’t you think it’s a bit premature?”

    “Do I seem impatient to you?”

    “Frankly, yes. It looks like you’re simply basking in the thrill of a single victory.”

    “But it is an issue that would inevitably surface. I will establish clarity now, while I still hold the initiative. That is my duty as the Prince of Morea.”

    The true reason why the prince had told Sophia to love as she pleased lay in this: securing the stability of the succession.

    To prevent a future catastrophe that could deal the final blow to the already fragile empire, he needed to act.

    Until now, he had struggled with how to approach the issue, but his experiences in the war and his conversations with Francisco had solidified his decision.

    Perhaps the shift in his mindset was evident in his expression, for Sophia gazed at him with curiosity, her dark eyes unreadable.

    “You’ve changed quite a bit for someone who once refused to even discuss such matters.”

    “I simply spent time contemplating how to proceed.”

    “Isn’t it often said that women are the greatest hurdle for a man’s resolve?”

    The prince did not answer. He did not even close his eyes in thought, as was his usual habit before deliberation. He simply met Sophia’s gaze, his own unwavering.

    And Sophia quickly realized—that was his answer.

    “…Come to think of it, there is a woman who likes someone like you.”

    “I find it just as difficult to understand as you do.”

    “I recall you once said you couldn’t return her feelings.”

    “I chose one over the other, my lady.”

    He had given something up in order to make a choice.

    But what exactly had he abandoned?

    Sophia was both puzzled and astonished. She had believed he would remain virgin for life—what had possessed him to act this way now?

    “Hoho… Hearing you say that makes me quite curious. Just what is it that Your Highness has given up?”

    Even without directly asking, her stance was blatant. Yet the prince answered without a hint of hesitation, not even allowing Sophia the chance to grasp the full meaning of his words.

    “The imperial family. And succession.”

    “The imperial family and succession…?”

    “I am already called by the name Dragases more than I am by the name Palaiologos. The children who will be born from now on shall follow this name. They will be of a cadet branch, and I will ensure that they will never ascend to the throne in the empire to come.”

    For a brief moment, Sophia felt as if she had stopped breathing.

    To cast aside the name of the imperial family—who could easily grasp the weight of such words?

    Even now, when the empire’s authority had plummeted to ruin, a noble house’s name was not something to be taken lightly.

    And this was a dynasty that had ruled for nearly two hundred years. No matter how shattered the empire had become, its name still carried weight.

    Yet the prince declared that he would forsake it.

    To be with the woman he cherished and for the future peace of the empire he hoped to see rise again.

    A woman and a nation.

    Two fates that could never truly coexist, and so he had made a choice no one else would dare to make.

    Sophia barely managed to compose herself, but when she finally spoke, her voice trembled. Such a decision was too shocking to take lightly.

    “…Do you really believe people will accept that? In this empire, power alone is enough to seize control at any time—this is ultimately meaningless! Simply bearing your name would be enough for people to rally behind your children, so why?!”

    “If that is the case, then I shall make my declaration in my own name.”

    “You still don’t understand, do you?! You have already been chosen as the next emperor! The emperor in the capital has publicly declared you as his co-emperor!”

    For the first time, the prince’s gaze wavered.

    The unexpected news in Sophia’s impassioned voice shook him.

    Until now, the capital and Morea had been too preoccupied keeping each other in check to unite against the great enemy looming before them, the Ottomans.

    Even Murad’s recent invasion, when traced back to its origins, had stemmed from the conflicts between Emperor John and the prince of Morea, Constantine.

    And now, John had named him co-emperor?

    Another burden had been thrown upon the prince.

    Could John have ulterior motives?

    Just as he had feared before, this could be a scheme to lure him into the capital under the guise of a coronation, only to eliminate him.

    Power was a double-edged sword that could drive even kin to spill each other’s blood.

    To ignore this would be sheer negligence.

    However, the person the prince needed to deal with at this moment was not his elder brother in the distant capital, but the woman standing before him.

    From ancient times, the title of co-emperor had served to ease disputes over succession. By sharing power, it was effectively an announcement to the world that the chosen individual was the heir.

    Even his father, Manuel, had solidified John’s claim by naming him co-emperor, allowing John to seize power with far greater ease.

    Too much ease, in fact—so much that he had gone as far as to imprison his own father.

    Such was the weight of the title.

    If the prince accepted it, it would give his children a pretext to challenge the throne in the future.

    —And that was precisely why.

    “Then this shall be my lines first and final enthronement.”

    He vowed to himself once more.

    If, by some miracle, the empire were to rise again in the distant future… he would ensure that the name Dragases never ascended to the throne again.

    Even if he had to wield every ounce of authority he gained from saving the empire to make it so.

    The empire would not serve his descendants.

    His descendants would serve the empire.

    Sophia, seeing this resolve before her, fell silent.

    As her emotions, unknowingly stirred, gradually cooled, she had no choice but to acknowledge it.

    The reason people followed the man before her.

    The burning will that drove him.

    It was a choice only one who was willing to shoulder all dishonor, shame, humiliation, and the scorn of merciless decisions could make.

    Now she understood why the mighty Ottomans sought to crush a mere young man so thoroughly.

    And as Sophia stood there, the prince resumed speaking to her.

    “So, my wife, I ask for your cooperation. I will grant you what you desire. I shall overlook your love. I will even make you empress.”

    “…There must be a price.”

    It was an offer far too generous, one that seemed entirely in her favour.

    No one would tolerate their spouse’s infidelity. The prideful nobility would surely retaliate in some form. The prince was no exception to this rule.

    Though Sophia saw this as a favourable bargain, in the prince’s eyes, it was a negotiation in which he had not yielded the most important piece.

    Having vaguely grasped this, Sophia asked her question.

    The prince clenched his fist tightly before answering.

    “But you shall never become empress dowager.”

    ( TL/N : Dowager is a widow who inherits her deceased husband’s titles, property, and land. )

    A conviction bordering on madness.

    Before it, Sophia found herself speechless.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 140

    The Court of Morea

    For years, the familiar sight of the palace had brought a sense of comfort. The plain and practical architecture, to the point of seeming empty, still exuded a somber atmosphere.

    In this silence, the prince often found himself deep in thought.

    Walking alone through the corridor, having dismissed Francisco and the rest of his attendants, he pondered over the responsibilities that weighed heavily on him.

    Honouring the fallen, compensating their families, the long-delayed institutional reforms, and even the restructuring of the military—all these burdens would never leave his shoulders.

    But these were not the most pressing concerns at the moment.

    His determined walk came to a halt. Without hesitation, he lifted his gaze.

    A woman stood before him, her long black hair falling smoothly down her back as she brushed it aside.

    Her dark eyes, filled with confidence, met his own.

    She had brought along a few attendants, likely to greet him.

    With a gentle smile, she welcomed him.

    “You must have gone through much hardship, Your Highness.”

    Sophia Lazarević.

    A woman who led an independent intelligence network supported by the often-overlooked Jewish community, amassing considerable influence.

    At the same time, she was a Serbian princess and, above all, a persistent source of trouble for the prince.

    From their very first meeting, their relationship had been strained.

    A woman whose influence could pose a threat—it was only natural for him to keep her in check and prepare for the day he would cast her aside.

    “It seems you, too, have made great efforts.”

    Yet, there was no reason he couldn’t endure her presence.

    The prince had long learned patience in his struggle to halt the Ottoman advance. He would not falter over a single woman.

    More importantly, both he and Sophia understood that their relationship needed to improve, no matter how much it displeased him.

    For the sake of their homelands.

    And so, while Sophia greeted him with a smile, the prince responded with patience.

    Even knowing this, sometimes, time was still necessary.

    This was one such moment.

    Neither of them moved.

    Only one of Sophia’s attendants, eyes darting about, broke the silence with a nervous twitch of her lips.

    “Uh, um… Something feels off between you two.”

    And with that, an unpleasant silence fell.

    Sophia continued to smile, though her gaze occasionally sharpened. The prince maintained his indifferent expression.

    It was he who eventually broke the silence.

    Wasting time here was pointless.

    Every moment was precious.

    “It seems we have much to discuss. Would you care to join me for a conversation?”

    “My, I never expected Your Highness to take the initiative.”

    “Let us go to my office.”

    This time, Sophia did not respond with words. Instead, she nodded.

    Indeed, they had much to discuss.

    And these were not matters for others to overhear.

    Lowering her gaze to her attendants, Sophia wordlessly signaled for them to withdraw.

    The sharp-eyed servants understood at once and retreated without hesitation.

    Even the naive maid, who had been gawking at the tension, was dragged away.

    “Ah, but it seemed like it would be fun to watch…!”

    “This girl again! My apologies, Your Highness, I will see to her education immediately.”

    An elderly servant bowed repeatedly as she swiftly pulled the clueless maid away.

    The prince let out a small, involuntary chuckle.

    Sophia was caught off guard.

    How many times had she seen him laugh—truly laugh?

    “So, Your Highness does smile, after all?”

    “When one has little reason to, one must force it.”

    His words, though spoken lightly, carried weight.

    A truth painful for both him and the empire.

    There were fewer and fewer reasons to smile.

    The war, hailed by many as the Virgin’s miracle, was proof of that.

    While the people celebrated the reclamation of lost lands, those who sought true victory could not do the same.

    Though his strategies had delayed the Ottoman rise, it was only a postponement.

    Inevitably, a capable Ottoman force would regain strength and once more threaten the empire.

    Sophia understood this all too well.

    And not only for the empire—Serbia, too, would eventually fall and become nothing more than a stepping stone for the Ottomans.

    A shadow crossed her face as these thoughts took hold.

    The prince noticed her change but said nothing.

    Instead, he resumed walking.

    Sophia, shaking off her thoughts, lengthened her walk to keep pace with him.

    After a while, the prince suddenly spoke.

    “You need not worry about an alliance with Serbia.”

    “…And what do you mean by that?”

    “Though my actions may have caused doubt, I have never deliberately shunned Serbia.”

    “Then let me ask—do you truly believe others will see it that way?”

    Now, it was his turn to fall silent.

    She was right.

    For the sake of Morea and the empire’s stability, he had deliberately ignored Serbia’s struggles.

    Not only that, but two years ago, he had pragmatically chosen to align with the Ottomans, Serbia’s enemy, for the sake of political convenience.

    That wound was still too fresh to be forgotten.

    But his silence did not last long.

    “That is precisely why I wished to speak with you.”

    “That is your reason?”

    “Yes. As you said, despite my marriage to a Serbian princess, I prioritized my role as an Ottoman vassal. And now, Serbia stands between both the Ottomans and Hungary, while I remain bound as a vassal to the Sultan.”

    The prince’s need to strengthen cooperation with Serbia was not solely to secure the Crusaders’ advance route.

    As Sophia had once assessed, the prince’s true talent lay in his ability to see through the political landscape. He was thinking ahead.

    The Ottomans, having quelled their internal rebellion, would undoubtedly seek to disrupt the alliance between Morea and Serbia in some way.

    He could not yet discern how, but one thing was certain—preparations had to be made. And there were very few ways to firmly solidify the bond between Serbia and Morea.

    “This situation has forced us to hesitate, even when it comes to offering proper aid, lest we draw the attention of the Ottomans. In such a climate, I have found few ways to assure the Serbs of my commitment to their cause.”

    At these words, Sophia immediately grasped what the prince was getting at.

    She had been prepared for this since the moment she entered their political marriage. If anything, it had taken far longer than expected, likely due to both the prince’s circumstances and his own disposition.

    That delay had at least given her time to steady herself.

    “Oh my, so we’ll finally have a proper wedding night?”

    “Let’s continue this discussion in my office.”

    They had been speaking as they walked, and before they knew it, they stood before the prince’s office.

    Of course, the office looked no different from the corridors outside.

    The prince, who shunned luxury and even avoided flaunting his authority as a ruler, kept his surroundings sparse. The room awaiting them was just as barren—a neatly arranged stack of documents, a few bookshelves, a desk, and some chairs.

    Who would believe that the future of Morea and the empire was being decided in such a place?

    As Sophia pondered this, the prince carefully seated himself.

    His chair was the only luxury in an otherwise bleak room—one could fill an entire book with criticisms of the office’s plainness.

    Exhaling a long sigh as he settled into its comfort, he then gestured toward another chair.

    “Please, sit.”

    “…Truly, Your Highness never ceases to amaze me. Who would have thought a prince could live like this?”

    Sophia made the remark as she took her seat.

    For the prince, this was a relief. Though he had not yet fully explained himself, he had considered the possibility of Sophia resisting—especially if she already had someone in her heart.

    He had even planned how to persuade her.

    But she had accepted it without much resistance.

    One hurdle, at least, had been cleared.

    Determining that Sophia was now prepared to hear the rest, the prince spoke again.

    “I originally had no intention of touching my wife. At the very least, I planned to wait until the domestic situation had stabilized before even considering it.”

    “You almost sound as if you’re offering me a choice, Your Highness.”

    “…That is correct. I am granting you a break.”

    “A break… So this requires time?”

    “Yes.”

    Even now, the prince could not completely lower his guard around Sophia.

    It would be too much to expect him to undo his habit of drawing a clear line between ally and enemy. He still sought grounds to cast her aside.

    This was the political reasoning behind his proposal to her.

    “Three months… No, I will give you half a year. During that time, you may find and love whomever you wish—whether they already reside in your heart or are yet to come.”

    “…Are you out of your mind?”

    For the first time, Sophia’s carefully maintained mask cracked.

    Her face, now mixed with bewilderment and fury, turned toward him. The prince, however, merely nodded.

    Yet, Sophia’s objections were not over.

    “You’re essentially telling me you’ll acknowledge a bastard who isn’t of your blood as your own child.”

    “That is correct. I will acknowledge them.”

    “…There must be a reason for this.”

    “Of course.”

    “Can I hear it?”

    “It concerns the future succession of the empire.”

    At those words, Sophia found herself shaking her head before she even realized it.

    The succession of the empire?

    In an era where even the next day was uncertain, he was already contemplating such matters?

    Some might call it impatience. Others might dismiss it as an unnecessary worry. It was a concern that seemed far too premature.

    Yet, despite how absurd it seemed, the prince’s eyes remained unwavering, burning with resolute determination.


    TL/N : Bro, this sht is just maddening.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 139

    “Long live Prince Dragaš!”

    “Long live!”

    People stepped aside on both sides of the road, raising their arms and cheering continuously.

    The ones they were welcoming were none other than the soldiers of Morea.

    Praise showered upon those who had been away from home for nearly a year.

    Though many had not returned, the victory was too valuable for their joy to be dampened.

    It was only natural for the people to be excited.

    And among them, the one who seemed most delighted by this fervent welcome were the knights, whose face was full of smiles.

    “Look at this, our popularity is something else, isn’t it? It’s been a long time since so many young ladies greeted us like this.”

    “Try to remember that illegitimate children are difficult to manage.”

    “Harsh as ever, aren’t you?”

    Francisco responded with a grin, brushing off the remark, while the prince merely looked at him with an expression of mild exasperation.

    It was fortunate that the conversation between the two leading the march was not reaching the ears of the crowd.

    Unbothered by the prince’s gaze, Francisco shrugged and continued.

    “Still, there are those who find your cold demeanor appealing. Shouldn’t you also be concerned about the issue of illegitimate children? There’s a certain lady knight following you around like a lost puppy, after all.”

    At those words, both the prince and Francisco turned their gazes backward. There, the mentioned lady knight rode with an air of dignified composure, her attitude having shifted abruptly.

    She looked so imposing when she kept her mouth shut and maintained a serious expression.

    Suppressing a sigh of regret, the prince turned back to Francisco, a strange feeling stirring within him.

    “…I’ve been contemplating it.”

    “Hmm? Seriously?”

    Francisco’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting that response.

    Considering the prince’s past behavior, who would have ever imagined such a thing? He was a man whom rumors never touched, someone known for keeping his distance from women even when close.

    Francisco’s reaction was hardly unusual.

    Thus, the prince nodded without hesitation.

    “I have received a devotion that is more than I deserve.”

    In truth, Ivania had been by his side even before he came of age, serving as a mercenary captain.

    Despite the undeniable ulterior motives in her loyalty, and the limitations imposed by her being a woman, she had come to be recognized as one of the prince’s most trusted retainers.

    It wasn’t strange that he found himself deep in thought about her years of unwavering dedication.

    That was his reasoning when he spoke, yet Francisco, upon hearing the prince’s inner musings, only stroked his chin with a gleam in his eyes.

    “So, you were testing her patience, but in the end, you learned about your own instead?”

    “What are you talking about? What patience?”

    “Don’t worry, someone else will explain it to you. No need to ask me.”

    “…Hmm.”

    The prince didn’t look particularly convinced, but he let the matter drop with a reluctant expression.

    His mind had already turned to another concern, one of the many problems he had to resolve. As he fell into silent contemplation, Francisco merely shrugged.

    Aside from the occasional moments of gentleness, the prince always wore that same stern expression. Francisco found it endlessly fascinating how a person could be so unyielding.

    Of course, even Francisco—who found the prince to be a rather dull man—acknowledged his sharp intuition when the situation demanded it.

    “You’re already brooding over it?”

    “I was on my way to confront the problem, so it naturally came to mind.”

    There was nothing ahead but the court of Morea. And there, only a handful of people would be awaiting him. But Bishop Nikephoros and Sophia were the only ones who mattered.

    Since the prince wouldn’t likely have any serious conflicts with the bishop, that left only one person—Sophia.

    When Francisco reached that conclusion, a mischievous smirk spread across his face.

    “Well, you did just make a blatant declaration of infidelity, only to head straight to see your wife. I suppose even you must find that a little awkward.”

    “……”

    “Ah, alright, alright. Stop glaring at me like that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my head was in more danger from your stare than from fighting the Turks.”

    Even the usually talkative Francisco hesitated for a moment under the prince’s sharp gaze. Only when that piercing stare was withdrawn did he let out a sigh of relief.

    Yet, having grasped the true nature of the prince’s concerns, Francisco adopted a more serious tone.

    “Still, you do feel the need to redefine your relationship, don’t you?”

    There was no response. But sometimes, silence was more meaningful than words.

    “Serbia’s situation isn’t easy.

    They’re caught between the Turks and Hungary. And it’s not like you have the power to break that balance.

    A marriage alliance is one thing, but no one would call your relationship solid.”

    The rumors of the prince’s strained relationship with Sophia had been circulating for quite some time. It was no great surprise.

    While the prince had successfully presented himself as a ruler, he had also firmly established the perception that he was incapable of romantic sentiments.

    In the eyes of the world, marital discord was always the fault of one party, and in this case, most of the blame had fallen on Sophia.

    Foreign princesses were judged based on their husbands, and the general public thought that the fault lay with her.

    This, however, had been the prince’s intention.

    It was a measure of control and retribution for Sophia’s unsettling actions during the Athens campaign. Though he had never explicitly stated it, Francisco had just called him out on it.

    “You need to strengthen your ties with Serbia.”

    “…You’re right.”

    Of course, the Prince wouldn’t overlook such an issue.

    Alliances needed to be strengthened for the inevitable confrontation, and Serbia’s role was crucial in the Crusade against the Ottomans that he envisioned.

    However, there was no easy way to go about it. Moreover, there were problems he had chosen to ignore in order to keep a path open.

    “But since we declared ourselves vassals of the Ottomans, most of our movements are restricted. Not only is our dual-vassal status unusual, but helping Serbia directly, where Hungary holds greater influence, would only give Murad an excuse to attack Morea. Furthermore, since we formally sided with the Ottomans, there’s bound to be lingering resentment. At present, we lack the means to win Serbia over…”

    “What’s there to agonize over? You’re married, aren’t you? Just get her pregnant!”

    The Prince tilted his head, wondering if he had misheard.

    But Francisco seemed intent on making his point clear.

    “Get her pregnant!”

    For once, the Prince, who prided himself on his composure, lost his cool and slowly rested his hand on his sword hilt.

    At that moment, his icy rationality reminded him of who Francisco was, saving him from actually drawing his blade. Instead, he only furrowed his brow at the absurdity of the remark.

    Francisco, feeling frustrated at being treated so strangely, raised his voice.

    “I understand why you divide friend and foe so strictly. You need to find those with unwavering resolve to face such a formidable enemy. Given the dangerous situations you’ve endured, it makes sense that you wouldn’t accept half-measures.”

    “If you understand, then I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking nonsense.”

    “But now you know that’s not enough, don’t you?”

    Francisco was a knight who honed his prowess in the Reconquista. He had also studied Iberia’s past to better understand the cause of reclaiming lost lands.

    Through this, he had seen countless instances where nations put aside their differences to unite against a powerful enemy.

    Once adversaries, they eventually allied.

    That kind of flexibility was exactly what the Prince needed now.

    “You burned down cities to drive out the Turks. And yet, after coming this far, you refuse to lay with a woman just because you don’t like her? Is that all your resolve amounts to?”

    “………”

    “There are people who believed in the hope you offered and died for it. If you carry their deaths on your shoulders, you shouldn’t hesitate now.”

    “Ivania is fine.”

    “…Alright. And what’s your next point?”

    “But Sophia—she is a dangerous woman. I had planned to avoid contact with her as much as possible, intending to cast her aside eventually.”

    “That’s all?”

    “And she already holds another man in her heart.”

    With that, both men fell silent.

    The streets remained filled with cheers and the thunderous voices of soldiers responding in kind.

    At least their conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

    They rode forward for a short while before, all of a sudden, Francisco burst into laughter.

    Given the awkward timing, it was only natural for the Prince to feel slightly irritated.

    “Are you mocking me?”

    “No,  I was just curious about who concluded that my cousin lacks romance.”

    “…I know you’re right, so could you stop laughing?”

    “Don’t take it the wrong way. I mean it sincerely.”

    “….”

    The Prince slowly closed his eyes, clearly voicing his protest without words.

    Yet Francisco didn’t stop laughing.

    Unable to bear it any longer, the Prince opened his eyes again.

    “I told you to stop laughing.”

    “I can’t help it… I’m just impressed that you’re human after all. You said I was right, but in this case, I was actually wrong. As a ruler, my reasoning might be correct—”

    Even under the Prince’s sharp gaze, Francisco no longer shrank back.

    At some point, the crusader knight had lowered his helmet.

    “But as a man, you are the one who’s right.”

    “As a man?”

    “Now then! Let’s reward the knights who have achieved great merit, and Your Highness should head straight to the devoted wife awaiting you!”

    “….Haah.”

    Francisco cried out energetically, while the Prince simply let out a sigh.

    People glanced at them with curiosity, but their questions would go unanswered.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 138

    A new year is nearing.

    Nearly half a year has passed since the war with the Ottomans—a nightmare for both Morea and the Empire.

    In that time, the political landscape has undergone many changes.

    The most significant development is that the expeditionary force led by Murad II has departed from Edirne.

    The Sultan’s army now includes the reorganized troops, the forces of Prince Thomas of Epirus—who has taken the place of his elder brother on the battlefield—and even Genoese mercenaries.

    Their presence exudes an air of determination, as if they seek to avenge the disgraceful losses suffered in the previous war.

    And that’s not all.

    Despite the considerable losses Murad II himself endured, his army still numbered a staggering 12,000 troops.

    In stark contrast, Morea’s forces had been driven to the brink of annihilation, leaving no realistic prospect of recovery.

    But this outcome was inevitable. If anything, the Morean army deserved praise for having held out as long as they did.

    Even so, one undeniable truth remained.

    —In the end, the Empire failed to inflict decisive damage upon the Ottomans.

    Yet the Ottomans, too, had failed to achieve their goal.

    The Sultan, who had sworn to destroy the Empire once and for all, found himself caught in the very trap Prince Dragaš had painstakingly laid for him.

    To those unaware of the full picture, it seemed like a miracle of the Holy Virgin. But to those who could piece together the events leading up to it, the reality was far different.

    Foreign observers and scholars in Morea, those with a keen sense of political affairs, had already begun to express overwhelming support and admiration for Prince Dragaš.

    Those who had glimpsed even a fraction of the truth could not help but shudder.

    Grand plans were easy to conceive, but bringing them to reality was an entirely different matter.

    The odds had been abysmally low, the conditions almost impossibly demanding.

    Yet the prince had accomplished what no one else could.

    And those closest to him felt this most keenly.

    No one was more shaken than Sophia, who had been deeply involved in the war.

    Though she had sought a political marriage after recognizing his abilities, the extent of his competence had far exceeded her expectations.

    That realization was what had ultimately driven her to resolve to aid her husband.

    To think he had managed to pull it off… Fixing her black eyes on the map before her, Sophia muttered to herself.

    “Prince Constantine… You truly understand how to manipulate Venice, don’t you?”

    His strategy had been to provoke internal discord within the Ottomans while stalling for time against the Sultan’s forces.

    At the heart of this plan was Venice.

    And the prince had wielded Venice with remarkable precision and intent.

    He had designed the situation so that their pursuit of self-interest would, in turn, serve his own goals.

    By leveraging Genoa’s sudden intervention, he stirred Venice into action and intentionally weakened defenses in the Aegean, luring the Ottoman fleet southward.

    But that was just the beginning.

    The unpredictable movements of Genoa and Venice at such a critical juncture had led the Sultan to suspect the arrival of a Crusade.

    That alone could have clouded his judgment.

    When Sophia received the report that the Venetian fleet had begun to withdraw once more, she quickly ran the calculations in her mind.

    —A perfect opportunity to cripple the Ottoman navy.

    If reinforcements were dispatched to Prince Dragašes tired forces, they might just be able to hold out against the Ottomans.

    This conclusion had been reinforced by an extraordinary rumor spreading throughout Morea.

    “So there was even that aspect to it…”

    She had always assumed he was nothing more than a solemn, unyielding man.

    But it seemed his demeanor was backed by true capability.

    Though the reports were undoubtedly exaggerated, the martial feats Prince Dragaš had displayed on the battlefield were far from ordinary.

    The mere fact that he had held his ground against the Ottomans was enough to establish him as one of the most capable Christian rulers in the Balkans.

    And yet, if this were the extent of it, Sophia’s admiration would have faded quickly.

    His feats against the Janissaries, his ability to feign death for a single ambush, even his ruthless decision to burn an entire city to defeat the Ottomans—none of these acts compared to his true strength.

    She realized this when she had sent her agents to Epirus. By the time her informant had returned, the forces of Epirus had already completed their preparations to march alongside the Genoese army. She would never forget the conversation that followed.

    ‘Your Highness, Epirus was already fully prepared to depart. In fact, Prince Thomas even remarked, “So my brother is only sending word now?”’

    ‘…Only now?’

    ‘It seems His Highness intended to deploy the Epirus army at the decisive moment to deal a critical blow to the Ottomans.’

    What words could describe what Sophia felt in that instant? Dizziness? No, it was more than that.

    It was a mixture of reverence and relief. Constantine Dragaš Palaiologos. He had concealed his forces, ensuring that they would strike at the Ottomans when least expected.

    Whether his goal was the reconquest of central Greece or a devastating flanking maneuver, his intent was unmistakable.

    It was only natural for Sophia’s thoughts to progress further after what she had learned.

    Could it be that Dragases had anticipated she would reach this conclusion and guided her toward it?

    She dismissed the notion as absurd, yet the lingering “what if” refused to fade from her mind. When she considered the balance of power among the factions that had settled across the Balkans following this war, her suspicions only grew stronger.

    Glarentza, now under Genoese control.

    And Venice, which had successfully entered Thessalonica without bloodshed after the Empire had struggled to hold onto it.

    Both locations were easily isolatable should their occupants turn hostile.

    Glarentza had always been more heavily influenced by Venice, making it highly vulnerable to collapse if given the opportunity.

    Meanwhile, Thessalonica was completely surrounded by the Ottomans on all sides except for the sea. To Venice, which dominated the Aegean, this might not even seem like a significant threat.

    —Which was precisely why Prince Dragases had deliberately facilitated the recruitment of Genoese mercenaries for the Sultan.

    He knew what the Genoese would demand. More than that, he had created an opening to threaten Venetian naval supremacy.

    In doing so, he ensured that neither side could afford to ignore him. Between Genoa and Venice—two powers that could never truly coexist—one would inevitably have to ally with him. If a [true Crusade] were to form instead of this [fabricated Crusade], the Ottomans would face a grave threat.

    “…You really are, truly… an incredible man.”

    The two great maritime powers, the Empire, and the Ottomans.

    Dragases had meticulously laid his pieces on the board, maneuvering the various forces toward their respective goals on an ice-thin battlefield.

    It was clear that he had been preparing ever since he realized that a clash with Sultan Murad II was unavoidable.

    As a person, he was not particularly pleasant company. But as a ruler? Men like him were exceedingly rare.

    When everyone else believed there was no way forward, he carved one out for himself.

    That was what Sophia admired most about him. Dragases true talent lay not in commanding a single battlefield, but in his keen insight into the broader geopolitical landscape.

    He had the ability to set events in motion and manipulate entire factions. It was no wonder people regretted his arrival.

    Why had he only appeared now?

    Why had he come so late?

    Sophia shared the same thoughts.

    “If only you had been born a few decades earlier, Serbia might never have collapsed the way it did.”

    The last hope.

    Was there any title more fitting for him?

    Yet, unlike the others in Morea, Sophia’s expectations for Dragases were slightly different.

    She already knew that the current emperor had declared his intent to proclaim Dragases as co-emperor. That meant her husband would soon embark on his own independent course.

    Once that happened, he would undoubtedly throw himself into securing alliances.

    And Serbia had to be among those allies.

    “…Now that the Ottomans have silenced their internal strife, their next targets will likely be Morea, the lands north of the Danube, and…”

    My homeland—Serbia.

    Sophia pressed her lips together.

    She may have been a foreign princess, her influence fluctuating with her homeland’s power, but that did not diminish her affection for her country.

    Serbia, caught between Hungary and the Ottomans, remained vulnerable to the issue of ‘dual vassalage.’ If the Ottomans consolidated their strength further, they might seize the next opportunity to annex Serbia completely.

    With Hungary still entangled in war, there was no room for complacency.

    “…I hope we can discuss this as soon as I return.”

    Closing her eyes, Sophia silently wished for a favourable outcome.


    TL : Tbh, I would have liked Sophia more if she weren’t so promiscuous. you know lol, I should talk like this more often.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 137

    Even though the news of the co-emperor’s proclamation was shocking, it would still take time for the rumors to spread.

    Constantinople was busy suppressing voices opposing the prince’s ascension as co-emperor, while the Ottomans, preparing for their campaign, were grinding their teeth in frustration.

    Given the gravity of the situation, a careful observer would have noticed it immediately—but the prince’s attention was entirely elsewhere.

    A prime example was Francisco, who had rejoined after the general pardon.

    “I heard it was quite a fierce battle. You must have fought well. This will surely spread our cousin’s fame far and wide.”

    “And you—who would have thought you’d be completely unharmed?”

    “Well, I focused only on running away from them, so that was inevitable.”

    Of the 400 knights Francisco had led, only about twenty had lost their lives—virtually no losses otherwise.

    Francisco had avoided direct combat till the end, luring the enemy until they exhausted themselves, and once he realized the pursuit had ended, he made his way to Epirus.

    Had Epirus’ army still been on standby, he had planned to join them before meeting the prince.

    “But then I heard the young lord of Epirus had already made his move, so I took a short rest. I figured that even if I rushed in, I wouldn’t be able to intervene at a crucial moment.”

    “A wise decision.”

    “After the battle ended, the moment I heard about the general pardon, I immediately went around gathering the remaining men. I’d say about a thousand or so?”

    Francisco shrugged as he proudly boasted of his accomplishment, and the prince couldn’t help but smile.

    His characteristic bravado didn’t come off as arrogant but rather amusing.

    Regardless, thanks to Francisco’s cleverness, they had managed to recover a force of a thousand men. No doubt these were troops deliberately left behind to deceive Murad.

    Though he nodded along to Francisco’s exaggerated claims, the prince didn’t forget the tasks at hand.

    He began reviewing the progress of various matters assigned to his retainers, starting with Ivania. The golden-haired, blue-eyed knight still maintained the same curt demeanor as before.

    “…As Your Highness commanded, all those who opposed you have been purged.”

    Ivania’s task had been to eliminate those resisting the empire’s growing influence.

    Most of them were pro-Ottoman factions. However, since they were technically vassals of the Ottomans, it was impossible to openly attack them for their allegiance.

    Instead, they were accused of “refusing to recognize the Ottoman delegate”—a charge of disloyalty. It was a flimsy pretext, but with the law rendered meaningless and only the sword dictating justice, there was no resistance.

    Hearing Ivania’s report, the prince let out a sigh of relief.

    “Good. You’ve done well. Since this matter is settled, you may take some rest.”

    “…Urgh…”

    “…Is there a problem?”

    “…No, not at all. I merely follow Your Highness’ orders.”

    Was it all just an act? Hoping that her attitude would remain at least somewhat the same, the prince simply watched as Ivania withdrew.

    Even as she left, she kept glancing back toward him with an uneasy expression, but for now, he let it slide.

    With that settled, the prince called in his other retainers to address matters one by one.

    “Georgios Gemistos Plethon, have you successfully recruited the scholars you sought?”

    “Many scholars gladly accepted upon hearing of Your Highness’ reputation. This is proof that the path you have taken is the right one.”

    The elderly scholar Plethon had personally sought out and persuaded those branded as heretics, scholars who had wasted away in seclusion.

    Most of them had questioned the necessity of religion or held knowledge of ancient pagan traditions.

    It was an open secret that the Church’s wealth had become excessively grown, and the prince’s willingness to embrace these anti-clerical scholars aligned with that reality.

    “Plethon, you are well aware that our empire is overrun with monasteries and churches.”

    “Indeed, Your Highness. The Church owns nearly one-third of the empire’s land. This has left little room for independent farmers, yet only Your Highness and your late father, Emperor Manuel, have truly recognized this issue.”

    “If all of them had been established out of pure faith, it wouldn’t be a problem. The real issue is those monasteries were founded solely to evade taxes and military service.”

    When Manuel had once proclaimed himself Emperor of Thessalonica, he had taken the extreme measure of forcibly seizing monastery-owned lands in the region, earning the Church’s wrath.

    That decision had undoubtedly affected his claim to the throne. The clergy, represented by the Patriarch of Constantinople, must have harbored deep resentment toward him for confiscating Church property.

    But the prince was different.

    He had already amassed enough power within his faction to threaten the capital itself.

    If the Patriarch of Constantinople turned against him, he was prepared to establish an archbishop in Morea instead.

    Moreover, beyond his military strength, he had earned significant religious influence through his efforts in restoring the Church of the Holy Virgin and reversing the transformation of mosques and Latin churches back into Orthodox sanctuaries.

    Even so, he never donated wealth to monasteries or churches.

    Even in Morea, church and monastery holdings were overflowing.

    For the reforms he envisioned, a confrontation with them was inevitable. Thus, cultivating an anti-clerical faction was merely the first step in preparing public sentiment for the changes to come.

    “Plethon, I do not think the Church is unnecessary, as you say. At least, not yet. So, I ask you to continue preparing for that distant future when, as you suggest, it may no longer be needed.”

    In this era, where religion had come to replace national identity, rejecting the Church outright was unthinkable.

    At the very least, such an attempt could only be made once the concept of nationhood was firmly established.

    And to reach that point, all that needed to be done was to ensure the empire’s survival and the transformation of its people’s mindset.

    “You have done well all this time. Now, you may hold the lectures you desire to your heart’s content. The Church’s opposition—I shall personally shield you from it. So do not hesitate to engage in open discussions with your disciples.”

    “…I will never forget these brief moments by Your Highness’s side. Please, do not forget your resolve. The fate of this land now rests in your hands.”

    With those final words, Georgios Gemistos Plethon, the leading figure of Neoplatonism and one who would later play a key role in igniting the Renaissance, departed from the prince’s side to return to his true calling.

    While it was unfortunate to lose such a renowned scholar from the court, the prince quickly changed his mind—after all, Plethon had chosen to dedicate himself to a greater cause, something far more important than what he could accomplish within the court.

    Next to be summoned was Demicleos, who had been fulfilling a role entirely different from his original position.

    “Were there any major difficulties in establishing the Venetian trading post?”

    “As long as we honored the treaty, the Venetians made no further demands, saying that maintaining a good relationship was in their interest. The terms Your Highness initially set were followed to the letter.”

    “I heard they signed a non-aggression pact with the Ottomans, yet it seems they did not trust it completely.”

    If they had truly believed in their treaty with the Ottomans, they would not have sought closer ties with Morea.

    As expected from those attuned to national interests, they had likely seen through the Ottomans’ true intentions and reached out first. Since this was exactly what the prince had intended, he smiled with satisfaction.

    “You have done well, too, Demicleos. It won’t be long before I require your services again, so take care not to overexert yourself.”

    “I shall heed Your Highness’s command.”

    Thus, while his loyal retainers were granted rest, the prince himself was forced to confront reality.

    The Sultan had sent an order to unite the Genoese mercenaries with the Epirote forces as previously promised.

    As a result, while his retainers rested, the prince alone found himself busier than ever—an almost comical turn of events.

    Securing supplies for their deployment consumed two full weeks of his time.

    And yet, even after this task was completed, he had no time to rest, as he had to bid a brief farewell to Thomas before he set sail.

    “Do not overexert yourself, Thomas. No matter how much merit you earn in this campaign, it will ultimately only benefit the Ottomans.”

    “I will keep that in mind, brother. Please, take care of yourself as well. And… you must also properly resolve matters with your wife.”

    “…You are right.”

    Now that the stabilization of central Greece had taken shape, the prince, too, had begun considering his return to Morea.

    The exhaustion of his soldiers was one concern, but more pressing was the matter of the forty thousand Albanians who would soon arrive.

    As he gazed at Thomas and the Genoese troops departing by ship, the prince fell into deep thought.

    “I must face it after all.”

    To stand against the Ottomans, the empire needed allies.

    Serbia, being both an Orthodox nation and bound by marriage ties, was an obvious choice.

    Yet, preoccupied with overcoming the empire’s crises, the prince had neglected to monitor Serbia’s internal affairs.

    Strengthening ties with Sophia and increasing influence over Serbia was the correct course of action for a ruler.

    “…Sigh.”

    At some point, the prince had begun letting out deep sighs.

    The moment when purpose and means became inverted—this was when unnecessary worries began to flood his mind.

    Yet such doubts could not shake his resolve. Just as one’s position changes a person, so too do the expectations and faith of the people.

    The prince had seen the faces of those in the capital.

    A city drowning in despair and resignation, awaiting its inevitable doom—he had simply found that intolerable. Though his initial motivation had been trivial, after all, a spark often appears as if it will fade at any moment. And so it was with the empire.

    —The empire had turned to ashes.

    But like the phoenix, it would rise once more, reborn in a brilliant blaze of light.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 136

    Before setting out to pacify Anatolia, Murad had meticulously completed his preparations for the campaign.

    First and foremost, he reorganized his forces, integrating new soldiers into his ranks while awaiting the arrival of the 4,000 troops promised by Dragases from Epirus and Genoa.

    At the same time, he appointed outstanding individuals from the previous war to key positions.

    However, war could not be waged with manpower alone. Supplies such as food to sustain the soldiers and arrows for battle were just as essential.

    Under normal circumstances, securing these resources would have taken considerable time.

    Yet, as if to prove their loyalty, the commendable officials, led by Çandarlı Halil, contributed substantial wealth to the cause.

    Thanks to their support, the minimum preparations for the campaign were complete.

    All that remained was to wait for the forces from Epirus and Genoa to join them. But Murad was not one to sit idly by in the meantime.

    He decided to meet with Çandarlı Halil to commend him for persuading the loyalist officials to offer their wealth. Halil, too, humbly accepted the Sultan’s summons.

    Yet the moment he entered Murad’s presence, he realized that the praise was merely a pretext.

    The Sultan’s aura was not one that belonged to a man simply bestowing honors.

    His presence was like the stillness of water rippling in a gentle breeze—calm, yet foreboding of an impending storm.

    In the depths of Murad’s sunken eyes burned a cold, intense flame.

    Though he likely intended to conceal it, that flame did not escape Halil’s notice.

    He had not risen to the position of a faction leader for nothing.

    One who could not discern another’s intentions would not survive the brutal battlefield of politics. And Halil was a survivor.

    “Sultan, what weighs on your mind?”

    A ruler should be wary of vassals who see through his thoughts. Yet Murad nodded without hesitation. It was not that he trusted others lightly, but he understood the gravity of the prophet’s prophecy.

    He had accepted his role in fulfilling it. In that regard, Çandarlı Halil was someone Murad deemed worthy of trust. That was why he had called him here.

    To discuss why he had withdrawn instead of continuing his confrontation with Dragases.

    To reveal the source of his confidence.

    And to speak of the means by which he would topple the Thousand-Year Empire.

    “The insight you demonstrated before left me in admiration.”

    “If my words have illuminated your path, then I am grateful.”

    “Which is why I have called you here—I believe there is an even better way.”

    “Command me.”

    There was not the slightest hesitation in Halil’s response. Yet Murad did not seem entirely satisfied. Instead, he spoke a single name.

    “Turahan.”

    The man who answered was once the bey of Bulgaria but had since risen to lead the sipahis.

    A commander of prudence, yet one who did not shy away from boldness when necessary. To display his loyalty, he had brought with him a man whose attire was unlike anything seen in Edirne.

    The sound of footsteps echoed disorderly through the hall, likely drawing the attention of any who heard them.

    Yet Halil did not move. Not until the Sultan commanded it. He simply kept his head bowed, waiting.

    And then, the Sultan spoke.

    “Raise your head, Çandarlı Halil. Turahan, remove his gag.”

    At that command, Halil lifted his gaze.

    At the same time, a voice rang out—an unfamiliar tongue never before heard in the Sultan’s court. Yet Halil, who valued individual capability above all, needed no interpreter.

    What caught him off guard was the sheer unexpectedness of it. The owner of that voice spoke with a sharp, stinging tone.

    “Sultan, is this truly how you treat one who has sought asylum under your protection?”

    —Halil’s mind raced.

    Asylum?

    The man spoke Greek. Normally, he would have assumed he was a Janissary, but the Janissaries did not use Greek within the court. Moreover, an asylum seeker was unlikely to be a former Janissary. That meant he was from the Empire.

    But how many individuals from the Empire could defect and be granted an audience with the Sultan himself? Only a noble of great renown or someone with considerable influence.

    A person of such stature could not have simply disappeared unnoticed.

    In that instant, one name surfaced in Halil’s mind.

    The one individual from the Empire whose fate remained unknown.

    “…Surely not.”

    “As expected. To deduce his identity from a single remark—impressive.”

    This man had led 2,000 infantry in a surprise attack on Murad’s main camp during the siege of Constantinople, when the Sultan had sought to draw Dragases out of Morea.

    Though it was believed he had been annihilated in the counterattack, his fate had remained uncertain, overshadowed by more pressing matters.

    Halil silently cursed the man in his thoughts.

    —So that was an ‘asylum’ after all.

    Unaware of Halil’s inner turmoil, the man maintained his usual smirk.

    “Sultan, as per your orders, I have been waiting patiently in my quarters. But I must ask—what is the meaning of this treatment?”

    “The Emperor has declared Dragases his co-emperor.”

    At those words, even this man’s expression hardened.

    Seeing his reaction, Murad let out a small chuckle before shifting his gaze to Halil.

    “I had intended to use him to sow discord within the Empire. To inflict upon them a crisis as fatal as the one we have endured. But Halil, I believe you can devise an even wiser scheme.”

    This was why Murad had so readily withdrawn in response to Dragases’ demand.

    Behind the duty of securing Anatolia lay a concealed dagger, honed in secret, waiting for the moment it could pierce the Empire’s very heart.

    Murad had kept it hidden deep within Edirne’s palace to ensure the Empire remained unaware of its existence. But now, Halil’s presence had changed his mind.

    Halil would sharpen this dagger into an even deadlier blade.

    And Murad’s faith in him was not misplaced.

    For the moment Halil realized the man’s identity—that he was Theodoros, the Empire’s second prince—he knew exactly what needed to be done.

    “Sultan, send a letter to the Pope.”

    “To the Pope?”

    Murad had expected Halil to devise a plan, but he had not anticipated him suggesting contact with the Pope. Still, his keen intellect swiftly grasped Halil’s intent.

    A letter to the Pope would serve only one purpose—to sever the Empire completely from the Western world.

    The question was how to achieve this.

    Halil already had the answer.

    “The greatest bargaining chip the Empire can offer the West in exchange for a crusade is the resolution of their doctrinal dispute. The Western Church and the Empire’s Church have long been divided, constantly vying for supremacy. Yet the weakened Empire can no longer prove its church’s superiority. In the end, they will have no choice but to submit.”

    For a vassal of the Ottoman court—not even a Janissary, but the head of the viziers—to so thoroughly grasp the Empire’s limitations—

    Theodoros, who had learned Turkish during his time in the court, understood every word.

    And he trembled at the realization.

    ‘So this is… the power of the Ottomans…’

    Even in decline, they never let their guard down against their enemies.

    They would not allow even a single breath of respite.

    Not even when he learned that Manuel had chosen Constantine as his successor had he felt such emotions.

    It was neither rage nor inferiority.

    It was the despair known as resignation.

    Indeed—

    From the very beginning, no matter what the Empire did, this war against the Ottomans had always been an unwinnable one.

    “The only way for us to resist here is none other than tolerance.”

    “I have shown more than enough tolerance.”

    “Unless it is a tolerance that even the Pope would acknowledge, it will be of no use.”

    Despite Theodoros’ deep despair, Halil continued to voice his carefully devised scheme. Now, every word he spoke was a blade threatening the survival of the Empire.

    “Swear to the current Pope that you will protect all Christian places of worship. Furthermore, proclaim yourself as the protector of Christianity and show respect for their faith. Amidst that, you must offer the Pope a condition he would find most intriguing.”

    “It must be related to Theodoros, I presume?”

    “Indeed, my Sultan.”

    When Theodoros noticed his name being mentioned, he lifted his head, only to find that everyone gathered in the court—Çandarlı Halil, Turahan, and even the Sultan—had their eyes fixed on him. Among them, Halil’s gaze was the coldest of all.

    “At the opportune moment, send him to the Pope and have him follow the rites of the Western Church. Afterward, let him receive a coronation from the Pope, and then we shall proclaim him as the Emperor of the Empire. In doing so, a Crusade will never even come to be. For the Pope to sanction an attack on the Empire under such circumstances would be unthinkable.”

    “That would mean cutting off all of Dragases’ limbs.”

    “Precisely. When we march against Serbia, we shall demand his participation in the campaign. If he refuses, using his marriage ties as an excuse, we shall have just cause to punish him. On the other hand, if Dragases complies out of fear, we will have successfully severed Serbia, a potential future ally, from his grasp.”

    By winning over Wallachia in the north and invading Serbia, they would provoke excessive intervention from Hungary.

    And the more Hungary sought to counter the Ottomans by reinforcing its influence over surrounding nations, the Ottomans, in turn, would consolidate their dominance by guaranteeing those nations autonomy and offering protection.

    Meanwhile, by using Theodoros to gain the Pope’s tacit approval, Dragases would be left utterly isolated.

    As Çandarlı Halil laid out his intentions, his mind drifted to someone he had met before his audience with the Sultan.

    “Çandarlı Halil, what do you make of the Prophet’s prophecy?”

    A close acquaintance, known for reading the future through astrology, had suddenly posed this question. Was he testing him? Halil had thought as much but answered without hesitation.

    “Naturally, it shall come to pass, as it is the will of the Prophet.”

    “You are mistaken on one thing.”

    “What am I mistaken about?”

    This acquaintance had always enjoyed playful riddles and word games. But he was not merely a fool—his astrological insights were strangely precise. Halil could never bring himself to ignore his words. Thus, what came next was enough to shake him.

    “Until recently, the stars told me so with certainty. But now, they have fallen silent. The heavens no longer speak. As if they are waiting for a choice to be made.”

    “What do you mean…?”

    “Go to the Sultan and assist him, Halil. I, too, must visit him soon.”

    That acquaintance was Hacı Bayram Veli, a remarkable astrologer. He had gazed up at the star-studded heavens as he spoke his final words.

    “Who would have thought that a single star could silence the sky?”

    —A single star.

    Halil immediately understood what Hacı Bayram Veli’s star referred to. In all of the Balkans, only one man had led events to an entirely unforeseen outcome. Even as an enemy, Halil had no choice but to acknowledge and respect him.

    And the people of the Empire would feel the same.

    As Çandarlı Halil drifted into contemplation, Murad had not forgotten the weight of the moment.

    “But can we be certain that the Empire will follow Theodoros?”

    No.

    Logically, most would deem it right to follow Dragases.

    A man whose abilities had yet to be truly tested against one who had already achieved great feats in his youth—there was no comparison.

    But Halil was not merely speaking of a ruler’s competence.

    “This is a battle of faith, my Sultan.”

    “Faith in what?”

    “A battle between the belief that the Empire can be revived and the belief that it cannot.”

    By enthroning Theodoros and showing respect for their faith, the people of the Empire would come to a realization.

    That what lay ahead was not the disappointing Empire of the past but a new order in its place—an era that would bring prosperity, abundance, and stability to those who followed.

    “For centuries, the Empire has withered away. Yet, despite that, it clings to its greed for power, tearing itself apart while surrendering its lands and people to countless conquerors. Men like Manuel and Dragases have resisted, but look—”

    Halil gestured toward Theodoros.

    “When someone like him still exists, what more needs to be said?”

    Dragases’ rise symbolized hope for the people of the Empire.

    But it was a hope that had surfaced countless times before.

    For a thousand years, the only thing Murad and the Muslims had witnessed was a history of repeated failure and despair.

    “This lingering hope, still held by those who refuse to let go of the past, must be cut down once and for all. Otherwise, the cycle will repeat again and again. The Empire cannot change. Leaving them as they are is cruelty in itself. We must guide those pitiful souls to true faith, to an era of genuine prosperity.”

    “…You speak the truth, Halil. I, too, once swore to liberate those who are blinded by a thousand years of illusion.”

    Murad recalled the oath he had once made—to lead astray souls, chasing hollow dreams of hope, toward the true will of God.

    In this moment, Murad solidified his resolve.

    “Çandarlı Halil, I appoint you as my Grand Vizier.”

    “I accept the will of the Sultan.”

    Halil bowed his head without hesitation, as if he had anticipated this. But in his mind, only Hacı Bayram Veli’s words echoed.

    A single star silenced the heavens?

    O Allah, are You testing our will and strength?

    “If so, we shall prove ourselves.”

    Why the Ottomans were destined to win. Why the Prophet’s prophecy was bound to be fulfilled.

    From the days of Osman himself, the foundation had been laid. Against challengers like Dragases, the Ottomans would demonstrate their true strength.

    A strength forged not merely by ambition but by the weight of time itself.

    —The power of a state. The might of a nation. The limits of sovereignty.

    It was none other than national strength.

    “Çandarlı Halil, I entrust you with Edirne. Secure the rear in my stead.”

    “As you command, my Sultan.”

    “Turahan, you will join me in the campaign. This time, we shall reclaim the honor we failed to restore before.”

    “I am ever grateful for your trust, my Sultan.”

    “The most crucial part of this campaign is to rescue İshak Pasha’s forces first. He is a most reliable friend. With him, we will rally those in Anatolia who still remember their allegiance.”

    Murad surveyed those kneeling before him. His gaze finally settled on one man.

    Theodoros Palaiologos.

    Murad did not mock him, nor did he sneer. He simply issued a quiet command.

    “It is not yet time for you to emerge. Hone your abilities. For the day you ascend the throne.”

    Theodoros’ shoulders flinched. But Murad was not a ruler to offer solace. His gaze remained cold as he spoke.

    “Did you not betray both your homeland and your brother for this?”


    TL : Nah, this the genuinely best way to describe our mc : A single star that silenced the heavens.