Chapter 105: The Succession List

Chapter 105: Chapter 105: The Succession List

Jeremy had to sit and decipher it for nearly half a day before he could finally figure out what those lines were actually saying.

Each page contained merely a single sentence.

First page: I like my older brother.

Second page: I hate my older brother.

Third page: I like Raphael the most! He is so pretty! I want to be best friends with him forever!

Fourth page: He called me an idiot, I don’t like him anymore.

Fifth page: I like my older brother and my parents.

Sixth page: ...They don’t like me.

Seventh page: They only like my older brother. I don’t like that.

Eighth page: My older brother fell down the cliff. He is so pitiful. I will like him.

Ninth page: When will my older brother come back? I want to see him, I’ve already prepared so many gifts for him!

Tenth page: I don’t like them anymore, I don’t like any of them. I want to take my older brother’s name, I don’t want to be Sylas anymore, I want to be Jeremy!

Eleventh page: ...I really am an idiot, it’s not like changing my name will make people like me. But Raphael said he likes me the most! From now on, I will only like Sylas!

Twelfth page: They said my older brother is dead. I am so wicked, to think I used to be jealous of him... If there really are gods in this world, please don’t let my older brother die, okay? I am willing to share my lifespan with him.

Cross-referencing the timestamps written in the corner of each page, the original owner only wrote once every seven or eight days.

The first page fell around the time he was three years old. The twelfth page was the period right after his fifth birthday.

After the twelfth page, the notebook was left blank for half a year before new entries appeared.

This time, the handwriting was visibly much neater, no longer having to be patched together with abstract drawings.

The frequency of entries noticeably thinned out, but the emotions compressed within each sentence grew denser with every page.

The corresponding timeline was five years and eight months old - exactly the time he was kidnapped.

The majority of the content was self-blame, lines resenting his own self as a troublesome existence that everyone had to endure.

A small portion was used to vent his feelings.

Interspersed among them were a few lines mentioning being bullied by other nobles, along with unsmooth daily life events, but they were all squeezed into a few abrupt sentences, so brief it sent chills down the spine.

The journaling lasted for about three and a half years. After turning nine, the subsequent pages were completely blank from beginning to end. Perhaps the original owner also found it bothersome, or had realized that writing it down wouldn’t change a thing anyway.

Jeremy closed the notebook, stored it in his spatial ring, then cast his eyes over the small trinkets lying quietly in the box.

Cross-referencing with the scribbled drawings in the notebook, the majority of these miscellaneous trinkets were spoils the original owner collected during his time living with Raphael. As for those gemstones ground into tiny star shapes, they appeared to be gifts from his older brother.

Previously, when lost in the illusion created by Yusha, Jeremy had borrowed the original owner’s perspective to re-walk the period from six to ten years old. But throughout that entire illusion, there wasn’t a single frame recording the scene of that child sitting down to write these lines.

It seemed the illusion back then was merely an incomplete construct.

Perhaps Yusha’s power wasn’t enough to fully recreate every single detail.

Jeremy swept all the small trinkets into his spatial ring as well, then leaned back and lay down on the bed.

He stared blankly at the empty ceiling, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the headboard.

The original owner had summoned him here but didn’t leave behind any compulsory dying wish. That meant he had the right to do absolutely nothing.

But the deeper he dug, the more he felt a bit of... pity for this child who was the same age as him.

Or more accurately, he felt a sense of injustice on the boy’s behalf.

Jeremy couldn’t even be bothered to distinguish whether this was the lingering emotional resonance left in this body, or purely his subjective consciousness being swayed after swallowing all of the other party’s miserable memories.

...But putting everything else aside, having received the chance of rebirth from the original owner’s hands, taking revenge for him within his scope of ability wasn’t something that needed to be pondered over.

If his memory served him right, the crown prince seat beneath Amber’s current rear end wasn’t all that stable.

An arrogant piece of trash relying solely on imperial power, if stripped of everything bestowed upon him since birth, what kind of expression would be on that guy’s face?

It would definitely be quite spectacular.

Once the ringleader fell from his horse, the filthy ants swarming around him would naturally be swept straight to the bottom by the current.

Thinking of this, Jeremy took the opportunity to review the factions standing behind every prince and princess of the empire.

Amber was the son of the late empress who had died early from illness. The current empress had also given birth to a prince. The other concubines all had their own children.

Including Amber, the empire currently had five princes, but only a mere two princesses.

Unfortunately, the maternal factions of those other princes were far too thin.

Even the family backing the current empress still fell short of the marquis lineage standing behind Amber by a long shot.

The prince born to the current empress, from the moment he was a newborn baby, had been viewed by the noble faction on Amber’s side as a thorn in their eyes, a nail in their flesh.

Precisely because of this, since childhood he had been trapped and driven out of the empire’s borders by them; even his qualification to enroll at St. Aetherwing had been stripped away. Even if he harbored intentions to compete, it was merely an empty dream.

As for the two princesses...

One had been sickly and plagued by illness since childhood, glued to her bed year-round. Her birth mother was originally a dancer; merely because the cat she raised scratched the hand of the previous empress - Amber’s birth mother - she was thrown straight into the cold palace.

When it came time to give birth, she was poisoned by a traitor and bled to death.

That premature princess also suffered the collateral damage. The toxin transmitted from her mother’s body eroded her meridians, leaving the little girl to never step half a foot out of her room; simultaneously, it damaged her intellect to the point of being incurable.

The royal family considered that existence a disgrace that needed to be hidden away. Up until now, the little girl didn’t even have a name, nor had anyone ever seen her face. Her possibility of succession was exactly zero.

The remaining one - with a solid maternal faction, a healthy body, and elite-tier talent - was Asaro Ogupetin.

Thinking of this name, Jeremy fell silent for a moment, then single-handedly overturned the plan that had just kindled in his head.

With Asaro’s personality coupled with such a maternal background, if she truly wanted to vie for the throne, the heir’s seat beneath Amber’s rear end would have likely changed owners a long time ago.

Furthermore, Asaro wasn’t the type of person who could be led by the nose by benefits.

Instead of taking the risk of convincing her to seize the throne, it was better to wait until his own strength was solid enough, then find an opportunity to personally dispose of Amber quietly without a single sound.

At the present moment, wanting to do it so cleanly as to be foolproof was a bit difficult. But in a few more years, that matter would be entirely within reach.

"Knock, knock..."

The sound of knocking echoed.

Jeremy sat up: "What is it?"

From outside transmitted Melson’s gentle voice: "Young Master, the head chef has finished preparing your usual customary dishes. Would you like to dine in the dining room, or should we bring them up to your room?"

"Set it up in the dining room. I’ll be down in a bit."

"Yes, sir." The footsteps outside quietly dispersed.

Jeremy stood up, went into the adjacent dressing room, took off his pajamas, and threw on a set of casual clothes before heading downstairs.

Throughout the meal, Melson remained constantly by his side; two rows of maids stood close to the wall awaiting orders, as silent as polished statues.

Jeremy imitated the exact attitude of the original owner, treating all of them like thin air.

Having finished the simple meal, he was just about to open his mouth to ask a few questions about his older brother’s situation, when Melson ordered someone to bring over a thick stack of invitation cards.