The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 90

Chapter 90: Hungry (1)

Argider sat at the edge of the massive bed, its velvet covers feeling foreign beneath his calloused fingertips.
The sheer size of the room overwhelmed him; the vaulted ceilings adorned with golden filigree, the massive windows framed by heavy brocade curtains, and the chandeliers casting soft, glowing light.
It was nothing like the cramped, damp whorehouse he had known his entire life.
For the first time, he allowed himself a small, fragile smile.

“I’m an Imperial son,” he whispered to himself, testing the words as if they might shatter. The truth had hit him like a thunderclap when his mother spoke it, and though fear lingered, a cautious hope began to bloom in his chest.

No longer was he the boy mocked for his mother’s occupation or his thin, gaunt appearance. Here, he thought, he could finally belong.

Here, he might command respect.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Before he could answer, the door swung open, and a boy roughly his age strode in. His gait was confident, his chin lifted high, his fine clothes fitted perfectly to his broad shoulders.

His hair gleamed like polished ebony, and his eyes, a piercing ambe, seemed to judge everything they landed on.

“So, you’re the bastard,” the boy sneered, crossing his arms. “I’m Prince Kaelor, firstborn of Emperor Nova and heir to the throne. You should address me properly.”

Argider flinched but managed to stand, his nerves jangling. “I… I didn’t mean to—I mean, I…”

“It’s ‘Your Highness’ to you,” Kaelor interrupted coldly, stepping closer. “Did you think you could waltz into the palace and be one of us? That you’d wear silk robes and share our table? You’re nothing but a stain.”

Argider’s fists clenched at his sides. “I… I’m still his son,” he said quietly, but there was a tremor in his voice.

Kaelor laughed, the sound sharp and biting. “A son? You? You’re nothing more than a mistake. Mother says you’re here because Father felt… pity. But make no mistake, pity doesn’t make you one of us.”

The door opened again, and two girls stepped inside, both dressed in flowing gowns of pale blue. Their laughter faded as they looked at Argider, their delicate features twisting into disgust.

“Oh, Kaelor,” one of them said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Is this the rat Mother was talking about?”

“Yes,” Kaelor replied. “Our new ‘brother.'” The word dripped with venom.

The second girl giggled, hiding her mouth behind a dainty hand. “He smells like the Downward District. Don’t you have baths there?”

Argider wanted to speak, to defend himself, but the weight of their sneers pressed down on him. He stood there, rooted, until they finally left, their laughter echoing down the hall.

Later that day, Argider ventured outside the palace walls, desperate for fresh air and a respite from the icy stares and cruel whispers.

The capital, Aloxus, was nothing like the Downward District he’d known. Here, the streets were paved with smooth stone, the buildings grand and adorned with carvings and gilded accents.

Vendors lined the avenues, their stalls bursting with goods: silks in vivid hues, fruits that shone like jewels, and spices that perfumed the air.

But as Argider wandered, he began to notice cracks in the city’s pristine façade.

Despite the wealth on display, the faces of the people, noble and commoner alike, were marked by a peculiar emptiness. Conversations were curt, laughter forced, and behind the smiles lay a palpable tension.

He passed a group of merchants arguing near a stall. “The price of grain has doubled again,” one said, his voice low but urgent. “I can’t keep up.”

“You’re not the only one,” another muttered. “My coffers are empty, yet the nobles demand their banquets.”

Argider frowned, his gaze drifting to a nearby fountain.

A young boy, not much older than he had been when they first fled Aloxus, dipped a cracked cup into the water. His clothes were tattered, his face gaunt.

The boy’s eyes met Argider’s for a fleeting moment before he disappeared into the crowd.

Despite its glittering facade, Aloxus was a city gnawed at by an insatiable hunger, not just for food, but for power, status, and survival.

Everyone was chasing something, yet no one seemed satisfied.

Returning to the palace that evening, Argider found himself in the dining hall, seated at the end of a long table.

The Empress sat at the head, her cold eyes scanning him with disdain as servants placed steaming dishes before him.

Kaelor and his siblings whispered amongst themselves, their glances cutting like daggers.

Argider picked at his food, the feast suddenly tasteless.

For all the luxury surrounding him, he felt more isolated than ever.

The hope he’d carried when he first arrived, that being an Imperial son would bring him respect, belonging, and happiness, was beginning to crumble.

As the evening wore on, Kaelor’s voice rang out across the table. “Tell me, Argider,” he said with a smirk. “What do they serve in the Downward District? Rat stew? Moldy bread?”

The room erupted in laughter, the sound cutting into Argider like shards of glass. He bit his tongue, his face burning with shame, but he refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

After dinner, he retreated to his chambers, the grand room feeling emptier than ever.

He stared out the window, the city’s lights flickering like distant stars.

For the first time, he began to wonder if he had traded one cage for another.

As he lay down, his mother’s words from their first night in the palace echoed in his mind: “We don’t have to run anymore.”

But as sleep eluded him, Argider couldn’t help but feel that, though they had stopped running, they had not yet found peace.

“Perhaps I’m just overthinking… After all, I’m rich now,” Argider muttered to himself, attempting to silence the lingering doubts that was on the edges of his thoughts. “I don’t need to steal anymore.”
But deep within, he knew a reckoning loomed. A day when debts would demand their due, one way or another.