Chapter 8: Golden Jasmine Flowers

At first, I used to think that way. 

I mean, seriously, what did these foreigners leave with the Empire? 

Whether they had problems or not, that was their business — why should we care? 

The Empire had no obligation to help them. 

But why did they use that as an excuse to invade the Empire every single time in every timeline, toppling the Empire and tearing me to pieces without fail?

As I kept repeating my return, dying horrible deaths every time, I truly believed I was just an unfairly persecuted victim caught up in this madness. 

But when evidence started emerging that this might actually be the Empire paying for its sins, my head started spinning.

“Dizzy…”

“Oh no, are you feeling faint? Maybe you’ve got anemia?”

No, you idiot — it’s just a figure of speech. 

But of course, that didn’t stop Kyle from launching into his usual sales pitch. 

“Well, coincidentally, our merchant group’s been dealing in iron supplements recently. Since it’s you, I’ll give you a special deal. How about this price?” he said, tapping away on his abacus with a glint of greed in his eyes.

Even in times like this, this guy’s trying to make a profit. 

The contrast between Kyle’s calculating eyes and the worried look on Frennila’s face was striking. 

Seeing them side by side like this made it even clearer: the Empire really might be in the wrong here.

Of course, it was still just a suspicion. 

But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

If it was really the Empire that had released this plague — this zombie-like virus — whether intentionally or by mistake, and the northern tribes came seeking help only to be humiliated and turned away… 

Then when they finally figured out the truth, wouldn’t they naturally retaliate with everything they had?

If it were me, I wouldn’t stand for it either.

I’d raise an army the first chance I got.

The northern tribes’ burning hatred for the Imperial family — it suddenly didn’t seem so irrational.

And even though this was just my theory, it felt like an important piece of the puzzle.

And if someone really did unleash this plague… the chances of that someone being part of the Imperial family were incredibly high.

If that’s true, then I swear I’m going to lose my mind from how unfair this is.

The sheer number of times I’ve died — burned alive, buried in the ground, coughing up blood, impaled, hacked to pieces — and all of it because of some royal’s mess? 

No way. 

If I find out who it was, I’m not letting them off easy.

Still, I finally felt like I had some kind of lead on this whole disaster. 

But no matter what, priorities come first — and right now, the most important thing was helping the northern tribes.

“So, moving on to the most crucial matter of today — what exactly would help the Hwal tribe overcome their current crisis?”

The Emperor might have given me permission, but only within my limited capabilities.

I’ve said it before — I’m a powerless prince.

Even though I’ve amassed enormous wealth using my knowledge from my previous lives, it wouldn’t be enough for someone like Frennila, who was probably expecting state-level support.

I had no private army, so military aid was out of the question. The manpower I could send was limited, too.

The best I could offer was material support — food, winter supplies, weapons, and armor.

And since the journey from the capital to the northern plains would be long and arduous, I needed to be careful about what we prepared and in what quantities.

So I asked her what she thought they needed most.

But the answer that came out of her mouth wasn’t food, or warm clothing, or even the Empire’s finest steel weapons.

“Flowers. We need flowers.”

“…Flowers? What kind of flowers, exactly?”

“Golden Jasmine. We need a lot of Golden Jasmine petals.”

Golden Jasmine? 

The rare ornamental flower cultivated in small quantities in the Empire?

*

It was an answer I hadn’t expected — but strangely, it didn’t feel out of place.

The story behind it was even stranger.

During a sudden attack by the infected, the Hwal tribe had begun retreating from one of their villages. 

And that’s when they noticed something unusual:

The infected were avoiding one specific yurt in the middle of the village. 

Despite their overwhelming numbers and relentless aggression, they stayed away from that single spot.

The tribe’s warriors reported this to their leaders, and when Frennila heard of it, her instincts told her something was up.

Even though it was already enemy-occupied territory, she personally led a dangerous search of the area — and what she found was a torn leather pouch, its contents spilled on the ground: dried Golden Jasmine petals.

It turned out these petals belonged to a villager who enjoyed drinking floral tea.

Taking the petals into battle, they quickly discovered their extraordinary effect.

The infected avoided warriors carrying the scent of Golden Jasmine. 

And when they did attack, their strength and aggression seemed noticeably weaker.

With this newfound weapon, the tide of battle shifted.

But there was a problem: the northern plains didn’t have Golden Jasmine. 

The flower was rare even in the Empire’s heartlands.

When Frennila asked for it, I didn’t find the request strange at all.

I knew this flower very well. 

Its scent was seared into my memory.

Every time the tribes invaded the capital, their camps were filled with the sweet fragrance of Golden Jasmine. 

Even as the Empire fell into chaos, as the infected spread through the city, that scent was always present around the invading forces.

It must have been because of this virus.

But there was one issue.

“Golden Jasmine? Oh, this is bad,” Kyle said, his face falling. 

“There’s been some strange stuff happening lately. Farmers who grow it have had their fields ransacked overnight, and no one’s caught the culprits. The market’s dried up — even offering ridiculous prices won’t get you any.”

This wasn’t just bad luck — it was sabotage. 

Plain and simple.

Once again, the trail pointed right back to the Empire.

“Kyle, can you at least try to get some, no matter the cost?”

“I’ll try, but honestly, with how limited the supply was even before all this… It’s practically impossible. Unless, of course, you turn to the Imperial family.”

“…What?”

“The Second Empress’s Garden. I heard they grow Golden Jasmine there.”

 *

And so, the next morning, we found ourselves heading toward the Second Empress’s Palace.

The Second Empress — my mother, before I took over this body — honestly, I’d never really felt much of a connection to her. 

Maybe because I was an outsider in this life.

Even before I came here, the original Kenneth had been the same.

He was a miserable excuse for a human being. 

Not a thug or a tyrant — just someone completely devoid of purpose, doing absolutely nothing with his life.

And that started when his mother died.

After the sudden loss, he became a recluse, shutting himself away in his palace.

The palace of the Second Empress was neglected — the nobles despised her commoner background, and though they didn’t dare speak against the Emperor’s affections, they cut support wherever they could.

So when I saw the state of this place… 

It felt more like a forgotten grave than a royal residence.

Even though she wasn’t my real mother, I felt guilty. 

I was using her legacy purely for my own purposes, and that stung.

I paid my respects at her memorial — at least I could do that much.

“…But the living must keep living, right?”

Then I headed for the garden.

Despite the overall neglect, the outer garden was still well-maintained. 

And there it was — the Golden Jasmine, spread across a fair amount of space. 

Not much compared to commercial farms, but right now, even this felt like a miracle.

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to borrow these.”

I started picking the flowers, filling the baskets.

 “…”

And next to me, Frennila watched quietly, a sad expression on her face.