The Rogue System [BL]
Chapter 306 - Letting fate decide

Chapter 306: Chapter 306 - Letting fate decide

Eric’s screams tore through the quiet night, raw and desperate, as Ryan dragged him back toward the camp. He kicked, clawed, and twisted in the older man’s grip, but Ryan held fast, his expression grim as he ignored the prince’s thrashing.

Eric’s bare feet scraped against the rough ground, the pain of each step a searing reminder of his failure. The brief taste of freedom had turned to ash in his mouth, and all that was left was humiliation, despair, and the tightening grip of his captor.

The moment they reached the camp, Ryan pushed aside the tent flap and shoved Eric inside. The young prince collapsed onto the dirt floor, gasping, his body curling inward as sobs wracked his frame.

Ryan knelt beside him, grabbing his wrist. The iron shackles in his hands clinked as he moved to lock them back in place.

Then he froze.

His sharp gaze landed on Eric’s skin.

The prince’s wrists were raw and bleeding, the flesh torn from struggling against the restraints. A deep frown creased Ryan’s brow as he exhaled slowly.

Eric barely noticed. His sobs had quieted into silent, shuddering breaths, his face turned away, eyes squeezed shut.

Ryan swallowed, his voice quieter than before.

"You will be treated honorably in my kingdom."

Eric flinched but didn’t look up.

"Why do you think of escape? It will only implicate your kingdom a lot."

For a moment, there was no answer.

Then—

A whisper.

"I hate it so much..."

Ryan stilled.

Eric’s voice was barely audible, but the sheer weight of those words hung heavy in the air.

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

Ryan exhaled, his grip on the shackles loosening. He should have said something, anything, but no words came.

Instead, he reached for the waterskin that Eric had thrown away hours ago, shook it lightly, and placed it beside him.

Then, without another word, he sat by the tent’s entrance, sword resting across his lap. He would not sleep tonight.

And strangely, neither did Eric.

Morning came with the scent of damp earth and burning embers. The sun had barely risen when Ryan ordered the men to prepare for travel.

Eric was quiet as they loaded him into the carriage. His chains had been adjusted—not tight enough to cut into his flesh, but firm enough to remind him of his place.

He didn’t fight.

Not this time.

The wheels creaked as the carriage rolled forward, leaving behind the place of his failed escape.

Ryan rode alongside, his gaze flicking toward the prince every so often. He expected another attempt, expected more defiance.

But Eric remained still.

For ten days, they traveled through the vast plains and dense forests, the landscape changing as they neared the capital.

And for ten days, Eric did not try to escape.

The carriage rolled over the cobbled streets, its heavy wooden wheels creaking under the weight of its occupants. The once-quiet road had erupted into noise—cheers from the soldiers, jeers from the common folk.

Eric sat inside, his back pressed against the hard wooden seat, his wrists resting limply in his lap. He had long since stopped flinching at the occasional jolt of the carriage or the dull ache in his bound limbs. But the sound outside—the way the crowd’s cheers twisted into something else—made his stomach tighten.

At first, it was just murmurs. Then, the first thump sounded against the carriage wall. A splatter of wetness followed.

Then another.

And another.

Rotten fruit and vegetables struck the carriage, smearing their foul stench against the wood. The soldiers, unaffected, continued riding forward with their heads high, proud of their return.

But for Eric, this was no welcome.

From inside, he sighed, rubbing absentmindedly at the barely healing wound on his ankle.

"Will be treated honorably, my ass..."

Ryan’s words echoed in his mind, hollow and meaningless now. What honor was there in this? What dignity was left for him when he was paraded through the streets like a caged animal for these people to mock?

He let his head rest against the carriage wall, closing his eyes briefly.

There was no point in resisting anymore. After his failed escape, he had given up.

He would simply go along with whatever fate had planned.

But if this kingdom was just another cruel cage, if the promises of ’honor’ were nothing but lies—

Then he would find a way to end it himself.

He would seek out a silk cloth, tie it to the nearest beam, and let it all fade into nothing.

Ryan frowned deeply at the commotion outside. The cheers of his soldiers were expected, but the jeering and the barrage of rotten produce made his jaw clench.

He could hear the dull thuds against the carriage, the wet splatters of overripe tomatoes bursting upon impact. The scent of rot mixed with the morning air, sharp and pungent.

Disgusting.

Ryan turned slightly, glancing at the prince beside him.

Eric was silent, his face unreadable as he rubbed absently at his ankle. A fresh scab had formed over the wound from his failed escape, but the skin around it was still raw. Ryan had made sure it was cleaned and wrapped, yet the prince still worried at it, as if trying to erase the shackle’s mark altogether.

Then, quietly, Eric muttered, "Will be treated honorably, my ass..."

Ryan’s frown deepened.

There was no fire in Eric’s voice. No anger. Just quiet resignation.

Something about it unsettled Ryan more than Eric’s previous defiance.

The boy who had once spat at him, who had fought tooth and nail to escape, now sat with his shoulders slumped, his gaze distant.

That wasn’t good.

Ryan knew that look. He had seen it before on prisoners who had long given up, on soldiers who had lost too much and no longer cared to fight. It was the look of someone considering an end worse than captivity.

His stomach twisted.

Outside, the crowd’s booing grew louder.

"Filthy prince!" someone shouted.

"Murderer’s son!"

"Kill him!"

A heavy thud rocked the carriage as something larger struck it.

Ryan exhaled sharply.

Without another word, he reached for the curtains and pulled them shut. The shouts became muffled, the view of the crowd vanishing in an instant.

Eric barely reacted. He simply shut his eyes and leaned his head back, as if willing himself elsewhere.

Ryan’s frown remained.

This wasn’t right.

The young prince should hold his head high. A hostage should plot revenge, should curse his captor, should fight to survive.

Not like this.

Not like a man with nothing left to lose.

Ryan inhaled, forcing the unease down. There was no time to deal with it now.

They were nearly at the palace.