In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

A servant set out wine and snacks, then quickly left without question.

Whatever brought these two here, it was no business of his—but they were guests of the kingdom, and must be treated accordingly.

Sigmund gazed into the firelight.

Michael, composed as ever, held a wine glass, unshaken even by the sudden appearance of an emperor.

Sigmund gave a faint smile.

This man neither flattered him, nor feared him.

Is that why I like him so much?

"Aren't you curious why I came?"

Michael met his violet eyes without hesitation.

With someone like Sigmund, you had to show confidence.

"You were bored."

Sigmund laughed under his breath.

No one had ever dared speak to him like that.

Michael found himself liking Sigmund even more.

"Ha! What if I came to oppose the restoration of the Xerxian Kingdom?"

Sigmund's eyes gleamed in the light of the enchanted candles.

Michael met his gaze calmly and replied:

"If you were going to oppose it, you would've said so back at the meeting. You don't seem like the type to hide your opinions."

It was a pointed remark—and an accurate one.

Sigmund, without realizing it, nodded.

"Fair enough. You're right. Yes, I came because I was bored. Would you mind keeping me company for a bit?"

He tried to sound casual, but his voice betrayed his excitement. A longing he couldn't quite conceal crept into his tone.

And honestly, what reason was there to refuse? This was the emperor of an empire, after all.

Michael gave a small smile and extended a glass.

"Have a drink. A proper chat always goes better with wine."

Sigmund's face lit up.

He didn't know what this feeling was—but one thing was certain:

He was enjoying himself immensely.

Later, a royal servant stood in the now-empty drawing room, aghast at the aftermath.

Six or seven empty wine bottles littered the table. A few stronger bottles of brandy were also tipped over and rolling across the floor.

"Mercy… they drank all that?"

If His Majesty sees this, he'll be in tears…

This room was where Romano II kept his most treasured liquor collection.

Who knew how these two had found their way here—but judging by the empties, they hadn't held back. The servant stared at the wreckage, torn between awe and despair.

And then, a worrying thought struck him.

"They'll be okay… won't they?"

He rushed off to report to one of Romano II's senior attendants—deeply concerned about the hangovers awaiting these two heavyweights.

Elsewhere, Miaomiao stared at the swaying, hungover Michael with barely concealed disdain.

[See? I told you not to drink so much. And what's that lump you're carrying around now?]

A man was slumped over Michael's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Sigmund, his long hair tangled like seaweed, mumbled thickly:

"Hic… I'm none other than the great Emperor Sigmund of the Celeste Empire! You rude little cat…"

He had completely forgotten that the "cat" he was addressing was a divine beast.

Miaomiao recoiled in horror.

[Ugh! Get that ragged mess out of here! Isn't he an emperor? Shouldn't he have his own room? Go summon his guards!]

From the other side of the room, Marcus cracked open one sleepy eye from the mountain of cushions he'd been napping in.

[Why so loud, sis… I can't sleep…]

Miaomiao, unable to vent her anger on either Michael or Sigmund, turned her fury on Marcus—swatting at him with both paws.

Not that it hurt. Her "Miaomiao Punch" was more fluff than force.

[Ow… alright, alright, I'm sorry…]

Marcus groaned theatrically, having long since learned how to appease her quickly.

Sigmund, watching the chaos, burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! So that's what the mighty divine beasts are like in reality! Well, I'm no different. And neither are you, Michael."

Michael could only smile in resignation.

"We're all just people, in the end. Now lie down before you pass out standing."

Through their long conversation, Michael had come to realize that Sigmund wasn't just a mad tyrant.

His harsh treatment of nobles had been a calculated move to weaken their power. And his execution of rivals—Michael could guess the reasons behind that, too.

Power often demanded ruthlessness.

Sigmund's drunken honesty had shown how difficult the road he walked truly was.

And in turn, Sigmund had seen the loneliness that Michael carried in his bones.

Sometimes, all it took was a handful of sincere words to call someone a friend.

That was exactly what they had become.

Eventually, Sigmund collapsed onto the couch and passed out—snoring loudly.

Michael, after confirming the man was fully asleep, shook off the remnants of his own hangover.

He approached Sigmund and began using his healing abilities to purge the toxins from the emperor's body.

Sigmund's health had deteriorated far more than expected.

Years spent at the heart of imperial politics had clearly taken their toll.

'There. That should take care of the toxins and internal damage.'

Ever since absorbing the power of Gwanghui, Michael's abilities had grown immensely.

The entire room now reeked of wine and… something worse.

Miaomiao clamped her nose and went into a frenzy.

[Ugh! What is this smell?! You could've gone out to the balcony or something!]

Michael shrugged, helpless.

"And risk someone spotting us? Come on, just bear with it. We just reeled in the biggest fish of the empire."

Miaomiao glanced at the peacefully snoring Sigmund.

[Hmph. Just say it like it is. Looks to me like you just made a friend.]

A smile tugged at Michael's lips.

"Same thing, isn't it? Better, even."

Miaomiao let out a long sigh.

She knew well how lonely Michael's life had been.

And clearly, this emperor kid wasn't much different.

[Fine. Since you're friends now, make sure you get along. That guy's been through a lot too.]

And since they were now friends, she had no desire to pry deeper into his pain—not unless Sigmund chose to speak of it himself.

Noticing the mood, she began flicking her tail like a windmill.

[What do you take me for, huh? I'm just saying. Now get some sleep! You'll need your energy to crush the others at tomorrow's meeting!]

Michael looked down at Sigmund—snoring, sprawled out, mouth slightly open.

Who would've thought I'd befriend the man I once thought a lunatic?

Life really was full of irony.