Reincarnated as Napoleon



Two hours later, Napoleon arrived in Paris on a stagecoach. With a note tightly clasped in his hand, he peered out of the window, confirming that he had indeed arrived at the designated location Antoine had provided.

The Café de Chartres stood before him, bustling with activity and emanating a lively and convivial atmosphere. Napoleon remained inside the carriage, his eyes fixed on the restaurant, taking in the sights and sounds from a distance. He watched as diners entered and exited and caught glimpses of animated conversations.

He pocketed the note and disembarked from the carriage, making his way toward the entrance of the Café de Chartres.

With a determined expression etched on his face, he pushed open the doors of the Café de Chartres. The interior was a whirlwind of activity. Diners sat at well-dressed tables, their faces alive with laughter and engaged in lively discussions. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an intimate ambiance within the bustling establishment.

Napoleon navigated his way through the crowded space, his eyes scanning the faces of the patrons, searching for the man who had caused distress to Ciela. His gaze flitted from one table to another until he finally spotted three French soldiers engaged in conversation at a nearby table. A spark of recognition ignited within him as he approached cautiously, careful not to draw attention to himself.

The soldiers, clad in their uniforms, sat relaxed and animated, sharing stories and laughter. Their camaraderie was evident. It came to a halt as one of them caught sight of Napoleon's distinct black General uniform. His eyes widened in recognition, and a hushed whisper escaped his lips. Instantly, the other soldiers followed his gaze and realized the significance of the figure standing before them. In a swift and synchronized motion, they rose from their seats, their spines straightening, and their hands instinctively moving to their foreheads in a crisp salute.

"General," the soldier who first noticed Napoleon exclaimed.

Napoleon eyed the French soldiers and asked. "Now, may I ask who is Charles Hippolyte among you?"

The soldiers exchanged glances, their brows furrowing in momentary confusion. One of them, a young and earnest soldier, stepped forward, his eyes meeting Napoleon's with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

"General, I am Lieutenant Charles Hippolyte," he replied, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of nervousness. "How may I be of service?"

"So you are the one huh?" Napoleon scanned his appearance up and down. This man was the one who harassed Ciela in the exhibition.

"Yes…General," Hippolyte confirmed with a nod. "Why?"

"Nothing," Napoleon shook his head and chuckled. "No need to be tense, I just heard a news from the exhibition a few days ago about you causing a ruckus."

"You mean Ciela Bonaparte? Well whatever is circulating in the streets, it's not true. I didn't harass her General, we were just talking to one another peacefully until god knew what happened to her."

Napoleon narrowed his eyes, fixing Hippolyte with an intense stare that seemed to pierce through the young lieutenant's defenses.

"Is that so? You expect me to believe that you were merely engaging in polite conversation?" Napoleon said coldly. "And what about the witnesses who saw you touch her arm? Are they all mistaken?"

Hippolyte shifted uncomfortably under Napoleon's penetrating gaze, realizing that he was not getting away with a simple denial. His bravado faltered, and he found himself stammering for an explanation.

"I-I... well, it was a friendly gesture, General," Hippolyte stammered, trying to salvage his dignity. "I meant no harm. She seemed receptive to it at first."

Napoleon's eyes flashed with anger at the insinuation. "Receptive or not, it is not your place to make unwarranted advances towards any woman, especially one who is married."

"Uhm…General…I'm quite confused, may I ask why you care so much about that event? Is her husband related to you in any way?"

Napoleon smiled, but behind that smile, anger smoldered within him. He had grown tired of Hippolyte's attempts to deflect blame and downplay the severity of his actions.

"Oh, apologies, I haven't introduced myself, have I?" Napoleon interrupted Hippolyte, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Gentlemen, my name is Napoleon Bonaparte, Commander of the Army of Italy," he declared with an air of authority.

The soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their salutes frozen in mid-air. They had been in the presence of a military legend without even realizing it. The realization hit Hippolyte like a thunderbolt, and his face turned pale as he stumbled back a step.

"N-Napoleon Bonaparte," Hippolyte stammered, his voice trembling. "I had no idea... I... please forgive my ignorance, General."

Napoleon's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and a cold, calculated intensity. He gestured towards the table where the soldiers had been sitting, urging them to take their seats.

"Relax, gentlemen, take a seat," Napoleon said, his tone deceptively light. "You may continue your meal, I just want to meet the man who harassed my wife, that's all."

As Hippolyte cautiously settled into his seat, Napoleon's demeanor underwent a sudden and drastic shift. In one swift, unexpected movement, he lunged across the table, seizing Hippolyte's head and forcefully slamming it onto the wooden surface. The resounding thud echoed through the café, instantly silencing the previously lively atmosphere. The impact was so powerful that it shattered the delicate plate resting on the table, causing porcelain shards to scatter in every direction.

The patrons gasped in disbelief, their expressions filled with shock and concern. The other soldiers instinctively rose from their chairs, ready to intervene and defuse the situation. However, before they could make a move, Napoleon swiftly drew his pistol, pointing it directly at one of the soldiers. The air grew tense as fear and confusion gripped the room, prompting the soldiers to settle back down in their seats, their eyes wide with trepidation.

Napoleon redirected the barrel of his pistol toward Hippolyte, pressing it firmly against his head.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD, HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY WIFE?" Napoleon's voice boomed through the café, filled with a fiery rage that sent shivers down Hippolyte's spine. "YOU EVEN DARED TRY TO TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME? DO YOU WANT TO ME TO END YOUR LIFE HUH?! WHAT IF I FUCKING PULL THE TRIGGER RIGHT NOW AND—"

"Wait wait!" Hippolyte raised his hand, his voice muffled as his face still lie flat on the table.

Napoleon lifted his hand, momentarily halting his tirade of anger. His grip on the pistol remained firm.

Struggling to catch his breath, his forehead bleeding from the force of the impact, Hippolyte gathered his thoughts, desperate to find the right words that might save his life. He knew he had to tread carefully, choosing his next words wisely.

"General Bonaparte, I beg you to hear me out," Hippolyte pleaded, his voice strained. "What happened at the exhibition... it was a misunderstanding, I swear. I never intended any harm towards Madame Bonaparte…"

After saying that, Napoleon threw a punch directly at Hippolyte's face.

"You still have the guts to lie, huh?" Napoleon's voice seethed with fury as his fist connected with Hippolyte's jaw. The force of the punch sent the lieutenant sprawling backward, crashing against the chair and collapsing to the floor in a dazed heap.

The café erupted into chaos as startled patrons scrambled to distance themselves from the violent confrontation.

Napoleon towered over Hippolyte and aimed his pistol at his head, and pulled the trigger.

But—instead of the musket ball hitting his face, it was the floor several millimeters to his right.

"The next one will be your head if I ever see you near my wife. Stop writing letters and sending flowers to my wife because if you do, oh boy, I promise you, it will be the last thing you ever do," Napoleon hissed, his voice dripping with menace.

"I swear! I swear! I will stop…just spare my life." Hippolyte stammered.

Napoleon holstered his pistol and turned to the frightened guest.

"I apologize for the disturbance, gentlemen and ladies," Napoleon addressed. "Please continue with your meals and enjoy your evening."

The café patrons, still reeling from the sudden outburst, cautiously returned to their tables and meals, though a sense of unease lingered in the air. Napoleon cast a final cold glance at Hippolyte, then turned on his heel and walked toward the exit, leaving the lieutenant shivering in fear on the floor.