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Chapter 40
"Let me introduce you to Nord, the Count of Orlanga."
"It's a pleasure to meet you all."
The man who appeared to be around Jeil's age had an unbelievably small stature and build for a warrior. In particular, it was unique that he carried a dagger, which most knights did not use.
"The person you were going to introduce to Marina is quite a controversial figure, it seems."
Hailen lowered his voice and whispered beside her, but Nord's keen hearing seemed to catch it, his thick eyebrows twitching. Still, he did not respond, already too accustomed to such remarks from others.
"Are you Marina Wilson, the one they said was the leader of this group?"
"Yes, I'm Marina Wilson."
Unlike Roger, who had become sensitive to rumors as he began to seriously study the sword, the others did not seem to know the gossip about him. As such, Marina gave a questioning look to the knight who had brought her to the small group's activities for her sake.
It was after this that Hailen continued his introduction of Nord.
"Orlanga is an ancient house on the continent that uses a sword style distinct from the Imperial method. In particular, their dagger techniques utilizing agility are said to have formidable killing power in actual combat. For this reason, there have historically been female heads of the house in Orlanga as well."
"A woman can become the head?"
"It was long ago. Currently, I, a man, hold the rank of Count. However, it is not impossible under Imperial law even now. I cannot teach you the house's secret sword style, but I can offer advice that may be particularly helpful for you, Lady Marina."
"...But I'm not very agile. Will that be okay?"
"Of course, Lady Marina Wilson."
"Please, just call me Marina."
Nord had taken a liking to Marina ever since he heard her story of facing the practical barriers of being a female swordswoman. For he knew better than anyone how much opposition one must overcome to break such entrenched norms.
Marina, who was interested in any sword style, must have felt the words "female head" as a hopeful statement regarding her own situation.
The two who had taken a liking to each other, Marina and the Count of Orlanga, exchanged many stories about swordsmanship. From afar, their interaction resembled that of two female knights.
"My lord, it seems Marina has stolen all the benefits of this activity from you?"
"She's been gloomy lately. Let her have this one, Nohan."
"I didn't expect you to have such a considerate side."
It wasn't a mocking tone, but one of genuine surprise. From Nohan's perspective, the more he got to know Hailen, the more unexpected facets he revealed. The interesting part was that it wasn't easy to judge whether he should accept all those aspects at face value or not.
'I can usually size up most people at a glance.'
"I didn't know you could be so proactive about the affairs of those around you."
"...If you have something to say, it's better to say it directly, Gail."
"As I mentioned before, there's only one thing I want to know."
"I've given you ample opportunity to get an answer from me. It's you who asked the wrong question."
And Nohan felt that Gailront's recent demeanor, his roommate and friend whom he thought he knew so well, was strangely unfamiliar.
Not long ago, he had witnessed an astonishing sight. Perhaps it was a momentous occasion that would be recorded in the history books, but Gailront had requested that he remain silent about that day's events, citing that it was not yet perfected.
'Just the mere trace of that sword ki would be enough to stir up the Empire, so what is he thinking?'
Particularly during those three years when Gailront seemed to have drifted apart from the Count, he had only observed Hailen from afar without approaching him. But at some point, he began to approach Hailen again, though with a different meaning than the eager way he used to run up to him whenever he saw his shadow.
Unlike Hailen, who clearly expressed his unwillingness to converse further by displaying an uncomfortable demeanor, Gailront nonchalantly picked up his sword and resumed training as if nothing had happened.
Why did their brief interaction leave such a lasting impression, even for a moment?
Nohan had met Gailront at the young age of eleven, and they lived together in the dormitory, sharing more of their daily lives than with their own families. At first, Nohan was uneasy with Gailront's innocence about the ways of the world, and felt sorry for him being hurt by those who envied his outstanding talent.
Over time, Nohan witnessed his friend build layer upon layer of defensive barriers. He saw the earnest effort put forth, sweat by sweat. The heights Gailront eventually reached commanded respect as a peerless warrior.
Nohan's desire to stand by Gailront's side and protect him extended only that far. The word "friendship" may seem trite to some, but with that mindset, he could watch Gailront's back as a man.
'But the way Gail looks at the Count...'
In their less mature boyhood days, it was simply admiration. Nohan could understand, as there were often times when he questioned whether Hailen even breathed the same air as them.
To dismiss such devotion beyond mere admiration, a willingness to lay down one's life for one's lord, as mere pretense would spell the extinction of knighthood itself.
When did Nohan's thinking start to change?
Was it when Gailront kept his distance from Hailen, yet could not take his eyes off him? Or was it because Nohan noticed him prick up his ears whenever talk of Hailen's every move came up, feigning disinterest? Or was it the glimpses he caught of some dark, indecipherable emotion swirling in Gailront's deep eyes at times?
In the culture of the Empire, homosexual feelings between men were not taboo enough to be shunned. The myths even contained passages about two male deities bearing fruit together, and historically, there were kingdoms that permitted same-sex marriages.
In particular, the relationships between knights were often described as deep camaraderie, even being treated with admiration akin to brotherhood. While gossip circulated in high society about their unnatural acts, it was not considered dishonorable enough to be shunned.
Even so, such feelings were undoubtedly rare. For Nohan, a commoner, it felt like a distant, alien culture.
What thoughts did he have after realizing that this was the emotion reflected in his friend's eyes?
'You'll be the one getting hurt, Gail.'
He had pondered endlessly on the words to dissuade him. But what was the reason he couldn't utter them?
It was because he instinctively felt that Gail would not listen, no matter what.
It was not long ago that Nord of Orlanga and Hailen became acquainted through patronage.
Nord was a knight who had been ostracized from noble society for claiming that his father, the former Count of Orlanga, was not a deserter who fled from war. In particular, his actions that seemed to defame Bailer Brune, who had earned the title of hero in relation to this, alienated him even among other knights.
Hailen was one who seemed to enjoy calculating the benefits and losses of every connection he made or severed. It was only natural that he approached Nord, from whom he would only get stained if he got too close, based on what had happened in his previous life.
In the Imperial civil war, the existence of the knights leading them was as important as the number of mercenaries that could be mobilized. In this regard, the Second Prince's side had the advantage, and that was precisely due to the presence of Bailer Brune.
No matter how much they revered martial arts, most knights came from noble families, and the First Prince had put forward the commoner Gailront as his knight. It was only natural for the hero, a deep-rooted classist, to side with the Second Prince.
And the one who dealt a blow to him was none other than Nord of Orlanga.
Even under years of contempt and oppression, he did not stop and revealed the truth from thirty years ago. The deserter was Bailer, and the true hero was Nord, his father.
The object of knights' envy. A joker who could shatter it in an instant. That was the reason Hailen drew close to Nord.
"I can't quite make sense of your actions, my lord."
"Roger, I didn't know you were keeping such a close eye on my movements."
"You attract so much attention that even if I try to ignore it, word still reaches me. I suppose you won't answer if I ask about the matter with Nord of Orlanga?"
"It seems everyone thinks I'm being mysterious."
"The Count of Orlanga likely believes that simply establishing a connection with you will lend credence to his claims, but surely you don't believe those outrageous stories, do you?"
"When someone speaks so earnestly, we must wait and see whether it's truth or falsehood, no?"
As expected, Hailen did not provide a clear answer, leading Roger to abandon his probing.
Marina seemed satisfied with her meeting with Nord that day and continued to meet with him frequently, exchanging various stories. For Roger, the mere fact that she had regained her former vigor was reason enough not to outright condemn Nord.
"These are the things the Grand Master instructed me to deliver to you."
Recently, Genry and Hailen had begun exchanging not only letters but also bundles of documents. To avoid drawing unwanted attention, they did so through Roger.
"You must be curious, yet you still haven't opened them."
Observing the intact seals, Roger felt that Hailen was testing him again. The reason he couldn't answer confidently was because a burning curiosity about the contents they exchanged smoldered deep within his chest.
"The fact that you communicate through me must mean that I'll have a role to play in this matter eventually."
"And do you intend to take on that role?"
"It will depend on what benefits you offer me."
"Indeed, the Grand Master praised you as a born merchant."
Hailen suppressed a smile as Roger coughed awkwardly, his ears reddening.
Genry likely had no intention of involving me in this matter until his son graduated from the academy. He would wait until the stage was set and things took shape to some degree, then leave it to Roger's free will to decide whether to swallow it or not.
'He must have already devised ways to keep me in check.'
Even citing Mobella's example, Genry was trying to somehow reduce Hailen's stake, which he might treat as a mere figurehead. Wasn't Genry the most experienced of all when it came to the back-and-forth negotiations on that front?
Of course, Hailen was also fully prepared, so he had no intention of being pushed back. He didn't want to end up in a disadvantageous situation where he would suffer losses while simply watching such a tender denial.
"The Grand Master must have mentioned the war clouds gathering in the southern regions."
"How did you know... This is related to that."
Roger fixed his gaze on the stack of documents bearing the personal seal of Grand Master Mobella, as if staring at them would reveal their contents.
"But I heard Mobella won't invest in the south anymore."
"Publicly, yes, since he's intricately tied to the Imperial nobles. The Empire's stance on the south hasn't been decided yet. A merchant of his caliber wouldn't gain anything from shady dealings."
"Use your imagination, Roger. One thing is certain: what we want is the profit to be gained from the war that will break out in the south. A big, sweet one."
Hailen smiled with satisfaction as he watched Roger concentrate intently, trying to find a serious answer to the question posed. Unlike Genry's wish, he was confident that the youth before him, as curious as he was greedy, would not simply wait in place for the answer.
Eventually, Roger would have no choice but to follow the path Hailen had laid out, and his very existence, akin to a weakness, would even make Genry fall into Hailen's hands.



Chapter 41
The salon hosted by Kasper Clifford, who had a notorious reputation even at the academy for his poor taste, can be easily imagined without even seeing it. Hailen had attended gatherings hosted by him in his previous life.
'At least he was a remarkable figure in that regard.'
Anticipating how appalled the innocent young man engrossed in his artistic pursuits, Kelvin, who was already uneasy in the carriage at Kasper's invitation, would be, Hailen swallowed his laughter alone.
How would the naive youth react when exposed to this new world?
"With the Viscount's attendance, this salon's prestige will be elevated even further."
The building recently garnering attention from high society in the capital called a 'hotel' was much larger and more lavish than the original upscale accommodation, providing a venue suitable for hosting salons.
Just holding the first salon at the hotel newly constructed in Hasser alone easily reveals who is behind Viscount Ray's back. Unlike Hailen, who took the invitation lightly, many were eager to attend.
"Since Ray is confident enough, let's see what it's like."
"You will not be disappointed."
The space they were led to by the host himself was indeed satisfactory even to Hailen's discerning eye.
Apart from the venue's opulence, the dim lighting and the rich voice of a primadonna on a small stage created an atmosphere that was sensual yet not vulgar.
Graceful beauties whose mere presence elicited smiles, enhancing the salon's ambiance in place of the host entertaining important guests. Their every gesture was so elegant they could be mistaken for noble ladies, but they were courtesans among the most renowned in the capital.
Upon seeing Hailen, some noblemen approached and greeted him. Kasper introduced them with a triumphant air, rattling off names Hailen had no desire to remember, merely nodding in acknowledgment.
The scent wafting into his nostrils. At these salons aimed at indulgence, various intoxicating herbs were readily available at arm's reach.
Familiar things he had forgotten. It was strange how everything felt so detached from his present self.
"This spot will be most comfortable for enjoying the performance. I'm not sure if it will satisfy your discerning tastes, my lord, but she is currently a renowned primadonna in the capital. There are even rumors that she was a student of the legendary Airona."
'I wonder what face Roger would have made if he heard this.'
There wasn't a single student at the academy unaware of his reputation. Kasper's brazen mention of Roger's mother to Hailen was likely his way of expressing displeasure at associating with such a lowly bastard.
As Kasper said, the second-floor seats with an unobstructed view of the stage were ideal for brushing off those who seized the opportunity to approach and strike up conversation. There were people controlling access to the ascending staircase.
This salon, backed by the Second Prince's support, was undoubtedly Kasper's masterpiece, sparing no expense. Yet, despite Hailen's apparent indifference, an attitude of detachment as always, Kasper struggled to conceal his contorted expression.
Kasper believed that was simply human nature, especially for men. Considering his age, he prided himself as being more adept in such matters than anyone else. That was the reason he maintained influence within the academy despite his unsavory reputation.
Arrogantly holding his head high and looking down, he still easily succumbed to his crumbling rationality in the face of pleasure. When the object of his desire was brought low enough to tell him, "You're no different from me," how sweet that sight was.
'Even the royals were no exception.'
The courtesans the Second Prince had been seeing recently were all handpicked by Kasper, thanks to his unparalleled ability to quickly discern men's carnal desires.
The women eager to ensnare the lofty men would then, as per their deal, relay to Kasper private information about their targets. Through this, he further gratified his patrons.
A truly smooth cycle, indeed. Considering most of Viscount Clifford's businesses were merely superficial vice trades, Hailen's past assessment that the seeds had been sown since his youth was not mistaken.
Kasper devoted effort into collecting rumors about the Viscount. His activities, relationships, tastes, even the most trivial remarks. How unbearably aloof and dignified he was. Observing his overly bland demeanor, Kasper had sharpened his blade in preparation for this day, determined to somehow break him.
"There are many cultured ladies who possess talents beyond just being primadonnas. In particular, if you engage Lady Terezia in conversation, you will surely enjoy yourself, my lord."
The woman named Terezia, unlike the courtesans who flitted about the salon with butterfly-like lightness, shyly curtsied with a faint smile.
With her striking pale skin, slender figure, and uncommon lavender tresses, she was a rare beauty who possessed both the splendor and innocence of a summer hydrangea.
"She is particularly well-versed in foreign languages, a remarkable achievement for a woman. As the host, I fear I may be overstaying my welcome. Viscount Layton, would you not rise as well?"
Kelvin, sitting uneasily beside Hailen, seemed oblivious to Kasper's intent to leave the two alone.
Unless he played along to some extent, Kasper would undoubtedly parade all manner of beauties before him. Thus, Hailen dismissed Kelvin, saying, "You need not remain by my side." Kasper seemed satisfied, interpreting it as Hailen taking an interest in Terezia.
However, shortly after, Kasper, who had believed a pleasant atmosphere had formed from his lengthy conversation with the Viscount, was met with Terezia's offended expression.
"You truly are a man without any desires."
"Is your ability lacking?"
"What do you take me for? I've tried attaching other girls, but you show no interest whatsoever. What can mere conversation accomplish? For a spark between man and woman, there must be more than that. Perhaps you have no interest in the fairer sex at all."
"I did say he was a difficult target."
"While the Viscount is certainly a tempting morsel, how about introducing me to His Highness the Second Prince as I mentioned before?"
"Whether it's a ducal house or the royal family, I know you're more interested in someone lustful like yourself than those types."
Snickering as she uttered such brazen words, her demeanor was completely different from before Hailen. Kasper responded to Terezia's frank manner as she suggestively leaned against him.
He still had many tricks prepared.
'Today, I will make you kneel before your base instincts, Viscount.'
To think I would encounter a woman who was the Second Prince's favored mistress in my previous life here.
Hailen knew that Terezia, who acted like a cultured lady, was in truth a courtesan who seduced men out of ambition to advance herself.
'It feels like watching a farcical play.'
With the wine, drugs, and courtesans' laughter all blending together in this place, memories of the past inevitably surfaced. Amidst such bitterness, he drank liquor he had never touched even after reaching a suitable age. The heat and harshness traveling down his throat, accompanied by the heavy aroma filling his mouth. A potent spirit, yet one of sufficient quality to satisfy him.
Still, many approached in an attempt to seduce him, but they gave up and left when his expression and demeanor did not change even after drinking. Some women even looked admiringly at how he gently refused them without being rude just because they were courtesans.
Kelvin, who had been worried about his lord, was relieved to see Hailen's appearance from afar was no different from usual. It was a good opportunity to appreciate the primadonna's soprano up close, but for Kelvin, who lacked sleep due to his arduous work, it pounded his head like noise.
It was only for a moment that he took his eyes off his lord, intending to step outside for some fresh air.
"If my lord would accept this cup of wine I humbly offer, it would be my pride for a long time."
A handsome man with a peculiar aura that anyone would describe as having a seductive smile in the corners of his eyes approached Hailen without introducing himself.
The languid movement of his hand resting on Hailen's shoulder suggested he was present for a similar purpose as the courtesans, not as a guest at the salon.
"Once you've drained that cup, you should disappear from my sight."
Hailen, disgusted by Kasper's attempt to try his hand after failing with women, roughly accepted the wine offered by the man. At least he was willing to act arrogantly since the other party was not a woman.
That is, if the scent from the wine had not been so disturbingly familiar.
Hailen did not hesitate to throw the expensive glass cup to the floor.
Although the out-of-place noise drew the attention of those nearby, it soon faded as the soprano continued in a passionate segment. Kasper, who had been watching Hailen's direction as if pretending not to notice, came running.
"My lord, is there some inconvenience...?"
"It seems the Marquis of Clifford is dissatisfied with Emmast? Should I assume this was an attempt to poison me?"
"What kind of remark is that? Poisoning?"
Seeing Hailen exchange glances with the handsome man who had offered him the wine, it was clear that Kasper had prompted him to lace the drink with something.
More than anyone, Hailen knew full well that it was not a toxin that would harm the body. That distinct aroma belonged to a hallucinogenic substance meant only to arouse excitement in the user.
In his previous life, Hailen had indulged in it merely for pleasure with those he associated with, so he was well acquainted with it.
His exaggeration was intentional.
'I had thought perhaps he had a taste for men. But it seems he is simply averse to carnal desires.'
Unable to discern how Hailen had detected the laced drink, Kasper gently said, thinking he was simply overreacting due to ignorance.
"A misunderstanding. It's merely a substance to enhance the atmosphere. I would never harm you, my lord."
"Yet I feel feverish after just a sip? How utterly distasteful."
"If... you find it unpleasant, I shall escort you to the terrace."
"Have the man who offered me that wine removed from my sight. Using such vulgar substances, the level of this salon hosted by the Prince is laid bare."
The handsome man, now pale and unable to offer any excuses, had lost the composure he displayed earlier. Having botched the task, his future prospects were grim.
As Hailen headed for the terrace, his gait showed no deviation from the norm. Fortunately, Kasper failed to notice that Hailen had detected the scent late and consumed a considerable amount of the laced wine.
Aware of whom the "vulgar" remark was directed at, Kasper struggled to contain his rising indignation.



Chapter 42
The effects of the medicine kicked in quickly since it was mixed with alcohol. Upon arriving at the terrace, Hailen, swaying, leaned against the couch after ordering no one to enter.
The winter air was so cold that his breath was visible. Though his skin stung from the chill, it wasn't enough to quell the rising heat that reached his throat. With rough motions, he loosened his cravat and let it fall.
His body had developed a tolerance for most poisons. It was almost laughable how easily this paltry concoction, barely deserving to be called medicine, could intoxicate him.
A clinking sound rang out as a jewel attached to his cravat hit the floor. Simultaneously, Hailen's consciousness gradually faded. The alcohol, drugs, women, scents—perhaps encountering things that were once his daily routine triggered this. The hallucinations he saw were from his previous life.
Things he could now face with indifference. The Colosseum, the jeers, the flying blades.
'So these are things that can no longer shake me.'
The blurry hallucination distorted, taking on a different form. The concentrated essence Kasper had painstakingly refined packed quite a punch despite the small dose.
Following the chilling sight of Lana’s corpse came the sound of young Gailront's cries. Auditory hallucinations accompanied the visual ones.
'Gailront's appearance? His current antics would likely torment me more.'
What compelled that stubborn refusal to voice what was clearly on his mind, wearing that expression of wanting to speak? He had thought not to dwell on the dark emotion in Gailront's gaze toward him—something distinct from hostility.
Deciding Gailront's change was no longer his concern, Hailen slowly closed his eyes.
At last, the hallucination tormenting him with foul scenes played its part. What he saw was a bright banquet hall filled with laughter. Hailen's gaze was fixed on someone.
Unconsciously following his line of sight, he saw someone who seemed tense, their demeanor different from usual when standing before him. If he had to name that emotion, it would be 'fluttering anticipation.'
His pale platinum hair, different from Hailen's own, fluttered in the breeze—hair that signified membership in the imperial family. Perhaps Hailen had envied the nobility conveyed by those gestures. The smiling lips, the crinkled eyes—everything was captivating, impossible to look away from.
And as time passed, the fluttering anticipation he felt could no longer be contained, evolving into something else.
The broad shoulders exuding masculine charm, the lean muscles visible beneath the banquet attire, the beads of sweat trailing down the chiseled jaw, the refreshing, hearty laughter—he gulped, indulging in impure thoughts as desire coursed through his body.
What kind of expression had lingered on his own face in that shattered mirror? The contemptuous green eyes that had looked upon the fool ensnared by such depravity seemed no different from how he viewed himself as a monster now.
Hailen inhaled sharply and sat upright, taking some time to steady his ragged breathing. Kelvin, who had arrived at some unknown point, looked at him with concern.
"Shut up. Just help me up for now..."
He had no idea how much time had passed. He did notice, however, that the song drifting in from the closed terrace doors had changed. If the soprano had been replaced, it couldn't have been a short while. Unlike the earlier delicate, emotive piece, this one boasted a rich, powerful voice that could pierce walls.
It was an opportunity for him to leave without being seen by others.
Understanding Hailen's intention, Kelvin quietly exited the terrace and instructed the servants to have a carriage ready before returning. Never before had he seen his master in such disarray, even in front of his own attendant. For him to let his guard down in a place other than his private quarters...
Alarm bells rang in Kelvin's mind, prompting him to ignore Kasper's inquiries about Hailen without hesitation. He didn't care whether Kasper, the likely culprit behind his master's current state, took offense at his attitude. In fact, Kelvin wanted to confront him for reducing his lord to this condition.
How astonished he had been when the Viscount said he would need Hailen's assistance.
Fortunately, Kasper didn't seem intent on making a big deal out of it, refraining from pressing further. Kelvin's hands trembled as he tried to retie Hailen's cravat.
"Above all, for an art student who indulges in a dissolute life to be shaken by such matters... You're unqualified, Kelvin."
"But subjecting Lord Hailen to those things is another issue entirely."
An uncharacteristically firm response.
Hailen, still trying to clear his mind of the lingering hallucinations, fixed his gaze on his loyal attendant. Was his dulled senses due to the drugs, or his frozen skin?
At least spending time on the terrace hadn't been a complete waste. He could manage to lean on Kelvin as they walked. The salon's atmosphere had grown even more heated, with many succumbing to intoxication from alcohol and drugs. From behind curtained areas, lewd moans could be heard seeping out.
Amidst the noise and darkness, the Viscount's staggering exit went unnoticed.
"Can you fetch an antidote? Ah... I'll wait in the carriage."
Telling Kelvin the name of the drug he had taken, Hailen gave him an order.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Kelvin knew exactly where to obtain the antidote ingredients. Surprisingly, his life among the art students hadn't left him an innocent youth.
"You wish to be alone? Perhaps it would be better to secure a room here and rest..."
"I feel unclean. I want to escape the drug's effects."
A familiar gruff voice. Kelvin turned his head toward its source.
Standing outside the open carriage door was none other than Gailront.
"A salon hosted by Kasper Clifford. It's obvious what kind of place it will be."
Kelvin looked dismayed. He had merely heard Nohan's remark.
He knew Kasper was a wretched man. Gailront had experienced it firsthand, starting with their ill-fated encounter at the Viscount's estate. Kasper had harbored ill feelings toward Gailront ever since, constantly tormenting him with his antics.
Gailront didn't need to ask the reason. He already knew without asking. His low status. His talent unbecoming of his rank. His ambition to stand beside the nobility, unaware of his place.
Gailront had no time to spare for someone harboring such petty emotions. His goal was near. Training was his sole routine.
He begrudged even the briefest respite.
'What am I doing standing guard here?'
After learning the location of the salon from Nohan, he had come here for some reason.
The sole reason was that Hailen belonged to this gathering of debauchery where all manner of impurities converged in pursuit of pleasure. Even knowing it was excessive, he couldn't stop himself.
As night deepened, more and more carriages arrived and departed before the hotel. Those exiting the brightly lit building were a motley crew. Not a single familiar face.
The voice of a man harassing a woman he was with drifted over. Followed by a faint giggle. One could easily imagine the activities unfolding inside the unmoving carriages. They likely came here to indulge in such revelry.
'What expression will you wear there?'
A beastly scene of indulging base instincts like the others would be entirely unbecoming of him. Hailen would likely observe with his usual nonchalance and composure.
Even in Gailront's dreams, when Hailen called out to him in that honeyed voice, his demeanor remained unchanged. Gailront knew better than anyone the steadfast poise this youth of twenty possessed.
Thus, when he witnessed Hailen leaning heavily on Kelvin as he exited, Gailront nearly accosted them right then and there.
It was for that reason he emerged upon hearing the voice from the open carriage door.
"How did you know to come here?"
"I simply happened to be passing by."
At this hour? Kelvin's face showed puzzlement, but it wasn't important given the current situation.
Regardless of the nature of their relationship, at least Gailront wouldn't harm the Viscount. He had sufficient ability to protect him should any trouble arise. Hailen frowned, seemingly displeased by the unexpected arrival, but didn't voice any objection.
Kelvin exchanged a few words with the coachman before exiting the carriage to procure what was needed for the antidote. As the carriage door closed, the sound of the horses' hooves could be heard.
"Just passing through, were you? It doesn't seem like a place the genius swordsman from the academy would be at this hour."
"Did you drink...no, take some kind of drug?"
"You know about such things too? I'm...fine."
Hailen tried to sit upright but couldn't muster the strength in his lower back. Letting out a disgruntled groan at his uncooperative body, the hallucinations that had disoriented him were gone, but the heat rising within made him uncomfortable after being exposed to the chilly wind.
Gailront's gaze lingered on Hailen's flushed cheeks and the beads of sweat trailing down his face. He could also hear the roughness in his breathing.
Without needing to ask, he could surmise the situation, yet he wanted to press and inquire. To ask who had reduced him to this state, the urge constricting his chest—he suppressed it again and again.
Giving up on straightening his posture, Hailen leaned against the carriage wall and met Gailront's downward gaze. His vision wasn't clear enough to discern the other's expression.
'He must find my state amusing.'
Recalling Gailront's recent attitude toward him, the unclean feeling from the unwanted hallucinations sank him deeper into the mire. An urge to destroy everything, a destructive impulse he couldn't trace the origins of.
Well aware it was due to the drugs more than anyone, Hailen still didn't want to hold back. With a flick of his finger, he gestured for Gailront to come closer, like beckoning a dog.
It was Gailront himself who was drawn in by that, finding his own actions amusing.
To what extent had the distance between them closed? Hailen impulsively reached out and grabbed Gailront's collar. Though his strength was diminished compared to normal, Gailront allowed himself to be pulled forward, for if he had resisted, Hailen would have fallen over.
Their glazed green eyes and wavering pupils met at a distance of less than a fist's length apart. Close enough for their breaths to be felt. Gailront caught a deep, unfamiliar scent. It must have been the aromas that clung to Hailen from the salon.
Was that what irked him? He allowed a slight opening for the impulse he had been suppressing.
"Surely you didn't partake in the drugs directly?"
Silence enveloped the two after his question.
A moment later, the hand gripping Hailen's nape loosened, and his body slumped sideways. Gailront quickly caught him and checked his condition.
Though his skin was feverish, his breathing was steady. The drug's effects must have worn off, causing him to suddenly fall asleep.
'Another question left unanswered.'
With a bitter smile, Gailront laid Hailen straight in the carriage, his movements devoid of any lingering emotion. It was merely a dutiful action, as if attending to his master. No, he was trying to make it seem that way.
Hailen's pale hand dangled off to the side. Even reaching out to place it back should have been done without hesitation.
"Will there come a day when you see me as your equal and give me a proper answer?"
Gailront himself didn't know if he wanted Hailen to hear those words or not.
Bringing Hailen's hand closer, he briefly inhaled the faint trace of Hailen's scent amidst the foul odors clinging to it. If someone saw, they might mistake it for him kissing the back of Hailen's hand, so close was the distance.
Still, he did not make contact with Hailen's skin. Maintaining that tantalizing gap, Gailront held Hailen's hand for quite some time.
Until the scent he was searching for completely disappeared.



Chapter 43
"Acting all high and mighty. What has he actually accomplished? The young lord caused a ruckus, claiming he was poisoned. It was just a provocation!"
Kasper recalled a few individuals who likely witnessed the young lord's disturbance at the salon he hosted not long ago. Those who had fawned over him, thinking this was their chance, rushed to inform the Second Prince.
They bow with faces expressing only submission, concealing their seething resentment. Bending over or groveling matters not. He knows this humiliation will pay off in the end.
Those he dislikes can be dealt with once he ascends to his desired position. Imagining the indignities and disgraces he would inflict upon them helped improve Kasper's mood.
"The Emmast house is irrelevant anyway. Their loyalty will naturally follow once I claim the throne. No need to provoke them further; just monitor their interactions with the First Prince's faction."
"...I shall not disappoint you again, Your Highness."
Franz was reprimanded, but Kasper had no intention of discarding this obedient hound yet. Well-trained ones were hard to find and useful.
He recalled the violet-haired beauty offered to appease his anger, her rare beauty captivating, yet possessing an enigmatic charm beyond her looks.
It wasn't merely Theresia's allure that soothed his mind, but the gesture of presenting his mistress, whom he had tried to keep hidden until the end.
'It might make for a pleasant diversion.'
It had been an unsatisfying year, to the point where the two years he spent in Hasser seemed enjoyable in comparison. How liberating it was to roam freely without having to mind the Empress Mother.
The research on the revised law had been successful, and Franz thought the credit was entirely his own. He no longer had to listen to Daniel mocking him with remarks like, "Franz, you have a bad habit of addressing your brother."
Only after things went awry did the Empress and his uncle, Count Sowrel, attribute the leak of information to the Second Prince's sudden trip to the academy. Franz recalls the displeased look in Count Sowrel's eyes as he gazed at him, despite not saying much.
'He doesn't even know whose favor allows him to maintain that power.'
The Second Prince had been like that since childhood. Whenever he saw Franz's face, which resembled only the Empress, he would click his tongue imperceptibly. It was an impudent attitude toward a prince, and Franz, being of a temperament that could not tolerate such behavior, had no choice but to heed his uncle, the Empress's most trusted brother.
Franz was uncertain whether his uncle would bow before him even if he became Emperor. Thus, he had no choice but to continue avoiding the Empress and the Count's scrutiny.
"Uncle must have re-established his secret communication network with the Carter Duchy. If possible, have someone monitor their activities in Hasser."
"But that... If we're caught, the Empress Mother will not condone it."
Franz's decision to keep Kasper at the academy was not solely because of Hailen. Seeing Kasper follow orders without any resistance, Franz revealed the confidential information about the revised law and the Carter Duchy.
The Empress would have been horrified if she knew, but Kasper occupied a place in Franz's plan to build his presence through loyal subordinates, not the puppets his mother had placed around him.
"To whom do you pledge your allegiance? If you intend to heed my mother, you need not remain in Hasser any longer."
"Of course, my lord is Your Highness."
"The Clifford Margraviate was an old vassal house of Emmast. How long do you intend to remain under them? When you receive the margraviate, the Cliffords will be known as the Imperial loyalist house."
"Do not worry. Things will proceed as Your Highness desires."
Daniel kept prattling on about father-son affection and whatnot in front of the Emperor, feigning pity, which led to the revised law being scrapped without even being presented to the Council of Nobles. Subsequently, transactions took place between the two factions to prevent further repercussions, leaving the Second Prince's side severely damaged.
Yet, the fortunate thing was that at least no evidence of the Carter Duchy's involvement was secured.
Utilizing the assessment that the Carter Duchy was a dukedom in name only without real power, Count Sowrel had been building up strength in the Imperial western Carter Duchy in preparation for the future. The two houses even exchanged a betrothal to take effect after the Second Prince's consort, who was in frail health and not expected to live long. They had become blood allies.
'A woman of noble bloodline would suit me better than one who cannot even protect a child.'
Of humble origins. Pregnant from a night's mistake. Such a woman could become a prince's consort under the watchful eye of the stern Empress only due to the Emperor's political judgment to keep Count Sowrel in check.
However, in the treacherous palace life, the already frail Second Prince's consort suffered a miscarriage and thereafter withered away, provoking disgust in Franz whenever he saw her.
At least if the covenant was properly concluded, he would gain a consort befitting him.
Moreover, before that, Franz wanted the connection with the Carter Duchy to be directly linked to himself, not Count Sowrel. The order he gave Kasper was merely preparation for that. He believed the duchy would naturally welcome it.
Fully grasping Franz's intent, Kasper erased the Empress's presence from his mind and submitted. Having already made many mistakes, he had to demonstrate proper handling of the matter to attain the position he desired.
Neither of them seemed to realize that they had made a rather crude judgment, thinking only of their immediate goals.
Perhaps that was why they would also be named as losers in another time.
After a busy vacation, they finally entered the last year at the Imperial Academy.
The fact that graduation was a year away made many students anxious. Those from affluent families with predetermined paths would be able to remain at ease. However, most would fail to achieve their desired goals and be cast into the harsh world.
An opportunity to showcase their unknown talents before many others. That was the academic festival held in autumn, which only final-year students could participate in.
Hence, despite having ample time, everyone was busy preparing for the academic festival. Most importantly, finding a partner was crucial. It was only natural that many sought out Hailen, who stood out more than anyone else in the final year of the Diplomatic Department.
"I was also grabbed because I spent a lot of time by his side. Everyone wants to be with the young Margrave."
"Doesn't Idin have any interest in me? He hasn't asked me even once."
"Of course not. He's just waiting. For the young Margrave to choose me."
"That must be confidence in his abilities? It wasn't a wrong thought."
With a faint smile, Hailen extended his hand to the individuals he had been observing, most of whom were considered "the next generation of the Imperial Diplomatic Corps."
While most of the academic festival involved paper presentations, the Diplomatic Department opted for simulated treaty negotiations.
Hailen had given the upcoming event the lengthy name "The Third Simulated Trade Agreement between the Perodent Empire and the Oclan Kingdom." It would mimic an actual meeting to be held in the coming winter, with each participant playing their assigned role in a free discussion format.
Most chose the Perodent Empire, which was clearly the advantageous side. However, the young Margrave, whom everyone was watching, raised the flag of the Oclan Kingdom—a choice that seemed incomprehensible. Thinking it an odd selection, Kailre took the Imperial flag.
At the very least, she looked forward to the prospect of competing against the one she had admired.
Another amusing incident was that, as Kelvin had once worried, Mirana's new member recruitment was flooded with an overwhelming number of applications.
"It's even worse than last year. What's with all these final-year students applying now? The Art Department? Kelvin, have those people lost their minds? Saying their reason for applying is to make the young Margrave their muse—does that even make sense? We're a fencing research club."
"Do you remember Mirana worrying about not getting enough applications from underclassmen?"
Kelvin laughs aloud at Nohan's playful remark.
"How can we go through all these applications? We need training time, even for the summer raids. These days, I don't even have time to meet Lord Nord."
"Lord Nord is still in Hasser?"
It was Roger, concerned about the seemingly close relationship between Mirana and Nord that could invite misunderstandings from those around them. However, the recipients did not see it that way, especially with Roger's ever-sharp tone that he still could not correct.
Mirana, about to voice her displeasure but too weary to engage in their long-standing verbal sparring, flops onto the table.
"Either help me get out of this hell or don't pick fights with both of us."
"You're the one who refused our help, Marina."
"Of course. Don't you remember what you three did last year?"
"What did the seniors do?"
The question came from an underclassman who had been listening to the four of them. Their faces were full of curiosity, having made it through the competition to become members of Mirana's group, naturally wanting to know what had happened back then.
The three men clear their throats. Marina had decided to maintain her standing in front of the underclassmen.
Nohan, who used to secretly discard the applications of nobles he disliked, mocking their arrogant noses, and Roger, who hurled insults at the economics students trying to join Mirana after hearing rumors about her and the club president. Even Kelvin, who was so indecisive that he wanted to accept almost every application.
'If only the young Margrave or Gailront were here, I could at least ask them for help.'
Recalling Gailront, who was nowhere to be found, and Hailen, who was getting busier by the day, Marina lamented as she had to increase the already heavy training load for some unknown reason.
"Since I'll be graduating this year anyway, I need to choose someone from among you to be the next club leader."
The underclassmen's eyes sparkled with surprise and perhaps anticipation, which Marina found adorable, prompting her to laugh.
And so, Mirana's club began its final year.
[...Here is a brief opinion on Lord Ray Melbourne's view. You wonder about my daily life at the academy; I would ask if you expect it to be a rewarding experience for us to study together, or is that merely my own expectation? Just as the Oclan Kingdom is nicknamed the "Eternal Neutral Nation," the negotiation procedures it conducts between foreign countries are an intriguing matter...
If I let myself be carried away by the unceasing flow, I'll soon crave a sweet respite. I often think of visiting the chateaus—the vineyards—of the Carter Duchy in the Imperial western region to produce wine. Taming birds of prey would also be a pleasant pastime. Don't you think even an arrogant eagle trying to occupy the sky could be tamed by human hands?...
My correspondence with Lord Ray brings me joy. I hope to receive a rewarding and enriching reply.]
Below, only the sound of the fountain pen leaving a signature echoed in the space. Hailen removed the ring he always wore on his finger and sealed the letter by imprinting the wax with its seal.
If one considers the image of the eagle engraved on the coat of arms of the Sowrel Count's family, the content of the letter is an overt metaphor. Although they have not yet obtained the decisive something they desire, they had many weapons to brandish based on their previous life.
Following Daniel's wish for coexistence, Ray regretted not being able to deal a proper blow to their adversaries. He would gladly welcome what Hailen possesses.
Physical evidence proving the connection between the scrapped revised law and the Carter Duchy. While Paison's stance was that more time was needed to fully assemble it, considering the treasure he had handed over to him, it would not be long before it reached Hailen's hands.
'The Carter family will decline faster than before, but it is not my concern.'
Hailen merely desires to obtain what he wants. It matters not whether it is the First Prince's or the Second Prince's side.
However, the reason he abandons his original neutral stance and contacts Ray Melbourne is because that side has a greater chance of victory.
Thus, with another matter settled, the beginning of this year's complicated political situation was born from his hands.
Summer, the stage changes in an instant as time flows.



Chapter 44
Monsters, those vile creatures, typically dwell in the deep mountain ranges, rarely showing themselves in human settlements. When the weather is warm, their prey—animals scampering about like a feast laid out—eliminates the need to hunt the skilled humans.
However, when winter arrives and most animals hibernate, the situation changes. Having grown into adults after the summer breeding season, the young ones, their eyes glinting, seek prey to hone their predatory instincts.
It was only natural for them to target humans, who remain active even in the cold winter, emitting fire and smoke, rather than those hiding deep underground or in caves.
The extreme cold, the endless expanse of the deep mountain ranges—the northern regions of the Empire were unsuitable for human habitation due to such monsters and the harsh environment. Yet the Emmast Duchy has formed a massive city, thanks to the inexhaustible veins of the Antagoras Mountains.
"The north is different. It's not hot at all, even in summer."
"The duchy is technically in the mid-northern region. They say if you go further into the mountains, you can see snow even in summer."
"No way. Snow in summer? You're pulling my leg."
Hailen merely quirked his lips, not answering. Watching his master's face grow more beautiful by the day, Kelvin pondered for a while whether his words were true or false.
The paved road that carriages could traverse ended at the ravine offering a clear view of Emmast Ducal Castle. The carriage bearing the Emmast crest arrived at the station formed near the towering cliffs that seemed carved out. Everyone bowed their heads toward it.
Now unfazed by the gazes of many, Kelvin disembarked with Hailen to admire the ducal castle in the distance, resembling a fortress.
"I feel inspired. It's as if all the hardships I've endured are being washed away."
"The duchy is quite far, indeed."
Even by carriage, the journey from the capital took a full week.
For this reason, the duchess, a noblewoman from the central region, had only visited the ducal domain once—for her wedding. Her son Hailen had never set foot in the ducal domain since his birth. It was in this same year that he first visited the ducal domain in his previous life.
'Back then, it took a year after graduating from the academy before I received the seal of the young duke.'
And the harsh northern region greeted the young duke, who had been filled with naive expectations.
He felt that the majestic ducal castle he encountered for the first time, containing the history of Emmast, was chastising him. Even the vassals who bowed their heads toward the duke's son seemed wary.
It was merely the northern people's habit of rejecting outsiders, but Hailen in his previous life thought they were rejecting him. Half of it was due to the lingering sense of inferiority that remained even after Gailront's disappearance and receiving the seal of the young duke, and the other half was due to the foolishness that led him to commit stupid acts.
After that, Hailen did not return to the ducal domain. It was quite a loss for someone who wanted to become the next duke. If he had not died and succeeded to the ducal title, he would have had a headache due to his incomplete dominion over the ducal domain.
"I greet the young duke. I am Bauto Bezel, serving as the castellan of the castle. Please, make yourself comfortable."
The middle-aged man, standing out among the station workers, greeted them with a grace befitting a nobleman. As the castellan of the ducal castle, Bauto was well-informed about the rumors concerning the members of the ducal family, but he was deeply impressed by the young duke's appearance, which was more remarkable than he had heard.
"Very well. This is my attendant, Kelvin Layton of the Layton family. I'll be counting on you this summer, Bauto."
The smooth speech flowing from his mouth betrayed his central nobility upbringing. Recalling the stiff manner of speech of the Emmast dukes, Bauto thought, 'He seems to take after the duchess a great deal.'
From here on, they had to proceed on horseback. The horse assigned to me seemed pleased, as Kelvin, who had been admiring the majestic ducal castle, showed no such expression while conversing with the one in charge of the station's stables.
It would take half a day's journey on horseback across the ravine to reach the ducal castle. Those who had come to escort the young duke worried that he might become irritable from the long journey's fatigue, but contrary to their prejudice, Hailen's stamina was sufficient.
"Did my father arrive safely?"
"Yes, he went on a reconnaissance patrol in preparation for the subjugation. You will return around the time His Grace arrives at the castle."
The reason the duke's son, who had never shown his face before, came to the ducal domain was the periodic subjugation of monsters conducted every summer. It aimed to reduce the monster population during the breeding season to prevent casualties after the onset of winter. This was an annual tradition in domains like the Emmast Duchy, where monster attacks were expected.
The subjugations that the Imperial Academy's Department of Swordsmanship participated in during summer breaks were also part of such domain subjugations. In particular, the one conducted in the Emmast Duchy was large-scale, so they would encounter familiar faces during the main subjugation period.
And the young duke would assume the role of deputy commander of the subjugation force. Unlike his previous life, this formal training as the duke's successor came without any preparation or forewarning.
'Of all the Emmasts I've seen, he seems the most frail. I'm worried.'
Excluding the burly duke himself, even those who frequently visited the ducal domain like Julian, or the duke's late brothers who were no longer of this world, had an air of being born warriors from a young age. The Emmast bloodline was so strong that even their branch families produced exceptional swordsmen.
Moreover, the northerners themselves tended to have large builds, perhaps to survive the harsh lands. Although Bauto knew his thoughts might be rude to the young duke, he couldn't help but notice how starkly his appearance contrasted with the northerners.
The winds of reform sweeping through the Empire rarely reached the northern regions, where blizzards raged, and often dissipated. As a result, some tried to conceal their dissatisfaction with Emmast's gradual assimilation into the central politics.
Unlike the current duke, who ruled his vassals through force and fear, would this young man before them, deeply steeped in the capital's ways, be fit to govern the ducal domain in the future?
It was the sincere concern of those unaware that the man himself did not desire that position and was merely wasting time.
"The northern air is certainly different."
"Is this your first subjugation, milady?"
In their final year at the Department of Swordsmanship, students officially joined the subjugation forces alongside mercenaries. During every break, Marina had been forced to return to Senz, where the Wilson Marquis resided, but this time, she had notified—not requested—her marquis father of her intent to participate in the subjugation.
The issue of her marriage remained unresolved. Everyone around her urged her to marry for her own happiness, saying she had achieved enough as a woman by taking up the sword and entering the swordsmanship department.
With everyone but herself saying so, she couldn't help but wonder if she should give up. If not for Nord's support, she might not have participated in this true battle, the subjugation.
"The northern winds aren't the only difference. Be wary, for you'll face things the academy never taught you."
The mercenary, whom she had expected to make some jibe about her being a woman, instead offered sound advice grounded in blood and flesh. Ordinarily, the academy students kept their distance, but the mercenaries occasionally approached their group to chat. This was undoubtedly due to Nohan and Gailront.
"If Roger were here, he'd mock you two for being so popular. What a missed opportunity. I should've brought him along."
"Hah, it would've been amusing to see him trembling. Popularity? This is all thanks to Gail, you know."
Marina nodded as if anticipating the aura emanating from his impassive face, no longer showing any embarrassment. Hanson, one of the few mercenaries whose face she had become familiar with, seized the opportunity to join the conversation.
"Aren't you all going to get riled up about being outshone by a kid who's practically your son's age? Nohan, you should snap out of it after seeing your friend. How inefficient is that greatsword going to be in actual combat...?"
"Aw, Uncle Hanson. You're nagging even here?"
As Hanson said, Nohan and Gailront had been participating in the subjugation forces every summer since their first year's subjugation. While students not in their final year were typically assigned menial tasks to assist the subjugation forces, the two had caught the mercenaries' eyes with their impressive displays.
Gailront's destructive black sword, in particular, was so formidable that everyone coveted it. They subtly encouraged the two to take the frontlines, and their composure beyond their years allowed them to subjugate nearly as many monsters as seasoned mercenaries.
As a result, Gailront had become quite famous among the mercenaries, with some even trying to recruit him into their guilds in advance.
Observing their camaraderie from afar, some uttered crude remarks.
"Hah, who would've thought they'd mingle with lowly mercenaries, lest they be called snobs."
"A mere commoner is better suited to be a mercenary than a knight, I suppose."
"A woman joining the subjugation force entrusted with such an important task? It'll only breed corruption."
Excluding their outward appearances, their actions were utterly vulgar, but the mercenaries escorting the subjugation force chose to remain silent.
None other than Kasper and a few swordsmanship students who associated with him.
"We should finish this quickly and return to Hasser. I have an important mission entrusted to me by His Highness."
Kasper was in a good mood these days, as the order to find a way to secretly contact the Carter Duchy was progressing smoothly. However, the existence of Gailront, who was fidgeting before him and ruining his mood, was utterly vexing.
"There are rumors that the young duke will command this subjugation."
"What? Why wasn't I informed?"
"Your Excellency was preoccupied with attending to His Highness the Prince."
"If we outshine them in the subjugation, perhaps the young duke's misunderstanding will be cleared?"
Although Franz had said there was no need to approach the young duke further, Kasper thought differently. If Emmast supported the Second Prince, it would greatly shorten the distance to victory. And the credit for that victory would go to him.
He had made a grave mistake at the salon, unaware that Hailen, who appeared to be a typical high nobleman, was adamantly opposed to such matters. The rebuke he received from Franz and the memory of bowing his head before him were not easily forgotten.
Moreover, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, Gailront's monstrous swordsmanship could not be ignored. He would undoubtedly seek to distinguish himself in this subjugation and catch the young duke's eye. No matter how much he pretended otherwise now, his behavior of wagging his tail before Gailront would not be forgotten.
"Indeed, our achievements must outshine those lowly creatures."
"Disposing of them will be no trouble. Actual combat is different. Who knows what might happen in the chaos?"
Seeing Kasper's expression as if agreeing with his words, they quietly proposed various methods. Most were malicious and wicked schemes, but they seemed impractical and fanciful. Displeasure crept onto Kasper's face.
'Useless fools, I must take matters into my own hands.'
He fell silent and gazed at a part of the Antagoras Mountain range visible in the distance. The fact that the Clifford Viscounty was an ancient vassal house of Emmast meant their viscounty was located not far away.
At least the north was a place where his influence was stronger than Hasser's. Especially since he had grown up in the ducal manor within the ducal domain. It was different from the ducal manor in the capital, from which he had been expelled without even being able to refute, filled only with familiarity for him as he ran around within the ducal castle.
His father, Clifford Viscount, who understood his intentions and helped him, was also there.
'As for the others, I don't care, but that brat Gailront...'
He vowed to make Gailront kneel before him before he graduated from the academy.



Chapter 45
As they entered the town where the villagers had gathered, one and all stopped what they were doing and paid their respects to the esteemed figures on horseback. A sight one would only see in places where old customs still lingered, yet Kelvin was the only one who felt awkward. Unable to quicken his pace atop the horse, inwardly unsure of what to do, Kelvin tried to appear nonchalant by straightening his back.
He had thought he had grown accustomed to the situations he faced while guarding the high nobility, but it seemed that was merely his own delusion.
"The fortress you saw was constructed during the Age of Magic. Moreover, the treacherous mountains surrounding the Duchy Territory serve as impregnable walls, preventing enemy incursions."
"So the entire Duchy Territory is like one great fortress."
Pleased by the Viscount's positive assessment, Bauto's tales of the Duchy Territory seemed endless. A few members of the Emmast Knights residing in the Duchy Territory added their own accounts. Talk turned to the history of Emmast, and when it reached the first Emmast Duke, they came face to face with a structure truly worthy of being called a fortress.
And as if by a prearranged appointment with time itself, the returning Duke as well.
"I trust your reconnaissance went well."
"Tch, those bastards breed like rabbits no matter how many we cull each year. I warned last year that things were looking grim, and now their numbers have swelled far too much."
"You may wish to consider requesting reinforcements for the extermination force. Your uncle is still in the capital, is he not?"
"For now, we'll have to wait and see."
The Viscount, who had once thought he wouldn't even be able to breathe in the oppressive presence of his father, the Duke, was exaggerating. Bauto knew the Duke seldom visited the ducal estate in the capital, which only reinforced that impression.
Contrary to expectations, it was surprising to see Hailen naturally discussing the extermination matter with the Duke. Bauto knew that despite the Duke's reputation as an iron-fisted ruler, he did heed the counsel of his vassals – though the final decision was another matter entirely. Yet he had not expected this to extend even to his son, now twenty years of age.
With a creaking mechanical sound, the massive castle gates opened. These gates would rarely open except for the Duke's reconnaissance troops or the movement of troops.
Thus, Hailen officially visited the ducal castle for the first time in his life. Until he was shown where he would be staying, he felt no particular emotion.
"These are the ones who will attend to the Viscount."
Around five attendants bowed to him. Though seasoned enough not to show any expression on their faces, they couldn't help glancing at the Viscount, either out of curiosity or surprise at his appearance.
"Kelvin will suffice as my attendant. Have just one person assigned to inform him about the ducal castle."
"It seems preparations will be needed for the banquet. I'm sure the Chamberlain doesn't wish to waste time."
His face was clearly smiling, yet there was an indescribable chill. Bowing his head, Bauto deeply acknowledged his mistake. How could he have forgotten their bloodline? Just because his appearance differed didn't mean he wasn't of Emmast. Moreover, with Pamel's blue blood mixed in, it was foolish to judge him as frail based on his looks.
"His Grace instructed that you greet the members of the noble houses who have sworn fealty."
"Right before the banquet?"
Indeed, he possessed remarkable decisiveness.
This was the occasion where the Viscount, visiting the Duchy Territory for the first time, would formally meet the sworn vassals. Though not as extreme as the ancient tradition of sharing blood, it was no light matter as they would pledge allegiance to the future Duke.
In his previous life, Hailen had made thorough preparations for this event. The noble houses sworn to Emmast were mostly prominent figures from the north, the very roots of the Duke's power.
However, after that, Hailen had left the Duchy Territory earlier than originally scheduled, without even participating in the summer subjugation. It wasn't merely due to the atmosphere of rejection towards outsiders surrounding the ducal castle.
Was it because he had hallucinations of the past while intoxicated in the salon? Or was it the issue of the Duchy Territory itself? Struggling to erase the recent resurgence of memories from the past, he habitually gazed into the mirror.
In the mirror was merely a youth dressed in finery, flaunting his handsome looks. Hailen shook off his unease and headed to the banquet hall where the feast would be held.
A sword that exuded majesty even when engulfed in flames, tapestries emblazoned with the Emmast crest hung all around the vast space. Those occupying seats were varied - elders, children too young to understand the situation, and elegantly dressed women.
Every member of the vassal houses in the Duchy Territory had gathered, filling the banquet hall.
All those gazes converged on the unfamiliar figure trailing behind the Duke.
'He doesn't resemble His Grace at all.'
'What a pity he's debuting at the peak of his virility. He should have brought a daughter instead.'
'His appearance is certainly unusual, but he has the air of a central noble.'
'Such a frail-looking Emmast Duke.'
'Is that how people from the capital look? Like they're from another world.'
Though their thoughts varied, they were impartial before the one they had sworn allegiance to. As the Duke raised his hand from the highest seat, like a king of a nation, the murmurs filling the hall ceased at once. Hailen, who had drawn all eyes, stood right beside the Duke.
The sight of the crowd, likely numbering over two hundred, looked truly spectacular from his vantage point.
"The day has come again when we must unsheathe the sword of Emmast to slay the monsters encroaching upon the north. In this subjugation, my son, Hailen de Emmast, shall also participate. All who have received my grace must pledge their due loyalty to the Viscount who will one day inherit this seat."
After that, the Duke sat down, signaling the start of the feast.
"We greet the Viscount. Hail Emmast!"
Countless heads bowed simultaneously, a sight uncannily reminiscent of the past. Hailen's face, gazing down without a word, betrayed not even a hint of emotion.
In truth, however, his thoughts were far from serene.
Of course, they bowed their heads before him. Even if each of them had swelled in size for their own desires, as long as they remained in this place, he could easily grasp them in the palm of his hand.
'To think that such an enticing situation had merely elicited that kind of reaction.'
The exhilaration filling his body was far from trivial, too great to feel mere displeasure from a sense of superiority.
Had he not repeated it every night before the mirror, had he not taken steps to plan for the future and act upon it, perhaps he might have made the worst choice again, missing out on this coveted position. That was how tempting this place was.
However, Hailen had chosen a different future. That decision would not change, no matter what greater temptation might exist.
"Let us all raise our glasses for Emmast."
Hailen's hand was light as he raised the first glass instead of the Duke.
For Katrin, who had always been at the center of high society with the title of the future Duchess of Emmast and her innate charm, this was an unpleasant situation.
In particular, the praises for the Princess heard at this gathering, which could be called a minor war if not for the lack of weapons, made her uncomfortable.
"To have the opportunity to learn from such a renowned lady, it is a position I have dreamed of."
"Indeed. Her modesty is truly remarkable, as I have heard from the Duchess."
At this social gathering hosted by the Dowager Countess of Quolton, who was known as the 'matron' in the capital's high society, the guest list was mostly comprised of those from prestigious families, despite the small scale.
The reason one could not let their guard down at this seemingly beneficial gathering was one: the Dowager Countess had invited members of different factions, supposedly to create a harmonious atmosphere.
Bringing up the topic of Princess Cecilia from the outset was an intentional provocation by those from families wary of the House of Emmast. Some of them had even subtly discriminated against Katrin in the past for being from the provinces, adding to her irritation.
'What's so great about that Princess? She's just an inexperienced girl who hasn't properly debuted in high society at her age.'
Katrin tried to erase the memory of Princess Cecilia's beauty that had captivated everyone at the debutante ball. Unlike Katrin, who exuded the fragrance of a deep rose, the Princess possessed a different charm, standing out with her pure beauty in the Imperial Family, which had lacked exceptional beauties resembling the Emperor. Her innocent loveliness had earned her the nickname 'The Imperial Lily.'
As the hostess Dowager rose from her seat, a few ladies approached Katrin, their seemingly gentle faces showing no discomfort. As if understanding Katrin's displeasure, they tried to soothe her mood with flattering words like deceitful magpies.
"I've never even heard of the name of the region where the Princess was recuperating. It must be quite remote."
"There are also rumors of a hereditary illness passed down from her maternal family."
"Come to think of it, it is strange that she hasn't been betrothed yet."
"Even His Highness the Crown Prince had an unfortunate incident regarding his betrothal. It's a pity for both siblings."
"It's just a passing phase. Once you become the Duchess of Emmast, the hierarchy will change."
It was not an incorrect statement. Unless the Imperial Princess married a foreign king, at most she would only be a Countess. Though of Imperial lineage, and the sister of the future Emperor if the Crown Prince ascended the throne, she would still have to follow the order of precedence at official events.
The other two ducal houses lacked a son of marriageable age to become the next Duke. As long as Katrin maintained her position, Princess Cecilia would have to stand beneath her.
Her mind eased, she focused on the topic of a young lady from a certain house who had made a fool of herself at the debutante ball.
"She's no longer fit to be a Countess," they said, the atmosphere heightening as like-minded individuals gathered. Candid stories that could not be shared publicly were exchanged here and there.
Particularly after the end of teatime, when wine produced in a renowned duchy of the Empire was served, even more risqué tales emerged. Katrin had matured to the point where she could now calmly appreciate stories that would have made her blush in her naive youth.
"...So I thought it was strange and followed, and lo and behold, after his date with his fiancée ended, he went straight to a courtesan. And outdoors, no less!"
"How shameful. Why seek out those of lower status to satisfy one's desires? Truly a foolish choice."
"The young lady who couldn't keep her fiancé in check is also at fault. No matter if it was an arranged match between families, they had only been betrothed for a month. How little charm must she have possessed for her fiancé to commit such an act?"
"Come to think of it, even I had trouble secretly dismissing my maids when I had just gotten engaged. Those were truly youthful days."
"Hmph, men. At first, they try to lure you into bed by any means, but once they've had their way, they clam right up. I enjoyed the chase back then."
"Still, it's sometimes better to prove your chastity quickly."
A story circulated about an extreme ballerina with whom someone was currently involved. Particularly about a certain part of him that was supposedly charming, eliciting a chuckle of laughter.
Katrin forced a smile to join their laughter, but she seemed unable to fully immerse herself, downing her wine at a rapid pace. A young lady beside her remarked, "You certainly seem to enjoy the revelry, Lady Katrin." Katrin merely affirmed it.
She could not relinquish her position as the future Duchess, even to avoid being looked down upon like the Imperial Princess by these women.
Her fiancé, who would not even allow the slightest physical contact like holding hands during their infrequent meetings. Perhaps she was the only one among them still preserving her chastity.
The unease that had dissipated resurfaced once more.
Not long after, a carriage from the Carmel Duchy set out northward, revealing the true reason behind the events.



Chapter 46
After a tedious journey, the academy students participating in the subjugation and the mercenaries hired by Hasser finally arrived at the Duchy Territory of Emmast, which could be considered the heart of the northern region.
A massive fortress nestled amidst rugged mountains. They were deeply moved, like anyone else would be, by the breathtaking scenery, to the point that the impression lingered until they safely entered the city and reached their lodgings.
Of course, there were those who scoffed at such sentiments.
"Just because we're all part of the subjugation force doesn't mean we're the same. Unlike those vagrants, we'll be treated as honored guests staying at the ducal castle."
There's no need to specify who raised their voice as if demanding to be heard. The mercenaries, who had been expressing joy at finally being able to rest after their long journey, turned their gaze in that direction.
"Tsk, you'll probably just piss yourself when you encounter monsters," "Want to bet on how long you'll last in the subjugation?" Whether Kasper knew he was being mocked or not, he arrogantly laughed and leisurely departed from the inn where the group was staying.
As soon as they unpacked, Gailront went down to the spacious field behind the inn to train, and Marina and Nohan eagerly joined him. While a few mercenaries were already loosening up, most of the group was unwinding in their own ways, so it was only natural for Hanson to shake his head at the trio.
"I don't want to be grouped with Kasper Clifford. I'm already tense about experiencing actual combat for the first time, and then there's that guy? Just thinking about it is dreadful."
"Mari, unfortunately, if we look back at previous subjugations, the subjugation force will likely be organized with this composition."
"What? No way. If I had known, I would have applied to a different territory."
"Didn't you expect it? That guy is notorious for trying to cling to the young lord. I thought you knew."
"Really? Did you expect it too, Gailront?"
As time passed, even Gailront, who was known for his taciturn nature, gave an affirmative answer, causing Marina to exaggeratedly express her disgust. It was understandable, given how much she had endured from the group centered around Kasper.
"I really hate it. I don't understand why he doesn't graduate like the other nobles. He's a year below us, yet he constantly disrupts classes by auditing them or whatever. And now he's even joining the subjugation!"
"Enough. Whether you're afraid of his shit or disgusted by it, ignoring him is the best policy. Even the gentle Kelvin runs away whenever he sees that guy."
"It's been like that since he attended the salon last winter. I asked what happened, but Roger kept his mouth shut."
Nohan awkwardly scratched his head at Marina's words, spoken as if she was unaware and simply letting them pass. Even though sweating and training together was their daily routine, he felt embarrassed to reveal the sordid details of that unsavory gathering to her, a biological female.
'It seems something happened to the young lord that day as well.'
Gailront, who didn't even submit a leave request and only returned to the dormitory the next morning, had been seen near the hotel where the salon was held, according to a student. It was clear that something involving Hailen had occurred.
While Nohan wished they had untangled the knot between them, their distance remained unchanged even after that. It was perplexing that Gailront had chosen the Duchy Territory of Emmast among the numerous subjugation forces.
No, objectively speaking, there was nothing strange about it. The subjugation force for the duchy territory was the largest, and the competition was fierce. It was rather Kasper's participation that was exceptional, given his underclassman status and lack of ability.
"Still, I envy that we'll be staying at the ducal castle."
As they descended along the ravine encircling the duchy territory, what captivated the group's gaze more than anything was not the architectural splendor that exuded a different kind of grandeur from the imperial palace in the capital.
"It's on a whole different level from the other territorial castles."
Recalling the territories they had visited during previous subjugations, Nohan remarked, "The young lord must have arrived at the ducal castle before us."
"Most likely," Gailront replied.
"It really makes you feel like they're from a different world," Marina said, though her words didn't carry any deep meaning. As she spoke, Gailront paused his sword swing and gazed up at the ducal castle, neither too close nor too far away.
The magnificent structure, which seemed too grand to have been built solely by human hands, bore traces of the magic era even without searching for them, as if attesting to its ancient history. Unlike the immense length of the walls encircling the duchy territory, the towering castle walls also appeared more than capable of serving their defensive purpose.
Within those walls resided not the duchy's subjects, but a select few who seemed almost chosen. Just as the young noble Kasper naturally headed toward the castle.
"They are from a different world," Gailront muttered to himself, prompting Nohan and Marina to turn toward him.
"Huh? What did you say, Gail?"
"Focus on your training."
"You're just as passionate about training as Mari, aren't you?"
What process must one go through for those inside the castle walls to connect with those outside? Either the one inside must be expelled, or the invader from the outside must conquer the castle.
No one knew which of those methods Gailront had in mind.
The duke gazed upon his son, who had grown to the point of being unrecognizable each time he saw him, now lacking nothing to be called a young man.
Though an experienced politician occupying a position of central power and a wealthy businessman upholding the dignity of high nobility, his essence was that of a warrior. When observing people, he first assessed their physique and bone structure to determine if they were suited to wield a sword.
In that regard, Hailen still lacked much in his father's eyes. It was only natural for those in the Duchy Territory to share his thoughts. The Duke of Emmast had to maintain control over the northern region above all else. If he had another son, Hailen would not have been granted the seal of the lesser duke.
"As we enter the initial stages of the subjugation, the decisions you make as the deputy commander will be of utmost importance. Why do you think that is?"
"I have thoroughly studied the ecology of the Antagoras Mountains. With the weather being so volatile, the judgment of the leader guiding the troops must adapt moment by moment. I will keep your teachings in mind, Your Grace."
The duke realized that his son addressed him as "Your Grace" when they were alone. Conversely, when others were present, he acted affectionately to showcase the closeness of their relationship, a demeanor reminiscent of the duchess.
He couldn't recall when his son had started behaving this way. They seldom saw each other, to the point that Hailen seemed to have aged each time they met. The duke wasn't saddened by the distance. Even if Pamel's blue blood was evident, he didn't underestimate the resilient bloodline of Emmast that flowed beneath.
If Hailen had heard these thoughts, he would have scoffed without hesitation. But one thing was certain: the duke's evaluation of him was increasingly approaching approval as days passed. And Hailen himself could not have been oblivious to this.
"You seem well-prepared. I never thought my son could be so clever, to the point of being unrecognizable as an Emmast."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Heh, your face is growing thicker by the day."
Just a decade ago, he was a child who trembled and couldn't even make eye contact with his father when they met after a long absence. As if his pensive sentimentality had vanished, the duke soon resumed his imposing demeanor towards Hailen.
"Let's leave the discussion of the subjugation for now. Surely there's something else you wish to mention."
"If you pose a question, I shall answer."
"Four years. Surely the lesser duke's personal fortune is too substantial to be squandered within your sphere of activity. Do you have some hobby I'm unaware of?"
Was the duke simply curious about his son's daily life? Just as the duchess mentioning Hailen's personal fortune would be seen as an intrusion into his private affairs, the duke posing such a question to his heir could be perceived as a conflict over power that even a father and son should not share.
However, this time did not fall into that category.
'I've spent enough for it to reach his ears.'
Emmast, possessing immense wealth through the taxes collected in the northern region and its thriving mining business. If the lesser duke's annual personal allowance were to be quantified, the amount would be staggering. Since he had used most of it for personal purposes, it was only natural for the duke to inquire about it.
Half of the expenditures went to the information guild with whom he had long-standing dealings, while the recent excessive spending was on the capital for the newly established merchant group run by Hailen and Genry. It was an expense that even Hailen had to ponder cutting back on his personal expenses.
And both were too awkward to reveal to the duke.
To flawlessly deceive the duke, who possessed exceptional intuition, required a suitable blend of falsehood and truth. Hailen had already decided which of the two to show.
"I've been directly dealing with the master of the information guild. To see if he is truly worthy of his reputation. It's costing a considerable sum."
"Leaving aside the duchy's own intelligence network for an individual information guild. What is it that you seek to uncover?"
"The sun god Panule may be dazzling, but getting too close will scorch one's entire body. If I obtain information from a distance, I believe this expenditure is not regrettable."
"Emmast has always maintained neutrality. Involving ourselves in the struggle for the throne would only bring losses."
The duke's firm tone made it seem like he was sincere about not getting involved. However, Hailen was well aware of the words and attitudes the duke had displayed as the conflict progressed into a civil war.
And that he was testing Hailen.
'Then I shall be the obedient son you desire.'
"I assure you, my actions will not tarnish the reputation of Emmast. It's merely 'an individual information guild.' Neutrality doesn't just mean not listening to either side, but also finding the middle ground by accepting both perspectives, does it not?"
"...Do not be so arrogant as to assume the side you've chosen will emerge victorious. That would be a hasty decision that only looks at what's right in front of you."
If asked who currently holds the upper hand due to the revised laws, anyone would say it's the First Prince's faction. That's why the duke's words were—
"May I assume that Your Grace's allegiance differs from mine?"
"Are you trying to discern my intentions? Emmast will simply uphold its role as the Imperial sword."
A sword, no matter how it's sheathed, is ultimately a weapon. Even if Emmast sought more power by turning its gaze elsewhere, the duke would never relinquish the military authority granted by the Empire. Moreover, war was but sustenance that would feed him as the supreme commander.
Would the First Prince's pacifist ideology, which hesitated to execute his own brothers and instead proposed negotiations, truly align with the duke's heart?
One need not ask whose side the duke favored; it was evident.
"I agree. I'm merely seeking a slightly safer path."
The duke rose from his seat, his cold gaze fixed upon Hailen, who had acquiesced to his response.
Memories from his previous life flashed before Hailen's eyes. The duke had enforced his will by placing his son before him, only to use him as a shield against incoming arrows in the end. Hailen didn't believe he would have avoided becoming the duke's pawn, even if he carried the blood of Emmast.
He had already experienced the outcome once before.
Would it have been different if Gailront were here?
The fleeting curiosity was met with a resounding negative.



Chapter 47
The punitive force of the Duchy Territory of Emmast was divided into three groups due to its massive scale. As expected, the inexperienced young duke was tasked with leading the group heading towards the shallowest part of the Antagoras mountain range.
"Sir Centas will assist you by your side."
"I've only beheaded those monster bastards by Your Majesty's side. Trust me and don't worry, young duke."
Despite being in the duke's presence, Centas could laugh heartily because he was a veteran knight who had served the previous Duke of Emmast. The fact that someone more seasoned than anyone else in monster subjugation was assigned to him showed the duke's goodwill towards his son, but Hailen himself didn't seem to care.
After that, much time was spent discussing matters related to the subjugation. Various people came and went in the spacious area. Some changed their minds upon seeing the young duke's solemn participation, while others still tried to hide their displeasure.
Viscount Clifford was one of those who tried to make a good impression on Hailen. In particular, he still regretted that his son Kasper had failed to become the young duke's squire long ago.
While expanding his business to the capital, most of the viscount's business base was in the north. If he could go beyond being just a vassal house bound by an old allegiance and take on the name of the ducal family, his business would prosper day by day.
"By the way, I've heard that the punitive force of Hasser, which my son Kasper belongs to, has also arrived in the Duchy Territory."
Just as he habitually mentioned to those around him, Kasper had told his father that he was close friends with Hailen. However, unbeknownst to him, the young duke's evaluation of Kasper had changed from 'someone he wasn't even interested in' to 'something of poor quality he didn't want to get close to' due to an incident at the salon, which was why he brought it up.
"Oh, I've heard that the young duke is diligently studying at the academy. It seems your son is close friends with him. Kasper, was it? I remember seeing that boy at the ducal estate when he was little."
Some reminisced about the old days at the ducal estate when the young scions of noble houses would frolic and play together. Knights who took an interest also joined the conversation.
"Where do you plan to assign their group? The academy students are there for training, but I've heard the Hasser mercenaries have shown quite capable skills in monster subjugation."
"I saw them in action last year when I was dispatched for subjugation in the northeast. There was a student sponsored by the ducal house, and they displayed prowess no less than the mercenaries. It left quite an impression on me, so I mentioned it to Your Grace."
Hailen knew exactly who they were referring to.
Had he performed so remarkably that word reached the duke? Every year after returning from subjugation campaigns, Nohan would regale him with stories embellished with his unique flair for storytelling, making them easy to get drawn into, but they always seemed somewhat exaggerated.
'In my previous life, I had no knowledge of Gailront during this period.'
After being expelled from the ducal house, the next time Hailen heard Gailront's name was at the imperial martial arts tournament when he was twenty-two. Through some connection, the commoner mercenary who entered the Colosseum bearing the name of the First Prince became the crowd's acclaimed champion, earning him a knighthood.
So before reaching the First Prince, he must have made a name for himself in the monster subjugation forces like this. It was a past Hailen would remain ignorant of unless he turned back.
"I seem to recall the name..."
"Ah yes. Wasn't he the commoner boy who used to serve as your squire at the ducal estate?"
"Indeed, Master Swordsman Jeil recognized his talent and recommended him. He was my classmate in the swordsmanship department as well."
Hailen glanced at the duke, but the latter showed no more than a passing interest in having a talented swordsman under his patronage.
The knights continued to recount witnessing Gailront's prowess firsthand during subjugation campaigns in other territories. Viscount Clifford's brow furrowed as his son Kasper was repeatedly overlooked in favor of mentioning the commoner.
"His physical abilities were exceptional. I've never seen such skill before."
"For you to speak so highly of him."
It didn't seem strange to Hailen that the knight, having only observed him for a brief time, still mentioned Gailront before the duke. Just as Master Swordsman Jeil had recognized his talent from watching him swing a mere branch as a child, one with a discerning eye for the martial arts could easily spot Gailront's talent and potential for growth.
Despite hearing that Gailront had been Hailen's classmate, the duke did not inquire further. Perhaps it was due to prejudice, not wanting to associate closely with one resembling his commoner wife. Or maybe he simply did not view Hailen as a swordsman worthy of discussing martial talent.
For whatever reason, the duke's attitude provoked Hailen somewhat. Before he knew it, he found himself speaking of Gailront.
"He has a record of defeating all his seniors to win the academy's swordsmanship tournament from his first year. Professor Baylor, a hero of the War of 3, openly calls him his disciple. He possesses talent beyond what I've witnessed."
Rather than envy his peer's outstanding achievements that he lacked, the young duke unexpectedly heaped praise, drawing everyone's attention. Only the knight who had mentioned Gailront nodded in satisfaction.
"...I'm simply keeping a close eye on him, judging that he could contribute greatly to strengthening the Emmast knighthood should he join in the future."
Hailen's subsequent excuse was at least plausible.
"Why, the knighthood is indeed the spirit of Emmast. For the young duke to take such interest, truly."
"Well, a promising talent is worth observing."
"Gailront, was it? I shall remember that name."
With the duke's words concluded, the discussion continued regarding the formation of the punitive forces dispatched from Hasser.
Whether it was due to Hailen's impressive remark or Viscount Clifford's efforts to attach Kasper to the young duke, the punitive force dispatched from the academy was organized under the young duke Hailen's command.
Thus, preparations for the full-scale subjugation were steadily progressing.
"Father, did the discussion go well?"
"Yes. As you wished, the members from Hasser will join the punitive force led by the young duke."
Viscount Clifford's face looked slightly uncomfortable as he spoke to his son, but Kasper paid no heed. He was satisfied by the mere expectation that his plans could become reality now that they had arrived in the Duchy Territory.
The sight of Gailront falling miserably before the young duke's eyes. Kasper grinned at the thought of making him feel the helplessness of his vaunted swordsmanship skills from the academy being utterly useless in the outside world.
And then, his own merits in safely resolving that crisis would shine through—
Above all else, his father the viscount's power was necessary for all this.
"Subjugation is more dangerous than you think. Don't act recklessly, and stay close to the young duke. With Sir Centas accompanying him, safety is at least guaranteed."
"Don't worry. If I distinguish myself in the subjugation, the young duke and His Grace the duke will view Clifford differently."
"You still harbor vain dreams like your mother!"
Kasper flinched and lowered his head as the viscount suddenly berated him.
The viscount himself was an ambitious man, but he often lectured his wife the viscountess and their son Kasper for being overly greedy and causing trouble.
As a result, he would put on the face of a loving husband and father when there was profit to be had, and show his stern side like now when he was displeased, claiming to maintain family discipline.
As the discussion turned to the subjugation, no one paid proper attention to Hailen's son, yet the duke said he would remember the name of the commoner Gailront. How could Viscount Clifford's mood be pleasant when comparing the two? Even as he left the room, he recalled his son's unsatisfactory academy life that he already knew about.
In the midst of this, he showed his face, only to receive a bolt from the blue for no apparent reason.
"Even as a child, you conducted yourself in such a manner that you were expelled from the ducal estate. During this subjugation, refrain from any unnecessary antics and simply follow the young duke obediently."
"Silence. I've already made my own plans, so you just stay put."
"If you've made plans... Heria is staying at the ducal estate, it seems."
Heria was Kasper's cousin. When he entered the ducal estate, the girl he encountered had grown into a modest beauty to the point that he couldn't recall playing together with her as children. He had wondered why she wasn't in the capital during the prime socializing years, but as expected, there was an ulterior motive.
As Kasper had anticipated, the viscount intended to place his beautifully grown niece by the young duke's side. It wasn't an impossible prospect. If the duke's wife's family quietly secured the position of the young duke's fiancée, the vassal houses of the ducal family would inevitably voice their dissatisfaction.
Nobles typically married by their early twenties. The reason Hailen's marriage was delayed was because he was still pursuing his studies.
Hence, the viscount and other northern figures were anxious about the next duchess's position becoming vacant. With the young duke now in the Duchy Territory, what better opportunity could there be?
"She's a clever girl, but she won't easily seduce the young duke."
"It doesn't matter. Other houses have already agreed to participate. If there are even rumors that she's lost her maidenhood to the young duke, His Grace will have to consider it."
"Did Heria consent to this?"
Was it because he recalled the memory of having no younger sister and practically keeping her by his side? Kasper asked the question in an uncharacteristic manner. However, this was about as much kindness as he could muster.
The viscount did not answer, and Kasper knew he had to pretend not to know.
He was frustrated with his father for clinging so tightly to the Emmast ducal house alone. Unlike himself, who was approaching the young duke to gain favor with the Second Prince, his father needed to look at the bigger picture, he inwardly criticized the viscount.
However, the viscount was still Clifford's master. His permission was needed to utilize his wealth and people.
'He would surely object if he heard of my plan.'
Thus, Kasper devised a scheme.
"I shall follow my father's words. However, may I hire mercenaries directly as well?"
"As you said, there are many dangers in subjugation. If I hire mercenaries well-versed in subjugation and monsters to gather information beforehand, perhaps the young duke will look upon me favorably."
"Hmm, I like that idea. Very well. You may do as you please in that regard."
Viscount Clifford failed to notice the scheme of his son, who took entirely after him.
And Kasper harbored not a shred of hesitation about the evil he was about to commit.
They were indeed a father and son who resembled each other in many ways.



Chapter 48
On the day the extermination squad set out, most of the residents of the Duchy Territory came out and applied the red juice extracted from caropy fruit to their foreheads. It was a traditional ritual imbued with the northern superstition of driving away monsters.
"But they say the scent of caropy actually repels monsters."
"That's right. That's why many mercenaries like me carry caropy fruit powder in their pockets. They even smear it on their swords and weapons. Should I share some with you and your group, miss?"
'I told you not to call me miss.' Giving up on the futility of correcting him, Marina quietly asked Gailront instead, as he was one of the few who wouldn't tease her.
"I've never been on an extermination mission in the north before either. But it must be true. That mercenary said he has a lot of experience participating in northern extermination squads."
"I see? I thought it was odd that Kasper Clifford personally hired and brought him along. Seems his own safety was important."
Marina opened the pouch that the mercenary named Coton had shared. The powder that could be smelled even by human noses had a purplish hue.
"The juice looked red, but the powder changed color. Do you have a pouch? I'll share some with you."
"Are you still that uneasy that you cling to such superstitions?"
She glared at Nohan, who was mocking her inability to shake off her tension as the extermination drew nearer. But she didn't stop sharing the powder.
Watching the three of them, Coton turned away, struggling to hide his dark expression. He would take any job for money, but even he felt a pang of conscience about deceiving students who hadn't even graduated from the academy yet.
'I heard nobles can be quite vicious with their pranks among classmates.'
Coton, who knew the true nature of the blue substance mixed into the caropy powder, looked at the client who had entrusted him with this request along with a hefty sum. It was none other than Kasper, watching from afar.
In truth, it would be an exaggeration to call this a mere prank. That's why at first, he had tried to refuse Kasper's request. If only he hadn't incurred gambling debts from the big game he had participated in a few days ago.
"As you can see, I delivered it well."
"So it can really summon monsters?"
"Yes, it's a grass called gerong that I barely managed to obtain from monster hunters. It's odorless to humans, but monsters perceive it as sweeter than the blood of prey, so it's used as a lure."
"It would be troublesome if the other mercenaries found out."
"Don't worry. They're all ignorant about the north, and even if they're from the north, it's fine. Monster hunters are secretive and don't easily share their knowledge. That's how I knew about it and obtained the powder."
The reality-detached noble youth before him probably couldn't grasp what he was doing, but Coton, a veteran mercenary, knew. He knew how dangerous it was to spread an alluring scent to lure monsters toward the extermination squad.
As he said, few in the extermination squad would know about the gerong grass. Professional mercenaries who make monster extermination their livelihood and monster hunters, an occupation found only in the north, are on such bad terms that they would draw swords on each other if they met.
It was only natural. Mercenaries risked their lives to kill monsters, but monster hunters used knowledge only they possessed to lure monsters down from the mountains. Even if the monster materials like hides and bones they obtained made them money, how much damage did they cause to settlements?
For this reason, they were shunned not only by mercenaries but even by northerners. Only those like Coton, who had monster hunters in their families, could interact with them.
'The gerong scent is potent, but this small amount should be enough to merely harass the target as that noble desires. However, in the unlikely event of encountering an intelligent monster, avoid it. If such monsters use the scent as a lure, humans would become the prey.'
Although his uncle had warned that exterminating monsters went against the natural order, Coton never imagined he would throw a bomb into a procession that included his own nephew. What's more, he even cackled as he accepted part of the commission fee.
"If it ends up affecting the other extermination squads, it could become a problem."
'At least he was worried about that.'
"Don't worry. Monster hunters are experts when it comes to monsters. This knight from the north should know as well."
The knight whom Kasper had assigned to stay by his son's side, unable to even trust the mercenaries, nodded gloomily. He had tried to dissuade Emmast from this dangerous act, but Emmast had instead ordered him to keep quiet to Kasper.
"The mercenary isn't wrong. I've heard that monster hunters are so skilled, they even scoff at the superstition of applying caropy fruit."
"Is that so? Good. Still, just to be safe, we should keep our distance from them."
Watching Gailront with the distributed pouch, unaware of anything, Kasper felt satisfied. Despite the knight's concern about potentially having to inform the duke even now, and the mercenary ignoring his lingering unease in anticipation of the completion fee that would pay off his gambling debts.
The start of the extermination journey was fraught with unease from all sides.
The extermination squad of over three hundred led by Hailen entered the foothills of the mountain range. Having barely set foot inside the entrance, the treacherous terrain was so rugged that they would have to move at a turtle's pace to complete the planned extermination, taking an entire age.
In response to Hailen's question, the veteran knight Centas laughed aloud, saying this was simply how it was.
The problem arose when the vanguard that had gone ahead to scout for any changes over the past few days returned.
"The habitat is much closer than expected. I can't fathom the reason."
"In my life, I've never seen the monsters move around this frequently. There must be a reason."
"I agree with Sir Centas's opinion. Perhaps a predator has descended along the mountain range that forced them to relocate their habitat, even during their breeding season."
"Wouldn't it be better to reinforce our manpower in preparation for such a possibility?"
Those who had offered various opinions after listening to the vanguard's report could only look to Hailen, who held the decision-making authority.
"First, let's halt our advance and wait here. If, as you say, an overwhelming monster horde has descended that we cannot handle, it would be best to send word to His Grace and request reinforcements."
As Hailen made a decision contrary to their worries that the young duke might insist on marching forward regardless, relief washed over everyone's faces.
'Northerners really can't hide their thoughts, can they?'
With that wry thought, Hailen stepped outside the camp.
Though only a few hours had passed since daybreak, the sky was already obscured by the endless vegetation reaching upwards.
"Lord Hailen, is the discussion over?"
"Yes. For now, we'll wait here and request reinforcements."
"This is your last chance to return to the Duchy, Kelvin."
"Even if combat occurs, I'll quietly take refuge somewhere safe, so don't worry. And I was admitted to the academy for my swordsmanship, you know."
Kelvin clung to Hailen, a man who would likely need servants even at the mere mention of the word "monster." It was debatable whether such behavior could be called loyal.
"Right, they said everyone was over in that area?"
"Are you going to check?"
"Once the extermination begins in earnest, we won't have the leisure to look around. Come with me."
Since there was much preparation work needed for the encampment, few eyes followed the young duke Hailen's movements. After walking a little further, they heard a high-pitched voice rarely heard among the extermination squad.
"This is my first extermination, but I'm not tense at all."
Hailen smiled at her warm welcome. The nearby mercenaries' attention was drawn, but it was fortunate that Kasper's group was far away.
Of course, that was at his own request, a desire to avoid the threat of the monsters he had lured with his own machinations.
"To begin with, aren't you the same, young lord? Not to mention being the vice commander."
Nohan addressed him in a mocking tone. Gailront, following behind him, seemed to be preparing firewood, carrying an armful of chopped logs as if they weighed no more than a feather.
"It's something I'll have to get used to. Why, are you dissatisfied with being assigned under such an inadequate commander?"
"I would never make such a dreadful joke. I was in the wrong."
The light atmosphere seemed out of place for their location near a monster's den.
Perhaps because they had escaped the scrutinizing gazes treating them like test subjects, Hailen too could converse with a somewhat relaxed mind.
"You were Hanson, right?"
"You still remember my name."
He responded with a feigned casual expression, having secretly whispered to Marina, "Young lord? Why didn't you tell me?"
Even after Mirana's research topic on the swordsmanship of the Oclan Kingdom had changed years ago, they had frequented the mercenary guild, so they had exchanged greetings. Hailen's noble status was evident from his appearance alone, but being the heir to the Duchy of Emmast was beyond what Hanson had imagined.
Only Nohan seemed amused by Hanson's rare demeanor.
"You're quite attentive. Perhaps we were assigned under the young lord for a reason...?"
Nohan posed the unspoken question in a mischievous tone, guessing someone behind him wanted to ask it. Unfortunately, the response he received was not what he expected.
"The extermination squad assignments were decided through discussions for maximum efficiency. If you're dissatisfied with being under me, feel free to say so. Like Gail, who doesn't even acknowledge my presence."
He had no intention of deliberately bringing up something to sour the mood, but he ended up mentioning the one who stared intently at him alone without uttering a word.
Even the memory of himself praising Gailront before the Duke resurfaced, leaving him feeling not so great.
"Um... Young Lord, this is a powder made from caropy fruit that's said to repel monsters. I made a pouch for you as well. Would you like to have it?"
In an attempt to recover from the awkward atmosphere, Marina took out a pouch and offered it to Hailen.
Although he hadn't paid much attention to the Duchy Territory, Hailen was well-versed in the superstitions known to any northerner. Of course, he didn't believe in them, but feeling somewhat embarrassed by his own brusque demeanor just moments ago, he accepted what she was offering.
"I'm grateful that everyone has come forward like this for the sake of the residents of the Duchy Territory. This pouch included. But more importantly, keep in mind that your own safety is paramount."
As if this was what he had intended to say all along, his raised voice, audible even to the surrounding mercenaries, was undoubtedly that of an excellent commander aiming to boost the morale of the extermination squad.
Only Gailront, recalling Hailen's displeased gaze directed at him, let out a soft sigh.



Chapter 49
The sudden relocation of the monsters' habitats was an issue not just for Hailen's side, but for the entire extermination force, as word arrived that the Duchy Territory was also struggling with it. Unfortunately, they had no spare capacity to provide support. In the end, the knights had no choice but to proceed slowly with their current manpower.
They were able to easily eliminate the orcs, which had the largest population. Even in the face of the grisly scene stained with monster blood and corpses, Hailen remained unfazed as he issued orders, much to the satisfaction of the knights, including Centas.
This stood in stark contrast to Kelvin, who was the same age but had already fainted once and retreated to the rear camp.
"There are reports of traces of other monsters. Based on these signs, we suspect they are goblins, Lord Margrave."
"Goblins are more intelligent monsters than orcs, so we cannot proceed in the same manner as before."
Hailen had ample knowledge of monsters, even beyond what was prepared specifically for the extermination. The basics were taught at the swordsmanship academy he attended for a year, but he also studied them independently. He believed that no knowledge was useless, so he made no distinction in absorbing information.
"Let's change our original direction of advance. Leaving the goblin habitat behind us would be dangerous, as they could launch an ambush using the terrain. Are the remaining orcs showing no signs of trying to move?"
"No, for some reason they remain motionless even as their young are being killed."
"I wonder what kind of creature is in there. Since we can't expect any support, we must minimize casualties as much as possible. It would be best to proceed in a way that avoids injuries."
At first, Centas had commented on various matters as per the Duke's orders to assist the Margrave. The Antagoras Mountains were no trivial place where the entire extermination force could fall victim to monsters due to a single misjudgment by the commander.
However, he was gradually reducing his words, as Hailen's outstanding judgment belied his age of twenty. Not only did he apply his knowledge directly to the battlefield, but his ability to think on the same level as those with extensive experience in extermination was astonishing.
Particularly impressive was his deployment and utilization of the numerous extermination force personnel, making it seem as though this was not the first time the young Margrave had taken such a position.
Centas' thoughts were not wrong. Although Hailen had not been involved in monster extermination since arriving in the Duchy Territory and immediately returning to the capital, he had experience commanding forces larger than an extermination unit in his previous life.
The civil war that erupted simultaneously with the Crown Prince's investiture.
While using his son to support the Second Prince, the Margrave withdrew once armed conflict broke out, reasoning that utilizing Emmast's military might would burden him regardless of victory or defeat.
Naturally, the Second Prince was enraged by the Margrave's disloyal attitude in such a critical situation. Hailen stepped forward to deflect his wrath, serving as a symbol that Emmast had not abandoned the Second Prince despite having no war experience himself.
Perhaps even the experience of being a mere figurehead commander proved useful.
At the time, Hailen had made every effort to lead the civil war to victory and make his chosen lord the Emperor, but ultimately failed. After the civil war, Hailen had to step down from his position as Margrave.
To say he merely preserved his life would be an understatement, as the ensuing humiliation was almost unbearable. The surviving Second Prince's forces held Hailen responsible for the failure, and Emmast, the Margrave who easily emerged from the quagmire of defeat, readily abandoned his only son.
A bitter memory, but one with its uses, Hailen mused as he surveyed the gradually clearing aftermath of the battle.
Even though their habitats had been wiped out without a trace, the monsters charged instead of fleeing, acting on instinct in a manner that defied belief for mere beasts. Whatever being was driving the orcs to tremble in fear and rush headlong into the extermination force's blades would not be aided by those paltry memories.
Ironically, what was currently empowering Hailen was none other than an experience akin to Gailront's exploits. Hailen recalled the battle that had just concluded.
Trapped with no way out, the orcs desperately tried to defend their habitat, congregating in numbers far greater than anticipated. Though the ambush succeeded according to the planned strategy, the orcs' momentum instantly reached Hailen at the center of the camp.
Hailen had experienced staining his blade with the blood of Imperial citizens. Slaying monsters was merely a difference in their grotesque appearance. His swift evasion and swordplay as the orcs attacked were swifter and sharper than Emmast's swordsmanship.
Hailen knew he could not sever an orc's head, as large as a grown man's, with his strength alone. Anticipating his blade would become stuck in the monsters' tough muscles and unable to be withdrawn, he inflicted wounds through continuous slashing at a pace that overwhelmed even the orcs' remarkable regeneration.
The orc that ultimately collapsed with a roar appeared to have met its end, even to onlookers. What even Centas, who was nearby monitoring the Margrave's safety, failed to notice was the attack from the orc child clinging to its back like a corpse.
Though its small stature appeared no more than three or four years old by human standards, the orc child possessed remarkable destructive power.
"Lord Margrave, be careful!"
The first to react to the belated warning from the veteran knight was not Hailen.
With two strokes, the orc child and the approaching massive orc reacted by having their necks severed in an instant. It was a scene that seemed unbelievable for a human's strength. Knights and mercenaries alike, even in the midst of combat, let out exclamations of awe.
'It looked like the blade was glowing, but maybe it was just an illusion.'
Though the figure before him had earned the legendary title of Sword Master, there was still much time left before he could attain the heroic moniker. Hailen decided to keep his suspicions rather than dismiss them outright.
"Gail, this isn't your assigned area. Let's talk after we're done here."
Monsters wouldn't simply stand by while they conversed. Many, including the two of them, swung their blades again and again. It took a full hour before the situation was finally resolved.
"So the youth who helped you earlier was named Gailront."
"Helped? I was merely doing my duty."
"Haha, of course. Since you're sponsored by Emmast, you must prioritize the Margrave's safety above all else."
Hailen gazed in the direction where Gailront stood, showing no sign of having heard his invitation to converse. It was quite a distance from where Hailen had been, yet somehow Gailront had managed to approach so swiftly, an inexplicable feat.
It was only natural for Hailen to wonder how Gailront had started sticking close to him from the moment the orcs charged into the center of the extermination force, as he had failed to notice it.
"Even I couldn't have severed an orc's neck that easily."
One of the knights who had witnessed the earlier scene expressed genuine admiration. Many others also seemed curious about Gailront's skills.
Though some appeared uncomfortable with a mere commoner receiving such attention.
"Once he graduates and receives a knighthood, he'll naturally join Emmast's knight order. The youth seems exceptionally loyal to the Margrave."
Hailen didn't provide a direct answer, but no one would mistake his meaning as anything other than affirmative.
Thanks to the wise judgments and remarkable feats of a few individuals, the extermination force's prospects seemed bright.
The smooth progress of the extermination force came to a halt when they discovered the cause of the monsters' inexplicable behavior.
"Ogres? In my nearly forty years as a knight, I've never seen such monsters in the north! Are you certain?"
"Five scouts were ambushed, and four died on the spot. The sole survivor, before perishing, described their appearance and behavior as matching ogres."
It was such a dire situation that addressing the emergence of these formidable ogres took precedence over expressing sorrow for the fallen. Driven by the urgency, even mercenaries reputed to be knowledgeable about monsters joined the discussions usually reserved for knights.
Cotton, who was recommended by his mercenary guild master for having a monster hunter in the family, wiped his cold sweat with effort.
'Damn, ogres. I've never even heard of such creatures.'
He had trembled upon hearing the wails of the massive orcs, then fainted at the sight of their corpses, his only task being to guard his client Kasper. Now he had to stay on high alert, worried that whatever he had done might cause some problem.
Fortunately, those possessing Gailront's powder all seemed above average in skill, handling the monsters well. Though perplexed by the monsters swarming their direction, they didn't seem particularly suspicious. His only concern was whether he could receive the completion reward.
"Does anyone know about ogres?"
"I've heard tales. They're said to dwell deep within the Antagoras Mountains. Not the kind of monster you'd expect to find in these shallow areas."
"It's been established for years that rare monsters have been appearing. If ogres have made a habitat in this region as well..."
A mercenary trailed off, closing his eyes as if the mere thought was dreadful.
"First, let's summarize what we know about ogres. And I'd like to see the report containing the testimony of the survivor who returned."
"Here it is, Lord Margrave."
That night, when the extermination force's progress was once again halted, the goblins who had been hiding after sensing the danger from humans launched an unexpected attack. As the threat of the ogres drew near, they exhibited behavior unlike their usual selves in order to survive.
Observing the direction of these monsters, the ogres certainly seemed to have targeted the extermination force. In the command tent, discussions raged without pause, keeping the fire burning.
Many speculated on the reasons why the extermination force had become the ogres' target. The corpses of the monsters they had slain thus far, or the mere clusters of people who were nothing but food to the ogres, were cited as possibilities. But Cotton could not help but feel uneasy, given his own actions.
'If ogres are intelligent monsters, they might remember the scent and follow it to the end.'
Worried that the scent of the Gairong he had retrieved might have lured the ogres, Cotton approached Gailront's group late at night when everyone else was asleep.
A casual exchange of banter with the mercenaries standing guard by the fire was enough. His plan was to secretly retrieve the pouches from the three who had collapsed from exhaustion after the battle, nothing more.
That is, unless someone was present whose senses were sharper than even a beast's.
"You said your name was Cotton, didn't you? What business do you have here?"
Facing those pitch-black eyes, their pupils invisible in the darkness, sent a chill down Cotton's spine. Doubting whether this person, who exuded a presence no less formidable than a monster, was truly the twenty-year-old youth he appeared to be, Cotton could only force an awkward laugh.
"I just stepped out for a bit and got disoriented in the dark."
As Cotton hurriedly retreated, Gailront's gaze was icy, but he merely regarded him as one of the scoundrels trying to approach Marina, who was resting nearby.
Without even considering that an odorless scent might emanate from the pouches he carried in his possession.



Chapter 50
The ogres indeed caused damage incomparable to the monsters commonly seen in extermination missions. Not only were their bodies several times larger than orcs, but their hands covered in tough hide could crush a person with a single swing. The bigger problem was that these monsters possessed high intelligence.
With an agility that allowed them to dart through the deep forests as if it were their home, they assaulted the extermination squad's vanguard and rear with no distinction, deploying tactics akin to soldiers executing strategies. From what they had discerned, there were only two ogres. Yet even with such small numbers, casualties continued to mount.
"Even elite knights struggle against these beasts. The biggest issue is that they immediately flee when the tide turns against them."
"Even if we give chase, it's difficult to keep up, and we can't ignore the other monsters in the vicinity."
"There's simply no way to predict the ogres' movements. At this rate, we'll be helpless. The night raids also prevent us from resting, which is another problem."
The bodies of those exchanging these grave words were covered in wounds, one or two each.
Above all, in their position where they could only be protected, it was embarrassing to have an uninjured body. Hailen reached into the pouch hanging from his waist that he had received from Marina.
'It's a situation where one wants to cling to superstition.'
The unconscious habit of constantly fiddling with it must be an expression of his underlying anxiety. Even for Hailen, the burden of having people's lives hinge on his judgment was immense.
As the leader of the extermination squad, he tried to maintain composure at all times, but the sheer might of the ogres he had witnessed with his own eyes could not help but shake that composure.
"I believe it's time we consider retreating."
"That's unacceptable. If we leave the ogres here, they'll undoubtedly descend upon the villages."
"But we can't put the young lord in danger either."
"Then how about splitting our forces? One group could escort the young lord to the rear while the other engages the ogres."
Even if he displayed boldness and judgment unbecoming of his age, they could not ignore his position as the duchy's only son. At this moment, they were not testing the young lord who had come from the capital, but showing their true sincerity.
Hailen did not wish to invite danger either. If he were truly the master of this position and destined to rule the Duchy Territory in the future, he would have fought with all his might to defend it. Disregarding the duchy's safety and fleeing would impact the authority he would wield.
"For now, I believe it is too early to discuss retreating," the young lord spoke, drawing everyone's attention. Even Centas had hoped Hailen would suggest fleeing in this situation. Were not seasoned warriors falling one by one to the ogres' hands?
"I do not intend to stubbornly resist, Captain Centas. One of the ogres sustained injuries from the previous attack, did it not? I judge that severing its lifeline before it recovers can mitigate future calamities. After that, whether I retreat alone or we all withdraw can be discussed later."
With no logical flaws, Centas struggled to conceal his unease as he replied, "I shall follow your will."
At least, the wise young lord did not seem to disregard the duchy's citizens' safety, easing the tense atmosphere somewhat.
A strategy was devised to expend all efforts in slaying the injured ogre, and the extermination squad gritted their teeth in preparation. Many sought vengeance for their fallen comrades, including Marina.
"No matter what, I will slay that ogre," she growled, tightly bandaging her injured wrist. If Marquis Wilson saw his daughter insisting on joining the extermination, he would be aghast at her unladylike behavior.
She had known that reality differed from imagination, but she had not expected it to be so gruesome. One of the mercenaries whose face she had become familiar with was torn apart and killed in the ogre's grasp. The thought that crossed her mind upon witnessing that scene before her eyes was:
"Don't overdo it. Stay calm, alright?"
Nohan's tone lacked any hint of his usual playfulness, a stark contrast from his usual demeanor. He was beginning to suspect that the difficulty of this extermination went beyond just the region's circumstances.
At first, he had thought the monsters' relentless attacks on their group were mere coincidence. Then, he wondered if Gailront's overwhelming power had provoked the monsters.
However, Hanson, who had taken extermination requests in various regions besides his southern homeland, said differently. "Monsters instinctively avoid those stronger than themselves; they don't recklessly charge like this. It's strange."
Weariness invited dark thoughts. One mercenary even spouted nonsense, suggesting Marina's presence as a woman might be the cause.
Her first real battle, the death of a comrade, the appearance of monstrous beasts, and now baseless suspicions. It was understandable why Marina would be so consumed by malice.
"Gail, I'm not worried about you, but don't push yourself too hard looking out for the others."
It was when one of the ogres suddenly changed direction and ambushed them that Nohan truly realized there was a problem. Had Gailront not been present, they would have lost even more lives to the monsters' inexplicable fixation on them.
Gailront's response betrayed no hint of tension. Yet Nohan, who knew better than anyone how much the young lord agonized beneath that placid facade and how considerate he was of those around him, could not help but worry.
"...Since the young lord will be safe, stop worrying about him during combat. You'll only end up getting hurt yourself."
Especially if Gailront did not respond positively.
And that night, the previously clear weather took an abrupt turn, with a downpour beginning to fall.
The ogre that the extermination squad sought to capture, its right arm nearly severed, did not readily reveal itself. However, once reconnaissance confirmed it had not strayed far from the area, they prepared for the impending battle.
The problem was the incessant downpour.
The northern region had low rainfall, but near the Antagoras Mountains, there were periods when it would pour for days on end. While not unexpected, the timing could not have been more inopportune.
"Lord Hailen, it's a cloak mercenaries use. Made from animal hide that repels raindrops."
"Who did you get it from?"
It was Hailen who noticed the awkward smile of the one who had brought the cloak, realizing who it was from.
While Gailront showed such attentiveness toward him as before the Jacob incident, Hailen could not help but feel he no longer understood the young lord, who was so different from his usual self.
Or had he ever truly intended to understand him?
Hailen accepted the cloak Kelvin handed him and looked up.
The downpour was so fierce that even his long eyelashes could not shield his eyes. Kelvin, aware that his lord's mood would inexplicably sink on rainy days, could only give up trying to stop him.
And as if reflecting Hailen's melancholy at the falling rain, the ogres' sudden ambush began not long after.
"Impossible. Three of them!"
With someone's cry, the ogres charged with bellowing roars. The pitfalls set up as defensive measures were instantly demolished by their tremendous brute force and heavy stomping. Whether intentional or not, their attack from three directions swiftly scattered the formation they had hastily assembled.
"We have no choice but to split into three groups and take one each," Hailen said. "Captain Centas."
"But I cannot leave the young lord's side unguarded! Especially since that one keeps relentlessly attacking us. We're at our limit just holding it off."
"If you're worried about my safety, then follow my orders. At least it's better than facing all three of them. If you want to send me safely back to the Duchy Territory, you have no choice but to lead the others and take down at least one!"
Hailen shouted as he cut down goblins chasing after the ogres and attacking people. There was no fault in his words, so Centas had no choice but to move away from the young lord's side with a few knights.
Screams echoed from all corners of the extermination squad. The cries of excited, rampaging orcs and goblins joined the fray. The roars emanating from the ogres, in particular, were so tremendous that they seemed to shake the very space around them.
Hailen's head grew cold. The threat looming so close was one he hadn't faced in far too long.
After all he had been through, after even taking a life, he never imagined he would face such a crisis from mere monsters.
'At least I can't die here.'
The ogre targeting the center, the one the extermination squad had aimed for, lost its balance when the lower part of its precariously hanging arm fell off. Seeing this, a glint shone in Hailen's emerald eyes.
"I don't know the reason, but it seems to be targeting us, so it might be good to use bait. Is there anyone who knows which way leads to the ravine?"
"I know, my lord! It's over there!"
"Good. If we try to capture it with our strength alone, we'll only lose precious lives. Using the terrain to deal with it is the best solution in this situation. Does everyone understand what I mean?"
The knights and a few mercenaries joined them, forming a formation centered around the young lord, and slowly moved.
As Hailen said, the ogre, which had been strangely charging only at them, followed them to the vicinity of the ravine, leaving a few casualties in its wake, seemingly unaware that it was being led.
And there, not far from that spot, Marina, now accustomed to the knack of slicing through monster hides, cut off an orc's leg and shouted.
"Got it. I don't know who said my sword lacks combat effectiveness!"
With a battle cry, Nohan swung his greatsword down with both hands, instantly finishing off the orc that Marina's attack had brought to its knees.
However, the problem was the ogre, whose massive frame seemed to dwarf even Nohan's proudly large blade to a child's toy.
Having cleared the surrounding area, Nohan quickly located Gailront. It was an astonishing sight to see a single person holding off the massive monster that had slain countless mercenaries and knights.
"Anyone who's done over there, come support this side!"
"While he's keeping it busy, try and bind its legs!"
"But he's as much a monster as that thing, isn't he?"
Even a moment's inattention could pose a grave threat, as the ogre was clearly no easy foe even for Gailront.
In particular, its tough hide made it difficult for ordinary blades to inflict wounds. So many had swarmed just to sever one of the ogre's arms.
There was only one way. The reason Gailront had not used it until now was that he had realized through his training how much stamina an incomplete release of his power would drain.
"Wait, it looks like one of the ogres is following the command group now?"
At the mercenary's shout, Gailront's head whipped around in an instant. Unable to see someone who should have been there, his solid stance faltered. The monster's instincts did not miss that opening.
Simultaneous with Nohan's warning cry, Gailront's sword lashed out in a single sweeping arc.
In that moment, everyone could only doubt their eyes. A single sword strike that cleanly severed the thick, tough neck of the ogre. How could such a feat be possible by human strength?
It was only when they saw the aura lingering on the sword Gailront held that the onlookers realized the reason.
"Am I really seeing this?"
The light enveloping the sword no longer flickered unstably like before, but shone with a refined, distinct radiance. No one would be unaware of the word to describe it.
"You've finally awakened your sword ki... Gail, where are you going?"
Yet perhaps the only one not focused on the scene that could be called legendary was Gailront himself.
Not even turning back at Nohan's call, Nohan realized where he was rushing off to without needing to ask, and raised his sword again.
At least with the Sword Master by their side, he thought they need not worry about dying here.




Chapter 51
Many were swept away by the flailing motions of the ogre struggling to maintain its balance. Even after reaching the ravine, approaching its massive body risked one's life. At least no damage was done to the destroyed structures after luring it out of the dense mountain terrain, so the decision to draw it out was correct.
However, pushing the ogre off the cliff proved more difficult than anticipated.
"Oh, don't come any closer. Aaargh!"
"Everyone hold your ground so we can push it over. Just a little longer..."
"The rope tied to the ogre has snapped, Young Duke!"
With the sacrifice of one mercenary's life, they had barely managed to secure the rope around the ogre's leg as thick as an ancient tree trunk, but now it was free again. Driven solely by bloodlust from excessive bleeding, the ogre advanced toward any stimulus it could sense.
Hailen had to crane his neck to look up at it, yet strangely felt as if the ogre's gaze met his own.
'Is it just my imagination that it's fixated on me?'
There was no time to leisurely entertain such uncertain suspicions. For safety, Hailen, who had been on the opposite side from the cliff edge, ordered the two knights beside him to protect him.
"We'll have to lure it ourselves."
"Stay here, Young Duke. We'll provide support."
In the brief exchange, the mercenaries clinging to the severed rope were flung aside by the ogre's attack.
Realizing that further delay would render their efforts to lure it here futile, the knight nodded reluctantly and said,
"Then I'll go in first to draw its attention."
Hailen gripped his sword tightly, carefully observing the ogre's movements. Though sluggish and slow, each of its motions triggered tremendous aftershocks. It was for this reason that the mercenaries skilled in Emmast swordsmanship had higher survival rates than the knights.
Considering this, Hailen knew he was best suited to seize an opening and lure the beast toward the cliff through the perilous method.
Naturally assuming the knights would try to dissuade him as the Young Duke, Hailen swiftly charged at the ogre without warning. Startled, the knights called out to him but unhesitatingly followed.
The ogre was not so dimwitted as to simply lower its head when prey emitting a sweet scent burrowed below. Letting out a roar, it turned its massive body, revealing a landscape obscured by the downpour and a small figure.
Failing to notice the stream swelling below from the rain, the ogre simply rushed toward its target.
"Young Duke, you must evade!" one knight cried out, unable to keep up with Hailen's swift movements.
The ogre had approached close enough to trample him. Having never faced it at such proximity, Hailen froze, gripped by its ferocious aura, before commanding his body to move.
Amidst the roaring waterfall, the ogre's terrifying roars, the knights' shouts, and the clamor of fending off other monsters, Hailen flung himself in a direction away from the ogre's charge. Before he could register the pain of scraping the ground, an immense presence loomed over his fallen form.
A chill ran down his spine, followed by silence.
"Stay focused until the end!"
"Are you alright, Young Duke?"
As his muffled hearing returned, Hailen rose with the aid of the knight's support. Even though it had just happened, he could not properly recall how he had evaded the ogre's massive body.
"We must confirm it fell below for certain."
"It would be perilous to approach too closely. Allow me to check."
Due to the updrafts between the ravines and the pouring rain, even the immediate vicinity was obscured from view. It was the reason the ogre, despite losing its sanity, had charged forward without hesitation, exhibiting judgment uncharacteristic of a monster.
At the very moment a knight approached the cliff's edge to verify, it happened.
The ogre's roar, which should not have been heard. A chill ran down Hailen's entire body.
A massive face emerged as the ground crumbled, its gaping maw crushing the knight before it with sheer jaw strength alone. The ogre had managed to avoid falling by reflexively jamming one arm into a crevice, bracing itself with its survival instinct.
The fortunate aspect was that with its other arm severed, it lacked a hand to grasp and pull itself up the cliff face.
However, the brief respite was short-lived. Moving solely by instinct, the ogre shattered the area it was braced against, seemingly unconcerned about falling itself, and leapt upwards with tremendous force from its legs.
The thought, "This time, I'm going to die," flashed through Hailen's mind.
Despite having already experienced death long ago, it felt different, perhaps because he could envision his body being torn apart by the monster before him. Unable to even close his eyes in anticipation of the pain.
And what he saw before him.
'So that light was no illusion.'
As if his fear had vanished, only cold reason remained, allowing such a thought.
The familiar silhouette and trajectory of light that effortlessly repelled the ogre back over the cliff's edge into the ravine. A familiar situation and figure's appearance.
Hailen let out an incredulous laugh.
"That statement is getting quite tiresome."
"If you had shown such might sooner, I would not have been in danger."
Though not the attitude one should show to the one who saved his life, Hailen glared irritably at Gailront.
In particular, his gaze was drawn to the sword Gailront gripped in his hand, unable to help it.
The presence of the sword, radiating such a vivid light that it made Hailen forget about surveying the ongoing battle, recalling the near-death crisis moments ago, or even collecting the remains of someone whose form could no longer be recognized—its existence was that overwhelming.
And it was not just Hailen; Gailront, sensing the surrounding gazes, dissipated the energy he had focused into the sword. The sword aura he had finally perfected consumed less energy than before, but if he continued wasting it, it would only deplete his own stamina.
"A Sword Master, you say. It feels like a dream."
One of the knights nearby uttered an admiring remark but then noticed his fallen comrade's death and made a gloomy expression. At Hailen's nod, he removed the robe shielding him from the rain and draped it over the gruesome remains, but any further mourning would have to cease here.
Still, monsters lingered nearby, and the death of the predator that had instilled fear seemed to embolden them gradually.
"It's dangerous here, so let's relocate."
"At least the rear is unlikely to be ambushed, so isn't this terrain as safe for combat as it gets?"
"The ground has been significantly weakened by the earlier impact from the ogre."
Despite Hailen's curt tone, Gailront merely responded without being affected by his attitude, expressing his indifference.
Was that what irked Hailen? Or was it the resurfacing of an underlying sense of inferiority toward the prodigious swordsman who had attained the rank of 'Sword Master' far earlier than in his previous life?
Even recognizing his excessive reaction, Hailen found it difficult to regain his composure.
'No, it was always like this when it involved that guy.'
Admitting it left a foul taste, but it was an undeniable fact.
As if eyeing the ogre's vacant spot, a few orcs approached them. It was only natural for Hailen to wonder why the feral monsters failed to sense the threat posed by the being who could cleave them in an instant.
"Even if we relocate, it will be after clearing this area."
"You mean we should move swiftly, then."
"Will you obey if I give the order?"
Without answering, Hailen glared at Gailront's back as if he were guarding him. It shouldn't be unsatisfying to have the Sword Master accompany them in this safest of situations.
Still, he had to clear his mind and grip his sword again. His lofty pride wouldn't allow him to be protected by none other than Gailront.
Once more, he couldn't have imagined the moment when he would have to admit his own foolishness.
As Gailront had worried, the cliff they stood on was gradually crumbling from the earlier impact combined with the relentless downpour. The noise of falling rocks and dirt was drowned out by the torrential rain, preventing them from noticing.
The first to sense the anomaly was Gailront, whose senses had now surpassed human limits and become acutely sensitive.
What could take precedence over the survival instinct against impending danger?
Yet Gailront's reflexive action was aimed at ensuring the safety of the one person he had focused all his attention on.
Whirling around, he snatched the smaller figure and shoved him inward with a nimbleness even the knights guarding the Young Duke couldn't perceive.
By the time the flung and sprawled Hailen registered the situation, the original terrain had vanished from his immediate vicinity.
He could not believe this moment where the knights by his side, the fallen comrade whose body was draped with a cloak, the monsters they had been confronting moments ago, and—
The overwhelming presence that none could fail to sense, Gailront himself, had all vanished.
His trembling body could not properly rise from the sudden calamity. Without the leisure to maintain his dignity, Hailen rushed over and peered down. Amid the rising hazy mist, there was no trace of anything left.
Even as someone grabbed and moved him precariously at the cliff's edge, Hailen's gaze did not leave that spot.
"Gailront!" The loud voices of Nohan and Marina, who had approached near the precipice. "We lost the ogre." Centas saying so while inquiring about the Young Duke's safety. "A Sword Master, you say?" Others murmuring without fully grasping the situation.
"Lord Hailen, is it true that Gailront fell into the ravine below?"
After the battle settled, Kelvin, who had been in the relatively safe rear, approached to check on his master's well-being and asked about the ominous news he overheard.
Only then could Hailen answer that it was true.
Yet he still could not believe it.



Chapter 52
"Do you know how deep the ravine goes down? There's no chance of survival."
"He's a Sword Master, no less. His physical abilities must have transcended human limits."
"I find it doubtful you saw correctly in the midst of battle. Are you really saying that's what happened?"
"Among those who witnessed the form of his sword ki was the Young Duke himself. Mind your words, soldier."
It wasn't simply that Gailront was looking down on a commoner, as people often do. To the knights, the Sword Master was a legendary figure. The knight was merely displeased that his missing comrade who fell with him wasn't mentioned in the discussion.
"Even if we do conduct an actual search, there's much to consider. The swollen waters have made the current too swift. If the rain resumes, descending into the ravine itself would be perilous."
"There's still one ogre left. I can't allow the Young Duke to remain in danger any longer."
For Centas too, it wasn't easy to simply give up on the existence of the Sword Master that he had only heard tales of. In his nearly forty years as a knight, he hadn't even glimpsed the edge of that realm.
However, above all else, the safety of Hailen, the Young Duke, had to be his priority. He only regretted his lack of skill that prevented him from dealing with the ogre that got away.
'It seems my sword has rusted.'
"Leaving the escaped ogre alone is quite risky. Whether we search or retreat, it's bound to be a major hindrance, is it not?"
"Is there any guarantee that was the last one? As I said, we should have retreated sooner!"
"Thanks to that, we took down two ogres. Are you saying our previous decision was wrong?"
"Have you considered how many casualties there might be?"
"Their noble sacrifices prevented greater loss of life."
Even if not entirely of one mind, the command staff's discussion was no longer as smooth as before.
The unease stemmed not only from the unexpected presence of a Sword Master, and the fact that the powerful swordsman who had dispatched two ogres was now gone, but also from the Young Duke being unable to take charge while having to watch his words around them.
Unlike other times, Hailen simply watched the chaotic scene unfold with sunken eyes, neither mediating nor making any decisions. Kelvin, who stood guard beside him, thought he was still in shock from losing Gailront right before his eyes.
That thought wasn't entirely wrong, though the meaning was different.
'Gailront dying here of all places?'
Hailen hadn't even entertained the assumption that Gailront was dead.
And how could he? Who was Gailront? He was the one who, even after being cruelly punished and exiled at the mere age of sixteen with nothing to his name, had stubbornly survived and made a brilliant return before Hailen's very eyes.
That wasn't all. Hailen had tried countless methods to get rid of him - luring him, poisoning, plotting, ambushing. If any of those methods had succeeded, Hailen wouldn't have met such a death in his previous life.
A tenacious, tenacious life. And in the midst of it all, Gailront had gained fame and trust, acquiring everything Hailen had desired, even that maddeningly hateful appearance. In the end, wasn't it because of Gailront's stubborn survival that Hailen had been forced to resort to the forbidden?
"At the very least, shouldn't the Young Duke retreat?"
It was Centas who first spoke to the Young Duke, lost in thought as he watched the unpleasant sight of everyone endlessly asserting their own claims. Like Kelvin, Centas assumed Hailen was still in shock from the battle, so his tone was quite cautious.
But Hailen's face showed not a hint of unease when he received those words.
"You're suggesting that if we pull out manpower for a retreat, it'll be difficult to both search and deal with the remaining ogre, aren't you, Sir Centas?"
"Even so, you are the sole heir who will one day lead the Duchy Territory, Young Duke."
"So you're saying my life is more important than the lives of the territory's people who might die from the rampaging ogre."
"After reorganizing our forces, we could hunt it down again later...!"
"If the remaining ogre establishes a lair here with any other individuals, I wonder what this coming winter will be like."
It was the worst assumption, but if it became reality, more than just a few of the duchy's people would perish. Yet even knowing that, the old knight was saying the Young Duke's life was more valuable.
'He truly has no idea he's abandoning the truth.'
Suddenly, Hailen found it utterly ridiculous how easily those before him were willing to give up the search.
The sight he beheld through the truth only he knew was so bizarre. If they knew Gailront was the Duke's only son, how would they have reacted?
Instead of the people's safety, the loyal old knight of Emmast who chose retreat would have risked his life to search if needed. The knight doubting the Sword Master's reputation out of personal grievances would instantly show reverence towards Gailront and kneel before him.
What did their claims matter? A noble had gone missing. Whether he died to the remaining ogre or not, they would decide on the search as if sacrificing the lives of the expedition.
A vivid scene, even without witnessing it.
And the one deciding all this was none other than himself, who had usurped Gailront's position.
The decision to be made under the premise that Gailront was alive.
What that decision would be had yet to be determined, but with his current conflicted feelings, it didn't seem likely to be positive.
Cotton could no longer hesitate.
His client Kasper, who had been shocked by his first real battle at the start of the expedition, had immediately retreated to the rear under the pretext of prioritizing treating the wounded over direct combat. He hadn't sustained a single injury, but his status had allowed it.
The academy students who had followed him looked down on Kasper for abandoning his honor and fleeing, but it didn't matter. Hadn't he been the one to swallow humiliation and kneel when necessary?
However, no matter how far back he was, combat couldn't be avoided entirely. Having witnessed the tremendous existence of the ogre from afar, he was gripped by such terror that he even dropped the sword he had been holding.
It was an utterly shameful sight, considering even Kelvin, who had mocked the art department as a place for commoners, had mustered the courage to wield his sword against the monster.
And the situation became difficult for Cotton, who had been hired as Kasper's nominal bodyguard. He had to stand shoulder to shoulder with the other mercenaries in the extermination force instead of Kasper, who kept failing to do his part. This was contrary to his expectation of being able to leisurely guard the foolish noble.
Even Cotton, who had ample experience in monster extermination, felt an overwhelming pressure that made him want to flee from the ogre's presence. Especially if he had committed a certain act.
Even amidst the frantic battle, Cotton couldn't help but be distracted by Gailront's group, who had the pouch he had handed over. Especially since he was trying to keep his distance from them, just in case.
And when the third ogre appeared, he became certain.
What did the ogre's movements toward Gailront's group, treating them as the same prey, signify?
Yet they claimed that a mere academy student was a Sword Master who had dispatched two ogres while emitting sword ki. Cotton, who had missed the sight of the sword ki, couldn't believe it and only thought the danger had decreased since the pouch had fallen into the ravine along with him.
What he found strange was the command staff's failure to immediately issue further orders.
Last night, Cotton heard the story from a mercenary in the same guild.
"That guy Gailront really seems to be a Sword Master. I overheard them talking about searching or something near the central camp. Well, I guess you'd have to be a Sword Master to take down monstrous ogres like that."
At those words, Cotton found himself replying without thinking, "Then what happens if the remaining ogre attacks now that he's gone?"
That was the background that led him to seek out the client who had dragged him into this dreadful situation.
"You came at just the right time! From now on, you'll guard me by my side."
"The knight guarding the Young Duke..."
It was only after seeing Kasper's pale face that Cotton realized he had perished in this attack.
That knight had been skilled enough for Duke Clifford to assign him to guard his son. Unlike Cotton, who survived for so long through cunning rather than force.
Witnessing the death of such a man, Cotton could no longer hesitate.
"It might be better to speak up about it."
"What are you saying we should say?"
"I can't shake the thought that the scent of the gairong I provided might be the problem. I can't be certain it didn't attract the ogres."
"What nonsense. Didn't you say the range affected would be small?"
"For regular monsters, perhaps. But ogres are monsters we know almost nothing about. Even monster hunters might have blind spots."
"So you're saying the ogre's attack..."
Kasper's mouth closed. Even with his head dulled by fear, his keen reaction to anything that could harm him hadn't faded.
The toll on the extermination force from the ogres was immense. They had suffered such losses that command was discussing retreat before even reaching the halfway point. Even Kasper, who had remained in the rear, knew how many had died. He had frequently witnessed the horrific wounds of the injured.
But more than any feelings for them, his own safety came first - that was the essence of the young man Kasper.
"If word of this gets out, we're all doomed!"
"But there are still those who have the gairong scent. If it attracts more ogres..."
"Any other way? Stealing or swapping it out in secret?"
"I tried, but failed. They refused when I asked for it back directly."
"Any further mention will only raise suspicion. The gairong must absolutely not be revealed!"
After hearing his powerful client's command, Cotton finally realized how foolish his judgment had been, clouded by fear of the ogre.
If the command staff learned of his actions, what would happen?
Whether the gairong's scent truly attracted the ogres or not, the mere fact that he had brought such a dangerous substance to the extermination force would be enough for him to be summarily executed by the Duchy of Emmast, if not the entire force.
'I'll be put to death without a proper trial.'
Now he considered it fortunate that the knight guarding his client Kasper had lost his life. That knight knew the true nature of Cotton's commission from Kasper and had seemed suspicious of him, so if he had survived, he might have revealed the truth about the gairong.
'Damn, it seems they're already suspicious.'
He recalled the woman named Marina, who had looked at him strangely when he directly refused to return the pouch.
"Or what about this method?"
Cotton considered the individuals who had witnessed him handing over the pouch. Fortunately for him, they had either lost their lives to the ogre or were gravely wounded.
"We testify about the ogre's abnormal behavior and reveal the gairong."
"Didn't I say that's not an option? Such foolishness..."
"And we shift the blame onto them. Then the danger from the gairong and to us will disappear. I'll claim I never handed it over."
Though flawed in many ways, it was an enticing proposal. Kasper's expression brightened slightly.
Afterwards, the two exchanged various remarks, Cotton's words flowing endlessly as if he felt no guilt towards the dead or the young students.
As a result, he failed to notice at all. That someone was secretly listening to their conversation.
Nohan whispered lowly as he restrained the enraged Marina, who was about to draw her sword.
"Calm down. Killing them would only make us the guilty ones."
"Then what should we do?"
Marina's hazel eyes, filled with sorrow over her missing friend, froze over with cold determination.
"First, we need to strike preemptively."



Chapter 53
The command tent at the center of the punitive force was open for anyone to enter freely. This was not a war against people, and after the ogres appeared, even mercenaries participated in strategy discussions.
As the two approached the command tent, they discussed the matter at hand, relieved that they had finally followed in Cotton's footsteps after initially dismissing their suspicions.
"That pouch, the Young Duke took it too."
The assumption that mere powder could have summoned the ogres was still hard to believe. Marina felt guilty recalling how she hadn't even suspected anything in the past. The thought of Gailront, whose life or death was unknown after falling off the ravine, made her feel even worse.
"At least it's certain the Young Duke won't stay idle."
"Will this interfere with forming a search party?"
Nohan had no proper response to give to the anxious Marina.
The search had already been delayed. He was filled with the desire to leave the punitive force and find his friend, whom he believed was definitely alive. If not for the mercenaries from their guild and Marina, who were also part of the punitive force, he would have already left.
As if aware of their impatience, heated discussions about the search were taking place inside the tent.
But the words that reached them outside made the two freeze.
"If that commoner Gailront hadn't been suspected of being a Sword Master, this discussion would have ended long ago. Is there really a possibility he's still alive?"
"You're belittling the value of a Sword Master. That's a realm that transcends the human body. If he returns alive, he'll be an immense asset to the Empire."
"But he's not the only one missing, is he? Not a single knight from the Emmast Order has returned either. I don't think this is the time to be wasting time like this."
"If we divert manpower to search and end up provoking the fleeing ogres, what then? Forget the search, we must evacuate the Young Duke to safety immediately. No matter how great a Sword Master he may be, the life of a commoner cannot be weighed against the body of our future Duke!"
"Who said anything like that... Young Duke, this wretch is slandering me now."
The chaotic din with no regard for discretion. Nohan gritted his teeth.
"Even if we have to take responsibility for leaving the punitive force, we should have gone to find Gailront ourselves."
Hearing Marina's voice tinged with the same indignation he felt, Nohan was so enraged he could scarcely express his affirmation.
He had thought the delay in the search was to find a relatively safe method due to the lingering ogre threat. He never imagined they would hesitate to attempt a search at all.
How foolish of him to forget how little these nobles valued the lives of commoners like themselves. Should he consider it fortunate that Gailront had completed and demonstrated his sword ki before going missing?
'And yet, Young Duke, you should have been different.'
The underlying reason he did not immediately rush out to find Gailront must have been that the decision-maker of the punitive force was none other than Hailen.
Throughout the intense punitive campaign, had Hailen not witnessed with his own eyes someone constantly on alert, unhesitatingly throwing their body into danger?
It was a devotion rarely seen even among knights sworn to protect the Young Duke.
Nohan found it all the more unbearable, knowing the true nature of Gailront's feelings for Hailen.
After the single utterance, "My father has passed away," Gailront gradually fell silent, dedicating himself solely to training, as if it were all he had left to cling to.
Nohan vaguely understood Gailront's intentions, what he had wanted.
The sight of Hailen, who did not utter a single word amidst those prattling about status and efficiency, not even expressing concern that Gailront might have fallen into peril during their hesitation.
'This would make Gail feel so... pitiful.'
It wasn't as if Nohan didn't know this was the kind of person Hailen was. Yet he still hadn't let down his guard against someone from a different world than theirs.
Perhaps the feeling Nohan experienced was closer to a sense of betrayal than anger.
"We should inform the Young Duke about this powder, right? Even if they decide not to search, I'm going to look for Gailront. You too, Nohan?"
Nohan could only nod in response to her words, her eyes reflecting the same resolve as his own. And then—
From inside the tent where they stood, a calm and composed voice, different from what they had heard before.
Hailen opened his mouth, which seemed unlikely to open.
"I believe we've wasted enough time. This is an incident where a Sword Master or not, knights sworn to Emmast are also missing. Summon someone familiar with the terrain below the ravine and have them chart a course for the search."
"Sir Centas, even from you, interrupting my words is rude, don't you think?"
"It's fine. The search takes priority, we'll deal with the remaining monsters after. I witnessed him cleave an ogre in a single stroke with his sword ki. At the very least, if he's a Sword Master, he should have the strength to wield his sword even after falling into the ravine. Once we've eliminated all the remaining ogres, we'll withdraw. Any objections?"
Those who had been raving mindlessly just moments ago fell silent for some reason.
Marina and Nohan's eyes met.
"Let's hurry and inform the Young Duke."
Marina's voice was lighter, and Nohan's affirmation this time was lighter than before.
Though his heart still felt weighed down by a heavy burden, at least Hailen's decision he had just heard seemed to lighten it somewhat.
"None of the monster-hunting mercenaries know anything about this herb called Gerong."
"What do you think, Your Grace?"
After listening to Nohan and Marina's account, Hailen ordered Cotton and Kasper to be detained.
With plans to commence the search as soon as daylight broke, there was little time to spare interrogating them. However, Cotton readily divulged what he knew, likely sensing the situation and attempting to shift the blame onto his client.
"It's true that monster hunters often possess knowledge of unknown monsters. But to claim that mere powder summoned the ogres..."
"The monsters' abnormal behavior was reported before the punitive campaign. The appearance of the ogres is likely unrelated to the incense. However, during the previous attack, I too noticed them charging at those carrying pouches, which struck me as odd. Your Grace, you should remain here tomorrow and explore ways to utilize this 'Gerong' during the search."
Laid out on the operational map depicting the terrain of the mountain range were the pouches the three had been carrying. Most were still damp from the rain.
"In that case, who will you appoint to lead the search party?"
"I shall lead it myself."
It was only natural that Hailen's decision drew objections from Centas.
Of course, he could not dissuade the Young Duke.
"Even if we divide our forces into search parties, there's no guarantee of safety for those remaining here. The ravine below may well be safer than the ogres' escape route."
Thus, with Hailen leading one group, several parties were formed for the search, and as soon as daylight broke, they dispersed towards the ravine below.
As if proving that ogres still lurked in the vicinity, monsters like orcs and goblins remained and attacked them.
The ferocious destructive force displayed by Nohan and Marina, who took the lead in dispatching them, seemed to reflect their concern for Gailront.
'Those two certainly become more unrestrained in actual combat.'
Even amidst the battle, Hailen, who had been coolly evaluating their skills, swung his sword to cut down a goblin approaching him. As much as their training differed, it was unavoidable that his own prowess paled in comparison to theirs. However, Hailen had no intention of remaining idle.
While they paused to dispose of the monster corpses, Marina approached Hailen. Only when she drew near did Hailen notice the bandage wrapped around her wrist.
"Had I known you were injured, I wouldn't have assigned you to the search party."
"It's just a shallow graze. I let my guard down early in the punitive campaign..."
Marina's gestures as she moved her hand seemed unimpaired. Or even if there were any issues, she wouldn't have readily withdrawn from the search party.
"You've become so skilled that it's hard to believe this is your first punitive campaign. Your abilities have improved greatly in the time I haven't seen you."
"Really? Thank you, Young Duke. And... I'm sorry."
"The pouch. It was foolish of me not to properly check its contents before giving it to you."
"And I was no better for accepting it and carrying it on my person."
The superstition of chasing away monsters with it, no less.
Moreover, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have carried an unfamiliar object, or if he had accepted it out of courtesy, he would have disposed of it immediately. Hailen was just as discerning about what touched his body as he was with people.
Marina, sincerely apologetic, and Nohan, pretending not to listen behind her. If there was a reason for making decisions that were difficult to accept, it would be because of the people before his eyes.
'This decision to search is no different.'
He would not be swayed by mere sentiment. Even the members of the Mirana group from the academy, who could be considered acquaintances, still could not address Hailen by name. The distance he maintained was such that they might even consider it excessive.
However, the time spent together and familiarity were unavoidable. It was simply that he unconsciously regarded those he had approached for the sake of exile and his future life with a sense of closeness.
Since he was born a human, a social animal, it would be difficult for him to go against all of that. Hailen knew this and thought he could accept it to some degree.
But was Gailront really one of those beings?
No, because that wasn't the case, Hailen must have been dissatisfied with the decision he had made even in the midst of searching for him.
"And... I also misunderstood what I overheard in the tent. I sincerely apologize for that."
It was Nohan who suddenly approached and answered in a light tone.
"We clearly heard the reason for the delay in the search. Well, you could say we overstepped, but if Gail had known, he would have been terribly hurt."
Hailen knew that the feelings Nohan harbored towards him leaned more towards the negative than the positive. It had been that way since their first meeting.
There could be many reasons. Their social status, or Gailront, or more broadly, simply a difference in their natures.
If he were to answer here that their words were not a misunderstanding? If he were to say that he had been momentarily tempted to pretend not to know them, thinking it would help himself? If he were to reply that he still thought this act of searching for Gailront was inefficient?
How would those before him react?
"Well, I'd like you to correct the notion that my judgment was based on personal feelings. The decision to find the knights of the Order and those who contributed to the punitive campaign was only natural, and I was simply being cautious to minimize casualties to the punitive force."
Natural, he scoffed at himself for saying that, but those listening would not know. Nohan looked troubled, as if wondering if he had truly misunderstood.
And shortly after, the rain that had stopped began to fall again. Not good news for the search party.
Still, somewhere deep within Hailen, doubts and dissatisfaction with his decision lingered, as did a desire for someone's death, but he ordered the search to continue nonetheless.
Gailront. The name brought with it a weariness of the emotions it stirred.



Chapter 54
The corpse of a knight from the ducal house who had fallen along with Gailront was discovered.
"From the state of the body, it seems he perished from the impact of the fall."
Upon hearing the words of the mercenary who was part of the search party, no one could utter a word. There was a sense of mourning for the deceased, but—
"Even if he was a Sword Master, could he have survived?"
The whispered words that pierced through the rain drew Nohan's sharp gaze towards the one who uttered them.
Yet everyone present likely harbored similar thoughts. They had all witnessed the gruesome sight of the corpse's crushed face—a horrific scene that conveyed the immense height of the fall into the ravine.
Even Hailen, who had an inexplicable conviction that Gailront could not have died here, could not help but waver.
Thus, on the second day of the search, the direction was determined based on the condition of the corpse that had drifted down with the rapids. The rain still showed no signs of stopping, and the increased water level from the previous day prompted some members of the search party to voice their concerns.
"The rate at which the water is rising is alarming, Young Duke."
"We cannot guarantee that there will be no monster attacks."
Among them were mercenaries acquainted with Gailront, including Hasser, but doubts lingered about continuing the search. It was understandable—the place they stood was fraught with danger, all for the sake of ascertaining the life or death of a single person.
Even if that person was a Sword Master.
Yet the Young Duke still did not make the decision to halt the search. Marina and Nohan found relief in this, but even they could not ignore the ominous sound of the unceasing rain and the rushing water echoing through the ravine.
It was not until the third day that Hailen first contemplated the notion of 'Gailront's death.' The objective situation was dire enough for him to mock his previous belief in Gailront's survival as a naive hope.
If Gailront had survived the impact of the fall with his extraordinarily sturdy body that surpassed human limits, he should have encountered the search parties downstream, carried by the water's flow. Even if he had sustained debilitating injuries that left him immobile.
In the end, he would become something as cold as a knight of the ducal house, swept away by the relentless rapids, his corpse never to be found. The previously discovered knight's body merely revealed that such a prodigious Sword Master at the tender age of twenty had met such a meaningless end.
Hailen handpicked the members of the search party to accompany him, choosing those like Hasser's mercenaries who owed a debt to Gailront and were filled with the will to find him. On the first day, the eagerness that filled their faces was replaced by anxiety over the rising waters and the monsters that could ambush them from the darkness.
Even Nohan and Marina felt it.
'It's ridiculous that I'm the only one still clinging to Gailront.'
He knew it was no longer rational to continue the search. No, he had felt it from the moment he ordered the search party to be formed. Perhaps even earlier decisions had been irrational.
It seemed his logical and rational mind crumbled whenever the name 'Gailront' was involved.
In his previous life, he had made excuses for it. Lana’s whispers to the young boy, indulgences that made him forget reality, drugs that enhanced his physical abilities at the cost of his mental state.
Then how would he explain his wavering now?
More frustrating was that despite the warnings in his mind about the danger, he still could not stop. Even after witnessing the consequences of his stubbornness through one lifetime.
As expected, anxiety became reality.
Before they could even flee, the suddenly swollen stream swept them away.
"Throw the rope this way!"
"Hold on to whatever you've got, don't let go!"
"Damn it, Young Duke. Can you make it over here?"
Hailen tried to move his body, entangled in the frigid water. Of all people, he had been swept the farthest from the group. The rock he clung to was slippery, and Nohan struggled with the rope that could not reach him.
Reason prevailed over his survival instinct, telling him it would be impossible to reach the safe zone unscathed.
The downstream area was obscured by a hazy mist, but the current would likely weaken further down, and there would be fewer irregularly arranged structures that could injure his body. Moreover, he was adept at staying afloat. For nobles of high rank, swimming for survival was considered a basic virtue, like building up a tolerance for poisons.
Simultaneously with a signal that may or may not have reached Nohan, Hailen released his grip on the rock. The shouts of others directed at the Young Duke reached his ears.
With the water gushing into his nostrils and the swift current making it difficult to maintain balance, Hailen struggled to keep his eyes open and control his drifting.
After repeatedly gasping for breath and scraping against various structures, he finally found tranquility.
He had reached the expected destination—the complete downstream area where only the raindrops falling from the sky created the water's flow.
There, he thrashed his limbs, which he doubted were moving properly, in an attempt to climb onto land. It would be unwise to assume that no aquatic monsters lurked in such a vast lake.
Only after arriving at his desired location could Hailen relax and let his body go limp. Truthfully, he was so exhausted that he nearly collapsed.
With his remaining strength, all he could do was let out a wry laugh as the falling rain stung his skin.
That lost feeling he got whenever it rained.
Even knowing he shouldn't, it wasn't easy to regain the consciousness slipping away from his tear-filled eyes.
A familiar voice reached his ears.
Blinking, he saw a familiar red glow through his blurred vision.
'Of course, there's no way you'd die.'
At least he could close his eyes without hesitation, reassured that he could entrust his unconscious body to someone. However, was the feeling he experienced upon seeing Gailront purely one of relief?
Through his blurred vision, the emotions etched on Gailront's disheveled face reminded him of the young boy he once was.
After regaining consciousness, Hailen endured the pain coursing through his body and assessed his surroundings.
Near a fire that someone must have lit, clothes were strewn about, likely to dry. A robe that was not his own covered his bare body. They seemed to be in a cave. Apart from the light illuminating the area, no other light seeped in.
Hailen flinched involuntarily at the voice of someone whose presence he had not noticed. Although the space was dim, the figure concealing himself in the shadows was none other than Gailront, just as Hailen remembered before losing consciousness.
As Gailront sat up and tossed dried wood into the fire, his bare upper body was revealed beneath the flames. Between the unbelievably dense muscles, there were no visible wounds.
Had he recalled the young Gailront before closing his eyes?
The sheer mass of his broad shoulders and narrow waist, with bulging blue veins straining against his taut skin, exuded an overwhelming presence unlike when clothed. There was no trace of the cheerful boy he had once been.
Despite being of the same gender and someone who trained his body regularly, Hailen's expression grew cold as he gazed upon Gailront. There could be various reasons for feeling averse to admiring someone else's naked form.
"No other monsters around. Judging by how you fell from that height without a scratch."
Contrary to his humble words, Gailront's beastly reflexes had allowed him to land safely at the bottom of the ravine. The moment he sensed the fall, he used his sword, which could extend farther than his body, to find and latch onto any supportive surfaces.
Though falling into the ravine due to gravity was but a fleeting moment, a Sword Master's senses could dissect that time, allowing him to wedge himself into any crevice. Midway through the descent, he found a sturdy point that would not crumble and anchored his sword there, supporting his body.
Despite the top and bottom being invisible to the human eye, he did not hesitate to choose landing over climbing up. After confirming and finishing off the corpse of the ogre that had fallen with him—just in case—he sent it drifting downstream with the rapids.
Perhaps Gailront's best ability, honed through years of training, was not his physical prowess but the remarkable composure he displayed in dire situations.
"Why did you not return to the extermination squad?"
The question came without even a greeting for his survival. Though the inquiry from Hailen was a stiff one, as if demanding a report from a subordinate, Gailront did not seem offended in the slightest. Rather, he nonchalantly listed what he had experienced.
"I wanted to search for the knight who fell with me. Even if he survived, he would likely have sustained severe injuries, so I judged it a priority to find him rather than return and report."
"We found that knight's corpse. Even so, that does not explain why you traveled this far downstream, and for such a long time."
"...For reasons unknown, I sensed monsters pursuing and attacking me, so I wanted to investigate. They seemed to track my location even on nights when I concealed my presence. I thought returning to the extermination squad without finding the cause would be too risky."
"We found no traces of combat during the search."
"To confirm if the same entity was pursuing me, I refrained from engaging in combat. If any corpses were left behind, I either buried them or let the water sweep them away."
"Hah, your cleanup skills were impeccable, it seems."
Had there been at least some trace, it could have been accepted as evidence of survival. There was nothing wrong with Gailront's actions, and the relentless rain likely helped conceal any small traces, but for some reason, Hailen could not hide his dissatisfaction.
He disliked the emotions he had felt while doubting Gailront's death, and even the fact that he had been swayed by such emotions.
"The pouch Marina gave you is what drew the monsters to you. To think you still clung to it even amidst all this—you've become quite superstitious, haven't you?" Hailen gestured with his chin toward the pouch hanging from Gailront's waist. It seemed he had completely erased from his memory the fact that he too had carried that pouch until he learned the truth.
"Kasper Clifford infused it with a scent to lure monsters, driven by his ill feelings toward you. Even a Sword Master like you couldn't detect the odor that monsters pick up on, it seems?"
Gailront's expression remained unperturbed, even at the mockery that placed him on the same level as monsters. Moreover, his refusal to look Hailen in the eye could be interpreted as a sign that he did not consider him worth engaging with, if one were to exaggerate.
At the very least, such an attitude did not serve to calm Hailen.
What prevented him from uttering further words, which were unlikely to be positive, was the hardened tone laced within the subdued voice.
"...I'll dispose of the pouch and return. If anything happens, call for me by the lake."
Whether it was anger toward Kasper or a reaction to Hailen's irritable behavior in this situation, it was unclear.
Hailen glared at Gailront's back as he turned and began clearing the structures blocking the cave entrance.
Thinking that it would have been more satisfying if he had confirmed Gailront's death instead.



Chapter 55
If luring monsters with an irresistible scent was the issue, it couldn't be easily resolved. Gailront gazed at the vast lake for a moment before plunging his entire body, pockets and all, into the water. He arced through the air in a parabolic trajectory, diving into the lake without a shred of concern for any aquatic monsters.
Just recalling his attitude from that day when they were ten years old was enough proof that he harbored malice towards Gailront. What Gailront had initially dismissed as mere competitiveness over the position of the Duke's attendant had proven excessive by the slander that continued at the academy.
There were times when even Nohan expressed concern over how far it went.
Particularly at last year's sword tournament finals, Casper's broken blade nearly took out Gailront's eye mid-duel. Despite winning the championship with little more than a fragment of his sword remaining, earning even greater acclaim than before, none of Casper's attempts had ever succeeded.
Gailront's restraint wasn't merely due to nonchalance. He too could harbor resentment towards those who sought to harm him, and had their status difference not existed, he would have long since challenged Casper to a duel.
At a certain banquet where everyone except his sorrow-filled self seemed joyous, he made a resolution upon observing what appeared to be an intimate pair of youths.
After that, Gailront poured every ounce of his effort into the goal he had set, leaving no time to dwell on trivialities.
Something to transcend the insurmountable reality of their status gap. That was what he sought, and what he had finally attained.
The precious Young Duke before him was proof. Gailront was well aware that had he not brandished his swordsmanship, the extermination squad would never have descended into this ravine.
'To think you were merely concerned for me would be a naive expectation.'
He would have to submerge any bitterness or resentment beneath the enveloping lake waters. Mature enough to know some sacrifices must be made to obtain what one desires, he was no longer the boy of the past.
The drenched, burly man emerging from the water no longer had the pouch that had been dangling earlier. Gripping the sword he had left on the ground, he raised his spirit energy and surveyed his surroundings, but apart from himself and whoever might be inside the cave, he sensed no other presence nearby. The difference in their power levels was so vast that the powder must have dispersed into the lake, losing its purpose.
'I hope the scent didn't transfer to Lord Hailen.'
The image of Hailen lying there, soaked to the bone where Gailront now stood, came to mind.
How flustered he had been.
To see that slender figure collapsed and unconscious—a sight he had never imagined—his hands trembled as he lifted him. The crumpled expression Hailen had recalled from his childhood was no illusion.
At first, Gailront had only thought about where his hands had touched, worried about the effects of Gerong's scent. But soon, a force powerful enough to momentarily disrupt his usually steady breathing surfaced.
Hailen's slender golden hair, darker than usual from the water, the rich scent of his body heat rising in an attempt to warm himself.
Since falling into the ravine, Gailront had been moving alone, so it was only natural that he was the one who had undressed Hailen. In the days when he was a page, though clumsy, he had seen Hailen's bare body countless times under the pretext of assisting with his clothes.
Yet he kept repeating in his head that this was merely a basic treatment to prevent the moisture from Hailen's dematerialized clothes from robbing him of his body heat.
"Damn." The word slipped out unbidden.
Gailront rarely used the casual speech common among commoner students, usually speaking with the proper diction of a nobleman thanks to his upbringing in the Duke's manor.
The one he cursed with profanity was none other than his own senses, which had transcended human limits. He could avoid looking at the radiant pale skin that shone even in the dark cave, but what about the other stimuli that would inevitably assail him?
The soft flesh he couldn't help but brush against whenever he tried to grasp Hailen's clothes, the distinct fragrance of Hailen that he remembered and dreamed of, the ragged breathing that didn't stabilize even after he had expelled all the water—none of it was like what he had seen as a child or secretly imagined in the dead of night. It was an agonizing struggle to resist the temptation to touch, to give in to the immoral whispers that he wouldn't be caught since Hailen was unconscious.
And after that struggle ended, the guilt that followed from harboring such indecent thoughts about someone helpless.
But that was only a fleeting moment. When Hailen awoke and casually let the robe he had been covered with slip off his body, Gailront was so startled that he couldn't meet his gaze.
Hailen must have misunderstood Gailront's impassive expression, which betrayed none of his inner turmoil, as displeasure. It was a perfect case of two people being on completely different wavelengths.
Just recalling it was enough to unsettle Gailront, so he plunged his body into the frigid lake once more. Despite the danger of doing so as the sun was setting, he rationalized it as a way to rid himself of any lingering scent, if there was any.
As a result, he was utterly unprepared for the sight that greeted him when he returned to the cave after cooling his entire body.
"I can't stand this any longer. Were you planning to spend the night here?"
Hailen stood with his back to Gailront, having carelessly tossed aside the robe that had been covering him, shamelessly exposing his nude form. Gailront's dark eyes trembled violently at the sight.
No response came from the one who had entered the cave, where the crackling of the fire filled the space. Hailen lacked the delicacy to be concerned about such things. Unlike Gailront's memories, he had lived a life where he never dressed himself.
As a high-ranking nobleman, Hailen had no hesitation in exposing his body to others. He had simply discarded the robe he had been covered with because it was not his own and not completely dry, out of displeasure.
It was a contradiction in itself for one who had felt discomfort upon seeing the chiseled upper body of the man that would elicit gasps to act in such a way.
"The temperature will drop as night falls. Preserve your body heat."
"I'm not so frail as to be brought down by a mere chill. Check if my clothes have dried."
With a nod, he gestured towards the pile of clothes near the fire, which was actually closer to Gailront standing at the cave's entrance, but Hailen commanded as if it were natural.
Gailront let out a deep sigh and moved, still not sparing Hailen a single glance.
Though slightly singed, most were thoroughly dried. He held them out towards their owner, but no hand reached to take them.
Meeting Hailen's displeased gaze, Gailront understood its meaning.
A mocking laugh cut through the space, its source unknown.
"Are you asking me to dress you now?"
Hailen was no child, and had no intention of whining to be waited on in such harsh conditions. His earlier attitude was nothing more than a deeply ingrained habit.
Had the one questioning him been someone else, he would have dressed himself clumsily.
As always, the issue lay in it being Gailront—the one who provoked Hailen and disrupted his usual composure.
"It's not like you haven't done it countless times before."
"I am no longer Lord Hailen's attendant."
"Does the memory of you hovering around me even after leaving the Duke's service shame you?"
Even for Gailront, had Hailen not been who he was—
If the one whose gaze he struggled to meet, whose eyes he wished to avert downwards, had been anyone else, what could have prevented him from assisting with something as trivial as dressing?
Looking at Hailen's lips, which had turned blue from the warmth of the fire in the cave, he felt compelled to offer his help out of pity.
If only it weren't for this desire that he knew wouldn't stop at just touching.
As Hailen dressed in the clothes Gailront had roughly brought for him, not a word was exchanged between them. Only the rustling of fabric filled the space for a long while.
If there was a problem, it was the Young Duke's elaborate attire that required many layers, despite their combat environment.
In the end, as if it had been predetermined, Gailront was the one who inevitably yielded.
His massive frame moved towards the relatively smaller shadow in front of the fire. Under Hailen's cold gaze, his hands moved naturally as he knelt on one knee and tied the laces of the leather covering that protected his calves.
The emerald eyes looking down at the man seemed to soften slightly.
"Sword Master, you say. When did you achieve such a level?"
The two hadn't inquired about each other's well-being since the incident with Jacob. There was much they could have known without hearing from Nohan or Kelvin.
Gailront's voice answering Hailen's question was lower than usual, but at least it held no defiance towards the situation.
"This subjugation mission was the first time I manifested the complete form of my sword energy."
"When you return, you'll be known as the Imperial's only existing Sword Master."
"Provided we successfully complete this subjugation mission."
Rising to his feet, he gently smoothed the tunic carelessly draped over his shirt. Their gazes, still averted, held an unbelievable softness.
The distance that could only draw them closer. It was only at that proximity that Hailen could truly perceive the imposing stature of the man before him. An overwhelming presence that seemed to dwarf even an average adult male like himself. If he raised his large hand, currently resting near Hailen's chest, even slightly, he could easily twist Hailen's neck in an instant.
Yet Hailen had never once felt his life threatened by Gailront. A sense of having his position usurped, perhaps, but never his survival.
Not even in their previous lives when they stood at opposing ends, little more than strangers.
'The thought of my death being at these hands is strangely peaceful.'
Hailen moved with fluid grace as he raised his arms to fasten the wide belt meant to protect his waist. Utterly oblivious to the profound gaze watching him from above, drinking in the sight.
Unlike the composed demeanor he had maintained even amidst battle with the monsters, his disheveled golden hair now exposed the nape of his pale neck. A glimpse through the parted folds of his untucked shirt would reveal the sharp lines of his protruding shoulder blades.
The view of Hailen from behind that had so unsettled Gailront's eyes and heart moments ago was seared into his memory, refusing to fade. It was clear that from now on, whenever he saw Hailen's back turned, that image would be superimposed over it.
Whether that would prove troublesome or welcome, even Gailront could not discern his own heart.
The large shadow cast in one corner of the cave gradually lowered itself, melding seamlessly with the smaller form as if to manifest someone's yearning.
Yet the distance Gailront could truly close was merely that which brought the tip of his nose to brush against Hailen's hair, devoid of any sense.
Still, before the ever-distant goal, all Gailront could do was lower his head.



Chapter 56
"Jenia?"
Due to the tightly drawn curtains, the interior of the carriage was obscured from the outside. Katrin called for her handmaiden whom she had sent out earlier. A hint of irritation tinged her slender voice, a result of the unexpectedly arduous journey that had lasted several days.
"Yes, my lady. I'll fetch some fresh water shortly. It seems our departure will be delayed further due to the increased rainfall compared to yesterday."
The sound of raindrops pattering against the carriage's surface was enough to discern the foul weather outside. Katrin's face darkened as she opened her eyes, her hopes for an improved situation dashed compared to the previous day.
To the point of regretting her impulsive decision to travel northward.
'They must have been jealous, no matter how much they pretended otherwise. And I foolishly heeded their words.'
The whispers of her peers about their intimate experiences with their fiancés contrasted starkly with Hailen's aloof demeanor, leaving Katrin understandably concerned. No matter how much the Duchess's support she had, Katrin was acutely aware of how precarious her position was.
Had it not been for the slightest trace of blue blood coursing through her veins, she would never have been granted the name Emmast. What she needed most was the heart of the Young Duke, her betrothed. That was all.
The once-innocent maiden had mistaken her kind and affectionate fiancé's manner for genuine affection, only realizing later that it stemmed from a sense of duty and the ingrained courtesy towards ladies. No wonder she felt so insecure.
She had tried her best to conceal that insecurity, but the moment she overheard the boastful talk about men's primal instincts, it all came spilling out.
Abandoning the summer social season she had so looked forward to, she set out for the Duchy Territory where Hailen resided. While Katrin's willingness to undertake such an arduous journey in support of her fiancé was beautifully packaged to fill the void in high society, the relentless downpour as she neared the northern regions obstructed her path forward.
Moreover, the road was ill-suited to accommodate the large carriage emblazoned with the Emmast crest, causing frequent disruptions. They had to stop and start again several times a day, making the journey to the Duchy Territory an arduous one.
"Get this resolved quickly. At this rate, the subjugation will be over before we arrive," Katrin urged, drenched by the rain as she spurred on the coachman.
"Don't worry, my lady," Jenia, Katrin's handmaiden, sighed when her mistress couldn't see, taking advantage of the moment.
Initially, their party numbered nearly twenty, but the unexpected downpour caused many to fall behind and become separated. As the decision-maker, Katrin grew increasingly irritable from the incessant rain, demanding they arrive as swiftly as possible. One by one, the maids dispersed until Jenia was left to handle all the menial tasks alone.
Only two knights remained to provide escort, a paltry number that would scarcely be believed as the entourage of the Young Duke's betrothed. Jenia couldn't help but worry about having to press on through the rain today as well.
'We should have waited for the others at the village yesterday.'
It was a shame they had passed the last semblance of a village, all because of Katrin's insistence on not staying anywhere less than a proper inn.
Unaware of the greater hardship that awaited them at the next post station, where they might have to abandon the carriage, Jenia huddled beside the coachman, her drenched body chilled to the bone. Though the coachman trembled pale and sickly, Jenia's urgings to depart did not cease.
The path ahead was obscured by a hazy mist, leading into the sparsely populated northern lands unfamiliar to them. Jenia couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
True to her premonition, their progress soon ground to a complete halt due to a series of misfortunes.
It began when the coachman, for some reason, turned deathly pale and lost consciousness. One knight had to take him back to the village they had passed the day before, while the other struggled in vain to control the horses pulling the carriage.
It was too much of a struggle. The carriage that had been precariously running along the road lost its front wheel in a deep puddle the knight failed to notice. The resulting jolt caused the two horses pulling the carriage to become entangled and fall over.
Their flailing in the muddy water seemed like a final struggle for survival. With their legs broken beyond the ability to stand, the only mercy that could be shown was a peaceful rest.
Turning away as the knight drew his sword and swung it, Jenia let out a scream.
"Even if we abandon the carriage, there's no way one remaining horse can carry all three of us."
The implication was clear. In the pouring rain, the skilled horseman would have to take the one he was sworn to protect - Katrin, his charge.
"Oh, my lady. You're not going to leave me behind, are you?"
"Jenia, I'll escort the young lady first and come back for you shortly."
"But who knows what might come out! Please, my lady, don't leave me behind."
Katrin's cold eyes regarded the drenched maid pleading to be let into the carriage.
She recalled the women who always stood by the Duchess's side, receiving her teachings. Those who pledged their unwavering loyalty, as if willing to sacrifice their lives.
'Loyalty, they say, depends on how well you command those beneath you.'
How different Jenia's behavior was from those maids who never flinched at their mistress's mocking words that would have been scornful to anyone else.
Don't leave me behind? If she were truly a maid devoted to her mistress, shouldn't she have insisted on being left behind first?
Katrin realized just how useless the leniency she had shown to the one who had grown up like a friend truly was.
As the icy rebuke was about to leave her small lips, a voice interrupted.
"Do you require assistance?"
Through the open carriage door, the figure of a stranger came into view. Though bundled up, the man's sturdy build was no less imposing than the knight standing guard. Yet he dismounted from his horse with a lightness that belied any threat.
The look of desperation on Jenia's face blossomed into radiant relief. Only Katrin seemed displeased by this.
She snorted derisively at the unfamiliar man peering at her through the gap in the carriage.
The Sword Master's return was news enough to boost the morale of the subjugation force. Moreover, with the Young Duke's safety assured, many felt relieved, whether out of loyalty to the Emmasts or a desire to avoid responsibility.
Even the relentless rain had finally ceased, allowing them to cast aside their worries about the future.
"It seems certain that the creature has a knack for luring monsters. However, since it relies on its sense of smell, its range didn't appear too extensive."
"So the ogre's appearance itself has nothing to do with this Gerong thing."
"Even so, bringing such a dangerous item into the subjugation force itself is an unforgivable crime. That mercenary scum needs no trial; he should be summarily executed."
"No, we'll take him alive."
"It's not out of mercy, Captain Centas. You said the two had conflicting accounts, didn't you? We'll need the mercenary's testimony. Clifford will have to take appropriate responsibility for this matter."
"A wise decision, Your Grace."
As ruthless in dealing with defiance as one would expect of a Duke - Centas did not hesitate to bow his head towards the Young Duke, who was practically his grandson's age.
Having gained this new asset called the Sword Master, the subjugation force chose to advance rather than retreat. Their goal was to eliminate the remaining ogre, which would pose a tremendous threat if left unchecked.
The subjugation force members all vividly recalled the terror of the ogres and the gruesome casualties they had inflicted. Yet the sight of the monsters being sliced apart by Gailront's blade was almost a spectacle to behold in the midst of the frantic battle.
Everyone knew who the Sword Master was, deployed at the vanguard as intended by the decision-maker and exuding an imposing presence. Even the knights of the Duchy were awestruck by the spectacle before their eyes - a level of mastery that seemed like a dream, making them forget that Gailront was a mere commoner.
"I can't believe he's just an academy student. He's barely twenty years old."
"Our knight order will have an incredible new recruit next year."
"Surpassing the Imperial Knights? Well, as a Sword Master, even a commoner could join the Emperor's personal knights."
"If one receives a favor, one must repay it. Without the Duchy's support, he would never have achieved such heights."
As the knights conversed, Hailen pictured Gailront, the knight donning a cloak emblazoned with the Emmast crest, kneeling before the Young Duke and swearing his allegiance.
'If ghosts existed, the Emmast ancestors would be rolling in their graves.'
Yet Hailen knew a secret unknown even to Gailront and his father, the Duke.
The amusing scene he envisioned would become reality, and the formidable power of the Sword Master would further elevate the prestigious Duchy.
Especially after Hailen's departure, when Gailront took his rightful place.
'The first Sword Master Duke of Emmast.'
Truly, was he not a heaven-sent figure?
Living up to everyone's expectations, Gailront dispatched the last remaining ogre as if it were his original duty. As the massive head hit the ground, the subjugation force erupted in a unified cheer of joy.
The liberation of it finally being over. The elation of surviving. Yet tinged with sorrow for those who did not.
Hailen's face lacked the same exuberance as the scene of mixed emotions unfolding before him. As always, it had to be that way. Even veteran knights, weary from countless subjugations, couldn't contain the surging emotions.
Sensing Hailen's uncharacteristic calmness, Centas posed a question.
"Is something troubling you, Your Grace?"
"Not at all. I'm quite satisfied that we've successfully completed the subjugation."
"Then you should celebrate more. This subjugation is the first you've achieved since assuming your position as Young Duke. His Grace will be delighted as well."
As Centas said, the Duke would undoubtedly be pleased with his son's unexpected success. The accomplishments Hailen had achieved this summer would spread throughout the northern lands, and the lingering concerns and doubts about the Young Duke would surely dissipate.
The process, the result, seemed favorable even to Hailen's eyes.
As always, it was a satisfactory outcome if he were truly a member of the ducal family.
"Let's just consider it... a fair trade."
"It's nothing. They can express their joy after we've safely returned to the Duchy Territory. It would be best for Captain Centas to take charge and restore order."
"Don't worry. Complacency isn't in my vocabulary!"
Hailen smiled back at the boisterous laughter from Centas. Regardless, he shared their relief at surviving, at least.
And so, the eventful summer subjugation came to a safe conclusion.



Chapter 57
It would be hard to believe that the thing the size of a massive boulder was the head of a living creature. When the expedition that beheaded the ogre, whose name had only been passed down, arrived at the duchy, it was only natural that they received tremendous cheers.
"My son is making a fool of me."
The words the duke offered first were not a warning to his approaching son. This time, it was a genuine compliment from the heart.
Even though it was the recognition from the duke that Hailen had so desperately wanted in his previous life, he merely smiled out of habit.
Before the banquet welcoming their return, there would be mourning for the fallen. Many gathered to grieve and honor the hearts that sacrificed themselves for the duchy.
The sole remaining high priest at the northern temple presided over the funeral, and the duke himself recited a eulogy. A ritual was conducted to properly guide the dead souls to the gods, but not many had their entire bodies returned.
In the heat of battle, it was difficult to preserve the corpses, so they were usually buried on the spot. How many of the expedition members were buried beneath the Antagoras Mountains? Those who took the trouble to collect and bring the bodies home were mostly of noble status—a world where even death could not be equal.
That the mercenaries who died this time could have a funeral within the duchy was an exception. The right to be buried after a funeral ceremony within the territory was not granted to all residents.
With the winds of reform, public cemeteries had been established in other regions, including the capital, for commoners, but the north still maintained a culture that upheld the old traditions.
According to those traditions, only a handful of the fallen expedition members could remain here. And yet, even the deceased who were not from the duchy were able to receive the priest's consecration.
This occasion was made possible entirely by the will of the young duke, Hailen.
"Tsk, customs are not so easily changed. Remember that I only followed your words this time because of the merits you have earned."
"It's only a matter of time before the winds of change blow in. It would be too late to realize it and simply be left behind."
The duke's brow furrowed, displeased by Hailen's eloquent speech that resembled his wife's so much.
"I am still the lord of this territory, and you have a long way to go before taking this seat. At least while I'm around, no outside winds will conquer the north."
"You did not agree that Emmast needs change."
The duke's silence expressed his desire not to continue the conversation any further.
His inscrutable, hardened face remained unchanged from what Hailen had seen his entire life. Hailen realized once again that the duke was still someone whose heart he could not read.
Perhaps the duke had never agreed with Hailen's transfer to the diplomatic corps or his attempts to establish connections with the First Prince.
With those cold eyes, he merely observed from afar. Even if the consequences fell on his bloodline—those he mistakenly thought were his responsibility—he maintained an indifferent attitude as long as the losses did not affect him.
'He must support the Second Prince in the end.'
It might have been natural for the duke to support the Second Prince, who wished to stop the changing winds and uphold the old ways—a shared cause. No matter how hard Hailen tried, that predetermined path would not be swayed.
Not that he ever intended to put in all his effort to sway it.
He was someone who would eventually leave.
What was the reason for the Young Duke to carry out his duties so seriously? Hailen called this a 'deal.' It was exactly that.
A plan solely for himself. All the elements required for it—capital, manpower, information—were provided through the false identity Hailen held onto, so he had to fulfill his part at least while in this position.
"Congratulations on your return, Young Duke."
"I saw the ogre's head. It was awe-inspiring."
"Is it true about the rumor regarding the Sword Master...?"
"I saw Lady Pamel. She carried herself with the noble grace reminiscent of the Duchess. I implore you to meet her at the banquet."
Those who approached Hailen without regard for place spoke only with goodwill. The successful subjugation and the funeral that demonstrated care for even those of lower status—Hailen's visit, which had begun uneasily, had earned him the favor of many in the north.
It was what he had so desperately desired in his previous life, yet now it was almost regrettable how utterly useless it had become.
And there was still a matter to resolve before raising a toast—the judgment of a criminal.
"Casper Clifford. According to the testimony of one named Cotton, you hired him to rescue Gerong and infiltrate the subjugation force, and you paid him as well. Do you have anything to say about this?"
That the duke himself presided as judge instead of appointing a proxy signified his intent to administer military law, as knights and soldiers of the duchy had been mobilized for the subjugation regardless of the circumstances.
Within the duke's castle, anyone was free to observe, so many flocked to witness the trial of Clifford, a name widely known for better or worse.
It was a trial in the old northern tradition, where one's will alone determined the execution—a stark display of the customs the north stubbornly upheld. Casper's pallid complexion as he knelt bound was not solely from the hardships he had endured.
As Hailen had expected, Cotton and Casper made conflicting claims, and the testimony of one skilled at deception lent credibility to both accounts.
And it was only natural that the one without a single ally would face swift execution.
As if to prove a point, Cotton was executed right before Casper's eyes. The sight of his blood splattering in all directions after the swift execution instilled in Casper a terror greater than facing any monster.
"All you can do is claim your innocence!" The rebuke followed by the advice of Duke Clifford was the only lifeline Casper clung to.
"As the Imperial Sword and ruler of the north, I speak on behalf of my sinful son before Your Grace the Duke. My foolish Casper does not claim innocence. He committed the crime of unwittingly falling for the wicked intentions of that scoundrel Cotton, who lured him into the subjugation force under the guise of a guard request. You all must know how cowardly and faint-hearted my son is."
Those who had witnessed Casper's unbelievable cowardice and timidity for one who wields a sword muttered, "It was laughable to see him flee to the rear," "To be fair, Clifford had no reason to harm the subjugation force," and "So this Gerong really did lure in monsters?"
Duke Clifford continued his logical defense of his son with such eloquence that it seemed he could have prospered through speech alone. The only evidence presented was the already spent reward money from Cotton's request, and since it was Hailen's will to accept the pouch, the duke's favor alone could protect his son.
"I understand the Duke's intent. However, given this incident, there is certainly doubt regarding Clifford's loyalty to the north. How shall we deal with this doubt?"
"While indirectly, he did cause harm to the valiant subjugation force, for which Clifford deeply regrets his responsibility. To prove his devotion to Emmast, he will offer three-tenths of the family's income for the next five years."
In truth, this trial was merely a scripted act. The extent to which he would sacrifice to save his only son's life had already been discussed with the duke, the judge.
Of course, the duke was not one to easily forgive those beneath him whom he disliked.
"I shall accept the Duke's will and declare Casper Clifford innocent of crime. However, I have no desire to witness such a feeble and foolish man wield a sword and play at being a knight. Ponder your son's future once more, Duke."
"...I shall humbly accept Your Grace's will."
Would the words of the duke bearing the title of 'Imperial Sword' be mere advice?
With that single remark, Casper would never receive the rank of knight no matter what achievements he attained in his lifetime. Unlike the central regions at the heart of change, the north looked down upon noble men without the title of 'Sword.'
It was a pronouncement that would sever Casper's lifeline in the aristocratic society of the north.
'If I had another son, I would not have suffered such disgrace.'
Duke Clifford, who lamented the reality of having no illegitimate child to the concubines, glared disapprovingly at Casper as he staggered to his feet. The loss of wealth paled in comparison to the family's honor and reputation that would be tarnished by this incident.
Even before the trial began, those who had heard of Casper's involvement disregarded the arrangement to have Heria attend to the Young Duke. No matter how much the Cliffords engaged in the unsavory customs business that nobles avoided, they were still nobles, and honor, even if fabricated, was as precious as life itself.
There was only one way to overcome this obstacle: to be recognized by Emmast, the ruler of the north. An unchanging proposition as ever.
The duke coldly turned his back on the son he had so desperately tried to protect until just moments ago and walked away. The image that came to his mind was that of his beautiful niece, Heria.
And there were also those who raged at the outcome of the trial, which ended so futilely. It was the party of Gailront, who had been invited as a guest of the duchy under the alias of Sword Master.
"We should have expected this result."
"This is unacceptable. They haven't even fully uncovered the extent of the harm caused by their actions!"
Marina, in particular, was seething with rage, as if she might charge forward at any moment, deeply guilt-ridden for having accepted the pouch from Cotton.
The mercenary who had been killed by the ogre before her very eyes came to mind. It was clear that Gerong's powder had played a part in that tragedy, yet the apparent ringleader showed no remorse—was this not only natural?
"Cotton has already been executed. There's no more evidence we can present."
"...This is unacceptable."
"Mari, whether you accept it or not, this is the natural order of the world. From the start, I never really liked this place called the north."
Nohan recalled the unpleasant experiences he had after staying at the duke's castle. Unlike Marina, a baroness by status, Nohan was a commoner through and through, and the servants' attitudes toward him were particularly standoffish.
Even the servants and maids of commoner status looked at him as if an impudent outsider was defiling the duke's castle, whispering behind his back about his character. The only reason he endured the urge to storm out, thinking, 'I didn't even want this invitation,' was because of Gailront.
"Gail, you said we should attend the banquet, right? Let's return to Hasser as soon as it's over."
In the end, having confirmed there was nothing she could do, Marina could only nod in agreement with Nohan's words. Gailront, who had been observing the trial with a sullen expression from his distant seat, also nodded his head.
As if thinking, 'So this is how trials have always proceeded.'



Chapter 58
A celebratory banquet was held where they could relax and rejoice in the success of the subjugation.
Starting with the first cup raised by the Duke, everyone laughed and chattered while drinking. In the frigid north, it was natural to indulge in strong liquor. Accordingly, the atmosphere of the feast was boisterous and rowdy, a virtue unlike the relatively solemn central regions.
"The scholars of the Duke's estate have finally found records about the Ogres. Apparently, there was a similar movement over a hundred years ago."
"It took them long enough. Gather everyone."
The Duke had no hesitation in disrupting the lively atmosphere of the banquet. Or perhaps it was better for the host to vacate his seat while the guests indulged in laughter and chatter, solemnly looking down from the high table.
As he and Centas left, the young men who had been watching approached Hailen, the Young Duke.
"It is an honor to have an audience with you, Young Duke."
"Please, enjoy the feast at your leisure."
"May I also greet the lady by your side? I had only heard tales of the elegance of Pamel, but her rare northern beauty left me breathless."
"Your words flatter me, sir."
With her permission, the man kissed the back of her hand, appearing genuinely captivated by the woman's beauty before him. Katrin smiled deeply, seemingly satisfied, while Hailen simply tilted his cup without enthusiasm.
'The Duchess's teachings were all for naught.'
In truth, what did these men mean by addressing his betrothed with remarks about the 'north'? You are merely a central noblewoman unfit for the Young Duke who will rule the north. It was a malicious jeer. The good impression they showed earlier would instantly change once they turned around, mockingly calling her a foolish woman for her oblivious delight.
Hailen had thought from the start that Katrin's very decision to come to the Duchy Territory was a mistake. He was astonished to see her welcoming him back after the subjugation ended. But he could guess her intentions for choosing this distant northern journey.
He would be unable to give Katrin what she desired, and she would spend the worst summer being mocked by the cruel northerners. While he felt sorry about that, all he could do was stay by her side as she wished.
"It's nice to see you getting along well with your betrothed."
Julian, a figure unwelcome at the Duke's estate for other reasons, had arrived in the north leading the imperial knights at the Duke's request for support after receiving the Emperor's permission.
Without them, the subjugation force led by the Duke would have struggled against the ferocious monsters, but the locals tended to shun Julian for being the former Duke's illegitimate son.
"Come to think of it, I should see that fellow before heading to the capital."
"Who are you referring to, uncle?"
"Who else? The one who earned the incredible title of Sword Master at the age of twenty. It wouldn't do to leave him here. My brother has no thoughts about rewards."
"I suppose he considers defending the territory through subjugations a duty."
"Even knights need rewards to improve. Or has he not even received a knighthood yet? It's unbelievable, really."
Julian summoned an attendant and instructed them to bring the person he wanted. With so many people present, it was difficult to recognize faces from one end to the other, but the subject of their conversation was undoubtedly attending the banquet.
"Do you intend to bring him into the imperial knights?"
"Asera. My brother would scold me for that. He's been sponsored by the Duke's family for so long. Well, there's no rule that he must become a knight of the sponsoring house."
Contrary to his words, Julian made no attempt to hide his ulterior motives as he smiled openly.
Though he did not wish to reveal it before Hailen, it was clear from the way he addressed Gailront that he had met the latter's disciple through Jeil.
"Is honor not paramount for a knight, Sir Julian? If that man is grateful, he will take Emmast's hand."
Reality differed from Katrin's naive words. Especially if the imperial knights were the goal knights often pursued, everyone would understand even if they disregarded their sponsors.
"The lady speaks true," Julian agreed with a smile at the words of one ignorant of the ways of the world. Yet contrary to his words, he was fully prepared to draw the Sword Master into the imperial ranks.
Shortly after, another figure approached their high table, not Gailront, but a woman of such beauty she could be called a beauty.
"I greet the Young Duke."
"I am... Heria Clifford. Lord Clifford is my uncle."
"Ah, the young lady must have many troubles."
As Julian's expression of pity toward the woman who was around his daughter's age suggested, Heria's circumstances were not good.
After Kasper's trial, everyone at the Duke's estate mocked Clifford. Not because of her cousin's actions, but because of the Duke's taunts at the end of the trial.
The Earl had sent his son to the capital and left the estate himself, unable to bear such scrutiny under the pretext of business. In doing so, was he not demanding that his niece Heria remain at the Duke's estate no matter what?
'Your future depends on Clifford.'
At first, she did not understand the meaning behind her uncle's words. However, after learning that the Earl had deposited a large sum in her name at a high-end clothing store within the Duchy Territory, she could not help but guess his intentions.
Though still young, she had made her debut in the capital last year, and her mother, who had raised her alone, was searching for a potential husband for her daughter. Heria, who dreamed of meeting a kind and affectionate husband without greed and starting a family, found her uncle's forceful demand difficult to accept.
However, he was the uncle who had financially supported her widowed sister, who had chosen celibacy instead of remarriage, and even paid attention to her niece's debutante ball when she was young. Perhaps he was the only adult who had acted as a father to her.
Though she lacked enthusiasm or confidence, it was for such reasons that Heria stood before the Young Duke with a trembling heart.
And recognizing Heria's face, Hailen recalled a fragment from his previous life. He remembered what deeds this woman, armed with innocence and naivety, had committed.
It was none other than the woman before him who had caused him to abandon the opportunity to gain the northern loyalty he had desired, leaving the Duchy Territory prematurely.
No agitation showed on Hailen's expression. He addressed her as calmly as he would any other visitor.
"So, Lady Clifford. What business do you have with me?"
Katrin, who had been struggling to swallow her displeasure at the woman being called a beauty and addressing her betrothed, something unheard of in the capital's social circles, was relieved by Hailen's composed demeanor.
At least until Heria displayed her pitiful charm.
"Though it is not my place, I have mustered the courage to come and apologize on behalf of my cousin."
"As my father judged, Lord Clifford owed me no debt. He merely lacked the courage of a woman like you and brought in malicious mercenaries."
"That boy Kasper showed signs from a young age, tsk. My poor niece is suffering because of her cousin."
Julian clicked his tongue, for Heria's words contained a certain earnestness.
"No, I am merely relieved that the Young Duke has spoken thus, easing my heart. As for me, I can only show reverence to the merciful Young Duke. It is fortunate that I remain alone in the castle in my uncle's absence."
Her graceful, slender movements as she bowed and covered her chest were elegant.
Hailen stared intently at her. Though far from harboring any ill intentions toward the beauty, his betrothed, who remained on guard, could not help but interpret it differently.
"It does not seem very dignified for a noble lady to be alone. If you have no further business..."
"I heard you summoned me."
Katrin turned her head toward the rude one who interrupted her words, and despite him standing below her, she paused at the sight of a man with a stature so robust that their eye levels were even. At the very least, his imposing presence was enough to make one hesitate upon first meeting him, with a towering height and broad shoulders that rivaled even Gailront's.
Julian's subsequent hospitality only compounded her hesitation. Katrin had no choice but to hold back the sharp words she should have directed at Heria.
"You've come, Gailront. A Sword Master! How did you manage to conceal such an achievement? Did Jeil, no, your master know?"
Hailen, who knew full well that Gailront, a commoner, had once been Julian's sword instructor, chose to turn a blind eye to his uncle's clumsy attempt at feigning ignorance.
Thereafter, Julian's effusive praise continued unabated. Seemingly forgetting his original goal of recruiting Gailront into the imperial knights, he prattled on about the sword that had severed the Ogre's neck, despite Gailront's evident lack of interest in responding, his excitement undimmed.
The owner of that sword, however, seemed more interested in tilting his cup with a bored expression, though it was not just Gailront whose gaze was fixed on Hailen.
Conscious of Heria's lingering presence, Katrin leaned closer to him and posed a question.
"Hailen, are you not curious about what happened to me on the way to the Duchy Territory?"
"Oh dear, did you encounter some hardship, my dear Pamel?"
Julian's lack of tact, a flaw that allowed him to get along well with most people despite his unrefined manner, was unbecoming of Emmast. Unable to voice her displeasure to her betrothed's uncle, an elder, Katrin forced a smile as she replied.
"I did not anticipate the heavy rains that would fall in the north. The horses pulling the carriage became distressed, and we were stranded midway. Had it not been for the kindness of a stranger, we would have been in dire straits."
"Someone aided my dear in her distress. I must express Emmast's gratitude."
"I had invited him as a guest to the Duke's estate regardless."
"She is my betrothed, the Young Duchess. I have instructed them to treat her with utmost care."
Katrin's face beamed upon receiving the desired response.
Even if she did not have the assurance that everyone would view her and her fiancé as a pair of affectionate lovers, she had not posed a sufficient threat before the wary woman.
'But I will create that assurance.'
Holding her head high triumphantly, she met the gaze of Gailront, who still seemed threatening.
What importance did the title of Sword Master hold for Katrin? A mere commoner would only sneer and scoff at her good mood.



Chapter 59
The Duke's castle is a building that is no less than a citadel, as grand as its history. In particular, the endlessly high ceilings and walls made entirely of stone evoked a sense of nostalgia for the age of magic.
Hailen was walking alone within the castle. The sound of the metal heels on his leather boots hitting the floor echoed through the vast space, creating a slight sense of desolation.
"Who would have thought he was a servant."
Recalling Kelvin, who had been dragged away by the potent northern liquor, Hailen muttered to himself.
In truth, he too was somewhat intoxicated, though it did not show outwardly. It was due to being apprehended by the Duke, who had returned late to the banquet hall. The one who had urged Hailen to drink the most was Julian, the connoisseur.
'If only that brat Gail had stayed a little longer, it would have been a delightful gathering between father and son.'
As if mocking his pointless thoughts of an unwelcome scene, a gust of wind howled, and a nearby candlestick flickered out. Far from the banquet hall where laughter and chatter still lingered late into the night, silence now enveloped the space.
Hailen gazed around the darkened area as if someone were present, though it was neither a drunken hallucination nor a ghost haunting the citadel at night. It was a figure with a presence so strong that it was almost laughable he had only just noticed.
"Since when have you enjoyed drinking so much?"
"It's better than leaving with your tail between your legs."
Recalling how everyone had rushed to clink glasses with the so-called Sword Master, it was understandable that Gailront had left early.
However, in his previous life, Gailront had never shown a disheveled, drunken appearance. Of course, it was Hailen who had mocked him as a 'gentleman' unable to enjoy such indulgences.
"So what comes after alcohol and drink?"
"You claim you're no longer my servant, yet you ask rather personal questions. Are you aware that your current state contradicts your words?"
"Even if you're no longer my servant, it's easy to see how defenseless you are."
"Yes, I've wanted to ask you once. At the Winter Salon, and during this subjugation as well."
The golden hair that had glimmered as if reflecting the moonlight seeping in loses its color, enveloped in darkness.
Hailen's steps gradually become unsteady as he slowly approaches Gailront, the liquor he had hidden away gradually encroaching upon his senses.
In the blink of an eye, the difference in their heights becomes apparent, and Gailront's towering stature that Hailen still cannot match displeases him. As if expressing the dissatisfaction he always feels when facing this man, Hailen raises his right hand and pushes against Gailront's chest with just two fingers.
Though Gailront's body should not have budged at all, even the slightest force caused him to be pushed back. Why was that?
For Gailront, the sudden narrowing of the distance between them was burdensome in more ways than one, but his counterpart seemed oblivious as he continued to press against his chest without stopping, his repetitive actions the very picture of one who has had too much to drink.
"What is it you wish to ask?"
"Why you always appear before me at just the right moment."
"Why, whenever I look back at you, our eyes seem to meet as if you were waiting for it."
Was it now that the feelings he had named after that one person, filled with self-loathing and ugly jealousy, feelings he had tightly concealed since then, were finally exposed?
Gailront gazed into the resolute emerald eyes looking up at him, but the meaning behind them was difficult to read.
In the brief moment those long lashes blinked, hiding and revealing the emerald orbs, he even thought that perhaps this was for the best.
Even if the result was disastrous.
But the words the owner of those emerald eyes utters next cause even those expectations to dwindle.
"You're not looking to take revenge on me, are you?"
"...Revenge? At the very least, you must harbor some resentment towards my father's death."
"A debt? Ha, your expectations are rather fanciful. Your imagination still runs too wild."
Their conversation could only return to square one.
One person was holding back many emotions he wanted to voice, while the other was wary of sharing his true feelings. Now, their habit of going around in circles with each other had become familiar.
"Whatever suspicions or doubts you may have, Emmast has shown you kindness. For ten years, no, from the very moment you arrived at the Duchy. Remember that."
Hailen could scarcely believe he was the one saying this.
He never imagined a day would come when he would advise Gailront not to voice suspicions about his foster father's death to the Ducal family. In other words, it could be seen as a well-intentioned concern to avoid turmoil as much as possible after his true lineage was revealed.
'I must have had quite a bit to drink.'
As his momentarily blurred vision cleared, Hailen could see the expression on the man before him. At the very least, he did not seem to take his words kindly.
"I saved your life three times during this subjugation alone. I'd say that's more than enough to repay any debt."
"So you mean you have no intention of pledging loyalty to Emmast."
"If I pledge my loyalty, will I get what I want?"
"What you want? Are you going on about that non-existent secret again?"
The gesture of extending an olive branch, one he could scarcely believe himself, to the object of a lifetime of resentment was swiftly rejected. He could not help but feel displeased.
Especially if Hailen were to dig into the most sensitive part, there would be no reason to continue this conversation any further.
As if indicating he had no intention of wasting any more time, Gailront's movements as he turned away were sharp.
One footstep, then another, echoed through the space once more. Watching Gailront's retreating back, a memory from his childhood surfaced.
'People like us, those beneath our master, must neither block his path ahead nor hold him back from behind. We must maintain a certain distance, following only his shadow so that he may find us whenever he looks back.'
These were the teachings of a ducal servant that the Duke had once imparted to Gailront when he was but a child of lowly status.
Perhaps Hailen himself was still unable to break free from those words. Even if he were to achieve the goal he had set for himself, it seemed he would be unable to close this distance.
'Sword Master, is this enough for me to hold you back and turn you around?'
Without further hesitation, Gailront reached out and grabbed the arm of the one trying to approach, forcibly turning him around. The owner of that arm had to feel a dull pain seeping through his clothes, as if expressing his intense emotions.
Of course, the distortion on Hailen's face as he was turned around against his will was not solely due to the pain.
The sound of flesh striking flesh, a friction of skin against skin, replaced the halted footsteps. Despite being struck with all of Hailen's might, Gailront's firmly standing figure did not budge an inch.
That was the end of it. In that brief, fleeting night filled only with the sound of their breaths, Gailront failed to hold back Hailen as he turned away once more, and the one who had resorted to such violent force showed not a shred of guilt, as always.
It meant their distance had not narrowed in the slightest.
Perhaps due to the tingling in his palm, the reason that had been drowned in alcohol gradually regained its former clarity. It was only upon reaching his bedchamber that Hailen could clearly recognize what had just transpired.
He felt no regret. Even with a sober mind, he would not have simply allowed the hand that had grabbed his arm.
He could still feel that grip. Although Gailront had restrained his strength considerably, it was perceived as a firm resolve to hold on no matter what, rather than a mere grasp.
'How foolish of me to lose my composure whenever I lay eyes on that man.'
As he entered the bedchamber with a low sigh, Hailen realized there was someone occupying his private space.
The silhouette behind the curtain dividing the sleeping area from the rest, its slender feminine form unmistakable, inevitably brought back memories he had tried to erase.
The man from his hallucinations, too, whom he had struggled to forget.
It had been over a decade since he returned to live a new life. He no longer despaired over his inability to change the future, nor did he wallow in the dark emotions that had once consumed his existence.
Yet he had also realized that certain events would recur - encounters with similar times, places, and people.
Hailen no longer saw these as negative signs. However, this particular encounter left him unsettled.
'I didn't know her name was Heria.'
The woman who had fearlessly barged into his bedchamber in his previous life to seduce the Young Duke.
He hadn't even remembered her name. The memory of that night was akin to shame for Hailen. That was why he had never bothered to find out which house she belonged to.
Now that he knew she was from the Clifford family, the general situation became clear. In addition to the northern nobles' dissatisfaction with Katrin, the Duke of Clifford likely wanted to grasp at any straw he could to overcome this insult.
Thus, the woman before him had likely been pushed and shoved by the desperate men until she ended up in the bedchamber of a man she barely knew. Hailen, who had noticed the fear lurking in her eyes at the banquet hall, believed it to be genuine.
For this reason, unlike the rough manner he had shown Gailront earlier, he decided to handle this situation gently and quietly.
Part of the reason was that he did not wish to repeat the mistakes of his previous life, but-
In the distant past, the excitement he felt towards the object of his malice, when he had insisted he had no interest in such vulgar pursuits, had driven Hailen into a corner. It was for that reason he had resolved to lay his hands on the woman who had come to him in the dead of night like this.
The result was disastrous.
The moment he made contact with her encroaching body, the discomfort and revulsion he felt were unbearable. His pride, swelling to the very tips of his hair, desired to walk the straight path laid out before the Young Duke's position, but his body's reaction seemed to say it had already gone too far.
In the end, unable to withstand the rising nausea, he spilled his impurities onto her exposed flesh. Fleeing the bedchamber like one possessed was also a foolish choice.
And so, not only did he forfeit the respect of the northerners, but fearing strange rumors might spread, he fled the Duchy Territory as if in exile.
Even now, Hailen had yet to fully come to terms with his sexual preferences. Just recalling the incident at Kasper's Winter Salon would be enough.
But if he were to face that woman again, would he react as intensely as before?
"I won't ask why you're here or who you are, so please leave before I confirm your face..."
As he spoke those words, the one who drew back the opaque curtain was none other than the intruder herself.
And upon seeing the woman's face revealed within, Hailen found himself unable to continue speaking.
For the woman was none other than Katrin.



Chapter 60
Unlike her usual attire of layered, heavy robes that were difficult to support, Katrin wore only a single, lightweight garment. So light that her soft curves were indecently exposed, yet her face showed no hint of shame.
Even Hailen, ever composed, couldn't help but be flustered by this wholly unexpected and drastically different appearance. Blushing, she lowered her head with a smile, as if interpreting his reaction.
"I knew you'd be surprised. My behavior may be rude as well."
"I was deeply moved watching Jenia muster her courage at the ball. So I, Katrin, came to you like this, though utterly ashamed."
The chemise dress Katrin wore was made of special fabric commissioned from a renowned dressmaker in the capital. The pearl necklace accentuating her décolletage was carefully chosen after days of deliberation. The fragrance wafting from her skin was one used by high-class courtesans to stoke men's desires - her maids had painstakingly procured it in secret.
When she resolved to journey north, she had made up her mind.
Upon returning to the capital, she would leave behind the chastity she had guarded for so long at the Duke's estate. Like leaving an indelible mark, she intended to deeply etch her name Katrin into her betrothed.
Yet contrary to her expectations, the man before her showed not the slightest interest in her enticing figure. His gaze, exasperated with a sigh, never even grazed her deerlike slender neck or the swell of her exposed bosom.
"Jenia. First, your attire seems improper, so call a maid to dress properly."
"Call me Katrin. I merely wish to spend a cozy time with you, Hailen. Can you not discern my heart?"
"Yes, Katrin. I'm not trying to feign ignorance of your intentions. I simply wish to cherish our relationship. We'll have plenty of time ahead of us."
"No. I don't want to wait. I want to know and feel your heart now, Hailen."
His words sounded like he was trying to placate a child. It was an unwanted response for Katrin, who sought something deeper and more profound from an adult. The beautiful face that had tried to put on a graceful, practiced smile now bore only a stubborn frown. Hailen could only feel perplexed looking at her.
It wasn't because of the propriety he had been taught since childhood to observe with ladies who must be respected. The reason Hailen tried to muster tenderness toward Katrin, despite his usually sharp attitude toward most others, was the lingering shred of conscience that made him feel apologetic.
For he was someone who would leave.
He didn't know when, but the day would come when it was revealed that Hailen was not of Emmast blood. Then what would become of Katrin's position as his betrothed?
An intentional switch of status would be considered an enormous crime that could shake the Empire. One could easily imagine the grim future awaiting a woman tied to such a person, without even needing to speculate.
If Hailen had truly felt responsible for ruining a woman's life, he would have rejected her when he was sixteen. But he did not.
Once granted the seal of the Young Duke, he had no choice but to fill the position of betrothed, whenever that may be. Hailen wanted someone like Katrin, whose background was not so formidable that she would have to heed his intentions, to take that position.
It was a selfish choice that did not consider others at all.
"You're mistaken. Even if I give you what you want, Katrin, it won't help your future at all."
"Why would you say such a thing? Do you truly regard me as your betrothed?"
Unable to explain his position that should not be thought of, all Hailen could do was seal his lips.
Before that expression of severance, Katrin could no longer hold back the sorrow welling up within her. The single teardrop rolling down her cheek must have been brimming with the emotion of insecurity above all else.
Yet as he had told her, this rejection was the best choice for Katrin's future.
At least while he occupied the position of Young Duke, Katrin would be able to grasp many things she could not have originally and elevate her reputation. Moreover, for the sake of her future, Hailen was willing to endure even rumors that would undermine his dignity as a man.
No matter how the world changed, a noble maiden's 'chastity' was a value that could become a condition of the covenant between houses. The pure and beautiful Katrin would become a piteous woman betrayed by her betrothed, and if she gained society's sympathy, she could form a connection with someone of sufficiently high status, if not a Duke.
Even the Pamel Marquis would have to take responsibility and care for her, considering the eyes of others.
That was the extent of human compassion Hailen, who still considered himself a monster, could have for Katrin.
"It would be best if no one existed here except me when I return. Tonight, let's say there was no rude guest who barged into my bedchamber."
Leaving behind words that sounded like a notification, his steps toward the adjacent room showed not a hint of hesitation. The door Hailen opened and passed through also closed shut in an instant.
Unable to endure the humiliation coursing through her body, Katrin could only bite down on her carefully colored lower lip until it bled.
A moment later, as the bedchamber door opened roughly, Jenia, the maid who had been hiding in the darkness, revealed herself. In her hands was wine she had prepared in advance, but her mistress's expression was different from what she had expected.
"Bring me something to cover myself!"
There was no room for questioning the irritable tone of her command. Only then did Jenia hurriedly remove the coat she was wearing and wrap it around Katrin's nearly naked body. The situation had clearly taken an unpleasant turn.
Unlike her usual self, Katrin had been trying to present a stern demeanor lately. If her mood was also foul, who knew what harsh orders might be issued.
Jenia followed behind Katrin's steps, carefully concealing her worries about what might happen next, lest anyone catch sight of them.
Just as many things in the northern regions differed from the central lands, it was rare to find servants or attendants waiting for their master's summons on the vast, desolate nights at the Duke's estate. For this reason, Jenia had often trembled in fear of ghosts lurking about, though her mistress welcomed the solitude.
'Perhaps some issue has arisen with the handsome Young Duke.'
Even a woman would be awestruck by the beauty who had barged in unclothed. Moreover, she was his betrothed, with whom no trouble should arise.
Yet for there to be no issue meant that at least one of them had a problem.
The maids, including Jenia, had been scolded so harshly while preparing for tonight. At the very least, this intrusion had brought shame upon Katrin's side. Recalling the cold gaze that did not hesitate to abandon her on the way to the Duchy Territory, Jenia felt a slight sense of satisfaction.
What stopped the hurried steps of the two women, whose conduct showed no hint of propriety, was someone who suddenly appeared before them.
It was fortunate the women trying to hide did not even let out a scream from the shock.
"Where could you be hurrying off to at this hour, Lady Pamel?"
"Your manner of obstructing our path leaves much to be desired."
The man before them was someone Katrin had personally invited as a guest to the Duke's estate, but considering their attire under the coats, he was the last person they wished to encounter.
Despite the suspicious air he exuded with his words, the man merely smiled.
'Did he steal another glance at me? Repulsive man.'
The man who had helped their party when they lost their way on the journey to the Duchy Territory introduced himself as Benedik Jiller, the third son of an obscure marquis Katrin had never heard of. Even if he had received a knight's title, she considered him worlds apart from herself.
She had only invited him out of obligatory courtesy for the aid he provided.
"My apologies for the intrusion. You seemed to require assistance."
"I have no need for your help. I merely wish to return to my chambers and rest."
As Benedik stepped aside with a graceful gesture of courtesy, there was an elegant quality about him that belied his status as a mere provincial nobleman. Jenia, who had witnessed his dramatic aid and striking appearance when they first met, was the only one to shyly curtsy in response.
However, Benedik's attention was not on Jenia.
He spoke in a low voice to Katrin, who was hurrying her steps once more.
"Hiding may not be the best approach if you wish to achieve your desires, my lady."
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Even if something did not actually occur, it often becomes fact through people's words."
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're implying."
"I merely ask that you seek me out if you require any assistance."
Katrin continued on, leaving him behind. But she no longer seemed as rushed as before.
Even after returning to her chambers, Benedik's advice lingered in her mind.
Shortly after, she summoned Jenia and whispered something to her. The sly smile that formed held the expression of a desire that would be fulfilled no matter what.
"The Duke's estate was abuzz with rumors that the Young Duke and his betrothed spent the night together."
For Gailront, it was merely an extension of his daily training routine, but there were many who came to spectate the Sword Master. The training grounds of the Duke's castle where Gailront stood were packed with people.
Completely immersed in his sword and paying no heed to them, Gailront's concentration was disrupted by Nohan's casual remark.
Even as Gailront's sword movements halted, Nohan continued speaking.
"It's only natural. That betrothed lady of yours is an astonishing beauty, they say. For the highborn, securing an heir is of utmost importance, isn't it? Ah, a child resembling the Young Duke - how exciting!"
"What are you getting at, Nohan?"
His lowered voice exuded a quiet yet forceful pressure, but Nohan showed no signs of fear. Rather, he seemed to have lost all hesitation in saying what he intended.
He conveyed to his naive friend what he had always wanted to say.
"We're barely twenty. Any lingering affection from the past? Such feelings will easily fade when considering the future. Why waste your life on that? Especially when the other party doesn't even acknowledge your heart."
"Lingering affection, you say? Is that truly how you see it?"
"Yes. What you've been offering the Young Duke. It's an embarrassing term for me to even utter, but I know it's important to you. However, think again, Gail. This is a sincere advice from your friend."
Gailront did not respond to those words.
The one offering advice likely thought he still had no intention of changing his mind, but the turmoil brewing in the mind and heart of the one who resumed swinging his sword was far from simple refusal.
Was it fitting to describe with such a sweet and innocent term the feelings he could not relinquish even after his father's death, feelings that made him jealous?
Gailront repeated the words he could not bring himself to say to his friend. It was self-mockery.
The moment Gailront heard the rumor that the Young Duke had spent the night with his betrothed, he was overwhelmed by an urge to instantly kill that woman, casting aside all the chivalric principles he had learned for over a decade at the academy. On a night when his tireless efforts could not even uphold the title of Sword Master he had attained, what destructive desires had consumed him?
As when he gazed upon the distant ducal castle, even if he ascended to a position where he could meet her at eye level, if she remained someone beyond his reach, would it not be better to simply drag her down to his level? Such thoughts—
Swinging his sword, again and again, enduring and suppressing these notions might very well be the training Gailront always undertook.
By now, his heart had strayed far from the beauty Nohan had described. Ever since the moment he had awakened to his feelings.
And so, Gailront would not easily crumble from mere rumors. Not until he achieved his goal.
Even if those rumors were true.



Chapter 61
The final semester that would be the last for the 5th-year students of the Imperial Academy's advanced course had begun. With a major event called the Academic Festival coming up, it was impossible for things to be quiet, but one student had drawn everyone's attention to such an extent that a professor remarked they had never seen such an uproar before.
"According to the records, he's not the youngest. Sir Inshar, a loyal retainer of the First Emperor, manifested his sword ki at a mere eighteen years old. Considering the prime of physical ability, twenty years old isn't that surprising, is it?"
"You can't compare it to the time shortly after the Magic Era ended. Want to see a paper on the difference in mana concentration permeating nature between then and now?"
"According to someone who participated in the monster subjugation in the Duchy Territory, Gailront severed the neck of a massive ogre in one stroke. A monstrous guy. He showed promise from his first year. It's a pity he's a commoner."
"Did you see the Dean's face as he passed by? He looked like he'd lost all sense of decorum, grinning from ear to ear all day. Well, it is the first time a student of the Imperial Academy has manifested sword ki while enrolled."
"I heard that senior is a disciple of the legendary Professor Baylor from the Sword Arts Department. Is it true? Those sword guys are lucky."
While the one who could truly be called Gailront's sole master wasn't mentioned at all, Jeil was simply overwhelmed with emotion as he witnessed Gailront demonstrate the complete form of sword ki right before his eyes.
"Truly, congratulations. Reaching this level is not due to innate talent alone. You must recall and remember how much effort you put in, how patient you were."
"...When I was young, I didn't realize what you had given up for the sake of a mere commoner child like me. How difficult it must have been for you to abandon your loyalty to the Ducal House."
"It was my selfish desire to raise a great knight with my own hands. I still have a debt of gratitude to the Ducal House and to Sir Hailen. If you walk the path of a knight who protects the weak and helps many people, that debt will be repaid."
"You're not telling me to join the Emmast Knights, are you?"
"Loyalty is not something that can be given by others."
Jeil had been watching Gailront with concern as he gradually stopped expressing his thoughts in words and became solely immersed in training.
It was said that there existed a realm where a hero could manifest the sword formed in one's heart, though it had never been realized. To that extent, one's thoughts and emotions were imbued into every sword strike.
Therefore, Jeil knew better than anyone what complexities his disciple harbored and how much hardship he had endured to overcome them. No one knew Gailront's sword better than Jeil.
How proud and moved he felt to see his disciple triumph through perseverance. Jeil's gaze upon Gailront was warm, regarding the youth who had grown far larger than ordinary adult men as his own son. Seeing those eyes, Gailront recalled Jacob's gentle dark eyes that he was gradually forgetting.
If his father were right before him, what would he say?
Would he lament and resent the sword Gailront obtained through his unreasonable desire for the Duchess's son, who had covered up his death?
Gailront thought not. Even if this was merely his selfish conjecture, he believed his father would wholeheartedly praise his son's achievement, just as his master had told him to soar freely without any restraints.
"No matter what path you envision, the challenges ahead will be formidable. Regardless of your exceptional ability, those seeking to exploit you will flock in droves. You must remain vigilant and discerning, especially if you become entangled with the Imperial family."
"I shall keep that in mind, Master."
If only Jeil's worries were unfounded. But those who would not let such a coveted Sword Master talent slip through their grasp were not few.
It was only natural for one at the very top like Jeil to be restless until he secured the finest. Just observing Julian's attempts to sway Gailront through his friend made this clear.
Moreover, the upcoming sword tournament and academic festival were planned to be exceptionally large-scale events. They cited the reason that the Imperial Academy should be more open to changing trends, but the Dean's intentions were clear without needing to ask.
It might seem ridiculous for Jeil to worry about a disciple who outwardly appears as though the other party should be the one fleeing, but at least his thoughts were not entirely mistaken.
One month later, on the day marking the start of the events.
An unprecedented number of carriages were densely packed in front of the academy's main gate. Most were nobles who had undertaken the journey to Hasser solely to witness the sword of the Sword Master with their own eyes.
And among the large crowd was Daniel, the First Prince disguised by changing his eye color, the mark of royalty.
"They only permitted me a magic tool that conceals my eye color. This hardly serves the purpose of going incognito."
His towering physique inevitably drew the gazes of those around him as he voiced his displeasure. His casual tone indicated that the one beside him was, as expected, Ray.
"At least no one will think the Prince has left the palace and is pretending to be an academy student in such attire."
As Ray's words laden with displeasure suggested, Daniel's appearance was not pleasing to the eye. It was partly to conceal the charm that drew attention by his mere presence, but his own bizarre tastes also contributed to the strange result.
The shaggy wig he wore to hide his platinum hair was understandable, but the oversized, tattered academy uniform and thick glasses that nearly covered his handsome face, along with the splotches on his skin, made him look childishly undersized and lacking.
It was Daniel's insistence that if he were to accompany a bookish commoner, he should look similar, which led even Ray to adopt such a foolish disguise, much to the dismay of his refined sensibilities.
"Voice your grievances to Duke Mondel, who is strict about approving magic tools. I can't say I don't understand that old man's mindset, but the Imperial magic tools will gather dust. Shouldn't we find out how many permits are issued per year?"
"The Sowrel Duchy is related by marriage to that family. They probably avoid anything that might help our side, even slightly. It's also true that the more a magic tool is used, the sooner its lifespan ends."
"...Ray, you look so well-suited to nagging in that getup."
Only after Ray's face turned icy did Daniel offer an apology with his trademark refreshing smile. His usual appearance as a dashing young man was absent due to his current outfit.
"It's time to meet the Young Duke. His face is more precious than mine as a prince. It's so hard to see him like this."
"Are you really going together?"
"How close can you two get without me?"
"It would be safer for you to sit this conversation out."
"You still seem to think I have some grudge against the Young Duke, Ray."
A few months ago, based on the contents of a letter delivered by Hailen, they had discovered traces of a secret communication network between the Sowrel Duchy and the Carter Duchy. There was even speculation of direct dealings with the Second Prince through the Imperial Academy.
The Carter Duchy, whose allegiance to the Second Prince's faction had already been revealed through the Revised Law incident, still outwardly maintained neutrality. They had covered their tracks regarding the Revised Law research, and Duke Carter had reverted to his original appearance of showing no interest in central politics, keeping his mouth shut in his western duchy territory.
Though a family of little significance, the rank of duke was one of only three in the Empire. Moreover, on the other side, a young boy had ascended to the position of duke after a tragic accident left him alone.
Ray wanted to prove that Carter had a hand in the Revised Law to prepare for any potential threats. His continued communication with Hailen stemmed from that reason, despite not knowing Carter's intentions.
"What the Young Duke possesses is likely evidence related to Carter. I don't know how he obtained it, but if we can get our hands on it, it would be advantageous for controlling the west."
"You still haven't let your guard down against Carter, have you, Ray? But you know better than anyone that the Carter family alone cannot rally the western forces."
"Who knows what kind of trump card the Sowrel Duchy might be holding. At least until you're officially invested, you can't afford to let your guard down for a moment, even against the Young Duke of Emmast."
"Are you trying to meet with him now to gain his cooperation?"
"...The Young Duke likely has his own desires. Perhaps even a split from the Duke."
"A power struggle between father and son. Well, it's not our story."
Daniel already recalled the events of the previous year—a time people said was truly the year of the First Prince without exaggeration.
As soon as the Emperor learned that the Second Prince's faction was attempting to revise the Imperial Law, he immediately assigned his most beloved son the Imperial Knights to aid him. Hoping to avoid any outward conflict between the brothers, the Emperor sought to resolve the discord at a central nobles' council, praising Daniel for his efforts by saying, "Truly, only you consider the Imperial family and the Empire, my son."
Rumors spread throughout the capital that the Crown Prince's position would undoubtedly belong to the First Prince.
Yet not long after, the Emperor suddenly issued a secret order for Daniel to go to Hasser. The pretext was to confirm the one known as the Sword Master and recruit him into the Imperial Knights. No matter how one looked at it, the order seemed unproblematic—to get acquainted with and bring under his command a talent who would be the envy of Imperial knights in the future.
'Unless the matter of the Crown Prince's investiture had arisen.'
The Emperor's face as he looked down upon Daniel was undoubtedly that of a father gazing upon his beloved son, but at times, his gaze toward Daniel was that of one wary of a rival who might seize his power. Even without recalling how the Emperor had frequently visited the Empress's quarters recently, Daniel instinctively knew.
Or perhaps he had sensed his father the Emperor's duplicity even back when he had pitied and embraced the poor young son who had lost his mother, yet left him to neglect.
"I've changed my mind. Let Ray meet the Young Duke alone."
"The Emperor's command takes precedence over all else. Gailront, was it? I should meet him first."
"You showed no interest before."
"Could it be? That the Sword Master will swear fealty to me, as my beloved mother said."
If such a thing were to happen, the Emperor would only grow more wary of his son Daniel.
Daniel recalls Gailront, who seemed close with Hailen a few years ago. Though only sixteen, the boy appeared far more mature than his age, yet his face was pure and blindly devoted toward that one person.
"If I can get him under my control, I wonder what expression the Young Duke will make."
Daniel thinks it would be quite enjoyable to see that ever-composed face crumble.
And Ray, who always sees his cousin's bright side, cannot help but worry when he becomes a mischievous brat whenever something riles him up, as Ray knows all too well.



Chapter 62
The sheer amount of manpower, time, and capital invested in what was ostensibly just an academic festival was staggering, all because Hailen, the central figure among those participating in the mock trade agreement, was putting in more effort than anyone else.
"The newcomer you've brought in is quite refreshing, Idin."
"Though time is running short, I will do my utmost."
Hailen, who had been observing Kailre, let out a laugh as if he couldn't help it. An ambition he made no attempt to conceal. It was a side of him Hailen had failed to notice over the years they'd known each other.
"It was my mistake to have said he was a member of the Oclan royal family's cadet branch. I didn't expect you to make such a strategic personnel deployment."
"To be honest, I still believe the Young Duke intentionally provided that information, but it's certain an unusual picture will emerge."
Hailen recalled the classmate he had intentionally recruited.
In an era where the remnants of teleportation magic had vanished, it was rare for students to study abroad, so this individual would prove an advantageous asset in the mock agreement. Even if their royal lineage was tenuous.
The reason Hailen had intended for them to join the opposing side was simple. Through this academic festival, he planned to elevate his own reputation, so having a native of the Oclan Kingdom on the side representing that nation would have been detrimental. Even if they won, wouldn't everyone attribute it to that individual's presence?
With the Imperial Young Duke taking the Oclan Kingdom's stance, and an actual member of that nation's royalty participating as an Imperial diplomat, an amusing spectacle was born that was sure to be a highlight of the event.
For it was none other than Hailen who had made extensive preparations for this academic festival.
The sight of youthful passion, palpable even from afar. For the sake of this festival, Hailen and many other students had burned the midnight oil.
Ray had observed them without speaking first because the new facet the Young Duke displayed was precisely the kind of human quality he admired.
'Why was I interested in the Young Duke? Well, every time I saw him, I discovered a new facet I hadn't noticed before. I was curious to see what lay beneath as I peeled back each layer.'
Daniel's words suddenly came to mind. Rather than empathy, Ray could only feel growing concern for his master. He was relieved to have come alone to meet him, weaving his way through the students displaying a passion so intense it was almost regrettable to disturb them.
"Your... taste in attire is quite unique, Your Highness."
Hailen's reaction as he glanced at Ray's outfit prompted a slight resentment towards Daniel for his earlier worries.
The two relocated to a quieter spot.
"To be granted a private room. Your dedication to your studies was evident even through our correspondence, but your achievements are truly remarkable."
Just as tournament champions were awarded personal training grounds, top-performing students were likewise provided private rooms. An aspect of academy culture unknown to outsiders, Hailen regarded Ray with a hint of surprise.
"Are you interested in academy life? It would have been a great stimulus if Melbourne had been your classmate."
"To claim no interest in the gateway for Imperial talents would be a lie. However, I am more than satisfied with my current position."
"Learning exists everywhere, as they say. Then shall I tell you about the master your classmate so reveres?"
Traditionally, conversations among nobles were expected to be concise, with only fleeting glimpses into their true substance amidst the pleasantries—a basic courtesy. However, both men here valued efficiency over status.
Their steady correspondence over half a year had fostered a familiarity that allowed their dialogue to flow smoothly.
Hailen knew the quickest path to the First Prince, which was why he had cultivated this rapport with Ray Melbourne.
Proving that his efforts had not been in vain would be the crux of today's conversation.
"I am grateful for the assistance you provided previously. However......"
"Hold on, let me make one thing clear. I have never provided any assistance to either Idin or the person he serves."
Ray's face hardened at Hailen's unexpected remark, contrary to his expectations. Though they shared a similar impassiveness, Ray's bluntness was often perceived differently from Hailen's composure—likely because Ray lacked the talent to conceal his negative emotions, perhaps a habit formed from frequently furrowing his brow while offering unsolicited advice.
Just as this single habit highlighted the difference between the two men of similar dispositions, Hailen, as always wearing a faint smile, exuded an air of complete leisure. Having lived an additional lifetime, he found it easy to seize control of the conversation.
"Idin's conjecture wasn't wrong. To build trust, we must reveal our true intentions to some extent. That's all I meant."
"So not assistance, but a transaction."
"Precisely. And I'll be offering something in return."
"Then allow me to ask directly. What is it that you desire, Young Duke?"
Many ambitions occupied Hailen's mind. He was well aware that he was far from a man without desires, perhaps an inherited trait from his mother, who sought only power and did not hesitate to commit murder for it.
Among those many ambitions, what was the ultimate goal he sought to achieve through the First Prince?
"First, I want you and His Highness to place your trust in me. Of course, this is separate from the matter with Emmast. Are you curious what a mere Young Duke like myself has without his family name?"
"I do not doubt your capabilities."
"But you're wary of overstepping boundaries. I wanted to demonstrate how I, as an individual, can be of assistance to His Highness the First Prince."
In the end, Ray realized that while he had failed to discern the Young Duke's true intentions, his eloquence was no less impressive than his cousin's.
That was likely another reason Daniel took a liking to him as well.
"You must have come with His Highness the First Prince, of course."
"News travels fast even here, it seems."
"If I know His Highness the First Prince, he wouldn't miss such a fine spectacle. If you intend to enjoy the academic festival, I recommend witnessing the mock trade agreement. It would be a good opportunity for me to demonstrate how I can be of assistance."
Ray could recite the Imperial situation surrounding the 'Third Mock Trade Agreement between the Perodent Empire and the Oclan Kingdom' and its lengthy title at a moment's notice, as it was a subject he had recently taken an interest in.
Why else would the talents of the Diplomatic Department choose 'the Oclan Kingdom' as their theme?
Amidst the escalating Southern War, the Oclan Kingdom's strategy of maintaining neutrality to the end had proven successful. It had become a proper key, mediating between the surrounding kingdoms and reaping benefits in the process.
An unpalatable development for the Empire, which sought to exert influence across the entire continent. The Emperor had wanted the Empire to play the key role, so finding a way to alter the situation in the south was a major priority for the First Prince's faction as well.
While it was questionable what the Young Duke, who had no connection to the Oclan Kingdom whatsoever, could demonstrate, Ray would easily find out if he attended the event as Hailen suggested.
'Truly, the more I experience him, the more unfathomable he becomes.'
Though their exchange was brief, at least one thin layer of Ray's guarded shell had likely been shed.
Wandering the academy grounds disguised as a student was bound to feel novel. From those engaging in nourishing academic discourse to students gossiping about trivial matters.
Daniel envisioned himself and Ray walking the campus as students.
"It would be the icing on the cake if the Young Duke were present as well."
His long strides brought him to a place known as Gailront's private training grounds. The student was so renowned that anyone could point the way.
Daniel, anticipating how the former youth who had become a Sword Master had changed, approached the entrance to the training grounds and encountered a man emerging from within.
The man was the very embodiment of the expression "rugged." Had he not possessed navy blue hair, Daniel might have mistaken him for the person he was seeking, such was the formidable aura he exuded as a warrior.
It was none other than Nohan.
"This is a private training ground, not open to just anyone..."
Nohan spoke while discreetly observing Daniel, dressed as a student. Even so, how could he possibly know the faces of every student? Yet he sensed something amiss, an air that did not match Daniel's unassuming appearance.
Despite his rough exterior, Nohan was perceptive. He wondered if Daniel might be one of the reporters who had infiltrated the academy, mingling among the students.
Ever since the event began, had they not tried every method to approach Gailront, the commoner-born Sword Master, in hopes of getting a single line about him? Impersonating a student would be relatively easy in comparison.
"I heard Gailront was here."
'Not a newspaper, but one of the noble houses trying to recruit him into their retinue? But why the student disguise?'
Certain that he would recognize any strange noble-born student, Nohan put on what he hoped was a friendly smile. Though after his growth spurt, people often found even his smiles threatening.
"Unfortunately, Gail finished his training earlier and went elsewhere."
"Could you tell me where he went?"
"Sure. By the way, I'm Nohan. If you give them my name, they'll let you meet Gail."
"Thanks, you're a helpful student."
Even for Daniel, a master of disguise, maintaining the student act had its limits. He knew only a few snippets about academy life he had overheard.
Nohan simply shook his head, thinking this person was strange until the very end.
The next place Daniel headed was none other than the gathering spot for the members of Mirana. There, amidst the bustle of the academic festival and sword tournaments, the sole member confined to the meeting room poring over papers was Roger.
He had ultimately learned of the existence of the newly formed guild created by Hailen and Genry, and their intention to join. Genry's wish to keep it from Roger until a proper foundation was established had not been fulfilled.
Though Roger still could not fathom Hailen's intentions behind his actions, the process of building from the ground up had ignited a passion that had been smoldering deep within him.
Moreover, although unable to fully immerse himself due to his high noble status, the direction Hailen proposed instilled confidence in a successful future.
The guild's profits through the chaotic situation in the south. More important than anything for this was the upcoming winter's actual trade agreement with the Oclan Kingdom.
'A mock trade agreement. The Young Duke must have intentions beyond a mere academic festival.'
The papers Roger was buried in contained status reports on the southern region.
The information was so vivid, it was as if he was truly living and breathing in that area - all provided by Hailen. Roger marveled at the intelligence capabilities of the ducal house, unaware that it was actually procured by the Young Duke from Paison using his personal funds.
Though still unaware of how much capital had been invested into establishing this new guild, and that he himself would be its first guildmaster, Roger was focused on securing as large a stake as possible in this heart-pounding endeavor.
Under such circumstances, the appearance of a stranger was hardly welcome.
"What did you say? Nohan told you to come here?"
Unable to even imagine the identity of the person before him, Roger brusquely recited a location, speaking casually simply because the other was a final-year student.
Recalling Nohan's sinister laugh as he said, "Those who disturb the Sword Master's training must endure this much torment," Roger had already encountered five people who had been led to him through this process. Thinking that the next time he wouldn't fall for Nohan's childish tricks, he simply buried his head in the papers as if he were about to disappear into them.
Daniel, who had never been told he lacked presence, found this first real instance of being ignored refreshing. Though he couldn't say if he would remain positive if he continued to waste time.
The place Roger had directed him to was the shared training grounds of the Swordsmanship Department. There, students were vigorously swinging their swords in preparation for the swordsmanship tournament, piquing Daniel's interest as he was quite the skilled warrior himself.
His strange attire as a student prompted caution, and someone approached to speak to him. Upon hearing the name Marina, famous as the top student of the Swordsmanship Department and the leader of the Mirana group, he pointed in a direction.
"That female student is Marina."
Marina was fervently training in anticipation of the swordsmanship tournament. In particular, she was cutting back on sleep to master the sword style she had learned from Nord.
'It's the Orlanga family's secret sword style. Just a small part, but it will help you.'
More precious than life itself was the family's sword style. Marina had ultimately shed tears at those words from Nord.
Only then did she realize why she had wavered between the practical happiness of marriage and the path of swordsmanship that everyone said would be difficult. What it was that she had so desired.
Simply someone who believed in her and supported her. That was the sole requirement for regaining her sense of direction when it faltered.
She recalls Nord, who had embraced her lightly when she was overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of what to do.
Such a scene between an unmarried man and woman would have been ripe for unsavory rumors if anyone had witnessed it, but Marina thought she would never forget the warmth Nord had imparted to her, as well as his ever-affectionate gaze upon her.
'I wonder if this is what it would be like to have a brother.'
An idle thought crossed her mind that with Nord's petite frame and delicate features, his androgynous charm was closer to that of a sister. Whenever her focus wavered and she needed to whip herself back into shape, Marina could find someone seeking her out.
"Nohan said Gailront was here?"
She was well aware of Nohan's mischievous scheme, having even participated in its execution herself. As a fellow swordsman, she understood the frustration of having one's training disrupted.
Yet she couldn't help but feel guilty about deceiving someone, regardless of the reason.
"Um... It might be difficult to meet Gailront. If you're not acquainted, it may be better to arrange an appointment through correspondence."
Even someone as socially inept as Daniel could tell something was amiss at this point. Marina's awkward expression only compounded it.
"I really need to meet this man named Gailront today. Can you tell me where I should go?"
"...Then how about you come this way?"
Sensing that her companion had realized he was being toyed with, Marina apologetically revealed the final destination.
A sense of indignation had begun to well up within Daniel. It was exceedingly rare for someone to make a fool of His Highness the Prince. If Ray had witnessed this situation, he would have clicked his tongue at the waste of time on such a frivolous endeavor.
As he walked the long distance, Daniel pondered the sheer size of the academy's grounds, even questioning for a moment the purpose of the Imperial funding it received.
At the end of his journey stood what was clearly an individual studio within the arts department building.
When his knocks went unanswered, a passing student remarked, "The folks in here don't respond to knocks. You're better off just going in."
Suppressing an ominous feeling, when Daniel opened the door, his eyes were met with a spectacle of countless horse sculptures.
And amidst them was the studio's owner, enraptured by his own creations.
'It seems the companions of the one who will become my knight certainly have unique personalities.'
Daniel let out a resigned laugh.



Chapter 63
The main academic festival had begun in earnest. True to its moniker as a "repository of knowledge," numerous academic achievements demonstrating the advancement of scholarship were presented during this event.
Many nobles had come to Hasser seeking to watch the swordsmanship tournament, only to be drawn in by the exhibits showcased by the arts department. Students were delighted, remarking that they had never attracted so many sponsors before.
"'The Third Mock Trade Agreement between the Perodent Empire and the Oclan Kingdom.' Just reading that title makes it sound dull. Why should we bother watching this presentation?"
"Let him be, Mari. It's about time that fool learns what shame is."
Despite Roger's mocking words, Nohan simply grinned, unfazed.
"Of course you'd be interested in this topic. Don't think I don't know what you're up to in the southern war-torn region."
This wasn't the first time Roger regretted his earlier words after being subjected to Nohan's antics. His usually quick wit failed him in moments like these, much to his frustration.
"What? Didn't you say it was no big deal when I asked before? You're not really planning to go down south, are you?"
"I said I'm not. Let's start, Mari."
The section where they were seated dimmed, and at the top, a group of around ten people were seated, divided by two flags.
Among them, it was impossible not to notice Hailen's presence. After all, seeking beauty is human nature.
Most of those occupying the front rows were nobles curious about the Young Duke. They all let out soft gasps of admiration for him. Fortunately, Nohan's grumbling didn't reach that far. "Aren't we supposed to keep quiet?"
Without changing his expression at the reaction towards him, Hailen began the mock trade agreement.
While the overall flow had been prepared in advance, the arguments and data exchanged between the two countries were unknown to each other. Both sides likely had a few surprise weapons hidden to catch the other off guard.
"Even if there is no winner or loser, will the result truly be so?" Despite the diplomatic students' eloquent arguments, the intensity was inevitable.
"...By adopting that opinion, we agreed in the first trade agreement that merchant ships of both nations could enter each other's trading ports and conduct commerce. However, we also agreed that the details would need to be adjusted in subsequent agreements. According to the official records from Imperial Year 758 that remain, this is an issue that must be discussed in this agreement. This is what the Perodent Empire insists upon."
As the most crucial issue to be prioritized in both the mock agreement and the actual third trade pact this winter emerged, the audience's expressions changed. Some were even currently serving in the Imperial diplomatic corps, so it was only natural for the diplomatic students standing at the top to give their all.
The reason this seemingly ordinary renewal of a long-standing trade treaty had become so important was none other than the ongoing war in the south.
The protracted war in the south was a struggle for dominance among the numerous maritime kingdoms at the continent's southern tip. Ironically, the Oclan Kingdom, which maintained neutrality and the balance of tensions between them, was an inland nation with no coastline.
It was especially amusing that this country was treated as a maritime kingdom by foreign powers.
The reason was that some smaller nations, preferring to rely on neutral Oclan rather than be overwhelmed by the major powers, claimed to be its vassal states. The "ports of the Oclan Kingdom" mentioned in the treaty were actually located in these vassal states, not within the kingdom itself.
While effectively ruling over multiple nations could be called an "empire," Oclan did not indulge in any ambitions of conquest, true to its nickname as the "eternal neutral kingdom."
The problem was that the Perodent Empire, which held dominion over the continent, was different.
Intense discussions ensued on this matter.
"As before in the previous agreement, the Oclan Kingdom insists that the port of Atletan be recognized as our kingdom's trading port."
"The Perodent Empire cannot accept this. Our agreement to discuss the details further in the previous pacts was to assess whether the Oclan Kingdom's trading ports could continue functioning over time.
Currently, the southern region is embroiled in war, and the situation in the petty kingdom of Baraban, where the port of Atletan is located, is not safe for trade. The Oclan Kingdom must propose a larger and safer region as a trading port that would benefit commerce between our two nations."
"The definition of our kingdom's ports is not something that can be decided from the outside!"
"The Empire opened three ports in the first agreement and five in the second. If you're unwilling to make even that level of concession, the trade pact between our nations is far too imbalanced!"
The spectators' comments were added to the students' arguments one by one.
"A dog fight is starting."
"If this were real, it would be even more intense, not lacking at all."
"Surely the Empire's claim cannot be wrong?"
"In fact, the Oclan Kingdom can no longer insist on its position. From the beginning, it was the disadvantaged side."
While it may seem like they were merely arguing over a single port, the underlying issue was the Empire's attempt to intervene in the southern war through the newly opened ports, and Oclan's efforts to prevent it by any means.
However, as many said, the Oclan Kingdom could no longer hold out. In diplomacy, a nation's power was paramount, but Oclan lacked even the justification to overcome it.
In this situation where the outcome seemed clear, the one who raised his hand was none other than Hailen.
Unlike the other students, who were focused and passionate in the discussion, the Young Duke's serene expression made one wonder if he could truly overcome this predicament.
While there was anticipation, most reacted with the belief that he would be unable to overturn the predetermined outcome. That is, unless his subsequent words were eloquent enough to easily capture the audience's attention.
"The records of the First Trade Agreement from Imperial Year 758 are kept in four copies. One copy is in the Imperial language, the common tongue of the continent, and one is in the Southern language, each managed by Perodent and Oclan respectively. Do you know what the remaining two copies are?"
Hailen's sudden question about historical records was answered by Kailre, the one who had finally stepped forward to confront the Young Duke.
However, despite his thorough preparations, he failed to grasp the intent behind Hailen's question even as he provided the answer.
"The remaining two copies are written in the ancient language and kept by both nations."
"Correct. Those two copies written in the ancient language are the official records bearing the seals of the two countries. Each one exceeds a thousand pages in length."
"What's the importance of that? At the time of the official agreement, voice recording magic tools were not used, and all records began to be handwritten. There are no problematic parts."
"For the Young Duke to speak so formally. It's unfamiliar." Nohan, who was still unable to follow the flow of the discussion and growing bored, whispered to Gailront.
Gailront, who had known Hailen since a very young age, was aware. Although his face appeared unperturbed by the attention of many, his emerald eyes, usually appearing dull, were shining with an unusual light.
'What aspect of this academic festival is important to you?'
To know the answer to that question, Hailen's subsequent words would be crucial.
Gailront focused on Hailen's voice, which lacked any bad habits like softening or slurring the ends of words, unusual for a man. He thought it was a voice that stirred the heart, regardless of the content.
"Please refer to page 837 of the handwritten records in the ancient language."
The professor from the Diplomatic Department, who was overseeing the mock agreement, checked the section Hailen had requested, but he could not hide his perplexed expression.
While every word inscribed in the official records was important in diplomacy, if there had been an issue with a treaty record over fifty years old, the seasoned diplomats skilled enough to exploit it would have been more than a few.
Even if it was a record written in the ancient language that was rarely used these days...
"...Therefore, both nations agreed that the definition of the Oclan Kingdom's ports could be adjusted according to the discussion. What is the problem?"
While trying to appear nonchalant as he read the record handed to him by the professor, Kailre was inwardly excited by the Young Duke's mistake.
Was this not a victory he had achieved against the one he had always admired yet wanted to surpass? Moreover, he had constantly suspected that there was some hidden scheme when Hailen chose the Oclan Kingdom.
"There are linguistics professors present here to provide an accurate interpretation of the records. I would like to request an explanation of the ancient word 'agreement' inscribed in the record."
"What nonsense is this?", "He's claiming there's a problem with the official records....", "Even if we don't know now, ancient language was a required language for diplomats back then. There's no way there could be a mistake." Despite the audience's thoughts, there seemed to be no issue with the word Hailen had presented.
"The word indeed means 'agreement' in the literal sense."
Or so they thought there was no problem.
Even in his previous life. All the Empire's diplomats thought so.
"I also remember from the professor's lessons. The ancient language, being an old script, had multiple meanings for a single word depending on the region. This is why it was customary to keep multiple copies of past diplomatic records in each nation's language. Professor, what meaning does that ancient word have in the south?"
"That's preposterous. This is mere speculation! According to your own claim, there are two more copies of the record in other languages! If we verify those...!"
A deep smile formed on Hailen's lips. Seeing it, Kailre could only falter.
In the meantime, Hailen stood up and approached the Diplomatic Department professor, taking a stack of documents and scattering them into the air above. An unhesitating, resolute action.
For a moment, everyone simply stared blankly at the papers lingering in the air before falling down.
"What is the meaning of this outrageous act!"
"Unfortunately, the records of our Oclan Kingdom written in the Southern language were lost to a fire. We insist, based on the records in the ancient language, that both nations disagreed on adjusting the definition of the Oclan Kingdom's trading ports."
Kailre, who had been dazed like the others, finally regained his senses and countered Hailen's words. His face was flushed red with bewilderment.
"Then we claim that with the Southern language records now lost, the records remaining in the Imperial language are the clearest. Were not the records kept in each nation's language due to the confusion over the different meanings in the ancient language?"
"It was merely a 'custom.' The first page states that for treaties prior to 762 Imperial Year when the ancient language records were lost, the only officially recognized script was the ancient language. Also, please refer to the part in the 699 Imperial Year treaty with the petty kingdom of Ain in the south, where 'disagreement' is expressed in the Imperial language for the ancient language records. It uses the same word as in these records."
The student beside Hailen handed over materials they had prepared in advance to the Diplomatic Department professor. He examined them with a grim expression, making the outcome of this discussion evident.
The silence dissipated, replaced by a rising murmur filling the space. Even as he observed this scene, the instigator Hailen remained unperturbed. He simply sat still, recalling a certain day from his memories.
In truth, it was only natural to include annotations for words with multiple meanings.
Hailen's discovery of this ludicrous oversight was not because he was living a second life. Even in his previous life, he had noticed this fact early on.
While the current situation made it unclear, the one who had led the Third Trade Agreement at that time was none other than the Second Prince.
Hailen's interest in the agreement stemmed from his desire to somehow achieve a position that the Young Duke could never attain, driven by his fervent ambition. It had also provided a welcome distraction after his visit to the duchy territory that summer, when he was preoccupied with contemplating his sexual preferences.
The truth was, this oversight occurred because the decline of voice recording magic tools had led to the abandonment of such practices, and all agreements were instead handwritten. No one had expected such a basic mistake to be made by the outstanding officials of both nations, just as the people here would not have anticipated it.
From a young age, Hailen had been interested in linguistics, and his peculiar hobby was the ancient language that others found dull. By reading through the enormous volumes of ancient records to clear his mind, he was able to catch the small mistake that everyone else had missed.
As Hailen had just mentioned, the Oclan Kingdom claimed the records had been lost. They had discovered this error before the agreement began and had prepared numerous arguments to support their newfound justification.
Fortunately, however, the Second Prince's faction had already prepared various materials to refute their claims after heeding Hailen's advice. Since the opponent's carefully prepared trump card had crumbled so easily, it was only natural for the Empire to seize an effortless victory.
Afterward, the Empire practically seized control of ports advantageous in the southern region, allowing them to manipulate the flow of the southern war as they desired.
'The success of the agreement had strengthened the Second Prince's power.'
Yet for Hailen, the true mastermind behind the success, the only reward he received was a few empty words of praise from the deceitful Second Prince Franz, a man who did not hesitate to take credit from his subordinates.
Once again, the mock agreement continued.
The force of the unexpected claim was powerful. The students representing the Perodent Empire gradually became flustered, and although Kailre tried to regain his composure and present his prepared materials, the atmosphere had already shifted in favor of the Oclan Kingdom.
Observing the outcome, contrary to initial expectations, Ray sorted through the matters concerning the upcoming winter's actual agreement that flooded his mind. He then looked at Daniel, who was drawing everyone's attention with his hearty laughter.
"To drop a bomb like that and remain so composed. Truly, the more I see him, the more astonishing he becomes."
"...Preposterous as it may be, if that claim had been sprung on us during the actual agreement, it would have put the Imperial side in a difficult position."
At this moment, Ray's mind was occupied not by worries about the agreement or concerns over the situation in the south, but by something else entirely.
Despite the color having been clearly altered using magic tools, Daniel's eyes shone with their original golden hue, as if defying the change. An unsettling feeling arose that perhaps the "How intriguing" he had uttered like a habit when addressing the Young Duke had become genuine in this moment.
Amidst the turmoil that gripped Ray along with this realization, his gaze fell upon a man who, like Daniel, was looking up at someone on the stage.
Though Ray had never met him before, he somehow knew who this person was.
He recognized the look in the eyes of the man named Gailront as he gazed upward - a look Ray was all too familiar with.
All he could hope for was that the emotion Daniel harbored was not the same as that look. Whether this wish stemmed solely from concern for the Empire's future remained uncertain.



Chapter 64
The incident at the academic festival of the Diplomatic Department spread throughout the Academy. It was only natural that many would add their two cents.
"It's an official agreement between two nations. How can the meaning of a single word recorded not be clear?"
"That's when the voice recording magic tools disappeared. These statistics show that mistakes increased due to the system switching to practical magic tools at the time. Perhaps that was the cause."
"The lack of special notation for ambiguous words was the problem. From a linguistic perspective..."
The Imperial Academy students who tried to view this incident from an academic standpoint:
"Nowadays, hardly any countries keep official records in the ancient language. But this incident shows us why we need to learn the ancient language. For the next class, let's analyze cases of administrative mistakes caused by the various meanings contained in the ancient language, just like this one."
"Professor, surely that's not an assignment?"
"You're not on break during the academic festival period, even if you're in your final year. Go inform the other students."
Ignoring the dejected student, the professor extolled the importance of the ancient language:
"What a fresh perspective, as expected of young students. It will be helpful for the third round of negotiations this winter."
"Ahem, did you think our Diplomatic Department wasn't prepared for that? We had everything ready. But did you say that person was the Young Duke of Emmast?"
"I wonder what position the Young Duke will take after graduating."
The interest of the officials towards the Young Duke, who had essentially achieved a diplomatic success, was just another indicator that the true protagonist of this event was none other than Hailen.
Of course, not everyone was solely interested in the agreement and the Young Duke's future. Gailront, who had felt an inexplicable unease throughout the academic festival, was one such person.
"According to Marina, you're also greatly interested in the southern region, Roger."
"What? Why are you like that too? It's not like I'm going to participate in the war."
Surprised by Gailront's sudden question, Roger blurted out an excuse without realizing it. It was because Marina had been pestering him for investigating the situation in the southern war. He quickly realized that Gailront's following words had a different intention than hers, but it was certainly an awkward part for Roger as well.
"What are you doing with Lord Hailen?"
"Wh-What are you talking about? What would I be doing with the Young Duke? I just meet him occasionally for... academic exchanges."
The bewilderment on Nohan's face, who had come over and was listening nearby, was apparent.
Roger felt like he could hear Genry's advice in his ear. "Your biggest flaw when it comes to doing work for the upper ranks is that you have no talent for hiding things. Have patience, Roger." As those words implied, everyone here could tell that Roger was trying to hide something suspicious.
All he could do was use his own gruffness, trying not to show it, and snap back.
"If you're curious, ask the Young Duke directly! How long are you going to keep being so vexing?"
"I agree on that point. In that sense, this flower is for Gailront to give to the Young Duke."
Though he protested against the annoying act of giving flowers, Nohan took the opportunity when Marina forcibly handed him the bouquet to pass on the troublesome matter.
Gailront could have avoided it if he had set his mind to it, but he did not push away what was now cradled in his arms.
He knew the name of the flower, which looked similar to a rose but had slightly larger pinkish-red petals. Perhaps it was the only flower whose name Gailront had memorized.
It was Hailen, who had called him by a nickname for the first time under the pretext of an admission gift from the Duke's estate, saying it was okay to call it by its name.
The sight of him blending in with the flowers as if he were one with them, his background - no, it was something Roger could still vividly recall even after all this time.
There was not much time left until Hailen's graduation from the Academy. That meant Gailront's days of gazing at him from afar would soon come to an end.
He recalled his many hesitations. Even after obtaining the power of the 'Sword Master' he had desired, the distance between them remained unchanged.
He had accepted Nohan's insistent request without a word, for that very reason.
Acting as swiftly as he had decided, Gailront soon arrived at the Diplomatic Department.
There, more than any other department, interest in the recent mock agreement was bound to be high, making it easy to find Hailen amidst the gathered students.
Hailen held an assortment of flowers in his arms, as did the surrounding students. This was an Academy tradition - gifting flowers not at the graduation ceremony, but during the academic festival. A custom upheld even in the lower courses.
Perhaps it was because the academic festival was an occasion to showcase one's academic achievements. Simply completing it was cause for celebration, as if graduating, with flowers presented as congratulations.
Hailen's appearance, buried amidst the many flowers, was as breathtaking as the memory Gailront had recalled. Among the students surrounding him, some blushed as they beheld the beautiful Young Duke.
Only Hailen's head remained cool and composed.
"I couldn't beat you this time either, Young Duke."
"Diplomacy isn't about winning or losing a single agreement," Hailen replied as Kailre tried to conceal his disappointment. "For me, it was an enjoyable day."
What Hailen felt was not mere satisfaction at having bested a classmate.
He had successfully concluded the event as planned and felt the attention on himself from various quarters. But was the Academy's renown all he desired?
The student Hailen was interested in was from the Oclan royal family, who had taken the Imperial side during the mock agreement. It was he whom Hailen had deliberately attached to Kailre, and he was now gazing at Hailen with the same admiring eyes as the other students.
"I was truly impressed, Young Duke."
"The feeling is mutual. You have no idea how tense we were because of your presence."
"Even though you've spent your entire life in the Empire, to be so well-versed in the ancient language of the southern region as well. You were truly remarkable today. From the perspective of my homeland, I can only feel regret."
"Will you be returning to your kingdom after graduating from the Academy?"
"Then the Empire will have gained a formidable adversary."
Though it was a remark bordering on basic courtesy, it was rare for the Young Duke to be so generous with praise. The student, without realizing it, beamed and even proposed sending Hailen letters in the future.
Naturally, the answer that followed was in the affirmative.
'Judging by his social graces, it's clear that news of the academic festival will spread to Oclan at the very least.'
It was only then that Hailen could allow himself a satisfied smile.
It was at that moment that Gailront stepped forward, watching their amicable exchange.
Though he had stepped forward boldly, it seemed he had only then realized the awkwardness of presenting flowers to someone. He unceremoniously thrust the bouquet into Hailen's arms.
It was only natural for the recipient to be taken aback, not only by Gailront's sudden appearance but also by his unexpected gift of flowers.
All the more so if there had been a subtle tension between them recently.
"Are you giving me flowers right now?"
"It was merely Marina's intention that I convey."
"You were just the messenger?"
Silence was clearly an affirmation. There was no reason for Hailen, who appreciated aesthetics, to not welcome this additional beauty in the form of flowers. Unless, of course, they were being forced upon him in such an awkward manner.
He tried his best not to show his displeasure while observing the gazes of the other students, but it was easy for Gailront to notice something lingering in Hailen's expression.
It was thanks to his exceptional senses, as well as his experience of observing someone for a long time.
After a brief hesitation, a voice softer than one would expect from the taciturn man followed.
"Congratulations... My sentiments are also conveyed."
At that moment, Hailen found himself rapidly blinking his unwittingly widened eyes in surprise.
Did he really just hear that? A disbelief bordering on astonishment.
For their recent prolonged interaction had been as far back as two months ago, during the summer raid.
He still vividly remembered that day, the strong grip that had grasped his half-drunken arm seeming to linger on his skin.
When had this kind of awkwardness started drifting between him and Gailront? It felt different from the distance stemming from the assumption that the inscrutable Gailront might resent him.
Such a foolish response came from his own mouth, he could scarcely believe it.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Why did it feel like only the two of them existed here, despite the many other students occupying this space?
It was Gailront who averted his gaze first.
His curt tone returned, his actions of turning and walking away as indifferent as could be.
Except for his right hand, clenched tightly without his knowing.
Hailen snapped back to his senses at someone's inquiry, as if waking from a dream.
The ensuing barrage of praise directed at him. Hailen politely accepted the words he had grown weary of hearing, trying his best to erase the sense of unfamiliarity he had felt moments ago from his mind.
Attributing it all to Gailront's inexplicable behavior.
The finals of the Imperial Academy's swordsmanship tournament.
The tournament hall, expanded to accommodate the unprecedented crowd in the Imperial Academy's history, was packed to the brim, leaving no space to even place a foot.
Displeased with the jostling situation, Ray shot an annoyed glance at Daniel, who still relished his ludicrous disguise.
"Everyone already knows you're in Hasser. Couldn't you have watched more comfortably?"
"Just the thought of the headmaster rushing out barefoot to greet me gives me a headache."
Despite being a prince raised in luxury, Daniel's enjoyment of such an atmosphere was incomprehensible. This mischievous behavior of his was nothing new.
Ray knew from experience that he would ultimately have to give up.
"At times like this, just let go of your worries and enjoy yourself, Ray."
The arrival of the towering Gailront, the undisputed star of this duel, drew thunderous cheers from the audience. "He doesn't look twenty," "His aura is truly remarkable," "A Sword Master? I still can't believe it." Amidst the various assessments and speculations, all fell silent the moment he exchanged basic greetings with his opponent and drew his sword.
"Truly exceeding expectations."
As if showing the spectators what they desired, a radiant light enveloped his blade.
Gailront's final opponent could barely resist the urge to forfeit upon witnessing it.
"Danny, you didn't dismiss his achievements as fiction, did you?"
"Not his swordsmanship, but that audacity. It's as if he's saying no one dares challenge him."
"He swiftly dispelled all doubts, so it's wise."
"I quite like it. It's not the dull greeting I saw before, just gazing at the Young Duke."
"Think you can bring him to our side?"
"With the Duke's patronage and personal ties to the Young Duke, isn't the answer clear?"
"It always comes back to the Young Duke."
Ray let out a low sigh, but Daniel failed to notice amidst the audience's cheers erupting as the duel reached its conclusion. Among them were some jeers as well, condemning the opponent for failing to provide any tension.
"Well, if that man's blind admiration for the Young Duke from years ago hasn't changed."
That phrase made Ray recall the very first time he met Daniel, long ago.
The carefree prince who had spent his days playing pranks in the former empress's embrace. The memory of him sincerely rejoicing at having made a new friend upon seeing Ray has not faded even after all this time.
Followed by someone's voice echoing behind.
'The sole reason I brought you here is to become the loyal shadow of His Highness the Prince.'
When he heard those words, did he feel relieved or resentful at being born with the sky-blue hair inherited from the Melburn viscounts?
Whichever it was, one thing is certain - he has never once regretted being by the side of the young prince who strived to maintain a bright demeanor despite losing his beloved mother.
And that man named Gailront, whose gaze resembled his own.
Ray could tell where that gaze was directed.
"The author named Gailront, I mean."
"Unexpected, coming from you who still views the Young Duke with caution."
"Whether he's close to the Young Duke or not, the talent that is the Sword Master will make a fine pawn for us."
Moreover, having noticed the piqued interest in Daniel's eyes after witnessing the recent duel, Ray knew he had no choice but to act as he always did for the sake of his cousin, friend, and master's desires.
Especially since he was confident he could offer what that swordsman wanted.
And so, the final swordsmanship tournament at the Academy that Gailront participated in also came to a close.
It marked the beginning of him gaining renown as the Sword Master, and a day signifying their world would expand even further going forward.



Chapter 65
The academy's academic festival and swordsmanship tournament, which had exaggeratedly captured the attention of the Imperial citizens, finally drew to a close.
The lingering excitement from the event remained, and the capital belatedly stirred at the emergence of the young Sword Master, but the academy students were gradually regaining their composure.
It was only natural, as the final year students were on the cusp of graduation, inevitably pondering deeply about their future paths. Those with family businesses to inherit or who had successfully completed the academic festival would have no such worries.
The other students, too, settled their excited minds and focused on their studies, for exams were approaching.
Around the time the cold winds began to blow, Hailen once again secured the top position in the Department of Diplomacy. Setting aside his illustrious family background, his outstanding grades, reputation within the department, and feats at the academic festival related to the "Oclan" topic had fueled rumors that the Young Duke had already taken on important roles in the Diplomatic Corps.
"Reality is not quite so fairytale-like, however."
If everything went smoothly simply because one had achieved remarkable accomplishments, would reality be so harsh?
As Hailen had anticipated, rumors swept through the Imperial administration that the Young Duke Emmast had distinguished himself in the field of diplomacy due to the academic festival incident. However, the result was different from what the students had expected.
The Diplomatic Corps officials refused to acknowledge that a mere twenty-year-old Young Duke had grasped what they had failed to notice, and instead grew wary, suspecting that the Emmast Ducal House was attempting to seize power over diplomacy as well.
The Duke himself did not even offer praise for his son's achievements. Rather, concerned that Hailen might forget the spirit of an Imperial sword by focusing elsewhere, he delegated many of his duties to his son.
In a sense, it was a power struggle between the Ducal House and the Diplomatic Corps surrounding Hailen, but he remained an impartial observer.
For his current preoccupation was not the position he would assume after graduation or the Duke's recognition, but something else entirely.
He gazed at Roger, who was dazed upon hearing the name of the newly established guild that was about to officially launch.
"The 'Mirana' Guild? Young Duke..."
While it was amusing to see the very person who had named the previous life's guild 'Mirana' so stunned, Hailen composed himself and continued speaking.
"Why are you so surprised? You were the one who came up with the name for the small group."
"Do you... know the meaning behind this name?"
"I do. It's an anagram of Marina's name, isn't it?"
An anagram rearranges the letters of a word to form a new word.
Roger recalled with a slightly distorted expression the time he had named the small group Mirana. It was when he had given that name to the serious swordsmanship study group Marina wanted to create.
From a young age, Roger had grown accustomed to people's whispers and stares, developing a habit of roughly pushing others away. It was certainly not easy for anyone to remain by the side of such a person. It would have been even more difficult for a young girl who had not yet become an adult.
However, the name 'Mirana' was a token of gratitude for the dear childhood friend who not only accomplished that feat but also became a pillar of support for him when he struggled. It was a light-hearted play on letters, just as he had combined the names 'Rona' from Aironah and 'Genry' to create the name 'Roger.'
He had never imagined that the Young Duke himself would use that name for the newly established guild he had created.
Roger dismissed the absurd speculation that had unconsciously arisen - 'Could it be that the Young Duke and Marina...?' - as soon as he noticed Hailen's furrowed brow in response to his suspicious gaze.
"It doesn't mean anything special. It's just a wish for the guild to achieve success befitting its fame that exceeded expectations. 'Mirana' also means 'gold vein' in an ancient language."
"I... didn't know it had that meaning."
Hailen let out a wry chuckle as he watched Roger finally relax.
When I see him like that, I can't help but wonder if he truly harbored tender feelings for Marina. Yet the fact that he still sincerely wishes for her to marry her fiancé only adds to the confusion.
"In any case, now that the guild has been properly established, make sure to produce good results going forward. With the same passion you showed when you persuaded the Guildmaster before."
At the mention of recent events, Roger awkwardly averts his gaze. It was a confusing situation, unsure if he should feel entirely proud. In a way, it was one of the more difficult moments he had to choose in his life.
It was the clash of opinions between Hailen and the Guildmaster regarding the newly established guild's first business venture.
Hailen had proposed purchasing a vast tract of land where a large iron ore deposit lay, as a start to their weapons business. It was a judgment based on his memories from his previous life - the beginning of the guild Roger Branner had established after defecting to the Kingdom of Oclan.
For Hailen, who knew this would succeed, it was only natural to make such a choice.
However, from Genry's perspective, who had not experienced a previous life, the Young Duke's plan seemed impossible to succeed. This was due to the unique properties of the special iron ore buried in the region Hailen had set his sights on.
While possessing sufficient strength to be used for various weapons, it was unusually vulnerable to salt.
Genry, who was convinced that the Young Duke had proposed purchasing the mine to sell weapons for the war in the south, could only be perplexed.
After all, what kind of place was the current battlefield in the south? Aside from the Kingdom of Oclan situated in the center, all were maritime kingdoms bordering the sea.
The reason the mine Hailen had chosen was so inexpensive was precisely because of this. That iron ore would be as good as useless for the war in the south, where weapons were needed.
'Could the Young Duke possibly be thinking that the war might spread inland...? Surely not.'
'Do you have some dissatisfaction with my judgment?'
This was the judgment of the one and only son, and heir, of the Duke who held the position of Imperial Commander-in-Chief.
Thirty years had passed since the war broke out in the interior. For Genry, who led the great guild, the question of whether the hard-won peace would truly be shattered was an issue he could not help but be sensitive about.
And from his perspective, Hailen's judgment seemed almost delusional.
After that, their opinions diverged, to the point where even Roger easily noticed.
Gathering information just in case, Genry eventually felt relieved that there would be no expansion into the interior, but he still could not understand Hailen's thinking. He had no idea where the Young Duke's conviction came from.
Setting aside the fact that he had invested his personal capital, the newly established guild was nothing more than a painful finger for his son Roger's future. Genry could not simply follow the Young Duke's assertion with insufficient grounds.
Therefore, perhaps in a cowardly manner, Hailen dragged Roger into the clash of opinions between the two.
It was easy to bring in Roger, who had been investigating the situation in the south, and it was not difficult to convince him that the war would escalate. However, Hailen managed to do so. The time he had spent with Roger had not been in vain.
Even the Guildmaster, who led the great guild with cold calculation and reason, could not help but bend his stubbornness before his son's persuasion.
"Perhaps it's proof that I've grown old, avoiding adventure and pursuing only stability," he said, eventually following Hailen's wishes. Inwardly, he shuddered at the Young Duke using Roger as a tool.
It was only after some time had passed that Roger realized Hailen had used him as a means to persuade Genry. But true to his nature, he could not hold it against him. The other party was who he was.
'It's not like I didn't know the Young Duke was like that.'
Had he not seen long ago, from the time he had led him down this path, that he would not hesitate to use any means or methods for his goals?
Once again, it was the past.
The year Roger wavered at Genry's words asking for another chance, even going so far as to consult the Young Duke about his worries, that incident from seventeen years ago.
Roger looked at the stack of documents the Young Duke had placed before him.
The binding method, with leather covers and tied with strings, stimulated memories he tried to erase. Such a document organization method focused on practicality was typically used only for accounting records at the top guilds.
"Why, are you interested?"
"...Is this because of what I said to you before?"
Recalling his foolish self from not long ago, when he had asked the Young Duke about his past, there had been no mention of the top guilds or the Department of Economics.
Roger looked at Hailen with a weary gaze. Just how extensive was the intelligence network of the Ducal House that they had even caught wind of his closely guarded concerns?
Following that was a sense of unease at having his secret worries discovered. Roger averted his gaze, thinking that showing interest in what Hailen had offered would be an admission of defeat.
Pretending not to notice the familiar seal imprinted on the cover.
'Surely it can't be the original.'
He couldn't fail to recognize the seal of the Sien Guild. Although the guild no longer existed, it had left its mark in history for establishing the framework for accounting ledgers.
Even now, the accounting ledgers used by actual guilds followed the method created by the Sien Guild. If those he was deliberately avoiding looking at were the original ledgers, they would be priceless artifacts that money couldn't buy.
Roger's furtive glance met Hailen's, who was grinning broadly.
Struggling to resist the growing temptation, Roger left the meeting room, unaware that his torment, akin to torture, was far from over.
"Why is Roger so surprised?"
"I'm not sure either, but it seems the Young Duke has obtained a magic artifact that belonged to a famous merchant."
Nohan and Marina watched Roger's reaction as if observing a comedic play.
As Marina said, what Hailen was waving around was a magic artifact capable of instantly calculating numbers. Although it had already lost its original power due to depleted mana, its mere existence still held immense value.
Watching Roger's wavering eyes, Hailen smiled pleasantly.
It amused him to see Roger, who usually recoiled and turned away from matters related to the upper echelons, instantly shaken by just this one thing.
While it might be considered a twisted sense of amusement, Hailen took great delight in personally shattering someone's stubbornness.
He hoped Roger wouldn't make his decision easily, having fallen into contemplation, and that his choice would differ from his previous life.
Hailen also knew that persuading someone with a tendency to react contrarily when spoken to directly required immense patience.
Unfortunately for Roger, Hailen had quite a collection of rare artifacts he could obtain, which would undoubtedly be a sweet temptation that could rob even a seventeen-year-old boy who stubbornly denied his own interests of sleep.
'At the very least, I should wrap this up before the end of the semester.'
Putting Hailen's decision into action was easy.
Even though Roger pridefully maintained his presence at the gathering place despite not attending, his behavior was equally amusing. It was but a brief incident that left the other members perplexed.
And in the end, it was Roger who raised his hand, as if it had been decided.
"Why are you doing this to me! Does this mean you know my circumstances for acting this way? How remarkable of you, Young Duke."
"Did I really need to search for it? The unsavory rumors about your birth."
"...No matter what you say, I am the son of a Marquis, and I will inherit the Marquis title after becoming a knight. I will never become a lowly merchant."
"I told you to be certain of what you want."
"And what does that have to do with you, Young Duke? People like you have no interest in someone like me, do you? You must know, since even Gailront, who used to follow me around, abandoned me."
Roger felt elated at the thought of having landed a proper blow against the ever-steadfast Young Duke.
For a fleeting moment, he sensed the smile etched on Hailen's face waver, as if that reaction alone proved his words of reproach were not entirely unfounded.
Alas, Hailen regained his composure swiftly. Of course, the words that spilled forth carried a sharpness far removed from serenity.
"Yes. I have little interest in those beneath me. What's the problem with that?"
"Then why do you seek to persuade me?"
"'Persuade'? An ill-fitting word for me. It's simple, really. You possess talent, and for me to achieve my desires, I need 'people like you' to find their path and become my hands and feet. Wouldn't that allow 'people like me' to live comfortably?"
The words Hailen emphasized in mocking Roger's statement, coupled with his eloquent speech, made it seem as though he was taunting his counterpart. Roger's ears reddened upon hearing those words.
However, the amusing part was that his reaction suggested he did not take the mocking words at face value.
What could have caused the flames of anger rising in Roger's chest to subside? The words that pierced his ears were not the ones Hailen had emphasized.
Even the present Hailen might not have realized that single word had twisted Roger's path.
'And yet, I had to wander for quite some time after that.'
Perhaps the only change from then was his slightly matured appearance.
Roger's gaze upon Hailen softened. Could he have foreseen years ago that he would look at him with such eyes?
It was true that Hailen had influenced and reshaped the life of the stubborn youth. Roger's journey of breaking his stubbornness, succumbing to temptation, seeking out Genry, and transferring to the Department of Economics - the persistent, mocking figure of the Young Duke accompanied him through it all.
Perhaps unknowingly, someone had set and guided Roger's path, leading him to join the guild now bearing the name 'Mirana' - all part of Hailen's intentions.
Yet Roger thought it didn't matter. At least he hadn't been deceived.
Hadn't he said it himself - that someone like Roger Branner was needed as his hands and feet?
And in the end, this enigmatic Young Duke brought Roger to his knees.
"Why are you giving this to me...?"
The seal of the newly established guild. Roger's hand trembled as Hailen handed it to him, signifying it was his.
The one who possessed the guild's seal. Who else could it be but the Guildmaster, the head of the guild?
Seeing Roger overwhelmed by bewilderment and barely concealed elation, Hailen flashed his characteristic smile, reminiscent of when he had once mocked Roger in an attempt to lure him down a different path.
"Who else would be the Guildmaster of the guild I created? Someone aligned with my intentions would suit better than Genry Burton, who has lost his sense of adventure in his old age. I'm counting on you, my Guildmaster."
For a moment, Roger felt an electrifying thrill course through his body at the words "my Guildmaster" ringing in his ears.
Despite Genry's warning - "Always be wary of the Young Duke. He has a knack for ensnaring people." - Roger could only accept this reality he could not escape.
Perhaps his entire life had been seen through by this beautiful, smiling Young Duke.



Chapter 66
Winter had arrived, and the final year classes at the academy were coming to an end. Hailen had decided not to attend the graduation ceremony even after the break, so this might be the last time the six of them would meet. When you considered them one by one, they were all such unique individuals that it was no easy feat for them to gather together. A sense of regret lingered on each of their faces, but most felt awkward at this farewell gathering arranged by Marina, the group leader, without any underclassmen present.
"I won't forget all the effort you've put into our little group, Marina."
"Only the Young Duke would give such a proper farewell. Everyone else just clams up at times like this...!"
"But the three of us will be seeing each other during the break anyway. Doesn't it seem strange to be saying our goodbyes already?"
Nohan voiced his displeasure as if it were absurd, and he was right. Of the six of them enrolled in the advanced swordsmanship program at the academy, only three were preparing for the knight examination. They had already agreed to train together starting tomorrow, the first day of the break.
"Speaking of which, I never thought you'd decide to become a knight, Nohan. Maybe it's time you learned some basic etiquette?"
As always, Roger teased him, but instead of retorting, Nohan just looked embarrassed, unable to confidently declare his decision. It was understandable, considering that at the age of eleven when he first set foot in the academy, he had boasted of becoming a great mercenary like his father, not a knight.
Back then, he would have never imagined his future self taking the knight examination, ranting about how mercenaries who were bold and honest were far cooler than knights who only cared about appearances. His decision came as a surprise to the group members, most of whom were unaware of the reason behind his change of heart.
Gailront was perhaps the only one who could guess, suspecting it had something to do with the injustice of social status Nohan witnessed during the trial in the Duchy Territory during the summer subjugation.
"To be honest, it's not surprising that Marina is taking the knight examination."
"Kelvin, what made you think the same way as me? It wouldn't be much to brag about if a knight became my comrade."
Though Nohan grumbled like a child, belying his age of twenty, Marina smiled, knowing his teasing was his way of encouragement. She had decided to return to Senz during this break to inform her father, Duke Wilson, of her resolve to break off her engagement. Even if he objected, she was determined to send a letter of annulment directly to the Corwell Marquis household.
"Ahem, I'm the one who should be grateful to the Young Duke. Especially for introducing me to Master Nord."
Marina's face brightened at the thought of her mentor who fully supported her and imparted invaluable teachings. Now, she had no hesitation about choosing the sword.
Spending time with Nord, Marina had heard the rumors about him and his claims. She had even caught on to his secrets unknown to others, growing so close to him.
Just one person supporting her. With that existence filling that role, Marina could become completely strong. Perhaps even more so than the men who so desperately wanted to win.
Watching Marina, free of any anxiety about failing the knight examination, Hailen wondered if she might be the first female knight in the Empire's history, something unheard of in his previous life. It was amusing that the one he felt most at ease with, like a classmate, was of the opposite gender. He even considered asking her to join him when he executed his plan to defect, recalling that the Kingdom of Oclan was more open to women's advancement than the Empire.
Hailen's gaze then turned to his attendant. In truth, after his defection, the one who would face the most hardship was none other than Kelvin, who had been by his side through everything.
'If I leave, Kelvin will be reprimanded in various ways, unlike the others.'
"Kelvin, you said you would continue sculpting? What does your family say about that?"
"My family won't object as long as you continue to take me under your wing, Hailen. Many people appreciated my works at the last academic fair as well. Was that all thanks to Gailront, who drew in so many guests?"
Kelvin, who had held a personal exhibition at the academic fair event, had managed to overcome the prejudice that art was unbecoming of a noble and showcased many excellent pieces. They were even impressive enough to catch the discerning eye of Hailen, who had made a special effort to attend. It was easy to foresee Kelvin's artistic reputation rising in the future.
Even if his master were to turn his back on the Empire and defect to another country—Hailen felt less worried about his attendant when he pictured Kelvin holed up in his studio, sculpting horse statues, rather than listening to all the rumors.
"Even today, Gailront keeps his mouth shut, but isn't your future the one the others are most curious about? Nohan, you know about it, don't you?"
At the upcoming graduation ceremony, who would draw more attention than Gailront? Roger, still unable to believe that the Sword Master was right before his eyes, had been pestering Gailront about his plans.
"If I knew, I would've had fun teasing you, Roger, but unfortunately not. You never showed any interest in Gail before, anyway."
"The reason I treat the Sword Master's presence so lightly is because Gailront is still a student. It's not a crime to want to know about him, is it?"
"The problem is that you're so blatantly trying to use him. Have you become a merchant already?"
In the end, it was Gailront himself who had to speak up to stop the bickering between Nohan and Roger. Marina shook her head, remarking that they were still the same even on the last day.
However, Hailen thought Roger wasn't entirely wrong. As if sensing that he was being talked about, their gazes met for a moment. At least Hailen felt less aversion than before, perhaps because Gailront had seemed more approachable after the academic fair when he had the audacity to offer Hailen flowers.
'What path will you walk now?'
Ever since the incident with Jacob, Hailen had completely let go of any thoughts about Gailront's future. His unsavory hobby of debt collection, like wiping away debts, had disappeared as much as the distance that had grown between them. Considering the events that had transpired, it would be an understatement to simply call it a one-sided grievance.
For over a decade, no, counting his previous life, how many years had he been entangled with Gailront? And yet, Hailen felt he could never fully know him. Was it because Gailront had now grown into a man who perfectly resembled the knight from his previous life?
'I think saving your life three times during this subjugation is enough to repay my debt.'
'If I pledge my loyalty to the Duchy, can I have what I want?'
Recalling such remarks from Gailront, it was easy to dismiss the expectation that he would join the Emmast Knights. However, observing his actions, always unable to take his eyes off Hailen—
Hailen tried to erase the assumptions that kept surfacing in his mind. He had once imagined a scene where Gailront, having become a knight of the Duchy, knelt before him, a false Duke, and swore his allegiance. Why did he recall that scene again? Was it because he unconsciously desired it?
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and everyone's gaze turned toward the entrance. At the invitation to enter, one of their junior group members hesitantly revealed himself. With six seniors present, including the Young Duke whom he revered, he nervously relayed his message.
"Someone is looking for Senior Gailront. They said they'll wait at the private training grounds..."
"This guy has more than one person looking for him. Gail, did you make an appointment with someone?"
Perplexed by Nohan's question, Gailront momentarily recalled the existence of a certain letter that had crossed his mind.
'So this is what that meant by saying they would come find me soon.'
Though he had never met the sender, Gailront could not easily dismiss the letter's contents due to the identity of the master the sender served. Someone he could not forget even after so much time had passed.
Glancing at Hailen one last time, Gailront rose to his feet.
"You've been ignoring all those people trying to get you into the knight order somehow, so what's this about?"
"I'll go check it out first."
"Hailen and I are leaving for the capital today. If you're near the capital during the break, let me know, Gailront."
Even the oblivious Kelvin could tell that Gailront's response was merely perfunctory. 'I thought things had been improving between him and Master Hailen lately,' the attendant thought with a sigh as he watched Gailront leave, his master lost in contemplation.
He had hoped for a miraculous reconciliation at this final gathering, even if only nominally. But the long-buried relationship between the two had solidified, much to his regret.
The other group members likely shared his sentiment, but the regret had to be let go along with their parting.
The destination of Hailen's steps, after instructing Kelvin to wait at the carriage station, was none other than Gailront's private training grounds. He could not fathom what lingering attachment compelled him to seek out Gailront.
Was it an inability to shake off the unease towards the man who had driven him to his death? Did he still harbor a desire to bring Gailront into the Duchy's knights, to control him somehow?
Or perhaps he could not forget Gailront as the devoted page who had followed him with an innocent face, an inappropriate attachment unbecoming of him. Intoxicated by the sentimentality of the word 'last,' he had made this impulsive choice.
Though he always prided himself on being calculating, planning, and rational, Hailen knew all too well how impulsive and unrestrained his nature truly was. Even if his mental fortitude had crumbled due to drug addiction, was it not this innate disposition that had caused him to squander an entire life?
He had once wanted to eliminate Gailront from his sight and ruthlessly cast aside the pitiful boy begging for his father's life. Because of that, he had shown no desire to bridge the distance that had grown between them. So what was it that he wanted now by trying to meet Gailront?
Even as Hailen found it amusing that he himself could not discern his own intentions, he did not stop his steps toward Gailront. What halted him midway was a familiar face he encountered.
"Lord Hailen, I heard you're returning to the Duchy today. And that you won't be attending the graduation ceremony."
It was none other than Jeil, whom he had not seen often since transferring to the Diplomacy Department.
Jeil seemed to be filled with a certain wistfulness as he looked upon the handsome young noble who had grown into a man. It was a different kind of emotion from the gratification of having taught a disciple who had reached the tremendous level of Sword Master, an emotion rooted in a sense of apology toward Hailen.
Hailen still addressed Jeil with the same title as when he was young. During his time in the Swordsmanship Department, he had called him "Professor" out of consideration for others, but that had only lasted about a year.
However, Jeil knew it was not because Hailen did not regard him as a teacher. Wasn't it evident from the fact that the esteemed Young Duke allowed Jeil to use his name, a name that would surely become too lofty for Jeil to even look up at in the future? The mere fact that such an exalted person showed respect to Jeil spoke volumes.
It was Jeil's past self, driven by the desire to nurture a prodigy, who had abandoned that sentiment.
"It seems I can no longer call the Young Duke my disciple."
"Well, does a teacher-student relationship once formed really break so easily?"
In truth, Hailen no longer felt any particular discomfort in treating the now aging knight as his teacher. Contrary to Jeil's naive expectation, Hailen had treated him with respect simply to maintain the teacher-student relationship, which was regarded as particularly strict among knights. More than anything, it was merely one of the simple ways of life for him as the son of a Duke.
"There are many things for which I owe you an apology, Lord Hailen."
"As I've said before, I'm fine with it. From now on, Master Jeil will be respected by all as the teacher who nurtured the greatest Sword Master. For me, having been taught by such a person is quite an honor."
"Thank you for saying that."
"Will only good things lie ahead for Gailront's future? May Master Jeil become the strength that supports him."
"Indeed, you are the only one who looks out for Gailront. ...Even if he does not follow the Duchy, he will not forget the grace shown by Emmast."
Master Jeil's meaningful words. What could they imply?
Hailen did not let a single speck of the emotion he was feeling show on his face. Therefore, Jeil could bid his final farewell with a relieved, faint smile after carefully gauging Hailen's reaction to his own words.
"I pray that fortune will fill your path ahead as well, Lord Hailen."
With those words, still unable to shake the stubborn habits of a knight, Jeil turned and left. Having decided to remain at the academy and live out his life as a teacher, Jeil would no longer be privy to any part of the plan Hailen was involved in.
Moreover, if Jeil's words were true, there would be no more occasions for the two of them to meet even as Gailront's teacher.
There was no time to linger on the lingering emotions of parting with someone. Hailen's emerald eyes immediately took on a deep hue when he spotted the figure emerging from Gailront's private training grounds.
An unfamiliar face at the academy - it was Ray Melbourne.
It was only then that Hailen gained certainty about what Jeil had been implying. And he realized that even if the strange scene of Gailront kneeling before him, a false Duke, were to occur, he had wished for Gailront to remain by his side as a knight of the Duchy.
Was it not his very nature to acquire whatever he desired, no matter what?
The smile on Hailen's face as he greeted Ray was deeper than usual.



Chapter 67
"I meet you here, Young Duke."
"Have you come to see Gail?"
"Who else would covet the Sword Master but me?"
Hailen gazed intently at the one who gave an answer bordering on evasion. Within his characteristic impassiveness, it was difficult to read his emotions, but if there was a flaw in Ray, a talent possessing various abilities, it was that he had no talent for concealing his true feelings.
Especially when the name of the master to whom he devoted his heart was mentioned.
"Has His Imperial Highness not come today? If he is in Hasser, I would like to pay my respects."
"I will convey your words to the Young Duke when I return to the Imperial Capital."
"I wish to speak to you directly about the letter you sent me before. I knew you had your eye on Gail, but the fact that you sent me a formal invitation suggests you are serious about acquiring him?"
Two months ago, after the Academic Festival, Daniel had to leave Hasser without meeting Hailen or Gailront, contrary to his plans, due to the commotion at the Academy caused by the riddle posed by the Young Duke.
And after that, a letter bearing the seal of the Melburn family arrived for Hailen, with an unfamiliar handwriting that turned out to be none other than Daniel's. The contents of the secret letter, sent under his cousin's name, were merely an elegant elaboration of the meaning that his appearance at the Academic Festival had made an impression.
Hailen vividly remembered the moment when he received it and could not hide his bewilderment. At this moment, if he had no intention of asking Ray about anything related to Gailront, he would have wanted to interrogate the identity of the words that would have been hard to believe were sent by the Imperial Prince.
Ray's subsequent reaction, however, suggested that he too was well aware of his cousin's embarrassing behavior.
"...I hope you will take His Highness's intentions toward the Young Duke in a positive light."
In truth, it was Ray who sat by in shock as Daniel wrote that letter. "Anyone who sees this will think you're sending a love letter to some mysterious woman you're infatuated with," he had pointed out, to which Daniel lightly replied, "Then rumors will spread in high society about Young Duke Melburn pining for some unknown woman."
Daniel's actions were always frivolous, but at least he had never acted this way when it came to matters of courtship. Ray had not expected to face a similar headache from the Young Duke before him, who undoubtedly possessed a masculine charm despite his beautiful appearance.
"You must know that Emmast has long supported Gail. If you had informed me beforehand before making arrangements, I would not have misconstrued Your Highness's intentions. Considering the small amount of trust we have built up."
"I regret that, but I merely assumed the ducal house known as the Imperial Sword would not obstruct the path of an outstanding knight."
"Obstruct his path. We both prefer direct speech, but poor phrasing is not to my taste."
"...My apologies. I merely meant to leave the choice to him."
'Does that mean he knows Gail's intentions?'
Though the words seemed to slip out, Hailen's face betrayed no hint of agitation, allowing Ray to be relieved that the Young Duke did not appear offended. Nevertheless, he was certain he wished to avoid further conversation after his blunder.
"It seems I must take my leave, as I have other matters to attend to in Hasser. I expect to see you in the Imperial Capital during this social season, Young Duke. I shall look forward to that day."
The two had engaged in a cryptic exchange for quite some time. Though Hailen could have pressed Ray about his business in Hasser, he did not.
His gaze was not fixed on the departing man's back, but rather on the one who had instilled such confidence in Ray. The chilling expression that had settled on his face, a far cry from the nonchalant ease with which he had just claimed he would get what he wanted, seemed to foreshadow the conversation to come.
As soon as Hailen set foot in the private training hall, the sword Gailront had been wielding slid smoothly back into its sheath. He had always been able to easily recognize the footsteps of the one who was always watching.
A gruff and indifferent tone, a stark contrast to the cheeky demeanor of his childhood that was now difficult to recall. Was this change due to the incident with Jacob? If one were to reminisce about Gailront's previous life, this appearance would be a spitting image, but Hailen was suddenly struck by a question. A curiosity devoid of any practical use.
Perhaps, he thought, he did not wish to ask Gailront this question. For the answer was already predetermined, as it were. Would it not be better to maintain the slightly loosened bond between them that had existed since the day he accepted the flower offered by Gailront, and simply let things return to how they were?
A rare hesitation for Hailen. But it was dispelled by the owner of those black eyes that held a hint of impatience.
"Did you meet Ray Melbourne?"
"I did cross paths with him. Why, was there a conversation you're not supposed to know about?"
Instead of answering, Gailront chose silence. As he did so, he recalled his earlier conversation with Ray.
The First Prince, Daniel. As Gailront, he remembered the man as the stranger he had encountered while searching for Hailen during the latter's brief disappearance sixteen years ago.
His concealed face was as suspicious as it was startling. Was it merely Daniel's status as a prince that made him remember the man so vividly?
Until then, Gailront had looked up to the Duke, whom no one could easily bring down, and treated him as an equal peer boy. The sight of the boy naturally leaning against Hailen, whom he had revered, and making jokes with him was a memory that stimulated Gailront, who did not even properly understand his own feelings at the time, in a way he could not forget even if he wanted to.
The man who served such a person. From the moment he received Ray's letter, Gailront had already guessed the proposal he would make. The decision regarding the proposal must have been made long ago.
The reason he did not reveal that decision to those around him, even to Nohan, was solely one. He was afraid of Hailen's reaction alone.
What pierced him sharply, as if seeing through his own hesitation, were Ray's words.
"I believe it is a reasonable act to aim for a position that allows you to obtain what you desire."
"...What reason do you have to make such a statement when you've just met me?"
"Because I know the meaning behind the way you look at the Young Duke."
The man who conveyed his words with a frankness unbelievable for a nobleman. Beneath his hair resembling a clear sky, his face bore an expression far removed from emotion, but Gailront's instincts told him that the man before him was at least not pretending to be false.
"Whatever you have seen, Hailen has only shown me his patronage."
"So you will become Emmast's dog to repay that kindness? No matter how much you serve and pledge your loyalty as a master, you cannot obtain what you desire."
"I have nothing more to say or hear. Please leave now."
Gailront's face hardened as Ray pointed out things that even Nohan, who had sensed his heart, could not discern. From his original appearance, it was not particularly gentle, so it was inevitable that a presence that would drive away his opponent would seep out.
Yet Ray did not flinch. Was it because he was training in martial arts, or because he knew Gailront's reaction meant he had struck a nerve? At the very least, his ability to stand firm before the displeased Sword Master suggested he was not the culprit.
Even so, he did not cease his sharp tongue that pierced into people's hearts, a boldness that explained why Hailen regarded him as a talent.
"Skill alone cannot obtain what you desire. If it could, you would not have accepted my invitation to meet."
Ray's firm words seemed to diminish the oppressive aura that had threatened to drive his opponent away.
"Join the Imperial Knights."
"How would serving His Imperial Highness the First Prince change anything?"
If others knew that someone of common birth had uttered such an insolent remark about the one considered closest to the next Imperial throne, they would be aghast.
Gailront knew. Without the title of 'Sword Master', all that remained were those kinds of looks. That was why he had accepted Ray's invitation to meet, as he had said.
But he wanted a clear answer. Whether or not the man before him had discerned his true feelings was irrelevant. The embarrassment of having this unsightly desire exposed had long since faded. What emanated from Gailront's dark eyes was a dignity befitting a knight, no, something even greater.
'Even without the sword, this is no ordinary commoner.'
Rather than flowery words, Ray was convinced his choice to see through Gailront's sincerity was not mistaken. At the very least, having ignited a spark in this man's eyes surely increased the chances of his master's desires being fulfilled.
After a brief silence, Ray, having pondered deeply, made a proposal that may have been exactly what his opponent wanted to hear.
"If you become His Imperial Highness the First Prince's sword, you can stand on equal footing with Emmast. That alone should allow you to attain what you desire."
The moment someone discerned his true feelings, Gailront felt a sense of relief, as if escaping from a stifling space, rather than the embarrassment of having his bare self exposed. He almost doubted whether he had wanted to broadcast this selfish desire to the whole world.
No words of denial left Gailront's lips, and the conversation between the two ended there.
The reason Gailront's eyes were tinged with impatience when facing Hailen's questioning gaze was this: he feared that Hailen might have noticed a fragment of his heart after encountering Ray.
Whether it was fortunate or regrettable, Hailen, who sensed the intensity of emotion for a different reason, did not notice Gailront's demeanor.
And the subject that drove Gailront into a corner, though not the matter he was worried about—
"Gail. There is something I need an answer from you."
Gailront could not help but tense up at the resolute tone that held nothing positive.



Chapter 68
"Ask your question."
There was not a trace of worry on Gailront's stoic face that he might have discerned Hailen's true feelings. A fear unbecoming of the towering warrior. The thick mask he had built to conceal it made it all too easy to mistake his resolve.
'He means the question I'll ask and the answer he'll give are already decided.'
With that conviction, Hailen wished he could erase his earlier hesitation. Even his brief exchange with Ray.
Having already received a satisfactory answer, he wondered what Ray must have thought, seeing him come rushing over as if to challenge him. For a fleeting moment, his mood soured at the thought, though he knew it bordered on delusion. Yet his next words were less than gracious.
"A harsh world where the value of gratitude has fallen to the ground. So easily forgotten and disregarded."
"As a great Sword Master, it's only natural you serve the descendants of the Sun God. Everyone says so, do you think your position has changed?"
Hailen failed to notice the relief in his counterpart at the mocking intent behind his words, or the emotion laced in his next question.
"Do you wish for me to become a knight of the Ducal House?"
If Gailront had been as he was in his inept youth, unable to conceal his innermost thoughts, there would have been a hopeful lilt to his deep, gruff voice. No, even now he still harbored such pure desires from time to time. Anyone who heard would surely find it unbecoming of his massive frame.
Even though Hailen now knew of the callousness and duplicity of the one who had become the Young Duke, in Gailront's dreams Hailen was still the angelic young master. The sight of him reaching out his hand and saying "Won't you become my knight?" with pride at having become a Sword Master was just as nakedly revealing of his desires as those dreams that left him embarrassed in the morning.
And so he waited for those words to come from Hailen's lips, that he desired him, even if it was a different feeling from what he himself wished for. Even if it was merely a craving for a powerful swordsman.
And as always, the person named Hailen easily cast aside his hopes.
"Ha, you speak as if you expect me to beg you."
"If not, then I will not become a knight of Emmast's."
If he could not even have the position of standing by his side and protecting him with his life, what meaning was there in lingering around him, merely watching? One could not obtain someone's heart simply by gazing at them longingly, no matter how ardent. Gailront knew that all too painfully well.
For was it not the worst outcome that method had produced, his own father Jacob meeting his death at the hands of his beloved?
Hailen struggled to suppress the negative emotions welling up inside him at the firm conclusion he had expected, and yet which strangely pierced his heart. The more intense those feelings became, the more displeased he was with this very vehemence within himself.
Unlike when he had first begun this new life and was beset by turmoil, he now walked the path he had planned with a clear body and mind. The things he was feeling now were unjustified, his head told him. No matter that his moral standards were lower than most, he knew his attitude four years ago after Jacob's death had not been a positive one. He knew there were reasons for the change in the one he had followed like a brand, and that Gailront's rejection now accorded with the world's standards—
It felt as if his entire body had been pickled in a brine that robbed him of his judgment, like reverting to his previous life. A tangled mess where he could scarcely discern whether he was angry, disappointed, or feeling betrayed.
As the two struggled to settle the turbulent waves of their clashing emotions, only silence reigned in the training grounds. A familiar stillness by now.
If things continued this way, nothing would change. Eventually, someone would turn away, and the desire to hold on would be coldly rejected. It was a worthless, repeating conflict.
Just as he thought it would unfold again, these words from Gailront shattered the silence, defying all they had been feeling at once.
"I wish to stand by your side..."
The simmering unpleasantness that had been rising to his head froze instantly. For Hailen's keen senses, which had been quiet until then, alerted him that those words diverged from the previous answer.
And once a dam bursts, it is not easily stemmed.
"The only reason I wish to pledge my loyalty and learn your secrets is for that alone."
Hailen did not recall this as a continuation of a past conversation due to an exceptional memory. He had been too drunk during the summer campaign's banquet at the ducal estate to clearly remember everything.
'If I pledge my loyalty, can I have what I desire?'
'What you desire? You mean that non-existent secret again?'
And yet, he could vividly recall every exchange with Gailront from months ago.
Back then when he had gripped his arm tightly, and in this very moment. For the first time, Hailen began to surmise what the other truly desired. All those attitudes he had dismissed as mere dissatisfaction with the Ducal House shrouding Jacob's death.
It was almost laughable how many meanings were contained in Gailront's words that Hailen had never seriously considered before.
'I want to know the secret you're hiding, Hailen.'
'Do you think I've taken leave of my senses? What kind of person do you know me as, Hailen?'
'I am no longer your servant, Hailen.'
Even the vaguely heard voices as if from a dream.
'Will the day come when you see me as your equal and give me a proper answer?'
All those moments held the same light as the black pupils of Gailront's eyes gazing at him now. What had been the meaning behind those gazes he had always thought he would meet whenever he turned his head?
Eyes like those he felt he had seen somewhere before—
Before the next words could follow, Hailen realized the emotion contained in those unfathomably deep pupils was not unfamiliar.
The destructive craving to keep gazing at someone, longing for them, desiring them, until finally wanting to possess them even if it meant dragging them down.
The shattered mirror he could not help but smash to pieces beneath the viscous emotion standing before him, the fragments scattered below.
Though the color of the eyes overlapping in his vision now was completely different from the jade he remembered—
"No, I don't want you to become my knight."
Hailen's response instantly shut down the heartfelt confession.
It was an evasion that would tear someone's heart apart more than a rejection, a cowardice that forced Gailront to swallow the sincerity he should have followed through with.
Hailen's unyielding disposition was entirely shaped by his environment.
The young Hailen had simply been a pure, blank slate of a child, imitating and learning everything around him. Daniel remembered the haughty young master that emerged from the arrogant atmosphere of the ducal estate, the pride of the Duchess who raised him, and the rigid lessons emphasizing etiquette, but until then he had not been as sensitive and fussy as he was now.
The cause of it could only be traced back to that day when he was ten years old. The rainy day when Lana revealed the truth to him. It had such a profound impact that it seemed to devour an entire life.
How much must the myriad confusions of learning he was not a precious prince have stimulated the young ten-year-old child? Hailen's childhood was so terrible that having nightmares of being beheaded was a daily occurrence. The fear that one misstep could lead to death the very next day made him cautious of his every action.
"Éclair? Is it really that delicious?"
"This one, you still haven't tried it? It's a cream-filled choux pastry, so sweet."
One day, the young prince overheard a conversation between some maids whispering at the ducal estate.
Their casual gestures alone were enough to warrant punishment for appearing before the precious prince without permission. But luckily, what caught the young prince's interest was the snack called "éclair" that they were discussing.
While sweets are not to his taste now as an adult, for a child, hearing about a new treat described as so sweet was enough to make him excited. Moreover, in this small ducal estate, did Hailen not have everything he desired at just a word? From small toys to a prized black colt.
After meals, it was natural for Hailen to command that it be brought before him.
It was only natural that the maid attending the prince would look troubled.
She too knew the name of that sweet dessert that was becoming popular in the capital, but it was mostly among commoners. Nobles turned up their noses at it, making excuses that the cream would dribble and ruin their dignity. Of course, a few years later it would become an established dessert served even at official palace banquets.
When the son made his demand, it was only natural that the Duchess would respond with a scathing remark.
The conflict with the Duke who rarely visited the ducal estate in the capital had put him in a foul mood. Seeing his son, who seemed too timid to have inherited Emmast's blood, he naturally spoke more harshly than usual.
"Tsk, taking an interest in food that even commoners eat? I can scarcely believe you're my son."
It was just a passing remark, but one could easily imagine how much it must have agitated the child who was constantly trembling in fear of his true status being exposed.
And so, starting with something as simple as a sweet dessert, Hailen began to be cautious of everything in his daily life.
What he ate, what he wore, what he said, even his sleeping habits. He became obsessed with the idea that anything unbecoming of his precious status would reveal his secret and lead to his death.
It grew to the point where he felt he had to be noble in his every gesture and breath. He repeatedly drilled into himself the brainwashing notion that he must not deviate even a hair's breadth, not even a shadow, from how people perceived a duke should be if he wished to continue this life.
The child pushed himself relentlessly, and there was no one around to dissuade him from this ducal persona. The Duchess was rather pleased with her son's demeanor, and even Lana, who had approached him as his birth mother, showed no interest in his changed behavior.
Controlling even the smallest habits became routine, and that routine in turn became a way of life. He resolved to walk the very path the Duke had walked and inherit that position without fail.
As such, the natural sexual urges that came with maturity were something that completely shook Hailen's standards.
The First Prince, Daniel. The man in the hallucination he had seen at Kasper's salon was him. The object of the boy's first stirrings of desire in his previous life, the man he had longed for as a man.
A feeling that might be thrilling and lovely for someone else was utterly dreadful and filled with contempt for Hailen.
No matter how culturally accepted it might be, for Hailen's standards, the idea of desiring someone of the same sex was something he had never even anticipated. The life he knew a duke should lead was to take his seat as the next Duke of Emmast, marry a woman from a good family, and produce the heir to succeed him. That way, the noble bloodline would be preserved while his own lowborn blood would be forgotten.
His desire to undermine Daniel as a rival was not solely for the sake of the Second Prince. Hailen wanted to erase his own feelings. He wanted to rid himself of the temptation that lured him away from the righteous path he knew. The situation where he found himself entranced and gazing at Daniel was utterly agonizing and humiliating.
The truth was, he knew why he had come to harbor those feelings toward Daniel, which made it all the more miserable.
The handsome man who bore an uncanny resemblance to his imperial father, with golden eyes that proved his imperial bloodline, spoke and acted freely without fear or hesitation, laughing openly. His sturdy physique swinging a sword drew gasps of admiration from onlookers, and his humility and kindness naturally earned the reverence of those around him.
He possessed everything Hailen could never have.
Knowing that envy was the primal cause of his feelings, Hailen could never admit it.
His aversion to his own sexual inclinations soon escalated beyond mere discomfort into outright revulsion. A frantic struggle to never stray from the path he had chosen. Hailen's unyielding disposition continued to torment him. Don't cross that line, or else—
He smashed the mirror reflecting his face longing for someone of the same sex, strove to couple with the women who came to his bedchamber, and schemed to undermine those who stirred desire in his heart. All of it was Hailen's desperate struggle to never deviate from the path of the Duke's heir, to never descend from that lofty position.
Even if he were to return and abandon those attachments to forge a different future, the habits and traces would not easily disappear.
And so, in that moment, Hailen swiftly severed the viscous strand of emotion reaching out to him. Acting on the instinctive judgment that he must never touch that, he disregarded Gailront's gaze that evoked an unacceptable day from the past he should never revisit.
It should never have existed in the first place. He must have been mistaken.
Impossible. He told himself over and over.
He erased even the fleeting doubt that it could be none other than Gailront.
His cold response was merely a rejection of the other's plea to become his knight, he told himself.
An utterly rational judgment made without the slightest wavering or hesitation.
Convincing himself once more, Hailen delivered his conclusion.
"I have no need for a knight like you."
The reason he chose to dismiss rather than outright reject the other's heart.



Chapter 69
As it did every year, the winter social season had arrived. Provincial nobles flocked to the capital one after another, and socialites roamed from one lavish party to the next, eager to catch any juicy gossip.
Among the various parties, the one everyone vied for an invitation to was undoubtedly the Imperial official ball. This time in particular, people tried their utmost to leverage any connections they had to get their names on the guest list, for the knighting ceremony presided over by the Emperor himself was to be held in conjunction with the ball.
Moreover, if the recipient was the sole twenty-year-old young Sword Master who had been the talk of the capital, just imagine the amount of attention it would garner.
"You, Gailront, do you swear to protect the Perodent Imperial household and uphold the peace of the Imperial citizens before His Majesty the Emperor, descendant of Panule?"
"With all present here as witnesses to this honorable oath, by the authority of His Majesty the Emperor, I hereby confer upon you the knighthood of the Perodent Empire."
To have the Chancellor, the Emperor's representative, personally bestow the knighthood—what an honor.
The murmurs among those gathered in the ballroom to witness one man's knighting ceremony fell silent at once. For the Emperor, who had merely been observing his subjects from the highest seat, had suddenly stepped forward.
His low voice carried the firm majesty befitting one who had ascended to the highest position. The box brought by the Emperor's chamberlain contained a cloak that would befit a knight's uniform, elegantly folded, its embroidered pattern a resplendent golden sun that drew gasps of awe from those who noticed it.
"Your remarkable prowess as a Sword Master has been well proven. I shall appoint you to my personal order of knights from this place. Let this mantle, imbued with Panule's blessing, be bestowed upon you."
"Glory to His Majesty the Emperor!"
No one could have foreseen such a surprise appointment, yet the man himself, Gailront, showed not the slightest hint of agitation. Despite his commoner origins, the natural ease with which he reverted to court etiquette would suggest he had been forewarned.
A knight of the Imperial household, directly under the Emperor himself, born to commoners—what an unprecedented honor.
Naturally, such a momentous occasion would elicit no small reaction from the crowd. As if all business had concluded, the moment the ball commenced, all eyes turned to the now vacant Imperial throne, and tongues began wagging.
Moreover, the man of the hour himself had vanished into the crowd, as if searching for someone, making it all the more difficult to hold one's tongue.
"An unexpected appointment, unbecoming of the one who ordered me to make the boy his man," Daniel remarked, unable to conceal his displeasure at his father's actions, which clearly aimed to quell dissent over the Crown Prince's investiture. How convenient that he had resolved to make Gailront his own at this very moment. The Emperor's true intentions, kept secret even from the Imperial family, seemed utterly insidious.
"Fear not. He will swear his allegiance to you, Your Highness," Ray assured him.
"So confident, are we, Ray? Is that why you orchestrated this whole affair with the Duke?"
"...Now it's your turn to play your part, Daniel. You have a reckoning with the Young Duke, do you not?"
Daniel shrugged helplessly at Ray's hushed urgings.
Those gathered around Duke Melburn were undoubtedly supporters of the Crown Prince, though one need not look too closely to discern that. Regardless of status, most were pragmatists who valued ability above all else and favored reform—precisely the sort Daniel sought.
Little wonder, then, that they marveled at the unexpected arrival of the Sword Master.
"What does a man's birth matter to a warrior? Is it not only natural for the Sword Master to serve His Majesty the Emperor?"
"I agree with your words, my lord. His Majesty has made a wise judgment. For if such a powerful warrior were to side with any one faction, it would only bring chaos."
"Ahem, I heard the Crown Prince visited Hasser some time ago. Might you have heard anything about it, Duke?"
"Well, he did not share any details, so there must have been a reason. However, he did speak favorably of this Gailront fellow."
Duke Melburn, whose appearance bore no resemblance to his son Ray, uttered those words with a hint of implication. His intent to shape positive public opinion about the rising knight was clear enough for all those present to take the cue and begin singing Gailront's praises, despite never having exchanged a single word with the man.
On the other hand, there were those who vehemently disparaged Gailront's common birth.
"A commoner as His Majesty the Emperor's personal knight? It's controversial enough for him to be part of the Imperial Knights, but this is truly a poor decision by His Majesty."
It was audacious for a mere Duke to question the revered Emperor's judgment, but the one silently standing by his side was none other than the Emperor's own son, making it difficult to call out. Some mocked Kasper, insinuating he was only belittling Gailront because he could no longer become a knight himself, but no one dared voice it aloud, wary of Franz's reaction.
One had to wonder about Kasper's remarkable ability to regain the Second Prince's trust even after the trial at the Duke's estate. Much of the credit went to Theresia, who was gradually gaining Franz's favor, a far cry from how she used to look down on Kasper, who could not even show his face in the north.
'It was those bastards Mirana and the others who informed the Young Duke about Gerong. Do you really think a nobody like you, Gailront, can dare stand in that place?'
Even without recalling his recent humiliations, the hatred that had already taken root in Kasper's heart blazed so fiercely that it threatened to consume him. However, Franz deemed it appropriate to exploit Kasper's rage for the time being.
"I've heard this Gailront fellow received the patronage of Duke Emmast. Perhaps the Duke's influence played a role in this appointment."
"Impossible. I can vouch for that, having studied alongside the Young Duke at the academy. He never gave that commoner the time of day. In the end, the ingrate simply ignored the Duke's benevolence."
"Still, Duke Emmast is unmarried..."
"The fact that neither His Majesty nor the Young Duke attended the knighting ceremony says it all. Even the Empress Mother and other Imperial relatives were absent from this ball. That commoner merely lucked into ability and seized a position far above his station. Nothing more, nothing less."
"I concur with Lord Clifford's assessment. It is an excessive position for a commoner to occupy. Shall we gather public opinion and bring it before the Council of Nobles?"
They seemed intent on rallying support against Gailront of their own accord.
While Franz held no interest in the commoner Gailront himself, he believed he could unite the conservative nobles' sentiments through him. Especially if Daniel's faction expressed favor toward the commoner Sword Master.
"Your Highness, His Majesty summons you."
In the distance, a palace attendant also relayed a message to Daniel. Franz gritted his teeth at Daniel's nonchalant demeanor. It was rare for the Emperor to summon both his sons to seek their opinions on a single matter.
Evidently, the Emperor's intentions behind Gailront's sudden appointment remained shrouded, lending credence to Jeil's warning not to be exploited by the man. Even in his absence, his presence lingered everywhere.
And the belated arrival of Young Duke Hailen, which had puzzled some, came after the ball had progressed to a certain point.
"The knighting ceremony has concluded, it seems. Gailront must have stepped away for a private audience with the Captain of the Imperial Knights. The others were not invited, they say..."
Though not particularly loquacious by nature, Kelvin regarded Hailen with a quizzical look at his unusually terse response. No trace of discomfort showed on his face, yet Kelvin could sense an instinctive unease in his lord's demeanor.
It was strange enough that Hailen, attending in place of the Duke who was absent from the capital, had arrived so late. The absence of Emmast, the Empire's Sword, could invite unnecessary rumors. When Kelvin expressed his puzzlement, Hailen merely said, "Yes, I made a mistake," but—
Kelvin knew his lord would never make such a mistake. This, too, was part of his lord's intentions.
'Did something happen between you and Gailront?'
The members of Mirana's group, who had wished each other well for their respective futures after parting ways, had not met separately since. Perhaps they felt slighted that Gailront had chosen to serve the Imperial household rather than the ducal knights—the only plausible reason Kelvin could surmise.
But even that seemed ill-fitting for Hailen.
"We should congratulate Gailront when he returns shortly. It's quite an achievement to become one of His Majesty the Emperor's personal knights!"
In any case, at least one of the two seemed genuinely moved by their acquaintance's success.
Hailen's belated arrival as the Young Duke of Emmast inevitably aroused suspicion, prompting many to approach him and make inquiries, hoping to discern the ducal house's intentions.
"His Grace must have been disappointed to miss the Sword Master's knighting ceremony. But more importantly, the Empire's stability is paramount, is it not? With the situation in the south rapidly changing, I too have lent a hand in negotiations with the Kingdom of Oclan."
"Ah, I see. So that was the reason."
"Gailront is a talented knight whom even Emmast sponsored, so we can expect great things from him for the Empire's sake."
"Those are words befitting the Young Duke of Emmast, who reveres the sword."
Even if politically neutral, it was only natural for the ducal house to hold exceptional knights in high esteem. Thus, Hailen had to continue uttering words contrary to his true feelings.
Contrary to Kelvin's speculation, Hailen's late arrival at the knighting ceremony was not due to any intention, but rather a near oversight. Perhaps he knew it could arouse suspicion, yet he did so regardless.
However, Hailen simply did not wish to encounter Gailront even for a moment, which was why he only appeared after the other had vacated.
He did not even want to recall the gaze and voice with which Gailront had tried to convey his heart to him, yet the memories resurfaced unbidden, regardless of place or time.
Despite the considerable time that had passed since that day.
The name 'Gailront' filled the air all around. Though he had business to attend to at this ball, Hailen found it difficult to maintain his composure.
'Why should that name "Gailront" matter so much?'
Eventually, his discomfort became evident enough to show on his face.
"Are you unwell? You don't look so good, Hailen. Perhaps you should retire to the lounge and rest?"
"I'm just feeling a bit off. I haven't even paid my respects to the Crown Prince yet."
"Both Their Highnesses were summoned by His Majesty, so it may be some time before they return. Why don't you step outside to the garden and get some fresh air?"
Finding Kelvin's suggestion rather thoughtful, Hailen decided to follow it. The incessant migraine had returned. At the very least, he did not wish to display any weakness amidst all these people.
Moreover, no matter how much he tried to avoid it, he would inevitably have to face the vexing Gailront here, and he would need a clear mind to deal with him then.
He must never let Gailront know that he had been shaken by that incident. No, he reaffirmed to himself that he had never wavered.
Thus, the two left the complex ballroom and inhaled the cold night air.
"Everyone's going crazy over Gailront. Well, I suppose it's only natural. Even the most skilled knights can't attain a position like that, no matter their ability. It just goes to show how remarkable the title of Sword Master is."
The problem was that he had forgotten his ever-oblivious attendant.
Whether the one reprimanded by his lord pouted or not mattered little to Hailen at the moment.
Unfortunately, however, Kelvin was not the only one disturbing Hailen's brief respite. Spotting the figure emerging behind Kelvin, Hailen let out a light sigh and said,
"Kelvin, you know nothing of this encounter. Understood?"
"Huh? Who are you meeting?"
The word 'garden' in the context of a ball implied secrecy, so Kelvin entertained the absurd notion of a tryst. But upon turning around and realizing who the person was, he promptly dismissed such fanciful thoughts.
It was none other than Daniel, the owner of those luminous golden eyes that shone even in the dark night.



Chapter 70
"Your Highness, the First Prince!"
A flustered voice echoes through the deep night. "Kelvin." The master's firm words convey a clear intent. Daniel chuckles, amused to see the servant immediately seal his lips.
'Since he's aware of my dealings with Paison, listening in on my conversation with the First Prince shouldn't be an issue...'
Hailen ponders whether to dismiss his troublesome attendant, but Daniel promptly broaches the sensitive topic, as if sensing his thoughts.
"I didn't expect the Young Duke to be the one who hired the Information Guild Master."
"...Won't you at least allow me to pay my respects?"
"What importance are such stiff formalities between us?"
As always, Daniel maintains a casual demeanor, but his gaze betrays a hint of intensity, ready to pounce on any opening. The reason, as he stated, was this:
Hailen hadn't expected failure. Yet the physical evidence linking House Carter directly to the revised laws, the correspondence bearing the ducal seal exchanged with the research team—all of it had ultimately been lost.
After a year's worth of effort, the outcome couldn't help but be disappointing.
'I suppose the altered future never unfolds according to one's wishes.'
He had invested considerable personal funds to acquire that evidence as leverage in his dealings with the First Prince. Hailen recalled Paison uttering the word 'failure' for the first time in his presence.
Perhaps if he had provided more clues about his previous life, things might have gone more smoothly. His decision to avoid arousing the Information Guild's suspicion had led to this unfavorable result.
And now, with the commission concluded and secrecy no longer guaranteed, Daniel, having obtained information about another pursuer besides themselves, harbored a newfound wariness toward Hailen.
"Beating around the bush isn't my style. So, what's our Young Duke's reason for actively involving himself in the struggle for the throne?"
Kelvin, who had been swallowing his saliva in the middle, was at a loss as to whether he should be more terrified by 'us' or 'struggle for the throne'. To the point where he thought it might be better to just plug his ears.
"Of course, it's because I desire something."
Although the bargaining chip he should have presented to Daniel had vanished, Hailen had already set his path. The discomfort from earlier was nowhere to be seen, as only the habitual smile played across his resolute face as he spoke those words.
And it was only natural for Daniel to respond with a slight smile, following Hailen's lead.
"Then if I give you what you want, will you become my man?"
'Truly, this man's choice of words remains unchanged.'
If someone unfamiliar with the situation were to witness this, they would undoubtedly assume the First Prince was flirting with the Young Duke, just as Kelvin had turned deathly pale.
As if Hailen could have been unaware of this man's nature. There was a time in his previous life that he would rather not recall, when he would tremble and be swayed by such unseemly wordplay.
'But that foolish me no longer exists.'
He could not pinpoint when the dreadful emotion that refused to fade no matter how hard he tried had finally disappeared. It might have been during the height of the power struggle, when they had come to see each other as complete enemies. Or perhaps it was the moment he drew his sword against Ray, Daniel's man.
One thing was certain, though: when he opened his eyes on a certain day at the age of ten, having rewound his life, the viscous feeling that had occupied a part of his heart seemed to have vanished without a trace.
Instead, what now lurked and stirred in its place was—
'Ah, it circles back to Gail again.'
Hailen strove to clear his mind of the figure he should not dwell on in this situation. Daniel, however, seemed only amused by the slight furrowing of his brow, interpreting it as a reaction to his statement.
"You're quite confident without even knowing what I want."
"Isn't it refreshing to join hands without knowing what the other wants? It's obvious whose hand you'll take if I can't give you what you desire."
"Well, I suppose it would be entertaining to observe you acting a bit more impatient."
"Haha, this is why I enjoy conversing with the Young Duke. So you don't intend to continue speaking?"
Daniel pondered many possibilities. What could a man who had already risen to the position of Young Duke truly desire? At a glance, it might seem he wished to gain power by following the one destined to become Emperor. But his keen instincts told him otherwise.
'The most pleasing answer would be a personal fondness for me.'
Even if it was a naive expectation, there was no harm in hoping. Moreover, there were many who followed Daniel not just for the First Prince's faction, but for his own charm and abilities. His confidence was no mere bluster.
Of course, Hailen shattered his expectations.
"I shall explain it to you slowly later on."
"...You're really toying with me."
"Didn't you say you enjoyed it?"
While addressing the figure before him with due formality befitting a prince, Daniel recalled his own mischievous acts that had once made the young Hailen cry, as he observed the Young Duke's casual demeanor.
Was it because the arrogant young nobleman displeased him? Yet in this moment, seeing Hailen's faintly glistening golden hair in the darkness where only moonlight existed, he wondered if his past self had merely been disappointed by something contrary to his expectations.
The childish desire to tease someone appealing was an immaturity unbecoming of a grown man—
With one step, then another, the distance between them rapidly closed due to Daniel's large stature. Without averting his gaze from the emerald eyes, his approach instilled an inexplicable tension.
They were now separated by a distance barely enough for a person's face.
'Up close, he truly possesses a bewitching appearance.'
As Daniel pondered this, he felt a sense of crisis that perhaps it was not the other party but himself who was being swayed by what had begun as mere playfulness. Even the heavy smile he deliberately displayed—was it truly the same nonchalance as usual?
"So now the Young Duke is to become my man?"
"You... You two don't need a drink?"
Kelvin's abrupt intrusion between them was an act that could have earned him a reprimand from the two of higher status, but at least he avoided being scolded.
Awakening from the fleeting flood of indescribable emotion that had washed over him, Daniel felt an inexplicable sense of relief thanks to the Young Duke's attendant who had stepped in front of him. As for Hailen, who had no intention of being swayed by such antics, he simply felt relieved to have avoided a bothersome situation.
"Anyone watching would think I'm the lecherous one."
"My apologies, Your Highness."
"My attendant has a rather peculiar side to him."
"Layton, was it? Well, I'm quite familiar with his eccentric nature."
While Kelvin, who had never properly conversed with the esteemed prince, was wide-eyed, what Daniel recalled was a strange day amidst the countless fragmented statues, where someone had been joyful.
"Yes, very well. Now that we've joined hands like this, shouldn't we become more comfortable with each other? How about we address each other by name from now on? You can call me Daniel as well..."
"Isn't that answer too hasty? In any case, as a prince, I don't need the Young Duke's permission. I'll be counting on you from now on, Hailen."
"...I'm counting on you as well."
Unable to refuse the extended hand, Hailen reached out his pale hand and grasped Daniel's. Despite this being a moment akin to a unity of purpose toward a greater goal, it had passed so lightly and playfully—was it because of the man named Daniel? Or was it due to his attendant, Kelvin?
'At least I know he's not under the control of Ray Melbourne.'
The loyal hound who never took his eyes off his master—where had he disappeared to?
In any case, for Hailen, it was a moment when he had safely proceeded with one of the plans he had been devising.
The one whose whereabouts were being questioned was none other than Ray, who was seated with Gailront. Even in this secluded outdoor garden, who knew if someone might eavesdrop on the First Prince and the Young Duke's conversation?
The terrace where Ray stood was the only place from which one could see the two men in the banquet hall, and for a different reason than Ray, Gailront, who had been observing their meeting, spoke in a cold voice.
"What is your reason for showing me this scene?"
Having just finished the inauguration ceremony, Gailront had immediately left the banquet hall to meet with the Captain of the Imperial Knights, as he had been suddenly assigned to the Emperor's personal knight order, leaving him in a state of bewilderment. Yet Ray, who had asked to meet him afterward, seemed determined to unsettle him.
Ray Melbourne had already realized Gailront's feelings toward Hailen during their previous meeting and was trying to exploit them. However, Gailront could not let his guard down, for behind this man stood none other than the First Prince himself.
The very Daniel who now approached the trembling Young Duke with such nonchalance.
"You already know. I wish for you to pledge your sword to my master, the First Prince."
"Did you not see to whom I pledged my sword at today's inauguration ceremony?"
"The hasty ceremony arranged by His Majesty's decree, you mean?"
In this world, the oaths of fealty and such by knights were mere formalities and pretense. After a day when his sincerity was properly disregarded, he had chosen to join the Imperial Knights, but he had no intention of pledging true loyalty to the imperial family he barely knew.
Moreover, the one seated far away, the so-called Emperor, seemed to belong to a different world altogether, to the point where Gailront doubted if he was even human like himself. To pledge loyalty to him or not, frankly, wasn't it a miracle that Gailront had managed to properly observe the imperial court etiquette during today's inauguration ceremony?
"I'm not skilled at beating around the bush, so I'll be blunt. What you really want isn't to serve the Young Duke as your master, but to stand by his side, isn't it?"
"That's not a reason for me to pledge my sword to His Highness the First Prince. Even if I did, what would change?"
"The Emperor's personal knight order. It's a good position. But if you remain there, you'll only be a commoner-born Sword Master who brings glory to the imperial family, nothing more, nothing less. But His Highness the First Prince is different. He values ability over status."
"In other words, you're simply proposing that I seek advancement in status."
It was a brief encounter, but Gailront, whom Ray had thought to be quite taciturn, began to speak, and each of his words carried a sharpness no less keen than his own sword. Perhaps some of that sharpness stemmed from displeasure towards the one who had deliberately probed his feelings.
But Ray knew. He knew that this man before him had already been wavering for some time. That emotion was so viscous and difficult to control, easily flaring up at the slightest provocation from those around him.
"Yes. It's simple, isn't it? Do you see that scene? People like us can never easily reach that world. We struggle and flail about, trying to get even a little closer to them. What's so wrong with seeking advancement?"
"...Will anything really change even if you desperately chase after it?"
"At least the chances of obtaining the 'heart' you desire will be higher than staying in this position."
"The 'heart' I desire? Is that what you want as well, Ray Melbourne?"
"Isn't it the same for you?"
Gailront had never defined in any words the purpose of his unending desires and viscous emotions. He merely wished to approach Hailen, stand at the same level, and convey his true feelings.
Still, whenever he recalled Hailen's rejection that seemed to freeze his heart with coldness, or rather, that day's outright dismissal, it pained him.
Gailront had endlessly imagined and agonized over what answer he might receive if he ever confessed his feelings. Most of those scenarios were negative, but he never expected such a cruel response.
The complete disregard, treating his sincere feelings as if they didn't even exist. How pitiful and wretched he had felt standing before him at that moment. In that instant, all the effort he had made to rise up, even a little, to reach Hailen seemed futile.
The notion of advancing in status to gain someone's heart—perhaps that was merely the naive fantasy of a child.
As Gailront turned to leave, Ray, discerning his destination, called out to him.
"At least the Young Duke seems to have taken our hand. I'll wait to see what choice you make."
There was no reply, but Ray wasn't disappointed by the silence, for he knew Gailront wouldn't give up on what he desired.
The proof was that his destination was none other than the outdoor garden where Hailen and Daniel were.
From afar, a wry smile formed on Ray's lips as he watched his master depart first.
'At least there are those who envy you for chasing after that heart.'
However, Ray didn't regret his choice long ago to accept the Duke's offer and become the First Prince's cousin. At least he could spend his life by the side of the one he adored under the guise of kinship.



Chapter 71
Indeed, it was the presence befitting a crown prince. The silence that returned after Daniel's departure was enough to make one feel the void left by a single person.
Hailen let out a wry chuckle, releasing the tension from his body.
'Whether in his past life or this one, he's certainly a man who's difficult to deal with in many ways.'
In any case, with this, he had enlisted as a crew member on the massive ship captained by the First Prince. An amusing situation where a former adversary became a comrade, but Hailen couldn't care less. He had simply made a deal with someone who could give him what he wanted.
There was still a long way to go. So many things to take care of to smoothly leave this place. As the Young Duke, a position that carried risks different from that of a maid's child, Hailen was treading slowly but carefully.
"Kelvin, go to the banquet hall and fetch something suitable to drink. It doesn't seem like there are any servants in the outdoor garden."
Kelvin swiftly scurried off at his master's request to quench his thirst.
Only then could Hailen enjoy the solitude. Complete silence, devoid of the clamor of the grand banquet hall rife with all sorts of musings and falsehoods, the ever-watchful Daniel, and the fussing of the servants who could now somewhat foresee his actions. Not even the sound of insects, owing to the cold winter.
It was the moment when his original purpose of clearing his complicated thoughts was finally fulfilled.
Standing alone in the outdoor garden bathed in moonlight, with barely any illumination save for the darkness, was enough to evoke various sentiments for a handsome man. But alas, the only one present here was Hailen. Most of the guests invited to the imperial banquet would be enjoying themselves inside the banquet hall, making it the perfect environment to cool his head—
Hailen's expression, which had been growing serene, suddenly furrowed. It was due to a faint moan that rang out in the air.
Perhaps it was a faint feminine voice. At least, it was unlikely a cry for help at this moment. Originally, the outdoor garden during a banquet was a place used to enjoy secret trysts, taking advantage of the darkness and privacy. For those pretentious nobles easily indulged in lewd acts the moment they turned around, seeking pleasure.
'I didn't expect them to commit such vulgar acts at an imperial banquet hall.'
Perhaps it was precisely because of such prohibitions that their desires burned even hotter.
One thing was certain: it only brought displeasure to Hailen, who had been enjoying the solitude and tranquility.
Even more so if someone were to approach shortly after.
If the person was associated with those moans, Hailen resolved to subdue them without a care, glaring in the direction of the approaching footsteps. However, the figure that appeared was someone he hadn't expected.
None other than Gailront.
"You remember this is where my inauguration ceremony is being held, don't you?"
Even though he understood the question, giving a different answer seemed to express his disappointment that someone was absent from his inauguration ceremony.
After that speculation, Hailen felt awkward facing him, to the point where even making eye contact was uncomfortable, due to the memories that came flooding back from not long ago.
"I don't want any congratulations from you, so unless it's important, say it later."
And Gailront couldn't have failed to notice Hailen's attitude of not looking him straight in the eye. He would likely move to stop Hailen from swiftly leaving.
"Ha, why should I listen to your orders?"
"I mean, don't run away anymore."
In the end, Hailen had to stop his attempt to leave.
Setting aside how much more resolute Gailront seemed today compared to before, Hailen couldn't ignore his choice of the word 'run away.' It was something his noble pride couldn't tolerate.
Even if he were to hear the rest of the story here that he had shut down with his disregard that day.
"Run away? Why would I ever think of running away from the likes of you? It's utterly disrespectful for a knight directly serving His Majesty."
"Then please don't avoid me today."
His words were a request, but his actions were the opposite.
With just a single stride, yet one that covered a large distance, Gailront approached Hailen.
The mere approach of his towering figure couldn't help but exert pressure, and without realizing it, Hailen took a step back as well, making excuses to himself. It seemed he had forgotten that he hadn't even taken a small step back from the other man who had approached him just moments ago.
"I've never avoided you."
Another step forward, and his counterpart took a step back.
"What is it you want to hear from me?"
"I simply wish for your honesty, Hailen."
"Honesty? I told you back then. I don't want you to become my knight..."
Yet another step, but the unfortunate thing was that Hailen could no longer retreat. There were garden ponds behind him, leaving him nowhere else to go. But the man before him wouldn't care about his circumstances.
Gailront approached resolutely, as if determined not to let him retreat any further.
With a firm stride, the distance between them narrowed considerably. Gailront's low, deep voice rang clearly in Hailen's ears.
"No. You don't understand. I must hear it today. Even if it's a rejection... of my feelings."
In the end, the undercurrent of conversation that Hailen had so desperately wanted to avoid surfaced all at once.
Was the revulsion rising within him directed at the true nature of what he didn't want to face? Unable to suppress the shudder running through him, Hailen's voice rang out sharp and harsh, echoing through the silent outdoor garden.
"Don't bring your filthy feelings to me!"
It was likely because these words had a profound impact on Gailront that he stopped at a distance where they could almost feel each other's breaths.
His approaching steps, the desperate words he had been hurling at each other, all came to a halt.
Hailen tried to steady his breathing to compose the emotions he could scarcely believe he had unleashed, all the while not taking his eyes off Gailront. Those eyes, the very windows through which he could discern the other's feelings, were telling him the stories he didn't want to hear, but he couldn't turn away from them any longer, acknowledging the situation he could no longer ignore.
"You say this heart I have for you is filthy?"
Gailront's voice was lowered, as if reflecting his dejected state of mind. Hailen hesitated to answer, it was so low.
Along with that, countless shades of darkness intertwined within the black pupils Hailen was gazing into. Anger, sorrow, frustration, emptiness. The one who had caused all this had no intention of correcting his words. Even if he knew it was an exaggerated mistake he had blurted out.
Gailront mocked himself. Not because he was shocked by the evaluation he never expected to hear from the man before him. But because he found himself agreeing with Hailen's words amidst his confusion and hurt.
This heart that craved, yearned, and desired to the point of wanting to possess even if it meant shattering everything—was it not too unadorned to simply call beautiful? He himself had felt that most acutely.
At times, he even doubted if what he truly wanted was the other's heart.
It was rare for Gailront to see Hailen from such a close distance. The emerald-like brilliance of those green eyes directed solely at him possessed an alluring quality that made it hard to believe such cruel words had come from their owner's lips.
Even at a moment like this, how absurd and ridiculous was this emotion that drew him in. The urge to simply reach out his hand and touch Hailen's pale skin, faintly reflecting the moonlight; the instinct to naturally inhale his scent and feel satisfied—
Perhaps Hailen's assessment of it being "filthy" was apt, Gailront thought.
It was ludicrous that the faint moans heard from afar were what broke the rigidity between the two men.
Hailen almost wanted to express gratitude to those vulgar people for allowing him to regain some composure, chuckling as he resolved to leave this place. He had indulged in the unwanted conversation and firmly rejected his counterpart, so he assumed Gailront would no longer try to hold him back.
The way Hailen pushed against him with his hands was sharp. No matter how hard he pressed his palms against Gailront's solid chest, the man didn't even budge. Only when Hailen raised his other arm and leaned his weight with both hands did Gailront show some movement, but he soon stood firm again as if flaunting his monstrous strength. A gesture expressing that he still had more to say, but to Hailen, it was nothing short of infuriating.
"What are you doing? Move aside at once!"
"I still have more to say. Things I want to hear, too."
"Isn't this enough for you to have heard the answer you wanted? Or are you standing there stubbornly, hoping to hear an affirmative answer from me?"
"At least you're no longer ignoring me."
"Yes. I suppose I've had enough of this tedious affair."
Once Hailen realized Gailront's resolve not to let him go easily, he had no choice but to engage in a proper conversation with him.
No longer pushing Gailront away, Hailen looked up at him again. The smile on his lips was momentarily aesthetically pleasing enough to make one's heart skip a beat, but in reality, it was closer to a mocking expression.
A serene countenance, as if fully prepared to tear into and wound his counterpart.
Gailront instinctively knew that only venom and malice would spew forth from those tempting lips, but he didn't want to stop this conversation.
For today, he had firmly resolved to reach some conclusion.
And Hailen's words were far more vicious and cruel than expected.
"Your heart? What are you talking about? Are you referring to those impure looks you give me?"
"That's not what I mean!"
"If not, then you've already cast aside a knight's noble loyalty, haven't you? What you want is this, isn't it? To commit lewd acts here like those filthy people moaning in the distance. That unclean emotion where you get aroused just by looking at another man's body."
This time, Gailront wasn't rendered speechless by Hailen's scathing words. It was closer to bewilderment at having his true feelings discerned so accurately that he couldn't outright deny them.
And noticing Gailront's momentary hesitation, Hailen let out a mocking laugh. In an instant, his emerald eyes turned cold, as if looking upon something dreadful.
In truth, whether man or woman, it wasn't the first or second time Hailen had seen people harbor such desires for him. As the Young Duke, his noble status prevented them from approaching directly, but leering at his beautiful appearance was something Hailen experienced daily.
He had never imagined receiving such treatment from Gailront, however.
"When did it start? Were you feigning innocence this whole time, acting pitiful like a child? Did you think you could conquer me with your worthless body that can't even chase my shadow, believing your position would improve?"
"Is that all I am to you, Hailen—mere trash?"
"Look at your actions now. Blocking my path, forcing me to answer. What good response did you expect?"
"Then what... What must I do to gain your heart? What must I do to—!"
Though he should have said, "Discard those feelings," Hailen's mouth closed of its own accord.
It had been a long time since he had seen Gailront in such an emotional state. One could rightly call the expression on his face earnest.
Just what was this thing called "feelings" anyway?
Silence fell between their locked gazes once more.
The familiar tension. A brief stillness that gave the illusion that only the two of them existed in this place.
A sense that they were not merely searching and scrutinizing each other's eyes to discern what the other was feeling and thinking, but communicating something beyond that.
And so the two continued gazing at each other.
Though the deliberation was lengthy, the action was swift. Perhaps it was an impulse he could no longer restrain that lit the fuse for Gailront.
Hailen saw a large hand approaching, nearly blocking half his field of vision.
But unlike before, he did not retreat.
The reason was unclear, and he regretted it—
When he realized Gailront's massive hand had grabbed the back of his head, or rather, when he noticed those black pupils growing larger, when he felt the warmth mixed with body heat against his lips that had been frozen by the chilly night air.
It was then that Hailen regretted not retreating.
And as for the part where he had closed his eyes without realizing it in that moment, he could not fathom what his own feelings had been.



Chapter 72
As Hailen looked upon Gailront, he recalled the feelings he had harbored for Daniel in his previous life. Above all else, this was the thought that occupied his mind the most:
After living his new life, Hailen felt ashamed looking at the mischievous child that was Gailront. Unlike his previous life, the mere act of leaving the boy alone without tormenting him led the people of the ducal estate to believe that the commoner Sword Master favored the servant boy. He allowed those gazes to linger, judging that maintaining even a facade of benevolence would not be a loss.
It would be a lie to say he did not enjoy Gailront trailing after him.
In the past, it was Hailen who would bristle and lash out whenever they crossed paths. The mere mention of Gailront's name would make his ears perk up, and even a glimpse of his shadow would put him on guard. In contrast, Gailront, the very one who had driven him away and killed his mother, would go about with an indifferent expression, showing not a shred of anger or resentment.
Those shameful memories lingered, so was it not understandable that he found some gratification in having the roles reversed, with Gailront now pursuing him? He had never dreamed that such one-sided observation would evoke unexpected feelings.
Thus, the rising sense of revulsion was secondary to the sheer incomprehensibility and disbelief he felt.
After starting anew with Gailront, a decade had passed. Although the incident with Jacob had driven a wedge between them, their intimacy had become incomparable to their previous life, and they had developed a mutual affection.
Yet where in all of that could the impure dregs of desire have taken root?
As one well-acquainted with his own sensitive nature and keen insight into reading people, this was an aspect that utterly eluded Hailen's understanding.
Hence, during the time he avoided Gailront, Hailen had ample opportunity to reflect upon himself. Rather than ruminating on the intense emotions akin to a confession that filled his mind, his thoughts were consumed by confusion over the situation he could not comprehend and the sexual proclivities he had always sought to reject.
The moment Gailront impulsively pressed his lips against Hailen's, the reason why Hailen closed his eyes as if in response, and why he still did not push him away, was something he could not comprehend.
What had started as a simple act of joining their lips together was gradually becoming more brazen.
From the very beginning, reaching out to Hailen had been driven by pure impulse. It was only after committing the act that Gailront realized he had truly touched Hailen, and his mind went blank.
His subsequent actions were all instinctual movements.
The simple kiss, which felt softer than expected as their lips met, was due to Gailront's lack of experience. But humans, too, are ultimately a kind of beast. The latch holding back his urges had been undone and cast aside, and Gailront's desire to get closer naturally filled in what he lacked.
After a brief, monotonous motion, the hand Gailront had on Hailen's head began to tighten its grip.
What had merely touched Hailen's lips now seemed to devour the thin, reddened flesh, gradually enveloping it as if indulging its master's greed.
And the moment Hailen's already closed eyes parted his lips slightly, taking in Gailront's thick lower lip, it spurred the steady surge into a torrent, unleashing much that had been held back.
Their joined lips clung together without a gap, parting and reuniting as they began to share each other's breath.
Hailen tried to step back from the suddenly intensified action, but the sensation of the garden's shrubbery met his back, while Gailront's other arm encircled his waist, pulling him forcefully inward.
No matter how much he continued to drink it in, like seawater that only incited thirst, no matter how much he savored it, the longing rising within Gailront did not dissipate. His instincts, rather, craved more, and with even the slightest acquiescence from his partner, it was not difficult.
The moment Gailront's tongue, hot as if burning, touched him, Hailen involuntarily flinched and parted his lips further.
Before he knew it, his two hands were resting on Gailront's firm chest, but there was no force behind them to push him away as before.
The thick tongue invading through the parted gap was far too swift, seizing even the briefest lapse in his partner's defenses.
Following the trajectory that traced the line of his lips and the warm interior beyond, their heads tilted in opposite directions. Simultaneously, Gailront found Hailen's tongue, hidden deep within, and instantly entwined it with his own.
The pale hands resting on his partner's chest, unable to find purchase, wandered aimlessly before disheveling part of the stiff fabric of his uniform. To that extent, their connection deepened and intensified.
As if frustrated by the lack of new territory to explore, Gailront not only entangled their tongues but delved into the roof of Hailen's mouth, continuing to suck and lap at him until Hailen's breathing grew ragged.
Gone was the initial tranquility, replaced by a dense, impassioned kiss that seemed to caress some lower part of his face. The flush gradually spreading across Hailen's pale skin could not be attributed solely to a lack of breath.
The heat was rising to the tips of his hair.
If the narrowing distance between their bodies, now pressed fully together, caused his strength to momentarily falter, was it due to such acts, or the thick emotion conveyed by Gailront's tongue?
Tightening the arm encircling Hailen's waist to steady him, Gailront, as if unwilling to allow even a moment's respite, began to ravish the mouth he had been exploring so intimately.
Although it was merely a kiss, he unconsciously wondered why it felt as if he could taste something, and began to meticulously probe the inside of Hailen's mouth, one area at a time. The saliva of another was not unpleasant, but rather like a spice that only heightened his arousal, and he had no hesitation in sucking it in and swallowing it down.
What was the source of the sensation rising from the tips of his toes? Was it the pleasure of finally reaching the one he had so desired? Or was it an insatiable greed that craved even more?
One thing was certain: even after such a prolonged time had passed, and the distance between them had widened, a glimmer of hope still lingered in Gailront's gaze before his hazy green eyes regained their clarity.
The return of reason along with his lost senses was swift.
And Hailen was someone who had not expected this, yet knew full well how to handle the situation he had been so swiftly entangled in.
"...So. Are you satisfied now?"
After such an intense intimacy, Gailront had not expected a teasing, romantic response. But he had never dreamed that Hailen, his cheeks still flushed with lingering heat, would utter such a chilling voice.
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, jolting him awake from a dream.
As Gailront's arm fell away from Hailen's waist, Hailen pushed against his chest with both hands.
Unlike his previous stillness, he took two steps back, swiftly widening the distance between them.
And the words that followed only served to emphasize that distance, sharp and cutting.
"This is exactly what you... wanted, isn't it? I understand perfectly now."
It would be strange if one were to utter words bordering on criticism, unaware of the meaning they were conveying to the other party.
Yet Hailen was oblivious at present. Whether the cutting words he uttered stemmed from genuine disgust and revulsion, or were merely a defensive mechanism—a damnable habit of reacting negatively as always.
One thing was certain: the bell ringing incessantly in his mind warned that further thought would be perilous.
Gailront composed himself with a cooled head, no stranger to Hailen's cynical demeanor in any situation.
And he also knew that Hailen was not one to extend even a fingertip to anyone merely to prove his assumptions.
Amidst the myriad emotions and physical pleasures that had dulled even the Sword Master's senses, he could still recall vividly: the entwining vines, the hands resting on his chest, the weight leaning into the arm around his waist.
Memory, thought, and an instinct akin to primal nature all conveyed the same message: his partner had faltered.
Gailront no longer hesitated.
"I want to be in that kind of relationship with you, Hailen—not just a servant or knight, but to join our bodies and lips..."
"You've become quite brazen now."
"I... will become the one who has your heart."
Seeing Gailront's self-assurance, his sincere belief in the possibility, Hailen was rendered speechless—to the point where he could not even utter cold, wounding words.
And realizing that it was none other than himself who had given Gailront such conviction, Hailen understood that refusal or flight would be futile.
"So you truly believe there's a possibility of us having that kind of relationship?"
Why had the situation unfolded this way? It was now meaningless to reflect on the decade of rapport they had shared or the intense intimacy from just moments ago.
Pondering why Gailront had developed such feelings for him, or why he had responded to Gailront's kiss, would serve no purpose—
Perhaps the answer had already been determined long ago. When he had considered sending Gailront to the academy to separate him, or when he had resolved on the day of Gailront's enrollment to no longer be bound to him.
In the end, Hailen's present life was merely a preparation for departure, and Gailront's existence held no value to him, having been an object of obsessive hatred in his previous life. It would be no loss to dismiss him as worthless, regardless of the meaning.
'I cannot become entangled with you again. No matter what it means.'
That was the conclusion Hailen could reach.
"Very well. I won't evade you any longer and will give you the answer you desire."
Their expressions instantly grew somber.
Devoid of any heat, excitement, restlessness, or anxiety, their faces were so alike one might think their thoughts mirrored each other as well.
If Gailront did not expect it, then it would be a lie, for his heart was pounding fiercely.
In truth, he knew what answer would come, yet the hope he had tasted today alone would prevent him from giving up. But if even a single affirmation emerged from those lips that had given him such immense satisfaction moments ago, nothing could be better.
And as expected, Hailen was adept at shattering Gailront's expectations.
"I have no intention of becoming entangled with you in any way again. What happened earlier was merely pity for one who cannot climb the tree they gaze upon. It would have been the same regardless of who you were."
"...Even so, I do not mind. I will continue to wait and strive to obtain your heart, Hailen."
Hailen's gaze upon the earnest Gailront showed no trace of dissatisfaction. His chilled, jade-green eyes held only indifference, as if looking upon something worthless.
Whether it was the truth or a fabrication, his voice carried a resolute finality akin to severance.
"It may be in vain, but I cannot stop you. However, there is one thing I will make clear."
"I will no longer... meet with you privately. Gailront, no. Duke Gailront."
Yet those final words were Hailen's genuine sentiment.



Chapter 73
As soon as Hailen returned to the banquet hall, he headed for the terrace, avoiding those who noticed him and tried to approach. This space, separated by thick curtains, was usually used for having conversations undisturbed by the rowdiness of the banquet, and the drawn curtains signaled a refusal to be approached by others.
Too many things had happened at this one banquet for him to clear his head. If he had remained in the outdoor garden any longer, he would have either encountered those making lewd noises or been reminded of what had transpired with Gailront.
Not that changing locations would erase that incident.
"Did I lose my mind or something?"
The image of Gailront looking at him with hopeful eyes resurfaced.
Hailen had responded to him with intense enthusiasm to the point of comprehension. No, he seemed to have even enjoyed it beyond that, his legs trembling from exhaustion as he returned to the banquet hall.
He had tried so hard to avoid sexual contact with the same sex, yet it had happened so abruptly. Moreover, he had never expected the other party to be none other than Gailront.
And a lingering thought, its presence manifesting from deep within, as if leaving behind residue.
'Complete severance. Isn't that what I had longed for? What's bothering me?'
No matter how much he tried not to recall it, the associations kept coming, and no matter how much he tried to shake it off, he couldn't forget. The scene where Gailront, who had said he would keep trying, revealed how hurt he was when Hailen, instead of using a nickname or his name, put distance between them by referring to him as 'Kyung.'
Unlike the past few years when Gailront had shown no hint of emotion, making it frustratingly impossible to know what he was thinking, in that moment, what he was displaying was clear. A tattered wound and a futile hope he couldn't let go of. And Hailen himself, who had to shatter that hope.
No matter how much he tried to stop thinking about it, telling himself that what was more important was his previous encounter with Daniel, Hailen eventually let out a frustrated sigh because of the presence that refused to leave a corner of his mind.
Even until Kelvin came looking for him, his ruminations did not easily cease.
"There you are. I've been looking for you for a while, Lord Hailen."
"Ah, I did ask you to bring me a drink."
As Hailen received the transparent wine glass, he showed no signs of suspicion, but Kelvin was momentarily perplexed to see the master seemingly forget his own order. But that was only momentary, as he proceeded to recount what he had witnessed at the banquet hall.
"By the way, did you see Gailront? He seems to have returned to the banquet hall, wearing the Imperial Knight uniform. He didn't have the cloak that the Emperor's personal knights wear, but I suppose it's because this is a banquet."
Being outdoors in the dark garden, it was a detail Hailen had failed to notice. Moreover, the Imperial Knight uniform, save for the golden embellishments, was made of black fabric, so it was only natural he didn't recognize it.
At the same time, the memory of that moment vividly resurfaced, along with the stiff material he had felt under his fingertips when he had clutched Gailront's chest. The instant their tongues had intertwined, their lips locked together without a gap, the ragged breaths and the cold night air.
Despite the lack of any delicate technique, the sheer intensity and raw instinct had allowed him to feel the tingling and heat. Hailen's empty hand, which hadn't been holding the glass, unconsciously moved toward his own lips. Unbeknownst to him, his thin lips had turned slightly red from the rough friction.
"Did you have something to drink? If you have something on your lips, shall I fetch you a handkerchief?"
Upon hearing Kelvin's words, Hailen instantly erased the scenes that had flashed before his eyes and snapped in an irritated tone.
"Do you think I would make such a careless mistake?"
"My apologies, it just looked a little swollen around your lips."
"It must have been an illusion."
"Are you perhaps feeling unwell, my lord?"
"...I'm simply not in a good mood. Has His Highness the Crown Prince returned? I should pay my respects and then take my leave for the day."
"Yes, both Their Highnesses have returned and are conversing with Gailront..."
It wasn't Hailen's irritable demeanor that interrupted Kelvin's words. The culprit was someone who rudely drew back the curtains separating the terrace, completely disregarding the proper etiquette expected at a banquet.
It was none other than Katrin, her dazzling and glittering attire accentuating her beauty.
Her plaintive gaze as she trailed off held an allure that could easily make one forget her earlier rudeness, but Hailen, whose name she had called, showed no reaction whatsoever.
Instead, a chilling aura seemed to emanate from him, the source of which Katrin knew better than anyone.
After her ambitious plan to offer herself to Hailen at the ducal estate during the summer campaign had failed, she had taken another approach on someone's advice. The next day, she had spread rumors throughout the estate about the night's unfulfilled incident.
For a noble maiden to lose her chastity was tantamount to completely sealing their engagement. After that, the woman named Heria, who had been a thorn in her side, disappeared, and the northern vassal noble families, though lamenting their misfortune, had no choice but to accept Katrin as the Young Duke's fiancée.
Hailen, her betrothed, had immediately seen through her scheme and responded with indifference.
'It seems I misjudged you, my lady. Whatever happens from now on will be your fault, so remember my words today.'
While he had been referring to when he had left the Imperial through exile, Katrin had interpreted it differently. It immediately triggered the insecurity she had always harbored.
From that day on, Katrin had continued to hover around Hailen, even visiting Hasser on occasion.
However, Hailen's attitude remained indifferent. While he still maintained basic courtesy as sharply as a blade, he began to minimize the occasions where he would be together with her. He did not invite her to the most important academic festival for the academy students, and even though she would soon be actively participating in high society, he did not seek her company at banquets where a partner's attendance was not mandatory.
It was no different today. Of course, it was an occasion where the Young Duke should have been present, so she had diligently dressed up and attended. But Hailen was nowhere to be seen during the knighting ceremony. As soon as she realized this, Katrin hid away in the powder room of the banquet hall, using the excuse of feeling unwell. It was a skillful move, as she was certain to face questions and suspicions about her unseen fiancé if she had appeared in the banquet hall.
'If you wish, I would like to escort you in place of your absent fiancé.'
Although she had briefly encountered Benedik, Katrin did not dwell on their reunion.
Finally, upon learning of Hailen's arrival, she had searched for him, only to find curtains drawn, signaling her not to disturb him. In an instant, she imagined her fiancé engaging in intimate conversation with some unknown lady, prompting her to commit such an act of rudeness.
And just as Katrin had felt, Hailen no longer held any interest in her. After that night at the ducal estate, he had mocked her for pushing her own future into the gutter by listening to the rumors circulating about her.
To him, she was no longer a victim who would suffer from his plans. Rather, she was seen as a woman who employed cunning tricks, to the point where someone might come to mind.
"Lady Pamel, I apologize for arriving late to the banquet due to circumstances. I was unable to inform you in advance."
At least the Young Duke's manner, not reproaching her for her rudeness, brightened her expression. In truth, she was oblivious to how he truly regarded her.
What reason did Hailen have to show courtesy to her, now that she was on the same level as many others he could exploit? He had easily overlooked her rudeness that had caused him displeasure because of this inner thought.
'She'll make a good shield to face Gailront again.'
As Katrin took his offered hand for the escort, giving an embarrassed smile, she was oblivious to Hailen's true thoughts.
The banquet hall they reentered was far more raucous and enthusiastic than before. With the reappearance of the protagonist and the two esteemed princes taking their seats once more, it was only natural.
As the Young Duke and his fiancée emerged from behind the curtains onto the terrace, people's gazes turned toward them. "That lady said the Young Duke spent time with another lady, leaving his fiancée behind. I didn't realize it was Lady Katrin," a murmur was heard, prompting Katrin to smile with satisfaction.
Even from a distance, Hailen's emerald eyes wavered slightly at the sight of the easily recognizable Gailront and the black and gold uniform that had now become apparent, but that was all.
He headed toward them without hesitation.
With the protagonist's arrival, the gathered crowd's opinions were divided once more, naturally reigniting the hall. In particular, the Emperor's question posed to the two princes concerned the surprise injury inflicted upon the Sword Master, sparking a silent tussle between their factions.
Amidst this, the Young Duke Emmast appeared.
Eager to gain strength from his voice, the fervent gazes upon Hailen from either side were intense. Taking in the situation at a glance, Hailen dispelled all confusion and unrest, offering his usual relaxed smile.
"I greet Your Highnesses."
Katrin, too, expressed her courtesy with a feathery gesture in sync with Hailen's greeting. Daniel wore a welcoming expression as if meeting someone for the first time today.
"I didn't realize the Young Duke was waiting for me with bated breath."
"If there is any way I can be of assistance, I will gladly offer my help."
"Haha, it's nothing like that. I've heard that the knight appointed today and the Young Duke are close friends."
As Daniel spoke, several people broke away from the group. This allowed Hailen and Gailront to directly face each other, but they were too skilled at donning thick masks. Especially Hailen, who had experienced such stages more than anyone else.
"I have nothing to add regarding Sir Gailront. His skill alone is enough for him to be deemed worthy of the uniform he wears."
The Young Duke's words changed the expressions of many. Those from the Crown Prince's faction who had spoken favorably of the commoner knight brightened, while Kasper and his associates, who had been at the forefront of disparaging Gailront, could only grit their teeth. Kelvin, standing nearby, was surprised by the honorific "Sir Gailront" but managed to compose himself. As for Gailront himself, who had received the compliment—
Having already heard Hailen's declaration of severance, he realized the meaning behind the offered courtesy, leaving him with a stiff expression. It was fortunate that those around him interpreted it as mere tension from being acknowledged by the Young Duke.
"Is that in line with the intentions of His Grace the Duke, the Imperial Sword?"
Someone posed the question. All eyes turned to Hailen.
As a high-ranking noble Duke, would he disparage a mere commoner knight, or would he highly regard the Sword Master's skill, being a martial artist to the core? Emmast was a subject of much interest in various ways.
And while evading such a difficult question would have been all too easy for Hailen, this time he didn't need to take the lead.
"In any case, Emmast's future rests with the Young Duke. He, and I as well, have acknowledged Sir Gailront's outstanding skill, so what more is there to ask?"
"I concur with His Highness the Crown Prince's discernment. Knights possessing outstanding martial prowess are indeed the fertile soil for the Imperial's future."
Hailen's attitude, expressing agreement by echoing Daniel's words as if proving their joined hands, caused the eyes of some to shine.
The Young Duke, who rarely participated actively in social events under the pretext of academics, was now showing the utmost neutrality toward the two princes. For him to demonstrate such alignment with the Crown Prince—did this not carry political significance?
"So you truly are of one mind with the Young Duke? Since the knight was directly appointed by His Majesty, surely no one would dare question him. It seems fitting that today's banquet celebrates the Sword Master's appointment and the bright future of the Imperial's knights to come. Franz, you must agree as well?"
With the Young Duke's intrusion-like appearance, the Second Prince's faction had already lost their momentum. Against the Emperor's will, and with the possibility of Emmast's influence, there was no need to stir the hornet's nest and create further trouble.
True to his character, Franz expressed his displeasure and turned to leave, followed by a few others. Kasper's presence among them was only natural.
Simultaneously, the atmosphere of the banquet hall changed in an instant. No longer did anyone openly question the new knight, and all offered words of congratulations to Gailront.
The Crown Prince, the Young Duke, and the Sword Master—the presence of these three men alone exuded an overwhelming aura, and the banquet's atmosphere began to flow around them as its center.
'Yes, this is enough. The distance between you and me.'
"Sir Gailront, I wish you the utmost fortune in your future endeavors."
As Hailen raised his glass, proposing a toast, his intent held no more or less than well-wishes for the knight with a promising future ahead. Yet, at his words, Gailront's barely maintained mask completely fell away.
However, even faced with Gailront's wounded expression, Hailen showed not the slightest hint of wavering.
As if the cold, declarative words he had uttered were his true, sincere feelings.
It was an intense and confusing memory that seemed to adorn their last night together.
Sincerity and deep emotion, dense intimacy followed by a resolute rejection—all were intertwined in that long night of revelry.
Whether Gailront's hope would still remain at the end—
It would only be known after a little more time had passed.



Chapter 74
Maiden was a young duke from the Norwan region located in the southern part of the Imperial territory. His noble house, the Euros, was an impoverished family that had nothing worthy of being called aristocratic. Even he himself would never have imagined that he, the youngest son of that house, would become an official in the Central Diplomatic Corps.
He had not even attended the Imperial Academy, instead passing the administrative examination that commoners take to work as a low-ranking official in the southern branch office. His only assets were his fluency in the southern language, acquired through the influence of his sister who had married into a prominent southern kingdom family, and his innate diligence. Little did he know that the sudden outbreak and escalation of the southern war would impact his life so greatly.
During a period of heightened Imperial interest in the southern situation, he was essentially handpicked to be transferred to Tengen. For Maiden, who was essentially a country bumpkin, the vast and magnificent capital city with its immense population and central administration was like an entirely different world. It took him a long time just to adapt to the food and clothing, and he had to endure many hardships amidst the exclusionary attitudes of the established officials as he struggled to gain a foothold.
Bearing the heavy expectations of being his family's sole hope for elevation, he persevered through it all and finally stood on the cusp of a promotion—
"You said your name was Yuro Youngsik, correct?"
"Y-Yes... Yes! I am Maiden Yuro, Young Duke."
The tension weighing him down and the fear of severe punishment for any potential mistake instantly vanished.
'Wow, is this the same person?'
The man before him, who was more focused on the stacks of documents in front of him than on directly addressing Maiden, possessed such an astounding appearance that it made Maiden feel as though he were gazing upon a noble prince from a masterpiece painting filled with elegant elements, leaving him utterly awestruck.
The one who elicited such a reaction even from another man was none other than Hailen.
"We'll be spending a long time together, so let's dispense with the stiff formalities. May I call you Maiden?"
"Of-Of course. It would be a great honor for me, Young Duke!"
That's right. Maiden, who had finally attained the rank of 4th Grade Diplomat after starting as a mere 5th Grade Diplomat doing menial tasks. A 4th Grade Diplomat's role was to assist their superiors, and his superior turned out to be none other than the Imperial heir apparent, the Young Duke.
For Maiden, who had lived an embarrassingly impoverished life unfit for even calling himself a noble, the Young Duke was someone he could never have imagined even speaking to once in his life. Being assigned to serve directly under such a person filled him with trepidation about his uncertain future, but conversely, it also meant he would be greatly rewarded if he performed his duties properly.
At the very least, Maiden was unparalleled in his ambition and drive to succeed. To perfectly assist the Young Duke, he first began indirectly gathering information about him.
"It's been nearly 3 years since I joined the Diplomatic Corps alongside the Young Duke."
Perhaps sensing Maiden's passion, someone who would not normally speak so freely about their superior made an exception to help him out, as they were now colleagues. It was none other than Kailre, who addressed all Diplomatic Corps officials with honorifics regardless of their rank and did not look down on Maiden for being a newcomer from a branch office.
"Normally, the rank of 2nd Grade Diplomat is only given to those who serve as branch directors. But an exception was made for the Young Duke to have a position in the Central Diplomatic Corps due to his status."
"There was quite a power struggle between the Duchy and the Diplomatic Corps back then."
Among those working with Hailen, it was only natural that Kailre, who had earned the Young Duke's trust through their long Academy connection, would lead the group. So when such a person opened up to a newcomer out of nowhere, everyone else began chiming in as well.
Especially since most of them had been influenced by Hailen since their Academy days to approach him, they could not stay silent when the topic of conversation was their lord.
"But things are different now. The Young Duke's capabilities and accomplishments are second to none, even compared to 1st Grade Diplomats."
"Ahem, it would be wise to watch what you say about that matter."
Even if one was not particularly perceptive, it was evident that there was a power struggle between the 1st Grade Diplomats, who could be considered the heads of the Central Diplomatic Corps, and the Young Duke over who would take the lead.
Maiden made a mental note of this.
"The Young Duke is truly an extraordinary person."
The diplomatic officials working alongside him did not merely follow the Young Duke, but were outright enthusiastic about him. At Maiden's single utterance of admiration, their faces brightened as they rushed to chime in one after another.
"Indeed! You said your name was Yuro Youngsik, right? What an honor it is for you to be assisting the Young Duke. I'm envious, I tell you."
"Until now, the Young Duke has handled even the duties of the Duchy Territory all by himself without a single aide."
"It must be because of the worsening situation in the south that he chose you, Yuro Youngsik. You are unparalleled in language, rhetoric, and knowledge, but above all, you understand the southern kingdoms better than any of us."
"He was already remarkable back in the Academy days."
"Didn't he even lend a hand in the actual treaty with the Oclan Kingdom that year?"
"Ah, I've heard that story too!"
"I suppose you would, having been stationed at the southern branch."
Conversations built around common topics easily fostered a sense of camaraderie even among strangers.
At the very least, Maiden felt he was on the same wavelength as those he would be working with and pondered whether he would be capable of assisting someone as formidable as the Young Duke.
Contrary to his concerns, Maiden gradually grew accustomed to assisting Hailen, aided by his diligent and ambitious nature that shone through even when he tried to downplay it. Hailen would not have so easily brought someone to his side, but Maiden was exceeding expectations, even receiving help with duties pertaining to the Duchy Territory at times.
Hailen had no respite throughout the day, juggling the duties of the Diplomatic Corps, his obligations as the Young Duke, and even personal matters on top of that. Yet he never missed attending necessary events or banquets, leaving Maiden to wonder if this tireless man was truly the same person as his awe-inspiring superior.
'Is this how all high nobles must live? It doesn't seem desirable at all.'
Maiden had initially mistaken Hailen for one of those indolent and negligent nobles who indulged only in revelry, rather than the diligent man he was witnessing.
Maiden could understand why the diplomatic officials working alongside the Young Duke admired him so much. However, serving under someone so busy meant he had to keep pace. Although he had risen in rank with a better salary and environment, and earned the envy of his colleagues for working with the renowned Young Duke, the reality was grueling.
He didn't even have time to properly settle into the small estate granted to 4th Grade Diplomats. With work piling up late into the night without any time off, he often ended up sleeping in a small room within the Diplomatic Corps building.
Spending so much time assisting the Young Duke, Maiden had grown accustomed to his superior's striking appearance and lofty status to the point of forgetting them at times. This familiarity made it easier to learn about him, especially regarding the personal life that piqued everyone's curiosity.
Maiden had assumed a high noble would naturally cultivate connections within aristocratic circles. Yet the individuals Hailen frequently met were mostly unexpected – people whose status or background seemed to have no relation to the Young Duke whatsoever.
"Young Duke, Roger Brainer is waiting for you."
The most conspicuous of them was Roger Brainer, who had overcome a scandalous birth to attain noble status through extraordinary means, earning him the treatment of an outcast in aristocratic society.
"Could you deliver this report to Idin for a moment?"
Maiden surmised that such peculiar individuals must share a close bond with the Young Duke, as he would often dismiss his aide whenever they visited.
After Maiden left, Roger appeared with a different demeanor from his Academy days. Though he had always worried about his slow growth, somehow after graduating he shot up like a bamboo shoot. His scrawny build remained the same, but his towering height was rarely seen among Imperial men.
An amusing point was that the man named Daejangju whom Hailen had met in his previous life was not someone with such a tall stature.
Moreover, there was something else that distinctly changed his appearance.
"Are those glasses merely for decoration?"
"...My eyesight has deteriorated, so I wear them."
"They seem to be an expensive item made with intricate craftsmanship. Seeing that, I have no concerns about the company's profits. As an investor, I'm satisfied."
"Hailen, you are more than just a simple investor, are you not?"
Roger's attitude was so gentle that it did not evoke any memory of the prickly demeanor he had when they first met. Not only had he started naturally calling Hailen by name at some point, but despite being the head of the company himself, he treated Hailen as if he were the true owner, which made one doubt if this was really Roger.
After graduating from the Academy, Hailen's primary focus was reducing Genry's influence and shares in the Mirana Company. Though Genry had initially refused to yield to the Young Duke's wishes for the sake of his son Roger, he eventually withdrew of his own accord when the business plans carried out according to the Young Duke prevailed. The true decisive factor, however, was Roger's transformed demeanor of serving Hailen like a master.
There were later accounts of the company head expressing a sense of betrayal towards his son, but regardless, the Mirana Company led by the now matured Roger was progressing so smoothly that Hailen's memories from his previous life were no longer needed. Perhaps it was even growing faster than before.
The two continued their discussion about the Mirana Company for quite some time, to the point where Maiden had to wait around even after completing the task he had been ordered to do.
The next day, it was Kelvin, the Young Duke's attendant, who requested an audience with him.
With diplomatic duties piling up, Maiden could not help but frown as he announced the visit. Whenever Kelvin, who visited the Diplomatic Corps as frequently as Roger, came around, the Young Duke would be inundated with duties pertaining to the Duchy Territory.
"Your Grace is quite relentless. I was under the impression that you would be stationed in the Duchy Territory for the time being, rather than the south. Isn't this too much to delegate?"
Hailen's brow furrowed involuntarily as he looked over the workload Kelvin had brought. Even for someone as receptive to work as him, to the point of being suspected of being a workaholic, it was enough to elicit a sigh.
The Duke had initially been displeased with Hailen being affiliated with the Diplomatic Corps. While having no intention of sharing his authority as Duke, delegating the duties of the Duchy Territory like this was his way of expressing dissatisfaction. It was also a warning for the Young Duke not to forget his true roles as Emmast and heir.
The one suffering in the middle was none other than Kelvin. For various reasons, including the Duke's pettiness, he frequently traveled back and forth between the capital and the northern territories. It was the reason Hailen had to seek an unfamiliar aide, as Kelvin was often absent from his side.
"Next time, I might go to the northwest. I've heard there's a breed of horse with striped patterns there."
"You truly have a passion for horses, as the rumors say. I've seen Layton Youngsik's works before. It was when I had just arrived in the capital, a memorable experience. In truth, I'm an outsider when it comes to art..."
"Being able to enjoy it is the best way to appreciate art. Are you available next month, by chance? There's an exhibition scheduled to be held in the capital."
"If you extend an invitation, I would be grateful."
It was unclear when they had become so familiar, but Kelvin's demeanor as he engaged in casual conversation with Maiden, leaving his disgruntled master aside, showed no signs of fatigue from his travels to the northern territories. At times, it even seemed like he was enjoying the trips as journeys for artistic inspiration.
Although Kelvin brought an immense workload, his visits still provided a brief respite for Hailen and Maiden. After he had rambled on about his upcoming exhibition and left, the two men gazed at the stacks of documents piled up, realizing that an early departure would be difficult again today.
And there was yet another person who visited the Young Duke periodically, apart from the two of them.
"I wish to see Lord Hailen."
It was Gailront, a knight whose name was known to all Imperial citizens, including Maiden, who hailed from the provinces.



Chapter 75
It began three years ago, after a day when the contradictory events of intimate contact and the severing of private meetings occurred. Gailront had been visiting Hailen at least once a month, requesting to meet with her.
It was both an expression that he had no intention of giving up on his feelings, and an effort to somehow overturn Hailen's rejection. And as Gailront wished, at some point, Hailen accepted his request to visit.
However, the hope that had begun to swell was shattered.
Her permission for his request was merely an act of acknowledging their positions, which could not escape the eyes of others. In public settings, Hailen did not hesitate to feign a positive attitude toward Gailront. It would have been troublesome if rumors spread of discord between the Imperial Sword Master and Emmast.
Even when sitting face-to-face with Gailront, Hailen would not utter a single word to him when they were alone. There were no responses to his questions. It was doubtful whether she was even listening to him. It felt as if she had placed an inanimate doll before her.
Thus, despite spending time together, the two cups of tea prepared would remain with only one emptied, leaving her aide Maiden perplexed.
Today was no different from any other day.
"Marina has passed. She will likely receive her knighthood at the investiture ceremony this month."
She had begun formal training to become a knight alongside Nohan as soon as the academy's winter break started. While high-ranking nobles could easily receive knighthood without examination, the rest had to prove a certain level of martial prowess and basic education.
And while Gailront had received his knighthood directly from the Emperor, the two had failed the knight examination. It was not simply a lack of skill. After all, the Sword Master himself had been right there, assisting in their training. Of course, Nohan may have been lacking in the 'education' aspect.
The main reasons for their disqualification were their social status and gender.
It was not uncommon for commoners to become knights each year, but most of them came from families with only a single title that was inherited by the eldest son. They were commoners by status, but raised as nobles. So how could they easily pass someone like Nohan, whose family made a living as mercenaries wielding swords for money, a profession that nobles looked down upon?
If Nohan had not demonstrated his astonishing martial prowess the following year, gritting his teeth and wielding a two-handed sword with just one hand, he still would not have received his knighthood.
If that was the case for Nohan, how would it have been for Marina, who faced prejudice for being a woman despite her noble status? Even those who at least evaluated Nohan's outstanding swordsmanship showed no sincerity when Marina participated in the examination. Some even muttered, "We wouldn't want those delicate hands of a lady to get hurt."
Failure, disqualification, rejection. She was turned down three times in a row, and nearly three years passed.
But Marina did not give up. She broke off her engagement, left home against her father's wishes, and trained at the Orlanga estate where Nord resided, prepared to endure unsavory rumors. She took requests from Nohan's mercenary guild to hunt monsters and even joined the fierce skirmishes in the southern regions.
Now, no one could look at her and call her a noble lady. Marina had transformed into a formidable swordswoman.
After all those efforts, she finally earned her knighthood.
Yet, even upon hearing the joyous news that Marina's dream, which he had witnessed and supported throughout the academy, had come true, Hailen's expression remained unchanged. He simply focused intently on the reports on his desk, as if completely forgetting the presence of the imposing figure across from him.
And Gailront had long grown accustomed to this attitude of Hailen's. It was nothing new for him to speak alone before her, receiving no reaction whatsoever.
"Nohan will likely be appointed to the Imperial Knights soon, thanks to the impressive display he put on at the Imperial Martial Arts Tournament this year."
Though Hailen showed no signs of listening to Gailront's words, her mind was in fact occupied with many thoughts. Especially regarding the Imperial Martial Arts Tournament where Nohan had excelled - had she not watched it herself from the guest seats as the Young Duke?
For Hailen, it was an event she could never forget. It was the stage where Gailront, whom she had thought lost in her previous life, reappeared. The very place that had driven her to the brink of death.
Yet now, more recent scenes came to mind before those of the past. How the knight before her, who had long mastered the sword, had claimed victory with such ease for the third year in a row. The feats displayed this year by that knight who wielded the greatsword with such dexterity.
'Yet another commoner joining the Imperial Knights. The winter social season is sure to be abuzz.'
As the faction loyal to the First Prince, which prioritized ability over status, grew in influence, commoners rising to prominence became an increasingly common sight. This was precisely why the high nobles and conservative factions had banded together in support of the Second Prince.
And had it not been Gailront himself who first fell victim to their smear campaign?
Fortunately, contrary to the concerns of those around him, he had adapted easily to the Knights. Though the Imperial Knights could not help but be steeped in political leanings, their influence hardly reached the Emperor's personal knights. With their sincere loyalty directed solely toward the Emperor himself, perhaps the Emperor had appointed Gailront directly to keep the Sword Master out of the complex power struggles.
Instead of the untouchable knight, who would be chosen? Their close friendship was widely known, so both factions would undoubtedly try to sway public opinion with Nohan at the forefront. Of course, Hailen had no worries. Unlike his appearance, Nohan would not easily fall for such calculations.
Yet all these speculations and thoughts remained unexpressed outwardly.
Not a single glance was directed toward the man across from her.
"Duke Melburn has proposed again that I become a knight under His Highness the First Prince. What choice do you wish for me to make, Hailen?"
"I suppose I must remove that mask once more to hear your reply."
Only in public settings like grand banquets could they engage in constructive discussions as a knight and the esteemed Young Duke. Having openly declared her support for the First Prince years ago, Hailen did not hesitate to try to recruit the Sword Master knight for her faction.
Yet in private, she would not even pretend to listen to a single word.
"If I pledge my sword to His Highness the First Prince, will you look upon me again?"
Despite such a statement that should have been welcomed given Hailen's previous stance, there was still no response.
It was not merely a thick wall separating them. It felt as if the spaces they occupied were completely severed. Gailront had never imagined Hailen's words of severance would be so prolonged and cruel.
"...No matter what, I will not give up. Next time... I will come again."
Showing not the slightest hint of abandoning his efforts, Gailront rose to his feet.
Casting one last glance at Hailen, who remained utterly motionless despite his persistent words.
As the figure exuding the strongest presence departed, Hailen let out a faint sigh and closed her eyes.
"Nothing will change. Whether you serve the First Prince as your master or I leave."
Hailen's soliloquy was so cold and frigid that anyone who heard it would have been startled.
"For someone as busy as you to visit this lowly person, I'm moved to tears."
"Considering the fortune I've lavished upon you, the tears should be on my side."
"It was an expression of joy at seeing you after so long. Even I can be sentimental at times."
"It seems your wit has dulled in the time we haven't met. Enough with the inane chatter. What is it that I requested?"
Paison, lamenting the pleasant conversation cut short with his long-time client, brought what Hailen desired.
The secret underground chamber they occupied was still furnished as a cozy parlor, though the small fireplace was an oddity, likely due to the low temperature. After all, no smoke-belching chimney could be seen on the dilapidated tavern above ground.
"Information on the Crown Prince of the Oclan Kingdom, as you requested. If you wish to know anything beyond what's in the documents, you know the drill..."
"Even with my sealed blank promissory note in your possession, your greed knows no bounds. The compensation will be handled as usual."
"Indeed, you are magnanimous. It seems the Crown Prince will be visiting the Empire soon, though how the Young Duke could have known so quickly is a mystery to me. I never thought we'd be outmatched by the intelligence of the Central Diplomatic Corps, but I stand corrected."
"You're being rather long-winded today. Since I can't spare much time, get to the point briefly."
"The Young Duke's recent activities must be keeping you quite busy."
As one who had come seeking an answer to the request, Hailen could only be displeased with Paison's circuitous approach. Her smooth brow furrowed slightly, but Paison remained unfazed when dealing with the Young Duke.
As if he wanted something.
It was certainly uncomfortable and unfamiliar for Hailen to take a subservient stance, but she had no choice. It seemed the information guild master, whose love for wealth surpassed anyone else's, wanted to obtain gold even if it meant casting it aside. For Hailen, who spent her time frugally, trying to win would only be a waste.
"It's simple. Aren't you curious about the Young Duke's intentions that she's hiding so tightly through Mirana's faction? You should have looked into it from the time you requested information on Roger Branner."
And Hailen was not so easily subdued, even when conceding.
"Indeed. Isn't it too late for the master of the information guild to notice? I'm starting to doubt your abilities."
There was no emotional turmoil on her magic-adorned outward appearance, but was the true face hidden within any different? Paison deliberately ignored his bruised pride. For now, what mattered most were the words coming from the Young Duke's mouth.
"The reason you support Mirana's faction from behind is a simple one, isn't it? To gain wealth."
"Are you saying she's hiding it even from me?"
"It doesn't seem we were that close."
"Haha, as expected, the Young Duke is too much for me. I'll tell you about the Crown Prince as you wish."
"I'm particularly curious about his inclinations. For example, the Oclan Kingdom's intentions regarding the inland expansion of the southern war."
"...The more I see you, the more new sides you show, Young Duke."
"If the information guild master continues to take an interest in me, well, it wouldn't be a bad thing."
Paison's sharp observation toward Hailen, who casually revealed what could be a deadly truth, was keen.
Was she not the Young Duke who openly declared her support for the First Prince? For her to harbor intentions completely different from a pacifist who would want to end the southern war by any means was astonishing.
Perhaps the requests he would bring forth from now on would be related to the expansion of the war. So he had revealed a glimpse of his intentions, however slight.
'The expansion of the war would benefit the Young Duke. Or perhaps he might even instigate it further.'
If others knew Hailen's intentions as Paison suspected, they could only be perplexed by his outward actions that seemed contrary. Many lives would be lost in the spreading war, so they might tremble at the callousness with which he so easily spoke of its expansion. All the more so if it turned out to be a scheme chosen merely for his personal gain.
But did someone like Hailen ever care about such things? He paid no heed to Paison's astonishment. As he listened to the information about the Crown Prince, he merely compared it to the memories of his previous life.
'Even now, I think I was too foolish during that time.'
It was as he thought. Although the Crown Prince's visit had undoubtedly occurred in his previous life as well, Hailen had little recollection of it. And for good reason - at that time, Hailen had been solely focused on somehow disposing of Gailront, who had reappeared through the Imperial Martial Arts Tournament.
Whether war broke out or not, such matters were of no importance to him back then.
And in the end, he had thrust Gailront onto the stage that would become a battlefield - the war itself.
'Though I never imagined he would become the Sword Master and earn the title of hero in that war.'
"So what else should I know?"
"There's another story circulating about the Crown Prince."
"There's an opinion that it would be good for an Imperial Princess to take the place of the late Crown Princess."
Hailen instantly set aside the memories of his previous life. No matter how disinterested he had been, one thing was certain.
At the newly emerged term according to the changing circumstances, his mind began to weave in complex thoughts.



Chapter 76
The azure sea flowed as serenely as its clear color, bringing peace to the mind by simply gazing upon it. In contrast to the tranquil waves, Kailre felt the intensifying wind and let out a sigh of relief.
The large ship they were aboard was surrounded by escort vessels nearby to ensure their safety, but the capricious nature could bring about any accident. In a situation welcoming such a precious personage, the current environment could only be accepted.
'But the man himself seems to have not a care in the world. Is this the leisure of royalty?'
The one Kailre was escorting was none other than the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Oclan. The future king of a nation, and moreover, one that the Empire paid close attention to, would warrant no shortage of effort.
As evidence, those who came to greet the Crown Prince were not just Kailre, a third-rank diplomat with ambassadorial status.
"I've heard the Duke is a brother-in-law to Her Imperial Majesty the Empress, being siblings with her. For you to cross the sea like this despite your many duties."
"It is my honor to play a part in welcoming His Royal Highness the Crown Prince."
Duke Sowrel, the younger brother of the Empress and the uncle of the Second Prince, had a rather ordinary appearance for his rank, but his smiling demeanor put others at ease with a sense of leisure.
It was proper protocol for a nobleman of ducal rank to take charge when escorting a foreign crown prince, but he was no mere duke in many ways.
Kailre approached them closely, intent on overhearing their conversation. Of course, his inclusion in this party was at the behest of Hailen to monitor the Duke Sowrel's movements.
"The Empire is fortunate to be bordered by such a vast sea. As you know, Oclan is a maritime kingdom, yet it is not easy for us to behold the ocean."
"Even in our capital, one must travel quite a distance to gaze upon the sea. Seeing His Royal Highness the Crown Prince's stately bearing aboard the ship, it seems he knows the sea better than I."
"Did I come across that way? That's the most pleasing compliment I've heard in recent times."
The Crown Prince's bright smile exuded an air of childlike innocence at first glance.
Certainly a youth of twenty-one years, and moreover the future ruler of a nation, yet possessing a cheerful and positive disposition—was this a characteristic of the Kingdom of Oclan?
Their journey had been smooth not only thanks to the accommodating nature, but also due to the gentle and kind-hearted Crown Prince. Even Duke Sowrel, who hid a serpentine nature, was able to relax his guard to that extent.
'Still, one cannot underestimate him.'
Duke Sowrel looked at the Crown Prince Blake before him, striving to conceal such thoughts. As the Crown Prince himself said, what was the reason that he, of all people, had boarded this ship? It was his intention to somehow sway this seemingly simple Crown Prince and bring him into his own faction.
Ever since the Revised Law incident failed to even be legislated and sank beneath the surface, the Second Prince's side could only lose power. Moreover, with the Young Duke of Emmast suddenly siding with the First Prince, some families that had been watching from the sidelines were now trying to join a different line.
At least they had succeeded in rallying the old guard by taking advantage of situations where commoners like Gailront had risen in status, and their faction calling for military buildup could raise their voices due to the prolonged war in the south, but even that had its limits.
With public opinion prevailing that Daniel would be invested as the Crown Prince, that was the reason Duke Sowrel had dragged his heavy body here in person.
"I wish we could arrive at the Empire soon. Although we've had long exchanges with Oclan, this is my first time going to the Empire itself. I've heard the Imperial family possesses the golden eyes, proof of the Sun God, so I want to meet them in person and feel the divine presence."
Upon hearing those words, Duke Sowrel let out an inward sigh of exasperation, though he betrayed no outward sign of it. The growing discontent he harbored turned his thoughts to the person it was directed at—his own precious nephew, the Second Prince Franz.
'That whelp loyal to the First Prince even dared to speak out against Count Mondel's management of the magic armaments.'
It was an area that should never have been broached, but the Duke suppressed an indignant groan as he recalled the secret he could not directly intervene in. If only to conceal that, he needed to somehow cooperate with the Crown Prince.
Specifically, he meant the escalation of the war in the south.
Anyone who heard that would welcome it as their interests aligning, but regardless, Duke Sowrel wore a gentle smile to put the Crown Prince, who was like a son to him, at ease.
And whether he knew the complex motives of his counterpart or not, the Crown Prince continued to prattle on carelessly.
"To be honest, the one I most wish to meet is Princess Cecilia... Haha, was I too forward?"
The middle-aged man who approached and continued the conversation as if he were well-acquainted with the Crown Prince's laughter was Count Deson, his aide.
"If one considers the vacant position of Crown Princess, it would be good for the kingdom if Your Highness took an interest. Princess Cecilia is renowned even in foreign lands for her pure, lily-like noble beauty. Just the thought of meeting such a lady fills even this old man with anticipation."
"It seems you desire it more than I do, Count. It would be nice if the Princess looked favorably upon me, but..."
"Oh, come now, with Your Highness's charms, who would not be smitten at first sight?"
"Enough with the flattery. Someone might overhear and mock us."
Duke Sowrel was genuinely troubled. Regardless of any talk of a political marriage, should he take issue with the Crown Prince's flippant mention of the Princess, or should he find this situation akin to a grandfather conversing with the one serving him absurd?
In the end, unable to contain his discomfort any longer, Kailre stifled a laugh as he watched Duke Sowrel, whose unease had surfaced outwardly. He recalled Hailen's order to keep a close watch on the Crown Prince and Duke Sowrel, who had come to welcome him.
'From the fact that he shook even the formidable Duke Sowrel, it seems the Crown Prince is a remarkable individual, Young Duke.'
And without realizing it, Blake, who was being evaluated in such a way, gazed upon the Imperial lands that had finally come into view, enjoying the refreshing breeze. His round, crimson eyes, which made him appear younger than his actual age, were filled with a distinct light of anticipation.
At some point, she had stopped using the chemicals that noblewomen employed to prevent their skin from darkening in the sun, for Marina's skin, welcoming the two men, flaunted a dusky suppleness. Moreover, her uniform, dressed in a manner far from tidy, was so disheveled that it was hard to believe she was from a baronial family, causing the other party to avert their eyes in embarrassment.
"Please, Marina, at least recognize us as men."
"I just finished training, that's why. My, Nohan, you're quite the sly one, unlike your appearance? You're even worse than Kelvin."
"When did you meet that guy again?"
"He returned to the capital not too long ago, but I guess you guys didn't get the message?"
The place they were at was none other than the Orlanga estate.
The three of them, who used to be seen frequently as they prepared for the knight examination, found it difficult to gather together after graduating from the academy. Especially after Gailront had unexpectedly risen to the tremendous position of the Emperor's personal knight, it became physically impossible for them to meet.
It was when Nohan and Marina were preparing for their second knight examination that they gathered at none other than the Orlanga estate. As an ancient martial family with its own style of swordsmanship, the Orlanga estate had a spacious and well-maintained training ground. Marina had ultimately been disowned by her family and requested Gailront to train her. It was only natural for Nohan to join them afterward, and thus they spent a long time at the Orlanga estate, treating it like their own home.
After overcoming various difficulties, Marina eventually received her knighthood, giving birth to a rare female knight in the Empire after a long time. There was also the joyous news of Nohan joining the Imperial Knights. From that point on, whenever they had time, they would always gather here, helping each other train or dining together.
"Let's have dinner first. It would be a shame to miss Master's venison tourte (a pie dish with various ingredients baked into the pastry)."
Her manner of guiding the guests to the dining room was so out of place that she seemed like the lady of the estate. But the two men were already accustomed to such sights, including the bizarre situation of Lord Nord, the actual owner of the estate, preparing the food—the very person Marina referred to as "Master."
'To be precise, she just wants to avoid cooking herself.'
Nohan made a dreadful expression as he recalled the taste of her cooking from a past experience. The mere thought of it brought that flavor to the tip of his tongue, leaving him unable to refuse Lord Nord's offer, no matter how apologetic he felt.
"By the way, Gailront, didn't you say you only had morning duty today? If you'd come earlier, we could've trained together."
"At this time, where else would this guy have gone?"
"To meet the Young Duke again?"
"...I just had some business at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
Even without further probing, everyone present, including Marina, knew that was a lie.
The two were individuals who had never crossed paths with Hailen since graduating from the academy. It was not a regrettable matter. Considering his status as the Young Duke, the mere fact that they had interacted at all was remarkable.
However, the subtle relationship between Hailen and Gailront that the members of Mirana's group had vaguely sensed was another issue entirely. Moreover, given Gailront's renowned reputation as the Sword Master and his high position, they assumed he would be closer to Hailen than themselves.
That was until rumors spread among the knights that he had unilaterally requested a meeting with the Young Duke of Emmast.
"The Young Duke is willing to meet him now. What kind of conversation do they even have?"
"Marina, can't you tell from this expression? He's probably getting mercilessly brushed off, without needing to hear the details."
Nohan's words, though partly in jest, were close enough to the truth that Gailront let out a low sigh. It was only natural for Marina to regard him with a peculiar expression.
No matter how tight-lipped a friend might be, after spending so much time together, one would eventually pick up on their unspoken cues. Moreover, Nohan had already discerned Gailront's heart early on, so by observing the signals the two exchanged behind Marina's back, he could deduce the meaning behind Gailront's periodic visits to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the inexplicable tension between him and Hailen from their academy days.
'Even that renowned Sword Master has his difficulties.'
For Marina, who had cut herself off from romance entirely after her broken engagement and reliance on her master's residence, it was too distant a realm to take an interest in and offer advice.
Soon after, Nord appeared carrying dishes. His appearance, complete with a cloth to prevent stains on his clothes, made it difficult to view him as a knight wielding a sword. Even the ever-stolid Gailront wore an awkward smile, a clear indication that the current situation was bizarre.
"Let's start eating. I was really starving, you know?"
Except for the ever-nonchalant Marina, to whom such occurrences were nothing new.
And so the four of them began to sample the lavish feast laid out before them. There were moments of surprise at Nord's unexpected culinary skills, and bursts of laughter at stories from the Imperial Knights. Marina was consoled for failing to secure a knighthood again this time.
The conversation eventually turned to political matters, which was only natural since half of them were affiliated with the Imperial household.
"...So in the end, the only ones who treat me like a knight are those who admire the First Prince. Just from that, I feel like I can sense His Highness's character, even though I've never met him."
"I haven't been invited to any banquets the Prince would attend either. Well, Gailront, you've met him often, haven't you?"
"Met him? There are even rumors that His Highness praised this guy so highly!"
Nohan blurted out the words without even properly chewing the food in his mouth, so proud was he of his friend. It was truly unbecoming conduct for a knight, but fortunately, everyone present was far removed from formalities. Had Hailen, who valued etiquette above all else, been present, he would have undoubtedly expressed his displeasure.
"Perhaps I too have received the First Prince's favor. The Count who employs me also supports the First Prince. He values my abilities over any rumors that follow me."
There were often cases where knights were employed outside of the knighthoods. For Nord, who had been denied the opportunity to become a hero, he could only think this way.
More positive stories about Daniel continued to circulate around the dinner table. As Gailront listened to their tales, he recalled a piece of advice he had heard recently.
Words spoken by Elon Azakel, the Vice-Captain of the Emperor's Personal Knights.
'We who are the Emperor's Personal Knights should not take political stances. But realistically, that's impossible. Just look at the Captain—he swore allegiance to His Majesty back when he was still the Crown Prince.'
'You're telling me this because...'
'Being upright is good, but if you stay that way, you'll be swept away by the waves. I just don't want a talent like the Sword Master to become a casualty of the power struggle.'
At first, Elon had disliked Gailront, who had caused various controversies simply by his commoner origins and existence. But these were the words of someone who had come to accept him as a colleague and subordinate over the course of three years.
Gailront looked at his close friends engaged in lively conversation before him. He even imagined the scrutiny they might face from others due to their association with him. Weren't the two already burdened enough with their own issues?
Perhaps it was because of such recent concerns that he had blurted out those words in front of Hailen as well. In truth, the mere sight of him growing closer to the First Prince was enough to make Gailront consume time suppressing his intense jealousy, despite being someone who could only exchange words with him at official banquets.
'The so-called talent of the Sword Master is nothing more than a pitiful, uncouth lout.'
Gailront ended his day berating himself as usual, hoping that the next time, he might at least hear a single line from the voice he so longed for.



Chapter 77
Not long after news spread that the Crown Prince had set foot on Imperial soil, a welcoming banquet was held in his honor.
The banquet, taking place in the grandest central hall of the Imperial Palace, was more elaborate than a mere winter social event. Rather than following Imperial customs, it featured lively music in the style of the Oclan Kingdom, along with southern cuisine, and was decorated with vibrant floral arrangements rarely seen in winter. The attendees were all enraptured by the unusual spectacle.
This grand banquet was an extended three-day ceremony, indicating the importance the Empire placed on the Oclan delegation. Unfortunately, the one they held in highest regard was conspicuously absent - the Crown Prince's procession had been delayed, causing him to arrive at the Imperial capital later than scheduled.
Even so, many delegates had already arrived in Tengen, and the Imperial nobles in attendance were no small figures, ensuring the banquet's success. The festive atmosphere was already palpable.
Though not everyone shared the same sentiment.
"I worry that I may be an imposition on the Young Duke," said Maiden, nervously smoothing the wrinkles of her formal attire. A banquet at the Imperial Palace - she still couldn't believe her name was on the guest list.
"I'm attending as an Imperial diplomat, and you're my official aide, Maiden. No need to be so tense. It's not much different from other banquets," Hailen replied, his gaze filled with amusement at her unease over experiences he had never had. It was mischievous of him to enjoy her trepidation, but those who could bring such novelty were now few and far between in his circles.
Even Kelvin, who had once been Hailen's naive attendant, had now become jaded by high society - a regrettable change. But with Maiden's arrival to fill that void, how delighted Hailen must have been. Despite her unpolished demeanor, Maiden was a pragmatist who excelled at handling any task thrown her way. It was no wonder Hailen had taken her on as his aide.
"By the way, I have an order for you."
"Whatever you command, Young Duke!"
Her eagerness to obey, still tense, amused him. For Maiden, however, earning Hailen's attention could prove disastrous.
"Do you know who my fiancée is? You saw her last time."
"Yes, you mean Lady Pamel Emmast?"
How could she forget? Pamel's striking beauty aside, her refusal to meet her betrothed had left a lasting impression on Maiden, who had delivered the request - the noblewoman's petulant outburst shattering Hailen's fantasy.
Unaware of the circumstances, Maiden had simply thought, 'The Young Duke must be remarkable to reject such a beautiful woman.' But one recent rumor circulating high society concerned the discord between the Young Duke of Emmast and his fiancée.
And ever since Hailen had begun viewing Katrin as a mere pawn in his schemes, growing cruel toward her, he now addressed Maiden as one would dispose of an inconvenient obstacle.
"For today's banquet, I'd rather not deal with her. I trust you'll find a way to handle it."
"There she is, I think. But I won't be going over."
"But why avoid your fiancée...?"
"Want to know the reason? It's quite personal-"
Maiden instinctively sensed that learning the Young Duke's private affairs would only lead to greater trouble. She had no choice but to approach the woman Hailen had indicated - Katrin.
Watching Katrin linger nearby, Hailen smiled with satisfaction.
'At least for today, I won't have to deal with any disruptions.'
Even if that weren't the case, Katrin's increasingly persistent behavior had become a nuisance. Her insistence on marriage due to their age was particularly vexing. Recently, she had even enlisted her mother's aid, making it awkward for Hailen to return to the ducal estate.
Given his aide's inflexibility, his intention to avoid her would be easily conveyed. At the very least, Katrin, conscious of others' eyes, would think twice before causing a scene. She wouldn't want to be publicly rejected by her fiancé at such an event.
With that, Hailen strode confidently away, leaving the two women behind. Though many tried to engage the Young Duke, his interest lay with the delegation - the true guests of honor at this banquet.
Among them was a familiar face.
"Well, I'll be. If it isn't the Young Duke? Long time no see."
"Indeed. Jeffrey Rivalt, has it been three years since the Academy?"
The man expressing such delight at seeing Hailen was Jeffrey Rivalt, an Oclan royal with whom he had crossed paths at an Academy scholarly event. Rivalt had failed to notice Hailen's machinations that placed him on the Imperial side during a mock treaty negotiation, instead gushing over Hailen's supposed brilliance.
Even after graduating and returning home, Rivalt had sent Hailen several letters, so his enthusiasm at this reunion was understandable.
'He did help spread my name throughout the Oclan Kingdom.'
Over the past three years, Hailen's reputation had already become renowned through his various dealings with the southern kingdoms, but he was not yet satisfied. What he sought was a kingdom that would welcome his defection with open arms.
A bright smile graced Hailen's lips as he contemplated the future that would one day arrive.
"Are you also here representing the Oclan Kingdom? I'd appreciate it if you could introduce me to the members of the delegation."
"Of course, leave it to me."
It was clear he would be a useful asset in facilitating smooth diplomatic affairs.
Through Jeffrey, Hailen began conversing effortlessly with the Oclan delegation. As the Young Duke whose reputation had already spread throughout the Oclan Kingdom in various ways, his appearance exceeded their imaginations, leaving some awestruck when meeting him in person.
And Hailen's social graces remained ever flexible as he sought to obtain the information he desired from them.
"It's a pity His Royal Highness the Crown Prince has yet to arrive. I've heard he's a kind and gentle soul befitting the heir to the Eternal Neutral Kingdom. I wish his serenity could find a place in the chaotic southern lands ravaged by war."
"For you to show such concern even for the distant south, you truly have an interest spanning the entire continent, as expected of one of your standing. Our Prince has also been eagerly anticipating meeting you, Young Duke."
If those words sounded like "Why would the Empire concern itself with the south when it should only care about inland affairs?", it would be no mistake. This was the backlash of the name he had spread beyond the Empire's borders, earning the wariness of foreign diplomats.
"Peace across the continent is the Empire's stability. Surveying the situations of neighboring nations is only natural for an Imperial official. With our great national power, we must lend our strength to smaller nations."
Hailen's smile betrayed not a hint of wavering as he countered, "Yet why have you Oclans been unable to control the war in the south?"
Though Hailen had introduced Jeffrey with good intentions, the young Oclan's eyes wavered amid the fierce exchange of subtle barbs. Fortunately, his predicament soon ended as new arrivals entered the banquet hall, drawing the delegation's attention.
Accompanying her elder brother, Princess Cecilia, the intended bride for this diplomatic marriage, made her appearance.
With her radiant platinum hair reflecting the hall's illumination and deep golden eyes proving her Imperial lineage, the striking siblings painted an exquisite portrait as they walked side by side, escorted. The men's gazes were inevitably drawn to the graceful, noble beauty of the Princess, like an elegant lily. Yet someone in the hall snapped their feathered fan shut in apparent displeasure.
Of course, the regal pair headed straight for the delegation and the Young Duke.
"We are graced by His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince and Her Highness the Princess, resplendent in Panule's golden radiance. What greater honor could there be?"
"Southerners always have such kind words for me. Have you greeted the Young Duke yet? He's long held an interest in Oclan."
"There is much the Neutral Kingdom can learn of your might. It has been too long, Your Highness."
Hailen took Cecilia's proffered hand, bowing his head in an antiquated courtly greeting, the perfect picture of a romantic lead. Even the delegates who had verbally sparred with his smooth words moments ago were left admiring the scene.
"Indeed, Young Duke. I hope the Oclan delegation will make fond memories here in the Empire."
Hailen betrayed no discomfort conversing with Cecilia, despite his secret infatuation with her in a past life.
Though Hailen's fabricated excuses for his envisioned life were mere lies, the Imperial Princess before him had been an important figure in his previous existence, at least enough to grant glory for their final duel. Yet he showed no hesitation in smiling and addressing her, as if she were a forgotten lover.
In contrast to Hailen's indifference, another felt unease.
"Oh my, I didn't realize the Princess was here while you were engaged in serious discussion with the Oclan delegates. I greet Your Imperial Highness the Crown Prince and the delegation."
Once again, the feathered fan partially obscured her eyes, outwardly filled with only goodwill. But those aware of the discord between the Young Duke and his fiancée could surmise the emotion hidden behind the fan.
"Oh, might I be introduced to this radiant rose among beauties?"
"This is Katrin Pamel. As the Young Duke's fiancée, I cannot help but pay my respects."
The delegates, unaware of Imperial high society's rumors, were merely intrigued by the appearance of another beauty. But if one were to ask why she had inserted herself between them, it would undoubtedly be to keep the Imperial Princess in check. Beyond concerns for her betrothed, Katrin sought to become the center of high society, making Cecilia her greatest rival.
'So that's why I ordered Maiden.'
In the distance, Maiden could be seen mouthing an apology.
"Oh dear, did we interrupt an important discussion with the delegation? Hailen, you seem rather displeased."
Despite outwardly betraying no displeasure, Daniel's whispered observation, born of animal instinct, only compounded Hailen's headache. He too wished to avoid entangling himself with this dimwitted Crown Prince lacking any leash.
"Where is Viscount Melburn?"
"You're being too blatant in saying you don't want to deal with me without Ray."
"...I wish to inquire about not being informed of this union in advance. Even within the Foreign Ministry, we only recently learned of the purpose behind this exchange. Should I not know what it entails?"
"I didn't think you'd be unaware of it, either?"
"Your Highness, you seem to be having quite the amusing conversation with the Young Duke."
"Haha, rest assured, I won't be stealing your fiancée, Katrin."
Amid the sharp exchanges with the Oclan delegation, Hailen had enough to worry about just obtaining information about the Crown Prince. With Daniel's overbearing presence and Katrin's antagonism toward the Imperial Princess added to the mix, it was as if magic had triggered a splitting migraine once more.
'If one more person joins this, it'll be utter chaos.'
Hadn't he been warned not to invite misfortune?
Spotting Gailront and Nohan loitering near the banquet hall's entrance, Hailen felt a throbbing at his temples.



Chapter 78
This was the first official banquet held after Nohan achieved the runner-up position in the Imperial Martial Arts Tournament and donned the golden-embroidered uniform. While he usually brushed off the childish mockery from the Imperial Knights and the difficulties arising from his different upbringing, even he felt tense in this setting. Moreover, the scale of this banquet was no ordinary affair.
"Have you ever attended such an event without any qualms?"
"In any case, knights like us rarely draw much attention."
"Well, I'd say things might be different with you around."
Nohan's perceptive friend left his remark unanswered. As the Sword Master's acquaintance, the sharp-witted Nohan was aware of the happenings around him. Even that taciturn fellow seemed mindful of it.
Nohan patted Gailront's shoulder, which betrayed his complicated feelings, and lightly remarked. The tension over the banquet seemed to have dissipated.
"With a celebrity by your side, you might catch the eye of a lovely lady or two."
"Scandals are grounds for expulsion from the Imperial Knights."
"Do you really see me that way?"
While Marina considered Nohan a hopeless case who couldn't even hold a woman's hand, Gailront, who knew him well, had a sharper eye. Although he didn't pester innocent women, there was rarely a day when Nohan didn't have a lover.
Gailront wondered how his friend, with his rugged, bear-like face, easily won women's hearts.
'I'm having all sorts of thoughts, aren't I?'
Gailront let out a low sigh. Even as he entered the banquet hall and conversed with Nohan, his gaze naturally searched for someone. There was no need to specify who, as Nohan would surely tease him if he realized.
"Looking for the Young Duke? He'll be where the crowd is. Look over there. Still as popular as ever."
"While I can't greet him after three years, you probably shouldn't either. I don't have the confidence to squeeze in there. With that platinum hair... that must be His Imperial Highness, the First Prince."
So many people were mingling at the center of this banquet that it seemed strange how a gap opened around the prominent figures. Gailront's dark eyes, of course, remained fixed on Hailen.
For a moment, the scene of him greeting Cecilia flashed before his eyes. The antiquated etiquette, where he gracefully displayed respect for the Imperial Princess, was etched clearly. Despite the silk gloves preventing any contact, the image of him taking her hand and leaning in close froze in his mind like a still frame.
"Hey, is that the famous Princess Cecilia by his side? With the Young Duke there, it's quite the picture."
Nohan's casual jest felt like a provocation, as always.
'I want to wipe it all away...'
Gailront's gaze towards those circling near Hailen froze coldly, but he was also accustomed to restraining it. Whether Nohan noticed the emotional turmoil of the man beside him or not, he continued to prattle on.
It was Ray who approached the two.
"I heard Nohan would be attending. Seeing you here is quite novel."
"Haha, my apologies. I'm not well-versed in etiquette."
Among those trying to bring the Sword Master to the First Prince's side, Ray was the most proactive. Unlike three years ago when he was confident towards his master, he had achieved nothing, so it was no wonder he felt anxious.
This was why Ray had already become acquainted with Nohan.
"What conditions do you plan to offer Gail today?"
"Well, if Nohan, who knows Gailront well, could lend a hand, it would be most helpful."
"I don't mind you involving me, but please refrain from dragging others into this."
Gailront's voice could only harden.
Gailront wanted to prevent any political maneuvering that exploited Nohan's background, so his wariness was understandable. However, it was somewhat unsettling to see a grown man no less sturdy than himself being looked after.
Ray remained unfazed by Gailront's remarks. It wasn't the first or second time he had been rejected by the knight before him.
"I thought you would have understood me by now, but it seems I was mistaken."
"I know you don't harbor any ill intentions. But don't say that your every move is easily dismissed."
"It seems you've become quite knowledgeable about the ways of this place. I regret that it has become more difficult to persuade you."
"Isn't it you who is starting to resemble your master?"
"...I should take offense, but your words have deflated me."
The longer they exchanged words, the more camaraderie built between them, inevitably. Nohan briefly wondered if he should charge Ray with lèse-majesté for his rare jest, but soon let out a low laugh.
"I'll try to persuade that fellow, so don't think he's being too cold."
Nohan's face was full of goodwill towards Ray as he whispered this to him. At the very least, the fact that he appeared positive to Gailront's closest friend meant Ray's efforts had not been in vain.
"I won't trouble you further. But I won't miss the chance to demonstrate the Imperial might to the Kingdom's envoys, will I?"
Gailront accepted Ray's proposal, understanding the hidden meaning that his interests also lay over there. Although Nohan, still unaccustomed to the Imperial banquet, vehemently refused to head to the center of attention, his uneasy friend seemed to ponder for a moment before briefly bidding him farewell and following Ray towards his master.
Even when moving towards someone, the two men shared an inexplicable tension, as if they were somehow alike.
And it was but a brief moment when Ray collided with someone.
'A southern accent? An unfamiliar face.'
At least Ray had thoroughly familiarized himself with the appearances of the Oclan Kingdom's envoys attending today's banquet. This face did not exist in his memory.
The bright smile showed no deference to those of high status, clearly marking him as a guest at the banquet. As Ray watched the man turn and head in another direction, he felt a brief puzzlement.
'I've heard the Crown Prince has deep crimson eyes...'
"It's nothing. His Highness must be waiting."
But the Crown Prince had not yet arrived in the capital, had he?
Shaking off his unease, Ray headed towards Gailront and their original destination.
The arrival of the new figure captured the envoys' attention.
Even his mere presence exuded an immense aura and vigor that marked him as no ordinary man. But the moment they recognized the owner of the blazing crimson hair, exclamations burst forth.
"You must be Sir Gailront! To meet the Sword Master himself is an honor."
The one who had been deftly fending off the Young Duke with smooth words just moments ago now greeted Gailront with excitement. Seeing someone who seemed to revere the superior swordsmen over the Imperial Knights of his own nation, Hailen let out a cold laugh.
'He must know how to flatter the man.'
Though mocking, he did not hesitate to mentally record the information.
It was only natural where Gailront's gaze fell after greeting those of higher rank with a stiff bow. It was on Hailen, who wore a joyful smile.
"We meet again, Sir Gailront."
His mask that I witness at such banquets has long become familiar. I no longer hesitate to address him or return his smiles, yet I wonder what expression lies beneath, each time.
In truth, I can only welcome even a brief moment of feigned interaction, so pitiful is my state.
Gailront has no desire to involve himself in complex politics, even for the sake of those around him. The reason he always appears at the center of these banquets is simply because he yearns for even the briefest contact with Hailen. Whether it is more wretched to sit idly waiting for an answer that never comes, or to engage in an exchange devoid of sincerity, I cannot say.
And those gathered here care not for whom the Sword Master watches, nor that he keeps his lips sealed in silence.
All they deem important is the name 'Sword Master' attached to Gailront.
"Rumors of your prowess have spread even to our Oclan. You are counted among the greatest Sword Masters on the continent, are you not? I heard you manifested your sword ki at the mere age of twenty - those who could not believe it were numerous."
"I did not know the Kingdom held swordsmen in such high regard."
Even Daniel's mediation as the Prince could not quell the man's excitement. In particular, the Count who had exclaimed in admiration upon seeing Gailront showed no hesitation in displaying his fervor, to the point where even his companions exchanged glances in the presence of the Imperial royalty.
It seemed that admiration was taking an unpleasant turn.
"You would place a mere swordsman on the same level as a Sword Master? I heard he emerged victorious in the martial arts tournament held in the Empire not long ago. If only the schedule had been brought forward, I could have witnessed that spectacle - a pity indeed. Might the Master be participating in the upcoming equestrian event as well?"
As the Empire earned its moniker as the "Land of Knights," it had a tradition of hosting an event whenever foreign dignitaries visited - a mounted combat tournament. Thus, those visiting the Empire were obliged to bring along knights, not only for protection but also with the tournament in mind.
The very reason for inviting foreign knights to participate in the mounted combat tournament was to easily defeat them and flaunt the Empire's military might. As a result, these contests often escalated into clashes of national pride between the countries involved.
If none other than the Empire's Sword Master were to appear in such a tournament, the defeat of their nation would be a foregone conclusion. Yet the Count seemed to desire precisely that outcome.
"The mounted combat tournament randomly assigns opponents before the event to ensure fairness. Whether I will participate is uncertain."
"Do not worry about such matters. I shall instruct my knight to specifically nominate you. Opportunities to witness the sword ki in person do not come easily, after all."
Gailront was a knight who had earned some renown within the Empire. His tone, treating Gailront as little more than a spectacle, caused the expressions of some to harden. However, the Count continued speaking, perhaps because he was well aware that the Sword Master hailed from common origins.
"I am also curious to explore the difference between manifesting sword ki and wielding a magic-imbued blade. In truth, one can only appreciate the true power of this 'sword ki' by witnessing it firsthand."
"I've heard it emits light, so surely it must be formidable?"
"Indeed. While the Sword Master is renowned, no one truly knows the veracity of such claims."
It was not merely an infatuation with martial prowess; they seemed intent on provoking the Empire through another means.
Hailen, who had been observing, found this situation vexing. Not only did Daniel fail to intervene as they insulted the very knight he wished to make his subordinate, but the fool also failed to notice Hailen's own unfavorable position.
This was the unpleasantness Hailen tried to convince himself was hidden within the barbed words exchanged with the envoys earlier.
"If you wish to witness the sword ki, I can demonstrate it for you right now."
Had Gailront not stepped forward first.
The man who had been making an excessive fuss over the Sword Master seemed slightly taken aback by the offer, but soon recovered and let out a loud laugh.
"You are indeed a bold one. But weapons are prohibited at this banquet, are they not? While regrettable now, I shall have ample opportunity to witness your skill at the upcoming mounted combat tournament."
At this point, it seemed there was some scheme hidden behind that mounted combat tournament to undermine the Empire's pride. Hailen inwardly scoffed at the foolish Count.
And in an instant, Gailront drew the dagger concealed at his waist.
"The Imperial Knights are permitted to carry emergency daggers like this. I shall show you the scene you desire."
Whether the people around him were startled by the dagger suddenly drawn from its sheath or not, Gailront's stolid face betrayed not a flicker of emotion.
He merely breathed life into the raised dagger with a gentle exhalation. In an instant, a trail of light rose along the blade's edge, eliciting gasps from those frozen by the abrupt appearance of the weapon.
The manifestation of sword ki was far more vivid and concentrated than when he had first unleashed it years ago.
Just as the Count who had practically instigated this situation was about to regain his senses and say something, Gailront approached him and gestured downward with the dagger towards the wine glass he held.
It was only after seeing the red liquid dripping from his hand and the wine glass cleanly split in half, its upper portion remaining intact, that the Count realized the sword ki had been wielded right before his eyes. While Gailront had not unleashed any killing intent, the imposing presence of the massive knight seemed to convey a clear message:
Do not treat me as a spectacle.
Observing the man's pallid face, Daniel eventually burst into hearty laughter.
Whether he found amusement in the scene the knight had displayed or was attempting to defuse the situation, at least no one dared to treat the Sword Master as a mere spectacle after that.
Someone had clearly found the scene quite satisfactory.



Chapter 79
After witnessing the astonishing scene of a wine glass being cleanly sliced in half without shattering, the envoys could only stand frozen in shock. Even for such slippery characters, the overt display of force before their eyes was an intimidating threat they could not overcome as mere civilians. Moreover, they had no grounds to protest, as they were the ones who first brought up the matter of "sword energy."
"Truly, Your Grace's martial prowess is awe-inspiring. As one who wields the blade myself, I cannot help but be amazed," Daniel remarked leisurely while applauding, prompting the others around him to add their own comments.
"Indeed, as Your Highness says."
"It was merely a dagger, yet such power."
"Truly an astounding sight."
With everyone chiming in with their admiration, Gailront's earlier action was perceived not as a threat but as mere entertainment for the banquet. Even Hailen offered obligatory praise, going along with the flow, though he had to acknowledge Daniel's quick-wittedness in defusing the situation.
"That is... truly remarkable, Your Grace Gailront."
"Ahem, now that I think about it, I have yet to meet the Duke of Denver."
It was only natural for the Oclan envoys to seek out the Duke of Denver, following the flow of conversation. After all, he was the sole first-rank diplomat and head of the Imperial Central Diplomatic Corps. However, the envoys had initially engaged with Hailen, who held the second-rank diplomatic position, as they were aware of the divided power within the Imperial Diplomatic Corps and deliberately responded to Hailen.
Of course, their sudden search for the Duke was merely a struggle to escape this awkward situation.
'Well, it seems I've regained control of the situation.'
Hailen decided to let them off the hook without betraying his inner satisfaction. This tiresome bickering with the envoys was nothing new.
"Haha, the Duke would never slight you all like that. The Imperial Central Banquet Hall is simply too vast, making it time-consuming to find anyone in particular. Allow me to guide you to him."
"Your Grace is so gracious to extend such hospitality..."
"As envoys of the Kingdom of Oclan, we must be treated as esteemed guests in the Empire above all else. Moreover, the Duke of Denver is said to be one who truly enjoys a banquet. Everyone will surely be satisfied."
If misheard, Hailen's remarks might sound like he was calling the Young Duke dull, but no one here would misunderstand. Everyone knew Hailen was a trusted aide of the First Prince. Daniel was merely trying to placate the envoys.
Daniel's overly casual and friendly demeanor was unbecoming of a noble prince. Thanks to him, however, the envoys were able to let go of their earlier tension. They did not hesitate to follow Daniel as he received greetings from those around and walked towards another part of the banquet hall.
It was a perfect rhythm, with each playing their roles as villain and hero. No one here would notice the act Hailen and Daniel were putting on. Well, except for Ray, who nodded towards the Young Duke before following her master.
"My brother seems to have completely forgotten I'm here."
Cecilia broke the silence with a wry smile as she observed the figures remaining. Hailen readily accepted her remark.
"He has given us the opportunity to spend time with the Princess. I'd say the graciousness was bestowed upon us."
Hailen's gaze held not a shred of disrespect as he looked at the princess, whose eloquence matched her twin brother's. He was analyzing whether Daniel had separated her from the envoys due to opposition to the imperial marriage.
She had been a woman capable of fabricating false emotions, even deceiving herself into believing she had loved in her previous life. In truth, Hailen held Cecilia in high regard as a person. He believed she would make a fitting Duchess by his side, as per the life plan he had devised. So for her to express anger upon hearing of Gailront's relationship with Cecilia, even if she did not truly harbor amorous feelings for him, there must have been a hint of possessiveness, a desire to claim what was his.
And yet, even when they reunited in this new life, even now with her standing before him, he remained utterly unperturbed.
What was amusing was that there were two individuals present who could easily misinterpret Hailen's gaze.
"If you say it was a fruitful conversation, I heard the Princess recently took a trip outside the capital. I would love to hear about the interesting journey you experienced," Katrin remarked sharply, instantly bringing up Cecilia's frequent convalescences, considered a weakness in high society. Her words were so cutting that even Gailront, who had been observing Hailen's gaze towards Cecilia, flinched. Though he had been a member of the Imperial Knights for nearly three years and was somewhat accustomed to the ways of high society, the subtle battles between women were still unfamiliar to him.
Hailen momentarily recalled the innocent face of the Gailront from the past upon witnessing this, but he did not let it show. He had no intention of engaging in any personal exchanges, even with certain individuals.
Moreover, he had no desire to intervene between the two women before him. Putting aside how tiresome it would be—
"Are you interested? Now that you mention it, Lady Pamel said she is not originally from the capital. As someone who enjoys traveling, I would love to hear stories from various regions. I would also like to learn about Lady Pamel's hometown if the opportunity arises."
He was well aware that Cecilia, despite her delicate and frail beauty that earned her the nickname "Lily," possessed thorns to protect herself, contrary to her outward appearance.
"Well, I've never ventured beyond the Duchy of Pamel, so I don't have much to share. My parents cherished me dearly and did not permit me to travel far. I envy Your Highness's ability to journey to so many places."
Katrin, who had secured her position as the Young Duke's fiancée by exploiting her humble origins and had become the flower of high society, was no pushover either. Her speech, arrogant yet clear in its intent like her mother the Duchess, ensured that even the sharpest barbs did not undermine her dignity.
And though these two women always clashed whenever they met, the outcome seemed predetermined. For there was a crucial difference between them.
"If it's enough to make you envious, perhaps we could travel together sometime. It might be unsafe for just us ladies... How about the Young Duke accompanying us?"
Unlike Katrin, who sought to subjugate the Princess and claim the pinnacle of high society, Cecilia's priority was her brother Daniel. To her, those who bolstered Daniel's power, like Hailen, were of utmost importance. Cecilia had no intention of feuding with Katrin.
"I would be honored if you extend such an invitation, Your Highness."
Regardless, this presented an opportunity to spend time with her desired fiancé, so Katrin could not bring herself to refuse Cecilia's offer. Unable to respond, she forced a smile, thinking the Princess was a woman without the gall to challenge her, always slipping away annoyingly.
Their brief exchange concluded, it was only natural for the conversation to shift to the one who had been silently standing by. After all, the essence of socializing was ensuring equal participation from all present.
Yet the Young Duke, who understood this better than anyone, showed no discomfort at being left to stand like a sack of grain propped up by Gailront.
Cecilia's voice towards Gailront was very soft and kind, for she too recognized the importance of drawing Gailront into the First Prince's faction.
"The sword energy I witnessed earlier was truly an astonishing sight. The shimmering light that enveloped the dagger is still unforgettable."
"I'm relieved that you found it pleasing, Your Highness."
It was a well-known fact that the Sword Master of commoner origins was such a taciturn man. Some mocked this as a failure to properly learn social graces, while others praised it as the true way of a swordsman, showing his skill through action rather than words. Regardless of which view one took, anyone who saw Gailront now had to acknowledge a certain aspect.
That this was true unwavering imperturbability, unshaken in any situation. Even the friendly demeanor from the Imperial treasure that countless men would desire and lust after did not elicit the slightest wavering from him. One could hardly fault those who called him a wooden puppet.
'The idea that those two were lovers in their previous life is simply laughable.'
As if observing from the outside, Hailen looked upon the two figures, no different from a painting in outward appearance, and inwardly scoffed as he picked up a passing glass of wine. Katrin tried to engage her fiancé by mentioning the trip the Princess had brought up earlier, at least expecting a positive response since he had given one to the Princess.
And Hailen had something to convey to his fiancée.
It was not rude to lower his voice enough for only his fiancée to hear, even if four people were conversing. Unlike before, he did not call her by name, but Hailen's gentle voice addressing her still made Katrin's heart flutter after so long.
Enough for a certain day from her fading memories to resurface.
She missed her fiancé who used to look after and care for her, even if obligatory. She even missed the voice that called her "Katrin" at her insistence.
She knew that losing that was due to her own greed to solidify her position as the Young Duke's fiancée, but she would probably do the same thing again if she went back. For even if it meant distancing herself from Hailen like this, even if she had to face her fiancé who no longer even looked at her, what mattered most to her was the position she was holding onto.
Though the one he was addressing was the woman by his side, Hailen's gaze turned towards the two figures across from them.
Their gazes at each other were so utterly indifferent that it did not evoke any memories of their relationship from their previous life. Neither Cecilia, trying to build rapport with the knight before her for the benefit of her faction, nor Gailront, trying to show basic courtesy to the precious Imperial Princess, betrayed any trace of emotion in their words.
Perhaps it might change as time passed.
In fact, the rumors of them being lovers did not arise until after Hailen challenged Gailront to a final duel, a few years later than now. Love was not necessarily a feeling that sprang up from the first meeting or after spending some time together. For some, it might gradually well up and rise after years of accumulation.
As if noticing Hailen whispering to Katrin, Gailront's gaze meets his. The emotion hidden within those black pupils, unlike the indifferent answers he gave the Imperial Princess, seemed to harbor deep feelings, smoldering and concealing itself.
Such encounters were not a one-time occurrence. The only change from their previous life was the appearance of a certain woman between the two of them.
Hailen suddenly wondered.
Was he truly the target of whatever was hidden in those eyes? If Gailront was still trying to reach out to him, meeting his gaze like this, it would be certain that he still harbored those feelings for him, but—
As if shattering the composure he had been maintaining, Hailen turned his head sharply, his emerald eyes meeting Katrin's expectant gaze.
A woman gazing at him with a different kind of desire than Gailront.
And Hailen would be unable to reciprocate what either of these two women present wanted from him.
'At least there is a need to issue a warning.'
"If you wish to properly fulfill the role you possess, it would be wise to distinguish your adversaries correctly."
"I do not consider you so foolish as to truly be unaware. If you genuinely do not understand... it would not be unwise to observe and learn from Her Highness the Princess."
Katrin's complexion paled at Hailen's blatant rebuke piercing her ears, enough for Cecilia, who had not heard his words, to glance her way.
Moreover, it was clear that this man named Hailen possessed an inhumane aspect, capable of delivering a cruel barb towards someone and instantly smiling afterwards.
"Your Highness, it seems my fiancée is unwell and must withdraw."
"Oh dear. Her color does seem worse than before. If needed, I can summon the Imperial physician."
Katrin received Cecilia's kind offer, the last thing she wanted from the Princess she wished to look down on more than anyone else present. Though Cecilia's words held no intent to attack Katrin, she would surely realize that Hailen had deliberately ordered his fiancée to withdraw.
In the end, 'distinguishing adversaries' was a clear message to Katrin about whom it was directed at.
"That won't be...necessary, Your Highness. It seems sufficient for me to withdraw and rest for a moment."
Though a slight tremor could be heard in Katrin's voice towards Cecilia, her expression quickly regained composure, betraying no further agitation.
Nor any hostility towards the Princess.
With that, Katrin headed out of the banquet hall without another word. The Young Duke's gaze lingering on her retreating figure would merely appear to onlookers as concern for his fiancée.
"It's enviable to see the Young Duke and Lady Ray getting along so well. Don't you all think so?"
If Cecilia's words seamlessly filled the vacancy left by one person, no one would question the situation from earlier. Her remark, akin to an invitation to join the conversation, prompted those who had been waiting for an opportunity to chime in one by one.
"Indeed, you're right," "The Young Duke is truly affectionate," "Greetings to the Princess and the Young Duke." A sudden clamor arose between the three remaining individuals. Enough to completely dispel the unnecessary thoughts that had been creeping into Hailen's mind as he observed the two figures across from him.
And Gailront, once again able to freely observe the one he desired amidst the flow of conversation, recalled the words he had overheard earlier. Whispers he could easily pick up thanks to his senses far surpassing those of humans.
The cruelty of the words Hailen had uttered to Katrin did not match the face he was currently showing, and they evoked a sense of ruthlessness directed towards himself. But the emotion occupying Gailront's heart at this very moment was all too clear and vivid.
It was neither disappointment towards the two-faced man before him nor pity for the woman who had left wounded.
Gailront, who despite his taciturn appearance, did not hesitate to meticulously care for those around him and extend a helping hand to strangers—one who was called the epitome of knighthood in a previous life. That did not change simply because he lived a different life. Rather, having perhaps lived a more peaceful life than before, Gailront's humanity and compassion were deeply and purely ingrained within him.
And yet, the emotion he felt overwhelmed all of those inherent qualities to such an ugly degree.
A base sense of satisfaction upon witnessing the cold-hearted Hailen and the Katrin he had wounded with his scathing remarks.
Gailront's black pupils sank sullenly as he observed those attempting to engage the Young Duke in conversation from all sides. He was well aware that this emotion of his was wrong, deviating from the righteous path he wished to walk.
He knew, yet could not correct it—or perhaps he did not even intend to change. That might be his greatest flaw.
Gailront's gaze sank low and deep as he looked upon Hailen, who had naturally drifted apart from him. Deeper and deeper, slowly but surely.
This descent continued until Nohan spotted his friend and approached to speak with him.



Chapter 80
Franz always enjoyed making a late entrance at banquets, drawing everyone's attention. His tardy arrival was no different today, except for the strange fact that he lingered on one side of the banquet hall, seemingly trying to avoid the spotlight.
An uncharacteristic attitude for someone who always wanted to be the center of attention. His ever-loyal Kasper found it perplexing, but he didn't question further after the prince's subsequent explanation.
Their gaze fell upon the intricate scene within the banquet hall.
'Acting as if he's already ascended the throne, the insolent fool.'
It's clear whom that criticism was aimed at. The envoys from Oclan, and his brother engaging in conspicuous conversation with the Young Duke.
Despite the presence of Duke Denver, the Empire's top diplomat, the envoys' approach seemed utterly improper. If one considered that the princes' factions were focused on the southern situation above all else, it was understandable. But to Franz, every move Daniel made was vexing.
Especially when he thought of that Young Duke, who was struggling to seize control of the Central Foreign Affairs.
"The neutrality we've maintained until now was merely a facade, it seems."
Standing beside Franz, who glared daggers at Hailen, Kasper could only try to make himself inconspicuous. It wouldn't be strange for him to catch some flak whenever the matter involved the Young Duke Emmast.
The Second Prince was right. People speculated that Emmast had implicitly sided with the First Prince between the two growing factions. No matter how much Hailen claimed his intentions differed from the Duke's, he was the heir to Emmast. It was as if the authority to command the Empire's military had been handed to one prince. Wouldn't the outcome of the power struggle be evident with just that?
However, Duke Sowrel and the Empress Mother, his mother, often displayed an overly relaxed attitude regarding him. Despite the Young Duke's stance causing a delay in the Second Prince's faction consolidating, they seemed complacent, saying, "Emmast cannot walk the same path as the First Prince anyway."
While Franz understood intellectually that due to the nature of the Emmast household, it would be difficult for Daniel, who advocated for peace regarding the southern war, to fully align with them, the realities he witnessed and experienced in the complex social circles inevitably swayed him. Moreover, Daniel was exploiting the Young Duke's stance far too well.
It was not strange for Franz to harbor animosity even towards Hailen, who resented being rejected by him.
"If Your Highness ascends to that position, that arrogant Young Duke will instantly kneel before you."
As such were his master's thoughts, Kasper, who had always sought even a glance from Hailen, instantly changed his stance. Perhaps he even felt a tinge of gratification inwardly, condemning and belittling the Young Duke who had chosen some lowborn commoner over him.
"Of course. If necessary, I will break Emmast's sword to humble his arrogance."
As they burned with animosity towards someone, there was an approaching figure. A rather plain-looking man whose attire and light movements did not particularly stand out, except for his crimson eyes as vivid as rubies.
"Here you are, Second Prince. The Imperial banquet hall is so vast that I spent quite some time searching for you."
While Franz did not hesitate to scrutinize the newly appeared figure, his demeanor towards the man was courteous, surprisingly so when recalling his usual speech and conduct. Even Kasper by his side, instead of being wary, made an effort to appear friendly, confirming that the man who addressed them was no ordinary person.
"All of this must be to welcome the Crown Prince."
"Since the prince says so, my visit to the Empire has been worthwhile. There are many who indulge in such amusements with me, so I'm quite enjoying myself."
Yes, the figure whom Franz and Kasper were meeting away from prying eyes was Blake, the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Oclan, who was believed to have not yet arrived in the capital.
Franz inwardly mocked the Crown Prince, who had an endlessly simple-minded, bright face. How exasperated he had been upon receiving Duke Sowrel's letter stating that he had received the bizarre request for the Crown Prince to disguise himself and attend the banquet for his own enjoyment after safely setting foot in the capital. The letter also contained the Duke's brief assessment of the Crown Prince, describing him as a man so unremarkable that even his cautious uncle would call him nothing special.
The reason they had seriously entertained such a request was, of course, for the benefit of the Second Prince's faction. To establish a connection with the Crown Prince before Daniel did. Moreover, since the Crown Prince had requested to meet Franz first, he had agreed to participate in this ridiculous charade, thinking what a windfall it was.
'No matter how much that Daniel scurries about trying to get close to the envoys, the real core is right in front of me.'
His task was clear. To utilize this unremarkable Crown Prince and steer the diplomatic relations in a direction beneficial to his own forces.
"I am Kasper Clifford, Your Highness. Though inadequate, I serve the Second Prince."
"The prince is indeed surrounded by such talents. By the way, those are truly radiant golden eyes bearing the mark of the Sun God. I have longed for the moment to gaze upon them."
Franz's lips tightened momentarily at the mention of his eyes. However, he quickly regained his composure. Putting aside the rudeness of commenting on a royal's appearance, he did have a weakness he needed to conceal—
Blake was clearly an unsavory character from his words and mannerisms, but even more appalling was the exchange between the Crown Prince and Daniel. Franz mustered patience he rarely displayed to deal with the Crown Prince, recalling the advice Sowrel had given him as if he were still a child.
'Regardless of what happens, the envoys' stance will ultimately follow the Crown Prince's lead. Even if their intentions don't align, you must prevent the marriage alliance with Princess Cecilia from proceeding at all costs. My mother and I will handle everything, so all you need to do is befriend the Crown Prince and ensure he doesn't turn his attention elsewhere.'
In essence, he was being told to stay away from the main affair and simply distract the Crown Prince. What thoughts had crossed Franz's mind upon hearing the Duke's words? One was regret that he didn't have a younger sister to rely on, and the other was the lingering resentment towards his uncle that still resided within him.
This time, he would show his true colors.
Despite the passage of time, Franz sensed the Crown Prince's unchanging arrogance.
"Even if we share the same golden eyes, you'd do well to discern which of us is the real deal and which is the imposter. Now that we've met, it would be meaningful to have a serious discussion about the future state of the continent. After all, we're in the same position of being on the cusp of rulership, are we not?"
"...Ah, the Second Prince speaks true. We shall indeed have a most fruitful conversation."
Yet Franz failed to notice the light in the Crown Prince's crimson eyes as he gazed upon him.
Thus, they too were enjoying this banquet in their own way.
"How dare you covet another's fiancée with that innocent facade...! Princess, my ass...!"
Clang. The teacup Katrin hurled shattered into pieces.
Jenia, who had been trying to console her, stood up in surprise, but a woman with no combat training had her limits in reflexes. One of the shattered teacup fragments roughly flew up, leaving a small mark on her cheek.
However, Jenia couldn't let out a scream at that moment. Instead of worrying about the pain on her face or the possibility of a scar, she had to worry first about the broken teacup, which was practically an imperial artifact. Moreover, she became anxious that her mistress's angry outburst might be overheard outside.
"My lady, if someone were to overhear your words about the Princess, it would be a huge problem."
"Whose side are you on? As my maid, you should be as frustrated as I am at this humiliation I'm suffering! What are you doing? Instead of bringing something cold to cool me down!"
Katrin, shouting at Jenia, showed no trace of the grace or charm she had displayed at the banquet earlier. Her maid, too, gave up trying to placate her mistress with a gloomy expression and turned to leave. As Jenia turned away, an inaudible sigh escaped her lips.
Whether due to the Duchess's teachings or not, Katrin had been growing increasingly strict, and now she was showing an increasingly unpleasant side—all because of what had happened three years ago at the Duke's estate. By her own order, she herself had been the one who spread the baseless rumor.
As a result, Katrin had solidified her position as the Young Duke's fiancée, but in exchange, she lost her fiancé's warm gaze. What she had thought was a momentary coldness remained, and her mistress gradually became more sensitive. Of course, Katrin was no foolish woman, so she maintained an outwardly relaxed demeanor and even laughed off any rumors of discord, dismissing them as ridiculous. But that was only on the surface.
When left alone in such a private place, she would vent all the anger and resentment she had endured, especially towards her subordinates who might seem easy targets. Jenia, who accompanied her every move, often became the target.
From the moment Jenia realized she could no longer be the friend she had played with in her childhood, she had to accept the role of being Katrin's punching bag.
The moments when she secretly shed tears and confided her hardships to someone had easily passed. Jenia wiped the wound on her cheek and opened the outermost door of the powder room. If she didn't quickly fetch what Katrin wanted, she would face even greater trouble.
And standing in front of the door was a man whose handsome appearance would surely attract a woman's gaze. It was none other than Benedik.
"Young Master Jeil, what brings you here...?"
"It seems the lady is in an unpleasant mood. I came here wondering if I could be of any assistance."
Jenia's expression naturally softened as she looked at him. Ever since their first encounter when he had practically saved her from being abandoned in the pouring rain, her feelings towards Benedik had become special. Moreover, he often appeared and lent a helping hand whenever she found herself in a predicament due to Katrin's temperament.
"It seems there was some matter with the Young Duke. I was on my way to fetch a refreshing drink. Shall I inform the lady that you've arrived?"
"While it's true that I have business with Lady Pamel, I'm concerned about causing her further distress by inquiring at this moment. Please rest this against your cheek. I'll bring the drink."
"You don't have to do that, Young Master."
Despite her words of refusal, Jenia felt only shyness as she accepted the handkerchief.
To be honest, at first I had suspected that this man was intentionally approaching my mistress. There were countless suitors who desired the beautiful Katrin. Moreover, he revealed himself before them far too often to be mere coincidence, and whenever Katrin found herself in a predicament, he would come bearing an astonishing solution.
However, upon hearing his words that prioritized me over Katrin, such suspicions vanished completely. Especially after experiencing him consoling me, knowingly or not, when I felt aggrieved and sorrowful from my mistress's abuse, I began to surmise that perhaps he harbored the same feelings as I did.
Thus, the two of us grew closer, and Jenia felt such intimacy with Benedik that she even confided her mistress's private matters to him. To the extent that she dreamed of a future with him rather than the "prospective fiancé" Katrin spoke of with feigned affection, despite having never even seen his face.
'If only he weren't the third son, unable to inherit a title... Though in truth, it wouldn't make much difference if I were to succeed the humble Jeil County...'
I wonder if Benedik knew the calculations running through Jenia's mind as she blushed before him. He left with a tender smile until the very end.
Jenia failed to notice his face instantly turning cold as he headed towards the banquet hall.
"Anything associated with the name Emmast reeks of filth."
She missed even the chilling words he uttered alone.



Chapter 81
While there was a department in charge of hosting imperial events, it was only natural for the Foreign Ministry to take charge since another participant in the equestrian competition was from a foreign country. Thanks to this, Hailen and the diplomats working with him were busy with a hectic schedule after the welcoming banquet for the Oclan Kingdom's delegation.
And today's discussion had to be given special attention, even if it meant squeezing it into their limited time.
"As you all know, the Kingdom's visit this time was proposed through unofficial channels, not our Foreign Ministry. That's why we were late in learning about the imperial marriage as well," said the official leading the meeting, his voice tinged with suppressed resentment, as it was a matter of pride for a central diplomat. However, he would have no idea that Hailen, seated next to him, had known about the imperial marriage beforehand but chose not to mention it.
"They clearly displayed hostility toward the Empire at the welcoming banquet."
"It made one question whether they truly came for reconciliation. Whether it was intentional or not..."
"The Young Duke said we only need to ensure the equestrian competition goes smoothly, but aren't we being too complacent, even for a neutral country?"
Most of them were officials handpicked and brought in by Hailen himself. As such, they were overflowing with passion. It was only natural for them to be displeased with the attitude of Denver, the Duke, who held the position of First-rank Diplomat and head of the Central Foreign Ministry, yet seemed more concerned with maintaining his position. Despite being their superior, his lukewarm attitude only served to fuel their resentment, heating up the atmosphere as they vented their frustrations.
Of course, it was Hailen who silenced them all with a single word.
"It is because the Foreign Ministry has people like you who are devoted to the Empire that this meeting was arranged. If we can read the Kingdom's intentions even a little and prepare accordingly, that will be enough."
Seeing Hailen smile as he spoke those words, they couldn't help but calm down. After all, those gathered here revered him as the Young Duke for various reasons.
And as always, it was Kailre who stepped forward to conclude the calmed atmosphere, able to read Hailen's intentions without him having to voice them.
"As the Young Duke says, their intention is what matters. If we consider which side the proposal for the imperial marriage came from, we can surmise that they wish to intervene in the Empire's throne dispute."
"Kailre is right. Whichever side they made a deal with, it was for the Kingdom's benefit, and we cannot know what they might attempt during this equestrian competition."
It was an uncharacteristic statement for someone who openly supports the First Prince, but it allowed one to discern Hailen's intention to approach this matter neutrally. Gathering the numerous pieces of information flowing into the Central Foreign Ministry and hearing opinions from various perspectives was, of course, the best way to grasp the situation.
Whether what Hailen sought to gain through these meetings was entirely for the Empire's benefit remained questionable, but under his lead, the diplomats gathered here began to divulge the information they each possessed one by one.
"At the Nobles' Council, the first to mention the imperial marriage was Count Dranzi."
Count Dranzi was a figure aligned with the First Prince's faction who had secured a seat in the central Nobles' Council after the Revised Law incident, acting as a mouthpiece for Marquis Melburn.
'The First Prince must have been the first to learn about the imperial marriage.'
Yet Daniel did not seem pleased that his younger sister would be marrying a foreign prince. Although he tried not to show it, his attempts to distance the delegation and Cecilia throughout the banquet did not escape Hailen's keen observation.
Without a moment to ponder Daniel's intentions, those seated before Hailen continued their fervent discussion.
"As you all know, more than anything, His Highness the First Prince desires peace to return to the south. If his wishes align with the Kingdom's, then as Duke Denver said, simply holding the equestrian competition without incident should not pose a major problem."
In that case, Oclan's top priority would be to make a splash in the equestrian competition, no matter what they have to do.
The Empire's long-standing tradition of equestrian competitions had already stirred up the capital's high society just by being held. It was no wonder, as this event was just as entertaining a spectacle as the recent imperial martial arts tournament. Despite setting aside each nation's pride, the archaic nature of the event embraced rough and dirty tactics as strategy, exhibiting a certain savagery.
Historically, there had even been deaths due to this competition, so it was undoubtedly filled with the desire to win at all costs and flaunt one's national might. There was an unspoken understanding that injuries sustained during the event would not be an issue.
Of course, things would be different if those severely injured or killed were of noble birth.
"Above all, Oclan will try to defeat Sword Master Gailront. Currently, the only Sword Master active in the south is Count Ulber of the Generd Kingdom, who has been making such a significant impact that it could shift the tide of the southern war."
"It's a well-known fact that Generd is displeased with Oclan's neutral position, so they'll try to break Gailront's momentum by any means necessary."
"Regarding that matter, we should discuss obtaining the cooperation of Sir Driye, the captain of the Imperial Knights..."
The discussion continued, mentioning the key figures crucial for the Empire's victory in the equestrian competition.
As always, Hailen preferred to listen and analyze rather than interject in discussions unless necessary. However, hearing a certain name repeatedly grate on his ears inevitably disrupted the order in his mind.
Just as the three-year gap had created distance between them, he had thought himself immune to the increasingly renowned Gailront's name, which now only irritated him.
Yet Hailen's body still reacted to his name, and the accumulation of these reactions caused him to lose his composure like this. And as much as that irritation welled up again, the vicious cycle repeated itself.
Especially in a setting like this where he had to maintain his objectivity, being affected was even more unpleasant.
"The matter of victory in the equestrian competition is not our domain. We shall cooperate with the Imperial Knights on that later. If there are any other opinions, I would like to hear them. Kailre, what about the matter I asked you to look into?"
Hailen broke their flow, reminding himself that it had absolutely nothing to do with his personal feelings as he awaited Kailre's response.
"As the Young Duke said, the Crown Prince arrived in the capital earlier than he appeared. The reason is still unknown, but there's no way the special envoy, Count Sowrel, was unaware of this visit. He even went so far as to separate me from him at that time. Considering that..."
It was Ray's statement that he had seen someone resembling the Crown Prince in the capital even before the Crown Prince's arrival on the first day of the banquet. It was a brief moment, and there were bound to be countless people with a similar appearance, but neither Ray nor Hailen was the type to easily overlook even the slightest detail.
'If the First Prince had indeed been in contact with the Crown Prince, he would have no reason to hide it from me. Considering this, it seems more plausible that there was some deal with the Second Prince's faction, but their intentions are unlikely to align completely.'
No matter how much the Second Prince's faction desired an escalation of the war, the expansion they spoke of encompassed the entire south, excluding the Empire. It was about amplifying the unrest beyond the borders, emphasizing the importance of military might above all else. Their core ideology was the conservative notion that stability and tradition were needed over the chaos that would come from immediate reforms.
While they were somewhat aligned with Emmast's intentions, if the war were to expand into the Empire, the Duke, as the Commander-in-Chief, would wield immense power. In that case, the two princes might have to await Emmast's favor. Thus, they too would not welcome an escalation into the interior.
"We must consider whether this was merely a whimsical escapade by the Crown Prince, an attempt to contact the Second Prince's faction, or a mere distraction. You all witnessed the Crown Prince at the banquet..."
"He is indeed an enigmatic figure in many ways."
Hailen continued where Kailre hesitated to speak ill of a royal, for they all inwardly thought, 'His conduct was too frivolous for a prince.'
The Crown Prince Blake, who appeared midway through the banquet, left quite an impression.
'So you're the Young Duke of Emmast? Our diplomats grind their teeth at the mere mention of your name. But meeting you in person, any lingering resentment seems to melt away... I thought I had a face too, but it seems I've been swiftly defeated.'
'Oh, there you are, Young Duke. I've been looking all over for you. After such a long journey, I'm exhausted, but your face alone is enough to refresh me. What? An inappropriate joke? It's not that you lack a sense of humor, Count Deson.'
'The First Prince keeps hiding the Princess from me. I can't help but yield to his reluctance to part with his beloved sister. You say this one is the Young Duke's fiancée? Just what do they feed you all in the Empire to produce such beauties?'
Frankly, even Hailen, who had intended to gauge Oclan's intentions through the Crown Prince, was appalled by the man's demeanor.
His thoughtless speech and unbecoming conduct for a royal were unbelievable for an adult. Had it not been for his youthful, innocent appearance that made him seem like a pure young man, a few of his remarks alone would have branded him a ruffian.
It was a time when Kailre, who had followed Count Sowrel and brought the Crown Prince, clearly revealed his discomfort during the report. It was hard to believe that there was any dark intention hidden beneath, to the extent that it seemed so thoughtless.
As a result, one could only judge that the Crown Prince was merely a figurehead of the delegation, and the will of the old king in the Kingdom was being conveyed instead.
'There are also rumors that the relationship between the king and his only son in the Kingdom is not good, so the Crown Prince may not be interested in the war.'
The Oclan Kingdom had gained much from the southern war. Not only had it solidified its role as the key to manipulating the chaotic situation, but it had also become an opportunity to increase its national power. Even the Central Foreign Ministry of the Empire and Paison, the master of the information guild, could not accurately grasp the situation, but there were signs that the Kingdom's military forces had also increased significantly.
Even Hailen, who had returned from his previous life, could not accurately determine whether the escalation into the interior was truly the intention of the Oclan Kingdom. Before the war broke out, the two nations had made uncompromising claims, and his sole concern at the time was Gailront, who had inflicted defeat upon him.
However, if it was the Kingdom's intentional war, wouldn't the will of the cunning old king be contained in it rather than that of the thoughtless Crown Prince?
"For now, it would be better to increase the surveillance of the Crown Prince and the delegation's movements a bit more. If the proposal for the imperial marriage from the Kingdom was merely a distraction, it would be good to prepare countermeasures related to that in advance."
"Yes, I understand, Young Duke."
"Whatever the Kingdom's intentions may be, His Majesty and the Empire's will is for peace on the continent, and we will move only for that purpose. However, we must not let our guard down on all matters. If there are any other opinions, please speak up."
Much had already been discussed. Judging by the delicate and diverse aspects covered, it seemed to be a time worthy of satisfaction in both quantity and quality.
At least the mere fact that their superior listened to their every word seriously could not help but give them a sense of fulfillment in their work. This was also the reason why Hailen could easily make the officials of the Central Foreign Ministry his own people.
In truth, he himself simply regarded such processes as the most efficient way of handling tasks through his subordinates.
Whether he was aware of their gazes looking up to him with admiration or not, Hailen fell into deep thought. Many things surfaced like afterimages. Oclan, the equestrian competition, the war, the Mirana Guild, the First Prince, and even Gailront. Complex matters intermingling his previous life and the present were wandering through his mind.
As a result, a single remark casually slipped out of Hailen's mouth, as if it were not that important.
"What if Oclan desires an escalation into the interior? What do you think we should do?"
"Pardon? You mean they would confront our Empire?"
The nature of peace is not eternal. Thus, those gathered here would not completely disregard the possibility of war with a foreign country either—
"I think it's realistically impossible. Although Oclan's military might has expanded, considering the unstable situation in the south..."
"At least if they were to join hands with the Generd Kingdom and align their opinions on the south, perhaps, but with the current situation, I also find it difficult."
The Generd Kingdom, which fired the opening salvo of the southern war, was a country formed by those once called the Great Pirates, possessing formidable military power in the south. If it weren't for Oclan standing in the middle, the entire south would have fallen into Generd's hands in an instant. It was only natural, then, that Generd viewed Oclan as a thorn in their side.
Recalling the relationship between the two countries from his previous life, Hailen met eyes with Kailre, who possessed sharper insight than anyone else among them, and posed a question.
"Nevertheless, if Oclan desires an escalation into the interior, how might they utilize this equestrian competition?"
"If we must hypothesize... they would somehow try to create a major incident, something that could become a point of contention between the two nations. No matter how much they desire war, Oclan would not easily relinquish its name as an eternal neutral country unless absolutely necessary."
Upon hearing this answer, a satisfied smile formed on Hailen's lips for some reason. He thought it gratifying when the conclusion he had drawn by consolidating various pieces of information aligned with the words uttered by the talent he had recognized.
At the same time, it signaled the conclusion of the discussion, so it would suffice for him to rise and step forward.
Kailre continued to gaze at his superior's expression, which seemed somewhat concerning for some reason.



Chapter 82
After the discussion ended, Hailen turned his body towards someone calling out to him as he walked alone. The one who stopped his steps was Kailre, whose face was filled with a rather complex look of doubt.
"There is something I wish to ask the Young Duke. Could you spare me a moment of your time?"
"This is hardly a suitable place for conversation, so follow me."
Hailen's original destination was his own office anyway, so it would be an appropriate place to talk. As he walked, he glanced at Kailre, who seemed to be pondering over something. Hailen could only give a wry smile.
'I didn't mean for him to catch on to that.'
The question he had posed to Kailre at the end of the discussion was closer to organizing his own thoughts. He wanted to hear an answer to gain a little more certainty.
But perhaps it was to be expected. Just as he had caught Hailen's eye first in the Academy's Department of Diplomacy, Kailre had quickly caught on to what Hailen meant by asking such a question.
It was easy to guess what the question in return would be.
"I had the Maiden prepare something, so it will be difficult to have tea brought out."
"It's alright. The Young Duke must be tired as well, so I'll take my leave shortly."
"So what is it you wish to ask me?"
"...I couldn't let go of the Young Duke's final question."
"As I said before, we cannot be careless about any matter, so I simply wanted to emphasize that."
Kailre looked at Hailen, who had answered as such. Despite his formidable appearance, there seemed to be no hidden meaning, as if the words he had just uttered were his sincere thoughts.
However, Kailre was someone who had spent more time close to Hailen than any other official in the Department of Diplomacy. In other words, he could read some of the Young Duke's inscrutable intentions.
"I am well aware that the Young Duke does not speak meaningless words. The fact that you instructed me to monitor Duke Sowrel's movements, and ordered me to investigate the Crown Prince's activities, was not for simple reasons, was it?"
"Kailre, you've always been quick to catch on, I see."
Hailen knew that. To simply call it being quick to catch on would be an understatement for such insight. Beneath Kailre's kind and gentle appearance, there was always an effort to listen closely to even the smallest things, think quickly, and arrive at accurate conclusions.
"Do you believe the Imperial forces are trying to wage war against Oclan? No, is that... what you desire?"
Truly, he was more than Hailen had expected.
In truth, even as he asked the question, Kailre felt it was too much. But whenever he recalled the recent actions of the Young Duke he had always observed and admired, he could not help but ask the question that continued to pique his curiosity.
Especially when he considered that Hailen did not seem keen on pursuing peace in the south like the Crown Prince he served, and the more the war escalated, the more benefits Emmast would gain, this seemingly absurd question felt realistic.
And as Hailen listened to Kailre's question, he too recalled many things.
The benefits he would gain if the war spread to the inland regions. The preparations he had made through the Mirana Consortium for that purpose. The mines for weapons production were just the beginning. Far more wealth would fall into his hands than what Roger had amassed in his previous life, and after the world was turned upside down, it would become his greatest strength.
Complete freedom, unbound by status.
At the same time, memories of the civil war he had participated in, still vivid, also surfaced. Moments filled only with wailing, sorrow, and screams as people cut down and took the lives of others.
A war in the inland regions would cover the continent with similar, or perhaps even greater, sacrifices.
'It was bound to happen anyway.'
In his previous life, Hailen had regarded this war solely as a means to kill Gailront, so he did not get involved at all. As a result, Hailen had never experienced the true horrors that unfolded amidst war, which might be why he could view it so dispassionately now.
Kailre's eyes, as he looked at Hailen, were filled with concern over the possibility, yet also faith in the one he admired. Perhaps even as he asked this question, he did not truly believe the man before him desired war.
And Hailen had no reason to hesitate or gain anything from shattering this faith, nor any intention of revealing the plans he had made.
Deceiving with a single word someone who trusted him implicitly.
"I admit it's a point worth considering, but I am sincerely following the will of the one I serve. The peace of the continent, though trite, is what we are all striving for, is it not? That is why I have given you various orders out of grave concern."
"I see, so that was it. It seems I had an excessive thought."
Following Kailre's relieved smile, Hailen erased everything occupying his mind with a smile of his own.
Still, Hailen only walked the path for his own plans. Without looking back at anyone.
The bloodshed that would occur in the process was not even worth considering for him.
Yes, that's right, he only told himself, as if deceiving Kailre.
The day of the cavalry competition dawned.
Unlike the Imperial martial arts tournament held in the grand Colosseum, the cavalry competition required a much larger terrain, so a temporary arena was set up on the outskirts of the capital. The procession of the foreign prince and even the Imperial Emperor to this short distance was a spectacle grand enough to make the citizens of the capital gape, and the security forces guarding the arena were numerous as well.
'But that doesn't mean they can stop what happens inside the arena.'
Hailen scoffed coldly as he watched the approaching Crown Prince. Franz, the Second Prince, stood by his side as well.
"The Imperial pomp and ceremony is quite satisfactory. I heard the Young Duke was in charge of this procession, and it must have been as pleasing a time as your beauty."
The Crown Prince's mocking praise, spilling from his innocent-looking face that seemed incapable of any color, grated on Hailen's nerves. Daniel's jokes at his expense were now nothing compared to this.
And Franz, who now openly associated with Blake, was another figure that further soured Hailen's already worsened mood, for different reasons.
"I wonder what made you walk alone. It's odd not to see my ever-following brother trailing behind the Young Duke as usual."
Unlike the Crown Prince, with whom Hailen had to maintain basic courtesy as a foreign dignitary, Hailen had no reason to indulge Franz. Were they not already publicly at odds with each other?
It was also an opportunity to reflect on how futile the loyalty he had pledged in his previous life had been.
"His Highness the Crown Prince has been summoned by His Majesty, so he has vacated his seat. Since he stood by His Majesty in the procession, it seems they had much to discuss."
Regardless of the Emperor's intentions, his favor had always tilted towards his firstborn son. Despite Hailen's sharp words, Franz swallowed his indignation and turned away from Hailen's composed expression. Unable to receive the Emperor's attention was a weakness for the aging Franz, so his steps towards the honored guest seats were heavy.
Whether aware of Franz's reaction or not, the Crown Prince continued to show interest in Hailen with a smirk. Seeing this, it was hard to believe he had allied with the Second Prince.
"I'm looking forward to the cavalry competition, but the side event afterwards should be fun too. Aren't the most enjoyable scenes found in such things? Emmast is called the Imperial Sword, they say. As a Young Duke of such a house, why don't you participate?"
Blake's words brought to mind a certain competition from Hailen's previous life.
At that time, Hailen was so focused solely on defeating Gailront that he failed to grasp the Crown Prince before him or the circumstances that had led to the war. As expected, he did not miss the opportunity to challenge Gailront to a duel in the side event mentioned by the Crown Prince.
And once again, he suffered a humiliating defeat. The mere memory of being swept off his horse by a single thrust of Gailront's spear, even now that he had overcome his inferiority complex towards him, was shameful enough.
'After that day, I resorted to enhancing my body with drugs.'
Trying to erase the resurfacing memory, Hailen surveyed the area around the Crown Prince. What he should be recalling now was not the side event he had participated in, but the more important event that followed.
Most of the knights who had accompanied the Imperial entourage to guard the royals would participate in today's cavalry competition. Moreover, just as the Young Duke of Emmast had challenged a commoner knight to a side duel, there was a knight from Oclan daring enough to demand a match against the Imperial royalty.
Yes, that was the beginning of the war between the two nations.
'But I don't see him anywhere near the Crown Prince.'
"There is no need for me to participate when merely watching will be entertaining enough. I've heard Your Highness has talent in swordsmanship, but if you were to join, I would be happy to accompany you."
Though his words were meant as a refusal, this thoughtless Crown Prince took them differently.
"According to the First Imperial Prince, the Young Duke is more entertaining in conversation than he appears. It seems true. I'll remember you said you'd accompany me if I joined."
"Surely Your Highness does not speak in earnest?"
It was Count Deson, who always attended to Blake, who intervened in exasperation. No wonder he was flustered, with a master who could go off in any direction.
Hailen felt it was tiring to deal with the Crown Prince as usual, and tried to carefully choose his words. As much as he could not vividly recall such a person, the face of the knight from the Crown Prince's side who had caused a major incident was also hazy, so what would change even if he stayed here for a long time?
In fact, even if he did spot that knight, Hailen had no intention of preventing today's incident.
"If the opportunity arises, it would be a pleasure to accompany Your Highness. But for now, wouldn't it be better to return to your seat? If you wish, I can escort you there."
"To receive an escort from the Young Duke himself, I should gladly follow. Look, Count, a man like the Young Duke is just my type, isn't he?"
Letting Blake's cheerful laughter drift in one ear, Hailen headed towards the honored guest seats. His gaze turned away, not towards the Crown Prince, revealing his unwillingness to converse with him any further. It fell instead on the scene below, somewhat comical given the terrain's limitations.
Where Hailen's gaze unconsciously landed, many people stood waiting below, looking up enviously. Packed tightly in colorful attire adorned with all sorts of ornaments, it was hard to believe they were nobles just by their appearance.
But what could be done? Those who could leisurely watch and receive escorts were limited to the upper seats. Those below had to swallow their discontent, their noble status tucked away. At least they could be grateful that this noble name allowed them to set foot in this arena.
At that moment, someone caught Hailen's cold, sweeping gaze over them, causing his unwavering steps to halt.
"Young Duke? What's the matter? Did you spot a pretty girl or something?"
"...It's nothing. Let's head up this way, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
Hailen's disturbance was instantly concealed, but the tremor remained, causing his pale fingertips to tremble.
'I must have seen wrong. I was just imagining things because I unnecessarily recalled past memories.'
No matter how much he thought about it, the conclusion was the same. It was just his own delusion.
There were set social standings for those who could enter this arena, so even if one occupied the cramped lower seats where one's feet could barely fit, they had to at least pretend to be of noble birth.
And the man Hailen had glimpsed earlier was someone who could not even reach the heels of those with such origins. In this new life, he surely would not have received even a pretense of kindness, and must have been wallowing in the mud, completely unreachable from Hailen.
He did not want to recall it, but he could not help the vivid imprint of that face. For it belonged to someone who, in a different sense from Gailront, had once held an important emotion towards Hailen.
The subordinate who had received a shred of Hailen's 'trust' in his previous life filled only with distrust. The servant who had shattered that faith and betrayed him at the very end.
In Hailen's memories, it was after leaving the Academy that he had brought that red-haired commoner, who resembled someone he had tried so hard to forget and discard, into his ducal estate. He had trampled on him instead of a true knight, deriving a base satisfaction, and at some point, had relied on him to actively assist in eliminating the returned Gailront.
Looking back now, through those methods, Hailen had crumbled and ultimately met his downfall.
If he had not decided to leave the Empire, he would have harbored enough malice to find and take revenge, and more.
It was surely just a mistake, and there was no way that man, who had lived a life lower than a commoner, could be inside this arena, but the unease rising in Hailen's chest seemed to say otherwise.
Are you really sure? It seemed to ask. Is it certain that he is still floundering at the very bottom, just because you did not reach out to him in the time that has passed?
In the end, he even recalled the name of the old subordinate he had buried in his memories.
'Benedik, I should request information on his whereabouts from the information guild.'



Chapter 83
There was no time to be shaken by the claim of seeing someone from a past life. The viewing stands, smaller than the arena, gradually filled up, as this place was utilized as a venue for socializing.
Concealing his own agitation came all too naturally to Hailen.
After some time passed and the Emperor and Empress finally appeared, followed by several imperial family members who took their seats in the highest stands, the formal equestrian competition began.
"It's not easy to get a good look at his face."
Despite over a decade having passed since his return, the Duchess's tone towards her son lacked any warmth, her outward appearance untouched by the passage of time. Her coldness had not subsided since Hailen, through an implicit agreement with the Duke excluding herself, secured a position in the diplomatic corps. Especially since she perceived his pushing away of Katrin as a check against House Pamel, it was only natural.
And unfortunately for her, this fake son had neither the will nor the desire to mend their relationship.
"As always, it's reassuring to see you in such radiant form."
Knowing it was merely lip service, the Duchess turned away from her son and returned to her seat. Even if she pressured her family through the postponement of the marriage with Katrin, she had no intention of clinging to him.
Watching the Duchess's retreating figure, Hailen recalled the Duke, who was not present here. Recently, the Duke had not shown his face in the capital during such important events, more intent on bolstering the military forces in the south.
'He'll be having a grand time if the war escalates.'
Thanks to this, Hailen's attendant Kelvin had to visit the Duchy Territory again, though he was originally supposed to return today. Judging by the delay, something must have happened. Above all, Hailen smiled faintly to himself, thinking of how Kelvin, whose love for horses was genuine, would lament missing the equestrian competition.
Of course, that smile vanished in an instant, and he too focused on the competition from his seat.
This could be considered the warm-up stage. While the knights competing in the early rounds were all of similar skill, those participating in the main event could not be dismissed so easily. On the Imperial side was the renowned Imperial Knights, truly the best of the best, while Oclan had carefully selected their top knights as well. Even though it had just begun, it was already captivating enough to hold one's gaze.
Despite the loud battle cry, a knight fell pathetically, prompting onlookers to click their tongues. However, their anticipation for the next bout did not wane. A knight from the Kingdom of Oclan who had easily secured victory pointed at an Imperial knight, and the heated clashes continued.
As a knight was sent tumbling by a massive lance, the competition transitioned to dismounted combat. Once on foot, weapons other than lances were permitted. One particularly agile knight hastily grabbed a sword from the displayed weapons and focused his attacks solely on the charging horse.
The piercing whinny of the impaled horse and the blood splattering in all directions elicited gasps from the spectators. Despite their noble status, witnessing such a savage and cruel spectacle inevitably brought out their primal natures.
"Oh my, how dreadful. I feel so sorry for the poor horse."
Katrin, Hailen's fiancée, clung tightly to him, deliberately feigning weakness. Though his green eyes regarded her coldly, he did not rudely dismiss her, given their positions.
"While the sight may be unpleasant for you, my lady, is this not the true essence of equestrian competitions?"
A nearby nobleman attempted to console Katrin, but she merely scoffed at her unresponsive fiancé. However, this was merely to elevate her own perceived worth, as she soon warmly responded to the remarks of other men who addressed her.
As the competition progressed, the tension among the spectators naturally dissipated. Despite the cramped space, enjoyable drinks and food were prepared. Below, perilous duels that could mean life or death were taking place, yet above, they leisurely watched and engaged in idle chatter.
When a knight cried out in agony, clutching his leg, they let out sympathetic gasps, but their eyes betrayed a satisfied indulgence at witnessing such a spectacle. Thus, those of noble birth were typically excluded from actually participating in the competition.
This implied that a commoner of exceptional skill, surpassing even the Imperial Knights, was likely among the candidates.
Without needing to recall his past life memories, Hailen knew Gailront could easily defeat any opponent in a duel. Yet, for some reason, the cries of the injured seemed to pierce his heart, to the point where Katrin's gentle voice conversing nearby grated on him.
'Is it because of that man who resembled Benedik that I've become so sensitive?'
To shake off this inexplicable feeling, engaging in conversation with someone else would be best.
"Shall we go pay our respects to His Majesty, Lady Pamel?"
Katrin beamed at Hailen's suggestion. The two approached the upper stands near where they were seated and greeted the Emperor and Empress. Afterward, they headed towards the platinum-blond siblings, as Daniel kept calling out to Hailen.
"You came? The Crown Prince was so excited that the Young Duke agreed to join in an exhibition match. Surely that's not true?"
"With so many skilled knights present, what need is there for me to make a spectacle of myself?"
As he spoke, Hailen glanced at the Crown Prince. Blake, who had descended from the upper stands, determined to watch the competition up close, was cutting a pathetic figure as he made the Count Deson break into a cold sweat.
Seeing that gaze, Daniel let out a hearty laugh. "Originally, I was the one who monopolized that look from you. Should I feel regretful about this?"
"I am curious about the Young Duke's martial prowess."
"I would prefer if Hailen does not participate in such dangerous competitions. It worries me."
Katrin's face showed no trace of hostility as she responded to Cecilia, who was mingling beside her brother. Whether it was due to the warning from her former fiancé, or simply because she knew better than to act foolishly in an official setting, one could not say.
Thus, the four of them naturally continued to enjoy the competition. Above all, the gathering of prominent figures drew people's attention, and at one point even the Emperor and Empress took notice, but soon enough, most were genuinely engrossed in the intense duels.
"That knight is already in his third match. It seems he has injured his shoulder... It seems too unfair."
Katrin deliberately expressed sympathy, but everyone else was likely focused on the competition. Considering the heavy armor, massive lances, and the impact of falling from a horse, even participating in multiple matches would be strenuous, let alone sustaining injuries.
"The tradition of having the victor continue competing until only one remains is a long-standing one. There are even records of a knight winning after seven matches, though such a sight is unlikely to occur."
"Oh my, why is that, Your Highness?"
"It's not just that it's difficult to compete for so long, but most knights tend to choose opponents of similar skill rather than stronger ones. While one could deliberately call out stronger opponents early to drain their stamina, at least knights with a sense of honor would not resort to such underhanded tactics..."
At that moment, everyone was bound to be astonished by the name called out by Oclan's side, who had easily defeated the injured Imperial knight who had already competed in three matches. Even Daniel, who had been kindly explaining things to Katrin in his own way, blinked his eyes and let out an awkward laugh.
"I should have known. It seems Oclan is determined to defeat our Empire by any means necessary."
The name that spilled from the lips of the Oclan knight, whose expression was filled with the realization that he was facing an unbeatable opponent, was none other than:
'Even though he wasn't a Sword Master in his previous life, he easily won the championship, so there's no reason to be uneasy.'
Hailen gazed at the burly man who revealed himself upon being summoned. Only his striking red hair, visible between the thick metal plates of his helmet, betrayed the identity of the man.
As he looked down at Gailront, Hailen deliberately ignored the unsettling feeling in his chest.
He was all too accustomed to pushing something away.
Even if it was a mere sliver of concern.
"This is already the fifth match."
The tension in Cecilia's slender voice was likely no exaggeration.
Initially, after Gailront's name was called, the atmosphere was filled with criticism for summoning the Empire's strongest Sword Master so early, despite many matches remaining. Even the Emperor had to address the envoys and point this out.
However, considering their attitude at the banquet welcoming the Kingdom of Oclan, such a move could be seen as rather tame. Regardless of their relationship with the Empire, Oclan seemed determined to at least earn the glory of defeating the Sword Master.
"They say Ulber, the Count of the Generd Kingdom, is a Sword Master. Oclan must have suffered greatly at his hands to go this far. I wonder if the Count is as monstrous as Gailront?"
After Gailront appeared, Daniel did not take his eyes off the competition for a moment as he spoke to Hailen, his words tinged with a sense of awe towards the inhuman existence that was the Sword Master. And for good reason, as Gailront's prowess displayed in the first four matches was so unbelievable that it defied belief even when witnessed firsthand.
For the first three matches, there was no need for dismounted combat. The sheer destructive force contained within Gailront's massive lance caused his opponents to be knocked off their horses before they could even dismount. The intention may have been to drain the Sword Master's stamina, but the skill gap was far greater than they had anticipated. The moment the competition began, Oclan's defeat was declared, resulting in a humiliating spectacle on multiple levels.
Thus, an Oclan knight of exceptional skill was sent out earlier than planned, requesting to be called out, and Gailront chose him without hesitation.
However, contrary to the expectation that he might last a bit longer on horseback, the knight immediately crumpled to the ground after a single swing of Gailront's sword the moment his feet touched the earth.
"Haha, wow. Even for a Sword Master, isn't that a bit too brutal of a defeat? This Gailront fellow must truly be formidable."
Blake's unrestrained mockery towards his own knight who had suffered defeat rang out loudly, as if daring everyone to listen. Whether he was aware of the increasingly pale expressions on the faces of his countrymen's envoys or not, he was the only one unfazed by the successive defeats.
As the competition progressed and Oclan knights continued to fall at Gailront's feet, the cheers from the Imperial spectators grew louder. For Oclan, avoiding further humiliation took precedence over their original goal of defeating the Sword Master. To such an extent, the tactics employed by the newly emerging Oclan knights became increasingly dirty and rough.
Despite it being a basic principle of equestrian competitions to attack the rider rather than the horse, the Oclan knights did not hesitate to hurl their lances at the poor beast Gailront was mounted on. As if they had conspired beforehand, they repeatedly struck the same spot, distorting the metal armor and hindering its movements. However, such attacks were futile from the outset against Gailront. They even shamelessly resorted to throwing ropes concealed at their waists in an attempt to ensnare him.
Their unsportsmanlike conduct drew jeers from the spectators, but the Oclan envoys insisted it was justified.
"Historically, equestrian competitions have been the epitome of real combat, employing numerous strategies and martial arts. The sight of knights fighting solely for victory is truly admirable."
One of the envoys, a count who had been humiliated by Gailront at the previous banquet, skillfully swayed the audience with his diplomatic eloquence. Moreover, the spectacle of the Sword Master effortlessly crushing the flailing Oclan knights, despite their underhanded tactics, was sufficiently entertaining that even the Emperor refrained from intervening to resolve the situation.
Hailen's gaze, looking down upon the arena, turned icy cold. How could those resorting to such dishonorable acts be considered noble knights?
It went without saying that the image of the man superimposed over them was none other than Hailen himself.
And the manifestation of the Sword Master's prowess, his swordsmanship, was unleashed after the competition had dragged on for over ten matches.
Indeed, how long would this formidable knight continue to display such overwhelming dominance?
The competition, which had transcended mere political posturing between nations, was now entering its latter stages.



Chapter 84
'How tedious.'
Despite such thoughts, there was no relaxing as he dismounted and set foot on the ground facing his opponent. Gailront swiftly raised his sword and manifested his sword ki. With a whooshing sound, he swung it with tremendous force. Though he deliberately aimed away from the person, the knight opposite Gailront immediately surrendered, for had he not, he would have ended up in a state similar to the now split ground.
As the matches progressed, such terrain destruction became common, introducing many variables. Especially against those who gritted their teeth, determined to somehow defeat the Sword Master through creative tactics, even the superhuman Gailront could not take the duels lightly.
His sentiment of tedium did not simply refer to the matches themselves. In this moment of giving his all, he could not fathom what it was for.
Did he truly possess the loyalty to the Emperor and Imperial that the Emperor's knights emphasized? Did he harbor any affection for his homeland, to spread Perodent's might across the continent by winning the mounted games?
No matter how much he pondered, Gailront felt nothing.
Reality cared not for Gailront's musings. One duel ended, and he had to choose his next opponent. In the brief time the Gyeonggijang was reset, he mounted the visibly fatigued beast, his movements unhesitating unlike its master's.
For a moment, Gailront squinted up at the blazing sun, then surveyed the figures looking down from as lofty a position, though from the distant Gyeonggijang his superhuman senses could easily make out their individual faces.
His wandering gaze finally settled on one spot. Like a magnetic mineral unable to pull a massive piece of iron, instead being drawn to it, Gailront too found himself unconsciously drawn towards someone.
The golden-haired beauty still glistening in the midday sun. Gailront's eyes trembled violently as he looked upon Hailen. Even after harboring him in his heart for so long.
'No more... will I face you privately. Gail, no. Duke Gailront.'
Ever since hearing those words three years ago, that voice occasionally echoed in his ears, as if speaking right before him now.
Whenever he heard Hailen's voice, it mercilessly tore apart Gailront's heart, but even more tormenting was the fact that these were the last personal words spoken to him.
This was a pain of a different dimension than when he had distanced himself from Jacob after learning of his death.
As Gailront gradually made a name for himself, his points of contact with the Young Duke became more frequent, but even with him right before his eyes, conversing together, that figure felt unreachable, like chasing a mirage.
Day after day of suffering alone, aching, envying and wanting to sweep away those who received his gaze, then berating himself for such desires.
Were these not emotions too potent for a single person to be ruined by?
Even Nohan, arguably the closest person to him, could not glimpse these inner feelings. The Gailront known to people was a taciturn yet diligently caring knight of rare virtue who extended a hand to the weak. Despite his formidable skill, he did not cease training, and whenever he could, he would help those in need, inspiring admiration for his uprightness.
No one could have imagined that he, resembling a knight from a past life, harbored such negative emotions.
The saddest thing was that despite being so exhausted and suffering to the point of feeling tedious, Gailront had no thought of giving up this path where his gaze sought only Hailen.
At this moment, Gailront wished it were merely a delusion that Hailen existed at the end of this path, loving him in return. He only asked that the ugly feelings hidden within himself not be revealed as he walked that path.
Simultaneously, Gailront spurred the flanks of the horse he was mounted on. With a whinny, the horse charged forward at a speed that belied its apparent fatigue. Wielding the massive lance he carried, he attempted to strike his opponent's midsection, the curves of his movements so fluid that the weight of the weapon seemed nonexistent, as if he were merely swinging a light wooden staff.
As the latter half of the match progressed, the remaining Oclan knights proved formidable. Unlike their predecessors, they at least feigned attempts to block Gailront's lance. Though they inevitably staggered from the tremendous force behind it, fortunately the opponent managed to regain his seat each time he seemed about to be unhorsed.
It was a pity Gailront would never let such an opening slip by.
The moment his opponent was quickly dismounted, Gailront leapt down as well. Though remaining mounted would normally be advantageous, as a Sword Master who handled the blade better than the lance and whose running speed on foot was no less than a horse's gallop, this was Gailront's way of swiftly ending matches that had become tedious for him.
In an instant, the sword in his grip shone with light, and his opponent swallowed hard at the instinctive tension filling his body. From the previous matches, he knew Gailront at least did not unleash his sword ki towards people.
However, witnessing the destructive force when it struck the terrain, even one who had experienced the threat of life and death in actual combat many times would unconsciously feel fear. A mere graze would likely be fatal.
To charge at the object of such terror first was an act of will to somehow settle the score. Oclan had already been pushed to the brink after repeated defeats. They had long abandoned any thought of winning or even trying to defeat the so-called Sword Master monster. They merely hoped to properly parry even a single strike from the sword of the knight Gailront.
Only then would their efforts and toils in crossing the sea to this distant foreign land not be in vain.
The unfortunate thing here was that, with the match dragging on for so long and his negative feelings towards someone gradually settling in, Gailront no longer had the heart to continue the bout.
Whoosh—a thunderous roar accompanied the charging knight.
The spectators unwittingly let out screams that filled the space. The knight who had thrown himself at Gailront with all his might could not control his trembling hands, dropping the weapon he held.
Before the ground split open with an immense length, he could only kneel and gaze upon what could hardly be called a mere pit, its depth so staggering that a single misstep would send one plummeting down.
Was such a thing even possible through human strength alone?
"Unbelievable. Is this the power of the Sword Master?"
"He can hardly be called human."
Before the trail of destruction that could no longer be temporarily patched up, the match was ultimately declared over. Oclan too seemed to realize they could not muster any fighting spirit against the Sword Master who exuded such an overwhelming pressure, readily accepting the outcome.
While the victor of the mounted games, or perhaps the outcome itself, might have been predictable to anyone, they could not have foreseen such an astonishing display of might.
Those who sincerely cheered while discarding their noble status harbored admiration for the inhuman existence known as the Sword Master. At least for this brief moment, it seemed they had forgotten what origins the man named Gailront had.
"I hereby declare the victor of this mounted games to be Gailront, a knight of the Perodent Imperial."
With the Emperor's words, congratulations were offered to the champion. Amidst the glorious scene, a tremendous prize was also bestowed, but there was no title that might be necessary for the commoner-born knight. It was the same as in the recent Imperial martial arts tournament.
'The Emperor is truly a cunning author.'
Despite Gailront leading an intense life in the Imperial City with just a knight's title, the Emperor did not even grant him the most humble Viscount title. It meant he did not wish to take sides in the fierce power struggles surrounding Gailront.
Hailen knew. He knew how vigilant the stern-looking Emperor was in maintaining his position. To the point where he would struggle not to relinquish power even in a situation where death loomed.
However, contrary to the Emperor's intentions, the atmosphere was gradually shifting. The more Gailront proved that the title of Sword Master was not merely a name, the more people's views towards the commoner knight changed. It could be a simple admiration for his ability, but it also meant his value as a potential asset was increasing.
Hailen's gaze upon Gailront, receiving congratulations from the stands, held none of the fervor shared by those others. The moment when his mind had wandered while watching someone continue the games had long since vanished from Hailen's thoughts.
What he was focused on were the events to unfold hereafter.
Hailen recalled a moment from his previous life. When he had gritted his teeth at Gailront, standing in a position Hailen should have looked up to, putting on a glorious display like this.
'Your Majesty, I have a request. I wish to directly face the formidable prowess of that great knight who will inherit the Imperial sword. If you permit it, I would like to cross blades with Gailront.'
After I uttered those words, curious gazes poured in from all directions. Unlike now, I had also designated him for an exhibition match during the Imperial martial arts tournament, so everyone felt a sense of familiarity. Back then, he was not yet the Sword Master, merely a commoner knight who had appeared like a shooting star. Everyone was interested in the Young Duke's inexplicable interest in him, and the Emperor readily granted permission, amused by the appearance of an entertaining spectacle.
And how did that end? Even without revisiting it, it led to Hailen's humiliation—
That was also why he could not clearly recall an incident that could be called the spark of war. Gritting his teeth through successive defeats, I stoked my sense of inferiority towards Gailront, and because of that, I fell for the temptations whispered by my attendants at my side.
This time, I had no intention of facing such a future, so the incident where the precious Young Duke was humiliated by a commoner-born knight vanished without leaving a trace.
"With such a powerful Sword Master, the might of our Imperial is truly unmatched on the continent."
Without paying any mind to the Oclan envoys sitting with expressions as if they had chewed on something unpleasant, he let out a hearty laugh. Hailen looked at a burly man among the nobles who had been more engrossed in the mounted games than anyone.
Duke Baran. He possessed the golden eyes that proved he carried the Imperial bloodline, but in truth, he was far removed from being the Emperor's kin.
'It's only natural the kingdom would try to use someone with such an intense desire for glory and fame.'
Just because he left no impression didn't mean Hailen had forgotten him. Since the match that would have occurred due to his useless emotions had disappeared, Hailen was certain the events to follow would be accelerated.
Soon, one of the Oclan knights who had been holding his breath during the main event will step forward, along with words praising the Imperial martial arts, wishing to cross blades with a member of the Imperial family who claims to have the protection of Panule.
It would have seemed rude at first, but the situation defused it. The uncivilized mounted games that discarded formalities and etiquette, the Emperor's satisfaction at having overwhelmingly suppressed the kingdom thanks to the strong knight Gailront, and the combination of those like Duke Baran who stepped forward to mount a horse himself created the scene Oclan desired.
The match that began so casually ended with vivid blood spilled across the Gyeonggijang.
No matter how powerless, a mere Viscount at most, it was an undeniable injury to a member of the Imperial family bearing the colors of Perodent. The man who had been so eager to take the field first could no longer wield a sword with one arm nearly severed, and the Imperial had no choice but to hold Oclan responsible, claiming it was an intentional act.
The start of a conflict heading towards war. The Imperial inflated what should have been a mere unfortunate accident during the match, portraying it as if Oclan had intended it, fueling their ambition to conquer the southern lands. The southern kingdoms, previously scattered and fighting among themselves, began to unite their strength around Oclan.
That was the beginning of the ensuing inland war.
Even if one turns back their life, it is difficult to know the truth about things one could not pay attention to in the past. Whether that day's incident was truly Oclan's intention, or the Emperor's ambition to covet the south.
However, the Hailen living this life possessed a wealth of information. Not only the Central Diplomatic Corps, but even the unparalleled information guild master of the Imperial. The conclusion drawn from them was one.
'More than anything, it is the Oclan kingdom that desires war.'
And Hailen would easily turn a blind eye to that cruel future for his own benefit.
To the point where he merely observed Oclan stepping forward to address the Emperor from a spectator's perspective—
Just as he expected, someone rose to their feet.
At the same time, Hailen's emerald eyes wavered.
"I agree. Indeed, the martial arts of the Imperial, known as the nation of knights, are different. However, would it not be a pity to end it like this? I wish to step forward myself to liven things up, and I implore Your Majesty to permit it."
The one who stepped forward with a playful smile was none other than Blake, the Crown Prince of Oclan.
In an instant, the conversation he had with Blake before the match flashed through Hailen's mind. A suggestion he had dismissed as mere jest.
The words asking if he would not compete and cross blades.
As he was about to dismiss the notion, Blake's words slipped out in a casual tone.
"I had promised to exchange a bout with the Young Duke of Emmast, known as the Imperial Sword. If this is the opportunity, I believe he would be willing."
As if not even considering their respective statuses as a royal of one nation and a high noble of the Imperial, he proposed it as if they were to simply cross swords casually, his tone filled with nothing but levity.
What did the intent behind those deep crimson eyes, looking towards Hailen and smiling foolishly, truly mean? Everyone present could not help but be taken aback by the Crown Prince's sudden proposal.
Including Hailen himself, the one designated as the opponent.



Chapter 85
Blake's sudden proposal
No matter that he was the crown prince, an atmosphere of bewilderment pervaded. Not only was it disconcerting that he would put himself forward so brazenly, but the target he wished to compete against was a high-ranking Imperial nobleman.
At this moment, despite it being his own doing, Hailen had an odd thought. He wondered idly if there had been a similar reaction when, in his previous life, an Oclan knight had dueled with Baran, the margrave of the collateral Imperial line.
Strangely, he had the intuition that he could not refuse the current situation.
It was Daniel who roused them from their frozen state. Even from him, no one expected such a bombshell.
"The crown prince of Oclan seems to be enjoying the competition properly. Having witnessed a fine spectacle, I too am feeling spirited. How about you try your hand against me instead if you wish to duel?"
His face was brimming with composure, not a hint of anxiety showing. Yet something in his eyes seemed to have sensed the ominous nature of the crown prince's words. As always, his keen intuition had picked up on some suspicious sign.
However, this touching display of the First Prince's esteem for his subordinates was in vain. For as long as the ever-flippant Blake showed no signs of giving up on Hailen, he seemed to have no intention of abandoning his interest.
"There's no harm in it for the sake of amity between our nations, I suppose. But Your Highness need not be disheartened. It's only natural that I would be more interested in the Young Duke who is to become the Empire's next sword. I did make a promise before the competition, after all, which I must keep. I wonder what His Majesty thinks of this."
There was no need to ask the Emperor in the first place. Referring to the "sword of the Empire" was a request to demonstrate the power of Emmast, which represented the Empire's military might. On the surface, it would be an insult to the Empire's pride to refuse the crown prince's proposal out of fear that the Young Duke, who seemed questionable in his ability to wield a sword properly, might lose. Moreover, the Emperor would never send his most beloved First Prince into such a perilous mounted competition in place of the Young Duke.
As Hailen recalled the obvious answer without needing to hear it, he suddenly remembered something from not long ago.
Someone had asked him what he wanted in relation to the war. In fact, apart from Kailre, there was one other person.
While Kailre admired the Young Duke on a personal level and observed him, Roger was the one closest to the things Hailen was hiding. The ambitions Hailen sought to fulfill through the Mirana Company were filled with desires for the future. This meant that no matter how much he tried to conceal his intentions by conveying fragmented information to Roger, the Company's owner, there was a limit.
In particular, Roger had an outstanding ability to scrutinize things from multiple angles based on a single piece of information. Whenever Hailen proceeded with matters with an inexplicable conviction, Roger accumulated pieces of suspicion, and it was easy for him to connect the dots since he knew a great deal about the war, to the extent of visiting the south directly.
What picture did the gradually completed puzzle pieces reveal?
With such conviction, Roger had visited Hailen a few days before the mounted competition began, during the evening hours when most of the diplomatic staff had left for the day.
"It seems we wrapped up the eastern investment matter recently, so what brings you here in person?"
When Hailen first heard of Roger's visit, he had a fleeting thought tinged with a slight sense of gloom, as he was certain he would be working at this hour. Conversely, he also welcomed the unexpected visit that refreshed his weary routine.
Even until now, Roger tended to get straight to the point rather than using the flowery language of nobles, so Hailen could only freeze up when he bluntly said:
"The iron ore suitable only for inland use, the stockpiling of supplies unsuited for the southern environment, your avoidance of long-term trade in the border regions, and many more things have made it clear to me that you, Hailen, are planning something."
Who else would confront me so directly like this? Even Kailre, who had asked me a question not long ago, maintained a cautious attitude while questioning me.
'Listing it all out like this, it would be strange if I didn't catch on.'
It was true that Hailen's actions had become more unrestrained in the lead-up to the mounted competition, which was practically the catalyst for the war. Proactive movements were necessary to avoid getting caught up in the rapidly changing situation. Therefore, it was only natural that the fragmented information he had been trying not to reveal to those around him was no longer useful.
Rather, it was surprising that Roger had only asked about it now.
And yet, for some reason, Hailen, who had recently deceived Kailre by blatantly disregarding his trust, was giving Roger an answer closer to the truth.
"The word 'planning' doesn't seem quite right. It would be better to say I'm 'preparing.'"
"And in the Imperial center, you are the only one making such 'preparations,' Hailen."
Even as he smiled faintly, acknowledging that he had grasped the crux of the matter, Roger let out a low sigh as he looked at the unperturbed Hailen.
It had been eight years already since he first spoke with the Young Duke of such a lofty status that their paths should never have crossed.
For more than half of that time, he had been strongly influenced by Hailen and had somehow come to sincerely follow him. And yet, Roger still did not know Hailen's true intentions.
The person he had decided to follow always had the habit of concealing the most crucial details, no matter how much one tried to dig and find out. That habit never changed, no matter how close they became.
Rather, had Roger not stopped trying to understand Hailen's true intentions from the time he started calling him by name? At least, he had thought the bond between them was solid, as much as Hailen had called him 'my merchant.'
If this matter had simply been an investment for the benefit of the Company, Roger would have feigned ignorance as usual.
Yes, if it hadn't been for the heavy word 'war.'
"I will assume it is 'preparation' as you say, Hailen. Then whose intention lies behind the impending war? I'm no fool, so I know it is far from a struggle for the throne. Is it the Emperor's... will?"
Even as the owner of the rapidly expanding Company, Roger was still just a commoner who had yet to inherit even his father's margraviate. And yet, he spoke the Empire's sun so easily, showing just how bold he had become. In that demeanor, not a trace of the cautious young boy from his academy days could be seen.
Roger had changed completely upon graduating. He had shed the noble shell that had suppressed him, left the Empire for the sake of the Mirana Company, traveled here and there, and experienced the wide world. Just as a pupa grows swiftly into its full stature, he had emerged from the cocoon of a once-troubled noble into a man capable of seeing and leading much.
Now, he even tried to grasp the movements of the Imperial center so boldly.
Suddenly, Hailen found himself admiring Roger before him. It was strange to be so pensive when asked a question that left no room for other thoughts, but he did.
Seeing Roger with an appearance so different from the man who had led the Company in his previous life, Hailen sometimes had this thought as he watched him change with each encounter:
Perhaps Roger was proof of the future he had changed.
It was because of the Emperor's hidden intent. Even though it was something that could be temporarily concealed, Hailen spoke with more candor than usual.
"And if that intent lies with me? What then, if the very instigator who would provoke a war and spill the blood of countless people stands before you?"
Unlike his boldness in asking the question, Roger did not respond immediately.
Hailen had the thought that Roger's reason for wearing glasses was not solely due to his eyesight. Those amber eyes that looked up at him as he sat. It was difficult to read Roger's emotions easily due to the transparent film covering them. Considering how Roger had no talent for concealing his feelings, such a conjecture was not unreasonable.
The unanswered silence brought a peculiar feeling. Perhaps he had given more trust than he had intended to someone he had meant to use for his own benefit.
With no further reason to continue the conversation, Hailen spoke resolutely.
"Even so, nothing will change. I do not think you are so faint-hearted as to heed your conscience and undo all you have built, Roger. If need be, accuse me of cruelty. Whether I provoke a war or exploit the situation while feigning ignorance, I have no intention of hesitating."
And Roger's response to Hailen's words was unexpectedly unhesitating, unlike his previous reluctance.
"...I did not intend to accuse you, Lord Hailen. For I resolved long ago to follow you, no matter what you do."
"I have never considered you my loyal servant."
"As you have always said, am I not a business partner who shares in the profits?"
"Indeed, a calculating merchant's words. The head of the Mobella Company, who values you above all else, would lament to hear them."
"Your father often told me that if I focused solely on material gain and left many things behind, any profit I obtained would not truly be mine," Roger said.
"Quite an unmerchant-like statement. So, can you truly go against your father's words, for my sake?"
Hailen had long suspected that Roger knew of their father-son relationship, yet he still flinched at the direct mention of "father." Despite having reconciled with Genry to the point of burying his childhood resentment, Roger still could not fully accept him as his true father.
And yet, over the years, Genry had poured everything into teaching his son Roger, including the virtues a merchant leader should possess. Advice like the one just given—to not make choices he would regret, as Genry himself had—was undoubtedly what he truly wished to impart to his heir above all else.
Despite having such a father, Hailen's response to Roger's declaration of following his cruel intentions was far from pure. The sarcasm laced between the words may have gone unnoticed by the recipient, but Hailen at least regretted his earlier candid outburst towards Roger.
Conversations messy enough to mention Genry's denial were truly not to Hailen's taste.
Yet Roger's words, uttered with a slight hesitation, were enough to instantly settle Hailen's fickle emotions.
"I don't think I'm the only one who doesn't wish to go against those words. Why not turn back, even now? Even if the worst outcome of war does not come to pass... Mirana will not suffer any losses. I can ensure that."
"You seem confident you have contingencies in place."
"As your merchant leader, I should at least be this prepared."
It was a dull, thudding sensation, as if someone had struck the back of his head. To describe it as a sense of betrayal over Roger's secret machinations would be ill-fitting.
Though he had thought Roger had changed and transformed, Hailen doubted whether the man standing before him was indeed the same Roger who had followed the path he had set out. He could not help but let out a hollow laugh at Roger's unwavering faith in him, seeing him through to the end.
Moreover, what answer had Hailen given to such a Roger?
As the brief recollection came to a close, Hailen thought that perhaps the reason he did not even attempt to refuse the crown prince's challenge at this moment was because of that memory with Roger from that day.
After hearing that he had been secretly proceeding with the Company's affairs in a different direction, what emotion had he felt? Originally, he should have felt wary of the grown Roger who had secretly taken control of the Company he had put so much effort into. Above all, it was the core force for the future he could never let go of.
However, at Roger's words that he had made preparations to prevent losses even if Hailen changed course, the feeling Hailen felt was—
Strangely, it was relief.
It was to be a war anyway, and his intention had been to take advantage of it for his own gain. Even though he had never denied that he was a monster. In the end, Hailen came to acknowledge it.
That he too was merely a weak human.
While unable to understand feeling guilt over the deaths of those faceless people who could not even stand on his chessboard, he had subconsciously felt remorse for not preventing the impending war he knew was coming.
'What was the fitting phrase for times like these? Ah, damn it all.'
A sense of frustration gripped his chest, making him feel that uttering some coarse words, though unfamiliar to him, might provide some relief.
For even amid such feelings, when Roger had told him to choose a different path, Hailen had ultimately not turned back.
More than any sacrifice, suffering, or death, Hailen was the most important person to himself. For him, this war was not simply a means to gain wealth.
At this moment, Hailen sincerely did not wish to refuse the inscrutable crown prince's proposal. It was as if he would perform an act that could be expressed as atonement.
'If it's something the crown prince does thoughtlessly, it would be best for me.'
But he could instinctively sense that was not the case. In this changed reality where Oclan had not requested a side match against Gailront, Hailen realized that he had been substituted as the sacrificial lamb chosen by Oclan for the war, instead of the Margrave Baran.
Amidst the murmuring crowd, Hailen lightly rose to his feet.
None of the memories and emotions he had recalled earlier showed on his beautiful young ducal face. As always, only perfect composure filled him.
"As the crown prince has said, since I made a promise, I too would like to request this of Your Majesty. The opportunity to flaunt the name of Emmast, the sword of the Empire."
Gazing directly into Blake's deep crimson eyes, Hailen smiled. Without a shred of fear.
And in the crown prince's expression in return, there was a depth different from before, a bitterness that seemed to wish harm upon his opponent.
That was the true face of the man named Blake.



Chapter 86
The waiting room behind the jousting arena. Gailront let out the breath he had been holding as he took off his heavy steel armor.
Even after reaching the level of Sword Master and spending years in training, he never stopped honing his skills. More than anything, his unwavering diligence was an advantage no less valuable than innate genius. Now, even when maintaining his sword ki for an extended period, it did not drain his stamina much, so his reaction hinted at a mental blow rather than a physical issue.
The frustration he felt during the match did not easily dissipate even when the Emperor himself congratulated him as the victor. Although even those who had scorned his lowly origins offered words of celebration, Gailront did not seek their approval.
Today, too, Hailen wore a mask and treated him as a skilled knight, addressing him formally as the Young Duke. Gailront did not expect congratulations from him. If only that cruel man would call him by his name without formalities, it would have relieved the suffocating tightness in his chest. But he showed no sign of granting such a wish.
'I expected too much again. I thought things might change if I won. How pathetic.'
As Gailront berated himself for the emotions tormenting him, young pages who had been assigned to assist the knights in the jousting approached, their eyes full of admiration for the peerless warrior. As aspiring knights themselves, they looked up to the Sword Master with pure reverence.
Facing these youths only made him more troubled, for they reminded him of his younger self, recklessly chasing after someone.
Perhaps, he sometimes thought, it would have been better not to realize these bitter and ugly feelings, or not to reveal the foolishness of that day, which was akin to a confession. For then, at least, Hailen might have called him by the nickname 'Gail.'
But he also knew that, even if he could go back, he would act the same way. These musings were ultimately futile.
Leaving behind the pages clamoring to maintain the steel armor the Sword Master had worn, Gailront exited the waiting room. His steps were unwavering, now clad in the uniform of the Imperial Knights.
In the area where the Imperial Knights stood guard, the knights chosen as candidates for the jousting tournament were excused from their duties for the day. However, Gailront thought it better to spend his time vigilantly guarding someone rather than indulging in such vexing thoughts while resting.
Soon, the arrival of one who had recently displayed formidable prowess. Some who had subtly looked down on him for his lowly origins averted their gaze as Gailront passed by, realizing anew that the title of Sword Master placed him on a different plane from mere individuals like themselves.
Nohan, noticing this atmosphere, grinned and approached his friend. The regret he had shown that morning for not being chosen as a jousting candidate had completely vanished. For the record, the reason Nohan was not selected was that no horse could bear the weight of a lance equal to that of the two-handed greatswords he specialized in.
"Instead of basking in your victory, why are you here? Didn't feel tired after all those matches? Truly befitting a Sword Master, eh?"
Nohan knew it was childish to boast about having such a powerful knight as a friend, but the amusement never left his voice. Within the Imperial Knights, there was no shortage of those who looked down on him for his commoner roots. Unlike himself, a newcomer, they did not even want to call those like the senior Gailront, whom they should have treated as a superior, a comrade, mocking them as "birds of a feather flocking together."
How gratifying it was that after today, those people would not be able to run their mouths for a while. Even though it was not his own achievement, it was only natural to feel a sense of satisfaction. Moreover, Nohan was not the kind of man to be content with his friend's merits alone. Soon, he would prove his own abilities and silence those who dared speak against him.
The exchange of light banter was but a fleeting moment. With esteemed individuals present, the Imperial Knights on guard against external attacks could not afford even a moment's lapse in vigilance. An order from a superior to have Gailront fill an empty spot flowed as smoothly as water.
Thus, the two stood in a place where it was difficult to observe the match from below the spectator stands.
Cheers erupted no less thunderous than during the previous match showcasing the might of the Sword Master.
The area where the Imperial Knights stood guard was close to the upper levels where the Imperial family resided, so the height made it difficult to discern the situation below. Nevertheless, the knights' gazes unconsciously drifted downwards.
Having briefly left his post to remove his armor, Gailront wondered about the figure drawing such immense attention by appearing in the arena.
Naturally, his friend was quick to satisfy his curiosity.
"That man they call the Crown Prince is quite the character. I thought it would just be a sideshow with the nobles putting on airs, but he insisted on following the rules of the main event."
"The Crown Prince is participating directly?"
Nohan's casual mention of the esteemed Crown Prince was fortunately drowned out by the audience's cheers, audible only to Gailront standing beside him. Even if some of the Imperial Knights, who had developed a strong animosity towards the Kingdom during the main event, had overheard it, it would not have been a significant issue.
Gailront recalled Blake, who had exclaimed in admiration at his Sword Master title during the welcome banquet. He was no less annoying than the Oclan envoy who had treated him like a spectacle. Everyone there had regarded him as a trivial figure.
However, Gailront's assessment differed.
'The physique he did not reveal was undoubtedly that of a trained warrior. One who possessed no ordinary skill. It would not be strange for him to participate in such a match.'
Hidden beneath the lavish banquet attire and exaggerated gestures, Gailront recalled the trained physique, yet he did not expect the Crown Prince to participate in the match. As a warrior, and as one who had undergone an intense jousting match himself, his cynical attitude was unbecoming of the protagonist. However, as someone who did not wish to be entangled in the complex web of political interests, whether domestic or foreign, he had no desire to pay attention to such a subject.
"To be honest, I never thought the Young Duke would readily accept the Crown Prince's proposal. He's not one who enjoys being the center of attention in such events."
However, Gailront's reaction changed instantly when someone's name was mentioned. Nohan, who had not expected Gailront to be unaware, was taken aback and asked in surprise.
"I'm talking about the special match. The Crown Prince chose the Young Duke as his opponent. You didn't know?"
Gailront hurriedly looked down. Across from the Crown Prince, who appeared amidst thunderous cheers, a man in plate armor sat atop his horse with the straightest posture of all.
Even without the glimpse of blond hair peeking through the tightly-fitted helmet, Gailront's every sense told him who the figure was.
The solid plate armor and heavy lance were unfamiliar to Hailen. Especially since his rebirth, he had not trained for jousting. In truth, for this duel, he could only rely on the memories of training to defeat Gailront in his previous life.
Yet, Hailen felt no unease. The colder his mind became in the face of danger, the more it worked to analyze the opponent's unknown prowess to the fullest extent.
The common trait he noticed among the Oclan knights, with a few exceptions, during the main event was that their horsemanship was mediocre. Despite being located in a region not even bordering the sea, they were strangely evaluated as a maritime kingdom, prioritizing naval combat over cavalry in the south.
The reason those who had faced Gailront tried to lure him into ground combat as much as possible was for that very reason. Of course, it was a mistake not to anticipate what would happen when the Sword Master wielded his blade.
Fortunately, Hailen was quite skilled in horseback riding. Although he had avoided outdoor activities from a young age, unlike the grueling sword training he had endured, riding horses was something he was willing to do. It was a hobby to relieve the frustration of hiding secrets and suppressing fears.
He did not know what martial arts the Crown Prince on the opposite side possessed, but at least on horseback, he was confident he had the advantage.
And surely Blake could not have failed to make such a judgment.
As the match began, battle cries rang out from both sides in fierce opposition. Following the signal from the riders, the horses started galloping. One side charged to end the match quickly, while the other aimed to unseat their opponent from the saddle.
With the participants being of such noble status, tension was etched on the faces of those watching the spectacle.
Instead of the unwieldy lance, Hailen struck using the momentum of the galloping horse, while the Crown Prince wielded his weapon fiercely, utilizing the torque of his waist. The moment the long silver spears clashed, a dull thud echoed throughout the arena.
Although the match was expected to be a mere imitation, the intensity from the first clash was palpable. The murmurs of the audience carried into the arena.
Hailen steadied his horse, ensuring his numb hands did not lose their grip on the reins. With just one collision of lances, he could sense the gaze of Blake meeting his through the steel helmet.
His opponent was determined to charge at him. And he realized that the Crown Prince's martial prowess, which had seemed so light and effortless, exceeded his imagination.
'A moment's carelessness could cost me my life.'
Thoughts of war and Oclan's intentions began to fade from Hailen's mind. In this moment, he focused solely on how to seize victory over his opponent.
Though it was a mounted competition reminiscent of a day from his previous life, the figure before him was not Gailront, whom he had so desperately wished to defeat. Yet his fighting spirit remained unchanged. Even if he discarded his cloying sense of inferiority, he did not wish to end up disgracefully sprawled in defeat.
In this moment, Hailen sincerely desired to overcome his adversary.
The youthful green eyes obscured by the shadow of his helmet grew cold and hardened. The strength of the Crown Prince he had just faced was formidable. Compared to this, Hailen's perceived physical limitations, still considered a weakness, strongly disadvantaged him in ground combat.
'Somehow, I must end the match on horseback.'
He had no concern that his opponent would seek to harm him as he had sacrificed the former Duke Baran in his previous life. Contrary to his icy gaze, Hailen's burning heart spoke of only one thing:
To bring the one before him to his knees.
Simultaneously, Hailen spurred his horse once more.
Gailront could not tear his eyes away from the tense match, oblivious to Nohan's mocking words. His concern was not for the prowess of the one he watched over more than anyone else. Even though he had grown distant from Hailen's private life, he could tell from his physique alone that the busy Young Duke found time to train diligently.
However, setting aside that he was acting like someone whose mind had been stolen—
'The Crown Prince is no trivial opponent.'
Apart from his solid, trained physique that Gailront had sensed, the very act of concealing such martial skill was itself suspicious. That he would deliberately choose a high-ranking Imperial nobleman, whose involvement could cause problems, as his opponent in such a perilous match made Gailront wary of some underlying intent.
Beyond that, Gailront's intuition, which was attuned to Hailen with an instinct sharper than a beast's, was telling him something else.
This match was dangerous.
However, Gailront was positioned far above the jousting arena itself. Moreover, intervening in a duel he considered sacred was itself problematic. No, he questioned whether he even had the right to be personally concerned.
All Gailront could do was silently observe the ongoing match.
Yes. That's what he had to do.
Unless someone deliberately approached him, that is.
Accompanying Nohan's puzzled words, Gailront's gaze fell upon a familiar face that seemed hesitant for some reason.
The man, who had grown so tall that he was almost unrecognizable from their academy days, still retained traces of his former irritable demeanor. Yet, Nohan's voice calling out to him couldn't help but sound delighted.
It had been three whole years since their last meeting.
Even his close friend Marina had lamented how difficult it was to see Roger these days. He was a face that commanded a high price, though in a different sense from Hailen.
"You've been so absorbed in your guild work that you haven't shown up in high society at all. Did you come to watch the jousting match? What brings you to us..."
Nohan's teasing, tinged with a hint of welcome, was swiftly cut off by Roger.
"Enough with the pleasantries. I've come to ask you two, as members of the Imperial Knights, something."
Roger dismissed Nohan's attempt to engage him and got straight to the point, leaving Nohan dumbfounded and about to respond. But Gailront moved first, his body reacting before his mind to Roger's appearance, which seemed related to the very concern weighing on him.
"Is your question about the current match?"
"Gailront, you're still... No, never mind that. Yes, that's right. Is there any way to stop this match?"
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting after showing up out of the blue? No matter that we're Imperial Knights, there's no way to stop a match the Emperor himself is watching."
Even after years of not seeing his old friend, Nohan's irritable attitude whenever facing Roger remained unchanged. However, with Gailront also present and Roger seeking them out for some reason, Nohan's voice carried a solemn tone despite dismissing the idea as absurd.
Moreover, considering the identity of the one galloping fiercely in the arena below.
"Roger, what are you worried about?"
Since it concerned none other than Hailen, Gailront directly questioned Roger. Seeing Gailront's demeanor, which suggested he would not let it go without a proper answer, Roger had to choose his words carefully.
In truth, he was still conflicted about seeking them out here. Unlike many who assumed a close friendship between the Young Duke and the Sword Master knight Gailront based solely on the latter's periodic visits, Roger could see the truth from his position by Hailen's side.
How could he not notice the Young Duke's discomfort at the mere mention of Gailront's name and his natural avoidance of anything related to him, despite his usual composure? Even if he was dull when it came to interpersonal relationships, he could not help but become attuned to his lord's sensitivities.
However, Roger had no choice but to take this step.
Watching the dull match from the farthest seats, ill-suited for such entertainment, Roger could only stare in bewilderment as Hailen, the last person he expected to engage in such frivolities, accepted the Crown Prince's outrageous proposal. Simultaneously, an intense sense of unease welled up within him.
Didn't the conversations he had shared with Hailen about war come flooding back? Along with all the information about Oclan that Roger had strived to gather before and after?
Whether it be the Kingdom or the Empire, or even my own master whose true intentions I cannot fathom, it matters not who they are. If there truly exists one who desires war, then the question arises: why would they pass up such a grand stage as a mounted competition?
Naturally, it appeared as a threat to Hailen.
The moment Roger sensed danger to his master, the one who bizarrely came to mind was Gailront. It was not a rational judgment that he, as a knight directly under the Emperor in the Imperial Knights, might be able to influence the proceedings of the mounted competition.
'This guy would protect Lord Hailen without hesitation, no matter what.'
For some inexplicable reason, he was convinced of this, and seeing Gailront's gaze upon him only solidified that thought.
"I cannot explain at length right now. But if someone intends to exploit this mounted competition, what do you think might happen? Do you really believe Lord Hailen has such an inflated ego to accept such a proposal?"
Gailront's brow furrowed momentarily at the somehow grating honorific 'Lord Hailen,' but more importantly, Roger shared the same unease as him.
Gailront remained silent, his sharp gaze imbued with the Sword Master's keen senses fixed upon the distant arena below where Hailen was competing against the Crown Prince. His piercing stare was akin to a glare, causing even Roger, unfamiliar with martial arts, to unconsciously take a step back.
The tense atmosphere prompted Nohan to ask seriously, "You can't stop the match based on such baseless speculation. The Young Duke's opponent is the Crown Prince of the Oclan Kingdom. What makes you so certain, Roger?"
"One thing is certain. Someone desires a war between our two nations."
Although he omitted that Hailen was one of them, it was undoubtedly a statement that would shock the two knights.
"War, you say? With our Empire?"
"Yes. And if there is someone here who desires that war, what do you think would happen? If either of them were to be seriously injured in this match, what might transpire?"
"What? Well, that would..."
Even Nohan, who had no interest in politics, seemed tense as he trailed off, realizing the implications of Roger's words.
At that moment, the spectators watching the match let out dismayed gasps.
Below where Gailront was watching, Hailen could be seen falling off his horse, simultaneously drawing his sword in preparation for ground combat.
Gailront's gaze swept over Roger, who could not reveal everything but exuded an air of unease, and Nohan, who mentioned their inability to intervene and the uncertainty of the situation. He even imagined what could have led Hailen, whom he knew, to accept this match that he himself had not witnessed.
The moment the two figures below clashed swords, Gailront reached a conclusion.
Whatever the intent, it was certain that Hailen, the person he knew, was acting in an unexpected manner. And with his martial prowess, he would be unable to subdue the Crown Prince.
Coupled with the provocative word 'war' that Roger had just mentioned, it meant that in this match, someone would inevitably be bloodied.
His instincts had been warning him all along.
Gailront, that someone he cherished more than himself might be in danger.
There was no longer any reason to hesitate.
"Hey, you crazy... Gail...!"
Forgetting the normal path into the arena, Gailront abruptly leaped down from the tremendous height where no ordinary person could land safely. His reckless action was so dangerous that even Nohan, who had been watching him, unconsciously swore.
For a brief moment, all eyes were drawn to the figure who had unexpectedly intruded upon the match by jumping from such a perilous height. However, more pressing was the intensifying duel between the two men.
Only time would tell how it would end.



Chapter 87
Hailen quickly got back on his feet after being thrown off his horse.
'Using the momentum of the galloping horse seemed to be my best chance.'
Though not as formidable as the former Gailront, the Crown Prince's strength that he had witnessed was still considerable. Hailen's gaze was cold as he watched Blake nimbly dismount from his steed, clearly having the upper hand on horseback.
To be honest, after crossing blades with him and Ray a few times, Hailen was gradually losing confidence in his ability to defeat them.
Since they had transitioned to a duel on foot, Hailen could utilize the various weapons on the nearby racks. He chose a thin, lightweight rapier. An unconventional choice for Emmast's Imperial fencing style, as its sole purpose was thrusting rather than slashing, putting him at a seeming disadvantage against the Crown Prince's more versatile sword. However, Hailen had selected the weapon most advantageous to him, as he was taking this duel seriously.
"Wielding a weapon that can't even parry my blade – are you conceding defeat?"
Now facing each other on the ground, the Crown Prince seemed to relish the opportunity for banter as he addressed Hailen. His tone remained light and airy, yet his voice brimmed with the fervor of combat. Beyond his helmet, Blake's eyes, which Hailen had thought resembled deep rubies, now blazed like raging flames as he grew serious.
Hailen met his gaze and replied in a cold voice, "Your Highness has clearly honed formidable skills to match your valor. But I have no intention of yielding easily."
"Well, considering the favor you've done me by keeping me company, I almost feel inclined to offer you a chance to surrender."
"Surely you jest. Do you think I'm unaware that your aim going forward is to sever my limbs?"
"...The Young Duke is indeed perceptive. Perhaps too perceptive for his own good. But here, I find myself in the position of having to feign ignorance."
With those words, Blake charged at Hailen with astonishing speed, propelling himself off the ground. His physical prowess seemed beyond what could be achieved through mere rigorous training.
Even in this situation where he should have been concerned about his own injuries, Hailen clicked his tongue in frustration at the innate sense of deprivation he felt towards his physical body, and swiftly bent his body.
The moment he chose the rapier, it was as if he had decided to evade the slashing blade coming at him instead of blocking it. Whether others had eyes or not, Hailen, who always maintained a dignified demeanor, did not hesitate to take an unsightly stance and flee, causing the Crown Prince to let out a small exclamation of admiration.
"It's truly amazing how even that looks graceful on you."
"Now, please dispense with such vulgar... jokes."
"I find your fierce side appealing as well. Bleeding and collapsing could be a work of art, you know."
"When you cut me down, Your Highness, you can't be certain you'll safely escape the Empire, can you? Ah... Do you have no regrets about stepping out here directly?"
"Beasts, by nature, don't let others touch their prey once they've marked it."
He evaded and thrust again, but his opponent showed no intention of easily taking the hit. Unlike on horseback, his opponent's relaxed demeanor displayed a clear gap in their abilities. His martial prowess, far superior to that of ordinary knights, made one question whether he was truly a well-bred royal.
'There were only rumors that he was simply talented in swordsmanship? If I told Paison that information was false, he would be quite offended.'
In hindsight, he should have been suspicious from the outset, given the abundance of ridiculous rumors surrounding the Crown Prince. The cruel expression on his face, determined to cut Hailen and see his blood, did it not conceal the seeds of a tyrant yearning for war?
Only then did Hailen realize it. To wage war against the Empire, when the South tried to unite, what better sacrificial lamb could there be than Emmast, the sword of the Empire?
Perhaps Baron Baran had been the unlucky one caught up in this. In his previous life, it was because he had requested this impromptu match with Gailront that he had avoided this present moment.
"There's a certain thrill in chasing you as you deftly evade me. You must have discerned my intent long ago, so tell me – which arm are you willing to forfeit?"
"In Oclan... Hah, do you truly believe you can triumph against the Empire in war?"
"Let's not waste time with idle chatter. No matter how long you stall, there's no escape. So, how about offering me one of those emerald-like eyes of yours instead?"
Blake's brow furrowed as he faced the Crown Prince, who grinned in a chillingly pleasurable way, as if he had been waiting for this very moment. Such madness that made Hailen feel foolish for having taken this man so lightly.
A cold sweat trickled down Hailen's back of its own accord. Blake's words didn't seem like mere jest. Moreover, Hailen's strength had reached its limit. It was almost miraculous that he still had the leisure to exchange words like this.
Blake thrust his sword towards one of Hailen's eyes, regarding him like prey.
The moment the threat loomed before him, all notions of war and kingdoms vanished from Hailen's mind, leaving only the instinct for survival.
It was a miracle that he managed to roll away and evade the strike. A moment's delay, and that blade would have taken out one of his eyes.
And he didn't even have the leisure to dwell on that thought.
Relentlessly, the sword came slashing towards Hailen's eyes once more.
A strike he was certain he couldn't block.
In that life-or-death moment, strangely, a thought surfaced through his chilled, rational mind.
The Crown Prince was one who easily changed faces. Could this feral nature, which petrified others, truly be the extent of his true self?
As Hailen's keen senses voiced their doubt, Blake's face came into view. A face indeed flushed with the excitement of shedding blood, it seemed—
The Crown Prince's sudden sneer was but a fleeting moment.
The realization dawned that even if he injured an Imperial nobleman, Oclan would not directly take responsibility.
It was the moment Hailen realized the blade would not strike him directly, but the epiphany came too late.
Despite there being no way their swords could have clashed, a clanging sound rang out as Blake's sword shattered. Shards of the blade, reflecting the sunlight like crystals, scattered everywhere.
True to his words, the shards flew towards Hailen's emerald eye.
Instinctively, Hailen squeezed his eyes shut.
The roar of the crowd reached his ears. Whenever he heard such noise, he always found himself standing alone in the center of the Colosseum.
'No, I was... in the midst of a mounted duel.'
As this realization struck Hailen, he found himself atop a horse, clad in thick plate armor and gripping a heavy lance.
Through his hazy vision, he could make out his opponent in the distance. Too far to discern the red hair peeking from beneath the helmet or the black eyes visible between the gaps, yet Hailen somehow knew.
The memory resurfaced of him requesting this exhibition match.
With this epiphany, the horse began galloping.
Though unintentional on Hailen's part, he clung tightly to avoid falling off. From the opposite end, the horse carrying Gailront charged towards him at tremendous speed. Yet strangely, each of Gailront's movements as he leveled his lance felt etched into Hailen's mind with vivid clarity.
Normally, a lance strike would hit the abdomen or lower back at most. But the searing pain came from near his face – as if he had been slashed across where his eyes should be.
Groping blindly ahead yielded nothing. He could not even tell how he had dismounted from the horse he had been riding.
A crimson trail of blood trickled down from Hailen's tightly shut eyes, dripping audibly along his well-sculpted jawline.
Even after losing his sight, his thoughts were clear:
'It wasn't me who lost his eyes. Yes, it was Ray whom I struck down with my own hands...'
A man wearing a white bandage appeared before him. The pain he had felt and the darkness that had enveloped him vanished.
Facing Hailen was Ray, who, despite being robbed of his light and plunged into despair, still tried to rise for his master Daniel's sake.
And Hailen shouted, trying to stop him—
"You are not of noble blood!"
Ray, though unable to see, pointed directly at Hailen. Simultaneously, the murmurs of many echoed around them. "So you've been deceiving us all along?" "Come to think of it, you never quite seemed like a true noble." "How dare you impersonate nobility?"
"No. No, that's not... I am!"
Protesting to the non-existent voices, Hailen turned and fled. Darkness surrounded him on all sides, and no matter how far he ran, the murmurs never faded.
Eventually, after stopping his frantic steps, he found himself face-to-face with someone.
A long-forgotten emotion welled up within Hailen – a sense of inferiority, anger, hatred. A resolve to kill him, a resentment that blamed Gailront for everything.
Hailen charged at his opponent, knowing full well that he would be the one tossed aside and humiliated in defeat, as always.
But he couldn't land a single blow. Gailront effortlessly brought Hailen to his knees, as if swatting away a mere insect. As Hailen wallowed in despair, someone approached and offered him a vial.
"Consume this, and it will enhance your physical abilities. You'll be able to defeat Gailront."
As if entranced, Hailen drank it down. A pungent odor assailed his nostrils, and a question arose within him:
'Did this medicine always have such a foul smell?'
Strangely, the odor assailing his nostrils felt familiar. A memory long forgotten began to unfurl – a damp underground prison, his body ravaged by torture, unable to even feel despair. The poison he had consumed, choosing death.
It was that place again. Where he had met his end.
In his hazy consciousness, Hailen had to taste an inexplicable sense of deprivation. Why? He shouldn't be here, as if he had encountered an unjust situation. His crime was clear, and since his secret had been revealed, this predicament made sense, yet he felt it was wrong.
The blurred mind from prolonged drug use, the body so ruined it couldn't even feel pain – none of that should exist for him now.
Suddenly, something grasped at Hailen's ankles. Looking down, despite not being able to perceive any sensation, something viscous clung to him.
It wasn't just one or two. They varied in size. How could one describe those forms? That writhing, otherworldly presence was an all too surreal sight.
Strangely, Hailen knew exactly what they were – the countless lives he had reaped during the Imperial civil war. Beings who had easily perished at his mere command. Weren't they the ones whose faces and names he couldn't even recall?
'Have I died and come to hell?'
Despite feeling no remorse for harming so many, this spectacle becoming his hell might mean he still possessed at least a shred of human conscience.
Somehow, the desire to flee vanished. As if he had to face what was coming.
Ensnared by the phantoms' clutches, he sank deeper and deeper. The iron bars of the underground prison gradually disappeared from his vision.
The voice reached him when Hailen was buried up to his chest.
The face visible through his fading sight.
Though it was Gailront, the man Hailen could never forget even in death, strangely, his expression was not visible. The words that followed were also indistinct.
Hailen could not respond, and the clutches of the phantoms dragging him down did not cease. Gailront eventually turned away.
Gradually, he grew more distant.
For some reason, Hailen no longer wished to remain as he was. It felt as though he needed to stop the retreating figure. That Gailront should not show his back before him; Hailen was certain those black eyes should be gazing upon him, for that was the natural order.
Though he tried to cry out, strangely, no words came forth.
Gailront grew ever more distant. The place he headed towards was outside the underground prison, a place filled with light – the complete opposite of the darkness where Hailen dwelled.
In the end, unable to hold him back, Hailen sank completely into the darkness.
At the familiar voice, he opened his eyes in an instant.
'Yet another tedious dream...'
Drawing a ragged breath, Hailen let out a hollow laugh.
There was no darkness, no phantoms, no Gailront in this familiar place – his bedchamber in the ducal manor.
Yet the complex emotions the dream had evoked did not simply dissipate, clinging to Hailen's body as if to say the illusion was no mere fantasy.



Chapter 88
"It seems you had a nightmare."
As if he had been prepared in advance, it was Kelvin who handed him a glass of cold water.
Whether it was due to the influence of the dream or not, his hazy consciousness gradually returned to its place only after drinking the water he had received. He could also recognize the events that had occurred before he lost consciousness.
The equestrian competition with the Crown Prince, Blake. His deep smile amidst the shower of sword fragments was unforgettable.
However, there was no expected physical pain. Although his whole body felt sore, it was only natural since he had participated in a rough equestrian competition. There were no apparent cuts or significant injuries.
Now that he knew his body was intact, what was important for Hailen was an objective assessment of the situation.
"How long has it been since the competition?"
Seeing his master trying to quickly grasp the situation during his unconscious state, Kelvin gave a wry smile. Wasn't it a cold-hearted attitude that those who had been worried about the unbreakable Young Duke didn't even consider?
Rather, it was also a relief that Hailen's behavior showed that he was the same as usual.
"The competition was two days ago, and I just arrived in the capital yesterday."
"I was unconscious for two whole days? Yet there's not a single painful spot."
"You didn't sustain any separate injuries. Although there was a shock from the competition, according to the physician, it was mostly due to accumulated fatigue. A sedative was prescribed to induce sleep. The Duchess summoned a high-ranking priest, but they said there was nothing unusual."
It was true that he had been staying up for several nights working due to the equestrian competition and the intentions of the Oclan Kingdom surrounding it. However, he didn't expect to end up bedridden like this.
Was it because of the nightmare he had just had, or because of his unsightly defeat to the Crown Prince in the competition, that he felt displeased with his frail body?
"Just fatigue, they say. But how could I not have sustained a single injury? Surely, towards the end of the competition... it was a situation where I should have been severely injured."
No matter how much he thought about it, it was clear that Blake's sword had been shattered due to a scheme prepared in advance by Oclan. The sword Hailen had been wielding was a rapier, so even if it clashed with that weapon whose only effective strike was a thrust, it made no sense for the intact sword itself to be shattered into pieces.
The weapons prepared for the mounted competition were not changed every time. They were also damaged during the competition, and using them was part of the competition strategy. The Central Diplomatic Corps, and even the Imperial Knights, would have taken care in preparing for such an event, so there was no way they would have tampered with the weapons beforehand.
'It must have been one of Oclan's knights who damaged the sword during the actual competition.'
From start to finish, it was nothing but a tightly woven scheme. Even the overwhelming skill of the Sword Master that was displayed in the middle did not become a variable.
With his cold rationality, Hailen sorted through this information piece by piece and turned to look at Kelvin, who had no answer to his question. His attendant's gloomy expression, hesitating to speak, was so unfamiliar that Hailen had never seen it before. It made him feel that some major problem had arisen.
In reality, what Kelvin said went beyond what Hailen had expected.
"I had a conversation with Roger after a long time. He said you were not yourself during the mounted competition. Why did you accept the Crown Prince's proposal? If Gailront had not rushed into the arena, you would have been seriously injured..."
Seeing Hailen's questioning look as to why his name was mentioned here, Kelvin could only swallow the complaints he was about to voice. He knew well that his ruthless master would not even care about such trivial concerns for him.
'But shouldn't you be different when it comes to Gailront?'
At least after hearing about Gailront's reckless action of rushing into the arena during the competition for the sake of the Young Duke, Kelvin made up his mind to speak sincerely about him. For even Roger, who had told him about the situation during the mounted competition, showed signs of exasperation at such a bold move.
"Roger told me that you were nearly seriously injured because the Crown Prince's sword shattered. If Gailront hadn't rushed into the Gyeonggijang beforehand and shielded you with his body, it would have been a real disaster."
"He rushed into the Gyeonggijang? How did he know about it?"
Instead of expressing gratitude towards the one who had saved him, Hailen's suspicion about the situation was immediately raised, dismissing Kelvin's intention.
"I'm not sure about that... Perhaps you should summon Roger or Gailront and ask them?"
At Kelvin's mention of the name 'Roger', Hailen had a vague idea. If it was him who had anticipated Hailen's and the Oclan Kingdom's intentions, it wouldn't have been difficult for him to predict what would happen during the mounted competition.
Of course, Hailen couldn't imagine that he had warned Gailront about it.
And Kelvin, who wanted to praise Gailront's contribution, continued speaking without pause.
"The situation was so urgent that Gailront had to shield himself from the sword fragments with his body. Since a high-ranking priest was present at the Duke's residence, the Duchess summoned Gailront to receive treatment as well."
"You're saying Gailront is currently at the Duke's residence?"
Kelvin looked gloomy as Hailen was more surprised by the fact that Gailront was in the same place, rather than showing concern for the one who had been injured trying to save him or questioning his mother's unexpected kindness.
No matter how long he had served by his side, Kelvin still found his master incomprehensible when it came to emotional matters, as if he were from a different world.
Kelvin recalled Gailront, who had accepted the Duchess's offer and visited the Duke's residence while Hailen was unconscious.
In truth, her offer was merely a formality, acknowledging that he had saved the Young Duke, regardless of his commoner status. Fortunately, he received the high-ranking priest's divine power, but the Duchess still treated him as a mere commoner, not even exchanging greetings with him.
The people of the Duke's residence were even more riotous over the fact that the commoner Gailront had appeared as a remarkable knight. Disregarding the surrounding circumstances around himself, Gailront—
'Somehow, he kept lingering around to meet Lord Hailen.'
However, seeing this as an opportunity, Katrin, who had settled in the Duke's residence under the pretext of nursing her fiancé, disliked Gailront. Even though she had witnessed with her own eyes during the mounted competition that he was no longer a mere commoner to be dismissed, she treated him as a simple guest, perhaps to express her compliance with the Duchess's intentions.
And yet, recalling how Gailront kept wandering near Hailen's bedroom, no matter how infrequently he saw him, Kelvin couldn't help but feel sorry for his dear friend.
Worried that Hailen might react sensitively to the fact that Gailront was at the Duke's residence, Kelvin continued speaking further.
"You can't imagine how worried Gailront was about you, my lord. He kept asking if you had woken up. Even after being reprimanded by the knights for recklessly entering the mounted competition arena... If you're feeling well, why don't you meet him? He would know the situation better than I do."
As Kelvin's words grew longer, there was no way Hailen couldn't discern his attendant's intentions.
Hailen's mouth, about to utter words of acceptance without realizing it, closed shut. He had recognized the current state of his relationship with Gailront.
Therefore, it was easy for Hailen to change the subject.
"That's enough. Surely, there must have been some commotion regarding this incident? I'd like to know about that first."
"But even Gailront, who belongs to the Imperial Knights, would..."
At that firm call, it was always the weaker Kelvin who gave up.
Although he had just arrived in the capital and had to take care of his collapsed master, keeping one ear open was routine for an attendant of a high-ranking noble. Unlike when he had hesitated to ask about rumors within the academy, he now took the initiative to show interest in the political situation unfolding in the capital.
Kelvin was also changing as time passed.
"Everyone is gossiping that His Highness the Crown Prince deliberately tried to harm Lord Hailen. Oclan claims it was a simple accident, not that the sword was broken by a strike, but that it shattered on its own. They say there was a major clash of opinions between the diplomatic corps and the Imperial Knights after that competition, and His Majesty has returned to the Imperial Palace now that the event has concluded."
It was roughly as Hailen had guessed. Thanks to Gailront's sudden appearance, Hailen had not sustained any major injuries, a stark contrast from his previous life when Duke Baran had lost an arm.
So Oclan must have gone berserk, trying to blow this incident out of proportion somehow.
'What does that "neutral nation" title even mean? They're weary enough to start a war over nothing.'
When he had accepted the Crown Prince's proposal, he had felt it was a sacrifice he would have to bear, turning a blind eye to the casualties of war. But the thought of the prolonged battle of attrition surrounding him gave him an instant headache.
No, in truth, the existence of Gailront, whom he was deliberately trying to ignore, would have a significant impact.
Noticing Hailen's darkening expression, Kelvin cautiously asked him, "Shall I brew some herbs with a calming effect?"
"It's fine. If I look at the complicated situation ahead, I won't have time to rest."
"You're not going to the Diplomatic Corps, are you?"
"My body is perfectly fine, so you're not telling me to lie in bed during the day, are you? I don't think I've ever appeared that lazy before."
"I won't tell you to rest. There are many people looking for you at the Duke's residence."
"You're referring to Gailront, I presume."
"...Lady Katrin and the Duchess were also worried about you."
Kelvin's voice lacked confidence when mentioning the cold Duchess, who was doubtful to genuinely worry about her son, and Katrin, who was risking her life to secure her position as his fiancée.
However, Kelvin's sincere wish for Hailen to rest properly was conveyed. His gaze, looking intently at his master, was filled with an uncharacteristic resoluteness.
As Hailen looked at Kelvin, someone else came to mind unbidden. Perhaps it was the influence of the dream.
The loyal servant from his previous life who had handed him medicine. Though vastly different from Kelvin in appearance and personality, the look in his eyes when serving his master was the same as Kelvin's now. It was a devotion that made Hailen change his mind about simply bringing Benedik to torment Gailront as a replacement.
'And it was all an illusion.'
Whether Benedik had harbored negative feelings towards Hailen from the start was unknown. Perhaps, realizing the lord he served was a fake, he betrayed Hailen to find a way to survive.
Hailen suddenly wondered. If Kelvin, who now showed him sincere loyalty, faced such a desperate situation, would he change too?
If so, it would only bring Kelvin further trouble. Though not to the extent of Benedik, Hailen had entrusted Kelvin enough to call him by name, and the fact that he knew about Hailen's deal with Paison would become a weakness.
But it was too early to worry about that.
"For now, don't inform Mother and Katrin that I've woken up. As for Gailront..."
He tried to avoid it, but was puzzled by the name that kept coming to him relentlessly. The final scene of the nightmare surfaced, of him desperately trying to stop Gailront from turning away.
Three years ago, his cold attitude when cutting ties was completely contradictory to that action.
He himself didn't know which reflected his true feelings.
'If I reject him now after he saved me, I'll just be a heartless master ungrateful to the one who rescued me.'
Not betrayal, but seeing Kelvin's gaze that was as close to pure as it could be right now, Hailen sighed.
"Tell him I wish to meet him. Not the reception room... bring him here."
Calling him to the private space of his bedroom was not entirely appropriate, but if he went outside, he would only encounter Katrin making a fuss. Hailen wanted to resolve the matter with Gailront before facing them.
For some reason, his rationality seemed to say that dealing with Gailront amidst this emotional turmoil was a mistake—
"Yes, I understand. I'll also prepare clothes for you to change into."
At least Kelvin seemed to accept Hailen's decision gladly.



Chapter 89
Hailen straightened his attire and then faced Gailront at a table set up in one corner of his bedchamber. His emerald eyes, devoid of any emotion, gazed out the wide window at the garden, not acknowledging the one greeting him.
Though his inner thoughts were quite different.
'He shielded himself from the blade fragments.'
While not an expert in all medicinal herbs, he was familiar with some of the styptics used in combat. Hailen, sensitive to scents, could not help but notice the styptic aroma wafting into his nostrils.
For it constantly reminded him that the cause of the scent was a wound sustained while protecting him.
Kelvin briefly entered and served tea. Simultaneously, the styptic odor that had been irritating Hailen was masked by the fragrance of the tea.
In the silence devoid of any conversation, Kelvin awkwardly inquired about Gailront's well-being, but the response was curt. It seemed as though the massive Sword Master was tense.
Gailront visibly faltered at Hailen's words, "Dismiss all attendants outside the bedchamber." Hearing Hailen's natural voice after so long instilled a sense of anticipation in him.
However, even after Kelvin's departure, the stillness between them persisted, and as had been the case during Hailen's periodic visits, there was an established pattern for who would speak first.
He expected no answer. The three-year estrangement had accustomed him to the situation of muttering alone.
Thus, when Hailen's thin lips parted and his characteristic eloquent tone emerged—
"How laughable for a Sword Master to fail at properly deflecting a mere blade fragment."
Any expression of joy would be an understatement. Chilling would be a closer description.
Despite it being merely a mocking remark directed at himself, it felt as though the hidden emotions within his heart were the catalyst for every cell in his body, from head to toe, to come alive.
To the extent that he feared it might be a dream.
Gailront struggled and struggled not to show the elation enveloping his entire being. For if even a hint of a smile crept onto his face, he did not know when the man before him, as fragile as glass on the verge of shattering, would turn his back once more.
But could such an emotion be contained simply by trying to suppress it?
In the end, it forced its way out, causing a smile to form at the corners of Gailront's mouth.
Hailen glanced at the smiling Gailront.
A smile adorning his usually impassive, hardened expression made his typically stern countenance appear more flattering. Had he always looked like that, he would have been described as having a sculptural appearance due to his deep-set features.
'Yes, you should be the one swayed by my mere words.'
It might have been an arrogant thought, but Hailen, who had constantly worried about bringing Gailront back from his nightmares, felt a slight sense of satisfaction within as he sipped his tea.
He had practically forgotten why he had declared his severance from Gailront three years ago.
But eventually, the wall Hailen had unilaterally erected between them had crumbled, and once breached, a wall could no longer serve its purpose.
As if unable to recall the past, Hailen continued speaking nonchalantly. Although his words were still laced with sarcasm and displeasure, he thought it was fine since the other seemed content with just that.
"I heard you barged into the Gyeonggijang. You couldn't have known in advance... What were you thinking? The reprimand from the Knights will not be light."
"That was... Roger came looking for me and Nohan."
"Roger? What did he say?"
"That Hailen, who had accepted the match, was not acting as usual. I agreed with that. And..."
At that moment, Gailront could recall word for word what Roger had said.
'One who would exploit the equestrian competition', 'a war between the two nations', 'one who desires war'. No matter how much he tried not to be swept up in the politics, as long as he was part of the Imperial Knights, he could not be completely unaware of the world's circumstances.
He also understood the worst-case scenario Roger had hypothesized.
Therefore, he did not have the leisure to simply revel in the joy of Hailen having let down his walls toward him. Gailront could not bear the thought of Hailen being embroiled in the dreadful situations he could only assume.
He did not expect this opportunity for conversation with him to continue. So he had to resolve the unease he had been harboring during this chance.
In truth, he longed for a sincere exchange of simple, mundane words, but still.
"Oclan's attitude is unsettling. I've known since the academy days that you, Hailen, were planning something separately with Roger. Are you perhaps attempting something dangerous related to Oclan?"
'If even this fellow knows, then Oclan must have been quite obvious.'
They would have tried to seriously injure a high-ranking Imperial official during the equestrian competition to create controversy. Then they would have used that to unite the chaotic southern region as an opportunity.
However, Oclan's intentions had been greatly distorted, thanks to Hailen himself and Gailront before his eyes.
No matter how much they struggled to ignite a fire, the incident at the equestrian competition would be dismissed as a mere accident. Rather, Oclan's exaggerated attitude would only reveal their true intentions.
Perhaps, in this changed future, a war might not occur, unlike before—this assumption sprouted in Hailen's mind. He also recalled Roger's words about being prepared to mitigate the Order's losses, even if not a war.
It was strange that he found himself somewhat relieved by this. Even though war was necessary for what he desired.
Suddenly, Hailen became curious about what the person before him thought regarding war.
"If you cannot discern Oclan's intentions even after hearing that, you would be foolish. Yes, they intend to wage war against the Empire. The equestrian competition was likely held for that very reason. Of course, I have no reason to tell you what I aim to gain by exploiting this situation."
"Do you mean to say that you accepted the Prince's proposal despite foreseeing that he would resort to foul means against you, Lord Hailen...?"
Hailen recalled the numerous contemplations he had while listening to the Prince's proposal.
Amidst the vague sense of guilt he had been harboring, perhaps he had thought of offering himself as the spark for war, the price he had to pay.
The ghostly hands that had reached out to him in his nightmares, grasping at the previous life he had lost, the sacrifices he had made during the civil war—all of it still lingered in his subconscious, tormenting him. If it were to escalate to a war between nations, the amount of blood spilled would be vastly different.
The magnitude of the emotions he would feel, too.
He could no longer deny that the reason he had remained composed even when faced with an opponent displaying madness, demanding a limb or an eye, and the reason he had accepted the incoming blade fragments instead of evading them, was due to such a mindset.
'Perhaps I, too, have grown weak, accustomed to a peaceful life.'
While Gailront could not have guessed Hailen's thoughts, his subsequent words were laden with deep displeasure.
"What is it that you seek... to the extent that you would do such things? Stop this, whatever it is, if it means harming yourself."
Perhaps it was due to the emotion-laden words, but Hailen's chest also felt a slight stir.
However, being displeased with such a stir within himself was merely an old habit that Hailen still clung to.
"How laughable. What gives you the right to warn me like that?"
Although he had tried not to look back over the three long years, he had not forgotten the time before that. Hailen expected that if he made such a sarcastic remark, Gailront would fall silent.
That was always how their conversations went.
He would overreact, and Gailront would be hurt by him and keep his mouth shut. Wasn't he familiar with the silence that ensued?
But it seemed that Gailront had changed to some extent during the long separation.
"Since I have directly protected you with this body, I believe I have been granted the right to interfere to that extent."
"The right? Who gave you that?"
"You can say whatever you want."
A resolute answer that exuded firmness. It was a spirit that even made Hailen somewhat flustered.
And as he uttered this answer, Gailront felt as if one of the shackles binding him had been undone.
A different emotion from the joy of ending his long separation with Hailen. Perhaps it was because he had repeatedly sunk into the depths by piling up negative things about himself. Now that one dam had burst, he could not control himself.
He did not hesitate to block Hailen's path, with no less assertiveness than when he had leaped down from that high place during the equestrian competition. It felt as if someone had blindfolded his sanity, making him forget fear and hesitation.
In fact, at that moment, if it weren't for the many eyes watching, Gailront himself could not have predicted what he would have done to the Crown Prince who had attacked Hailen.
It was a moment Hailen was unaware of.
"Does that mean you no longer have a reason to yield to me?"
"That's not what I mean. I'm just saying that I, who saved you, have the right to worry about you."
"You... have become quite brazen over time."
Even though Hailen knew that Gailront was actually making an excuse to reach out to him in some way, he felt his pride was somehow hurt.
Looking back, there were times during monster subjugation when he owed Gailront his life, not just once or twice. This time too, it was thanks to him that he was able to avoid major injury.
Certainly, one should be grateful in such situations, but when those words came from Gailront's mouth, only negative emotions welled up within Hailen.
Was this due to the sense of inferiority he thought had vanished from his previous life? Or was it because his expectations of the innocent boy who had once followed him were shattered? Or was it the awkwardness of being indebted to the man who had professed his heart to him?
"No matter what you say, I won't stop worrying about you. If need be, I'll keep an eye on your every move, Lord Hailen."
"How surprising that you've become so brazen. Very well. Do as you please. What difference will it make? Are you going to keep watch over me? What do you think I'm up to with Roger?"
"Whatever it is, it's certainly related to Oclan. And it's clear they don't desire peace."
"And if I share their thoughts? If I intend to exploit the cruelty of war to gain what I need, then what?"
Seeing Gailront rendered speechless, his earlier assertiveness gone, Hailen scoffed aloud.
He knew it was petty to try and restore his shattered pride by reveling in his opponent's bewilderment, but Hailen still found it difficult to maintain his composure before Gailront.
The reason Gailront was once called the epitome of knighthood was not solely due to his formidable skills as a Sword Master. It was his willingness to draw his blade for the weak, to protect the Empire—that benevolence was his most important value. For Hailen, who was born without such an annoying 'sense of justice', he despised that aspect of Gailront to the point of loathing.
Hailen did not utter those words sincerely to Gailront, who was rendered speechless. It was merely a mischievous jest to unsettle his opponent, though it was amusing to have caused such bewilderment with just a few words, considering the careful progress he had made thus far.
However, the response he received, which was completely unexpected, was what truly flustered Hailen.
"For someone who claimed to win my heart, you hesitate far too long. Very well. Discussing such pointless matters would only be a waste of time..."
"If you truly desire war, then I am willing to be at the vanguard. As I said, to obtain your heart, Lord Hailen."
Unable to believe the answer he heard, Hailen gazed at Gailront with widened eyes as the latter gave a bitter smile.



Chapter 90
As Hailen watched Gailront utter the word "war" so casually, he could not help but feel a sense of dissonance.
Was this truly the knight he once knew?
Gailront of his previous life. He was a man who epitomized the very essence of knighthood.
To the extent that Hailen had assumed his act of manifesting his sword ki to swiftly end the war he had tried to push them into was a desperate struggle to prevent further sacrifice.
He had strived to maintain peace as much as his lord, the First Prince, and must have been pained by the civil war that ultimately broke out.
'No, that was merely my own judgment.'
Hailen suddenly realized that he had never truly wondered about Gailront's genuine feelings in his previous life. He had simply assumed Gailront felt the same way, dismissing and criticizing the purity that seemed like mere pretense to him.
That was why Gailront's words now filled him with doubt.
Which was the true Gailront?
This Gailront who claimed he would lead the charge into a war that would claim countless lives if it meant serving his own interests. Was this a change in his nature brought about by his returned life and altered reality? Or—
Was this how the knight Gailront had always been? Different from the image Hailen had imposed upon him.
Interestingly, in the brief silence that followed, as Hailen pondered which knight from his returned life he was reminded of, he found himself feeling an inexplicable sense of disappointment. This was someone he had sought to resent and despise, yet he felt a strange sense that the Gailront before him had tarnished the image he had envisioned.
Was this the reason? Hailen's expression, which he had tried to keep impassive, changed. His slightly furrowed brow did little to mar his outward appearance, but it did not escape Gailront's notice as he scrutinized Hailen's every move.
Despite his resolute demeanor, Gailront was attuned to every nuance of Hailen's reactions.
And more than anything, Gailront feared Hailen's rejection, which is why he admitted to having gone too far and offered this apology. His pitiful demeanor, trembling at the slightest hint of Hailen's discomfort, was a far cry from his forceful attitude just moments ago.
"...I apologize if I spoke out of turn. But please understand that I am merely concerned for you, Hailen."
The sincerity in his solemn voice was evident to anyone. Especially when coupled with his low, gruff tone.
Gailront's dark eyes, fixed on Hailen, had also settled into a calm gaze. It was hard to believe that just moments ago, he had seemed ready to charge into war or any other conflict.
It was only then that Hailen could erase the uncomfortable memory of his previous life from his mind.
Since Gailront's words of concern rang true, even Hailen could no longer scoff at them.
Fortunately for Gailront, who waited anxiously for Hailen's response, the cold man's voice was softer than before.
"I heard you shielded yourself from the shards. If it was an injury sustained for my sake, as you claim, I should at least know the extent of it. Where were you hurt?"
As if forgetting how the Sword Master had mocked him for failing to block a mere shard, Gailront's entire body tensed upon hearing Hailen's question, which seemed to contain a hint of concern despite being asked offhandedly.
A fragment of Hailen's warmth, unseen for three years, or perhaps even longer.
Fearing that the slightest misstep might cause it to disappear, Gailront struggled to conceal the pounding of his heart, exhibiting a clumsiness unbecoming of one believed to possess the ability to control every pore of his body, from head to toe, if need be.
In that moment, Gailront genuinely worried. What if his trembling breath or wavering voice betrayed his inner turmoil?
"I asked for a precise answer."
"...It was just a shard that got lodged in my back."
Though the words themselves sounded cold and detached, Hailen's voice carried a different tone.
Hailen's gaze turned towards Gailront's unseen back.
'Of all places, his back.'
Hailen's furrowed brow was not solely due to concern.
Recently, in an effort to discern the future situation, he had been trying to recall memories from his previous life. Perhaps even his nightmares stemmed from this very reason.
Therefore, mentioning a wound on the back, especially if the subject was Gailront, would inevitably bring forth a certain memory. A memory of the cruel and merciless way he had driven Gailront away, carving a mark onto his back, in stark contrast to their present lives.
Though their lives had long since diverged from that forgotten existence, and Hailen would have overlooked the mark on Gailront's back had he not mentioned it, he could not easily dismiss even the slightest hint of recollection from his previous life.
Especially when an unexpected reality unfolded, like a jousting match gone awry.
Was it because the subject that unsettled Hailen's ever-rational demeanor stood before him?
Suddenly, a fierce urge arose within Hailen. He had to see it with his own eyes.
Being a noble Young Duke, he neither had to restrain such desires nor any reason to do so. Thus, he made an abrupt demand of Gailront.
Despite his exceptional hearing leaving no doubt, Gailront's face betrayed a momentary lapse in composure as he repeated the words in disbelief.
Across from him, Hailen's demeanor was the very embodiment of serenity, having swiftly concealed any displeasure, causing Gailront to reassess if he had indeed misheard.
However, the voice that followed made it clear he had not.
"Are you now refusing to obey my command? Take it off and turn around. I wish to see this wound you claim to have sustained on my behalf."
As if considering it a mistake to continue speaking as if it were a given, Hailen's request was natural. So natural, in fact, that it was almost amusing to see the one receiving it falter.
Gailront froze, gazing at Hailen in an attempt to discern his intent, but his counterpart appeared to have no other motive.
It was a sincere request.
This brief moment with Hailen, the first in far too long—what would Gailront not do to avoid ruining it?
The hierarchy between the two had been established, and someone had assumed it would never change, even after a lifetime.
Thus, after a brief moment of confusion, Gailront had no choice but to obey Hailen's wishes.
Gailront, whose mere act of rising and turning around exuded an immense presence. It was only then that Hailen sensed something was amiss.
And the moment Gailront untied the knot atop the dark uniform he wore, the face that had been calmly enjoying the aroma of tea betrayed a look of startled dismay, as if realizing his mistake.
The disturbance vanished almost instantly, so quickly that even Gailront, who missed not a single nuance of Hailen's expressions, failed to notice it—likely due to his own heightened agitation in this bewildering situation.
In the silence that followed, the only sound was that of Gailront disrobing his upper garments.
Even Hailen, who had made this sudden request, could not fathom how they had arrived at this situation.
The fully matured male torso, belonging to one who had trained rigorously for well over a decade, was so densely packed with muscle that his massive shoulder blades seemed too small to contain it all. While his imposing physique had been somewhat discernible through his stiff uniform, seeing it in person exuded an overwhelming presence.
Despite vaguely recalling having seen parts of Gailront's bare form in some dimly lit cave from his hazy memories, Hailen still felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity.
Though one might have envied such a physique from a perspective that once admired physical prowess, or even felt repulsed by it due to ingrained habits, in that moment, what pierced Hailen's eyes were the few reddened wounds nestled around the area tracing the contours of each muscle, indicating their very existence. The wounds, emanating the herbal aroma he had just inhaled and left uncovered by even a medical cloth, spoke of how razor-sharp the sword fragments that nearly struck him directly had been.
And Hailen, striving to erase the strange feeling within him, endeavored to revive his original purpose.
'Is it in the same location?'
While an ordinary person might have felt pity upon witnessing another's wounds, imagining the suffering they had endured, Hailen merely scanned through something from the memory that had irked him.
The place where he had carved words filled with insults. In his previous life, he had been the cruel one who had ordered it and even confirmed it with his own eyes. Hence, despite the time that had passed, it remained so vivid.
A scar etched in the same spot.
There had been such a day, vaguely remembered. Despite living a different life by turning back his life, there were things that did not change, as if reminding him of the truth.
Just as Lana had spoken the truth to him once more, and a woman had sought his dimly lit bedchamber in the ducal estate. Even this jousting match. Events akin to his previous life, though not entirely identical, with an eerie twist, were unfolding.
Seeing the wound on Gailront's back naturally brought forth such occurrences.
Gailront, who had turned around and was tensing up at the act of disrobing his upper garments in someone else's bedchamber in broad daylight, was a deep contemplation that he did not even consider. Whether he knew that the other's every nerve was focused on his very breath, despite the distance between them.
Instead of the strange feeling he had completely shaken off, Hailen rose, immersing himself in the memories of the past.
For him, it was merely an approach to get a closer look at the wound, but who knows how the recipient perceived it.
"Thanks to your arranging for me to receive treatment from the healers... it will heal soon."
If a scar were to remain there, it would truly feel strange. Hailen recalled the ancient words Kasper had scrawled on Gailront's face in an attempt to torment him when they were children. He had become despondent then, wondering if the future would never change.
Now, as Hailen who no longer succumbed to such despair, he could not remain indifferent upon seeing Gailront's wounds in the same location.
Without realizing it, Hailen's pale hand reached out.
The moment it touched the area riddled with numerous wounds, the massive frame jolted as if startled by the touch. It was as if Hailen's light touch felt like a searing torture device.
The reason for such a reaction was evident without needing to ask.
Although Hailen had not yet recalled it, Gailront's agitation forced him to recollect the feelings this large man harbored for him.
The area near Gailront's shoulder, which gradually reddened from Hailen's touch, contrasted starkly with Hailen's slender fingers despite their proximity allowing the color change to be visible.
Hailen, who had indulged in various pleasures and nocturnal pursuits in his previous life, was no innocent man. Even if he preferred simplicity and plainness due to his circumstances, he had seen and heard much.
Was Gailront, bold enough to shield himself from incoming sword fragments, truly aroused by such a mere touch?
Hailen let out an incredulous chuckle.
Perhaps sensing the exhaled breath amidst that laughter, Gailront jolted once more. But thanks to that, the wound on his back was no longer of interest to Hailen.
As if the minor concern of having Gailront directly undress had vanished, Hailen reverted to his usual self, his sharp gaze filled with nothing but scorn and mockery as he looked upon Gailront.
Especially after facing the desire that remained unchanged, or rather, showed no signs of changing, even after the three-year gap, the defensive mechanism that had only sought to flee from intense emotions was revived.
"Ha, what a pitiful sight for one called the Sword Master."
With just those words, Gailront knew that the other had sensed what he was feeling.
His every nerve was focused on the figure behind his bared back. The closing distance, the breath that seemed to caress him, the chill of those fingertips.
Gailront had tried to conceal his feelings, fearing a repeat of the past if Hailen knew his heart. But the very act of concealing something made him shudder. Once the shackles were undone, how difficult it was to refasten them.
In the end, he was discovered like this.
Gailront uttered his words, struggling to hide his ardor. Ever since Hailen had addressed him again, he had bared his sincere core without any shame or embarrassment.
"Even if you call it pitiful, my desire for you, Hailen, will not cease."
"You desire me? So you would discard your knightly vows and conscience to lead the charge into war, all for mere lust? How amusing, to be ensnared by such base desire."
Gailront abruptly turned his body, wanting to say it was more than just desire.
In the bright sunlight streaming through the window, Hailen's gaze momentarily averted from Gailront's chiseled torso. Yet, puzzled by his own aversion, he soon lifted his head to meet Gailront's dark eyes.
And as he looked up at Hailen, in that moment, Gailront unknowingly forgot the words he should have spoken.
That color. No matter where this place was or what situation had just transpired, it forced him to forget everything. Even if someone heard it and stuck their tongue out, calling it childish, he thought the verdant hue reflected in Hailen's eyes played that very role.
Just meeting his gaze with leisure was enough to evoke a sense of profundity, as if naming a purpose that did not exist in this world.
As he took a step forward, an instinct deep within Gailront whispered to him.
Do not approach. Did he not know the result of indulging himself by drawing near without reason or purpose, satisfying a part of his desire?
It had been a prolonged drought and thirst. Had not the man named Hailen etched that deeply into Gailront? One misstep, one hand carelessly extended in an attempt to touch, and he would taste that suffering once more.
Even knowing this, his inability to stop was truly foolish. And it was even more sorrowful that he himself harbored such feelings.
Just as on that day when they had shared intimate breaths, the distance between them gradually narrowed. Despite the warning, Gailront continued to approach, and Hailen did not retreat as he had then.
However, the place and time were ill-suited.
"I don't think there has ever been a time when I resented my own instincts as I do now."
The deep, gruff voice that reverberated right beside his ear. Upon hearing those words, Hailen finally seemed to regain his senses and stepped back. He had vaguely grasped what Gailront was trying to convey.
Even without knocking on the thick bedroom door, who else could it be but Katrin, caught by the Sword Master's keen senses with her flustered movements?
The perceptive Duchess had sent her down as soon as she learned of her son's recovery.
Hailen concealed a cold smile at the thought of being swept up in that indecipherable atmosphere once again. It did not contain any disdain for the other's desire or dissatisfaction with the feelings Gailront spoke of.
Perhaps it was a slight realization he had known all along, and an acknowledgment that he could no longer turn a blind eye to it.
However, even if that were the case—
"If your business is concluded, then this meeting must come to an end."
He had no intention of expressing that to the one before him.
Revealing it once more would only display the nonchalant demeanor of the Young Duke, would it not?
Gailront had no choice but to accept the other's elegant farewell, having abandoned any futile expectations.
For even those parting words were too much for him to bear.



Chapter 91
Hailen had to face many people as soon as he recovered.
After all, he had collapsed during a jousting match hosted by the Imperial family, and his opponent was none other than the crown prince of a foreign nation. Many were eager to seize the opportunity to glean any information they could.
Aside from the disputes that the Oklan Kingdom was deliberately trying to provoke, many sought to meet him to congratulate the recovery of a high-ranking noble and one of the central powers of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Hailen, who was accustomed to dealing with various individuals and their complex relationships, found his schedule overwhelmingly packed for someone who had just recently gotten out of bed. Even his attendant, Kelvin, was alarmed and tried to dissuade him.
In reality, if Hailen didn't want to, he could have declined some of these meetings without any issue. However, he endured the fatigue and accepted most of the requests, likely to fully grasp the current situation.
It even led him to the Imperial Palace.
"Tsk, I thought he was just watching from the sidelines, but my father is truly an inscrutable man."
Despite summoning Hailen, the future Duke of Emmast, to the palace, the Emperor had only one thing to say.
"I hope this serves as an opportunity to dispel any concerns about the future sword of the Empire."
Whether this statement was a warning to Oklan, a reminder that Emmast, as a symbol of the Empire's military might, should not show weakness, or if there was another hidden meaning, even his own son, Daniel, couldn't guess.
With Oklan revealing its suspicious intentions centered around the jousting match, opinions were divided, and Daniel couldn't help but feel frustrated with such a secretive father.
Daniel, Ray, and Hailen were currently in the First Prince's Palace, where they could speak freely without worrying about prying eyes. Ray was displeased with Daniel's criticism of the Emperor in front of the Young Duke.
"How can you presume to know His Majesty's intentions?"
Despite ensuring no one could eavesdrop, Hailen's response left Daniel no choice but to close his mouth. Relieved that someone could handle his master's difficult manner of speaking, Ray quickly changed the subject.
"By the way, are you really fully recovered?"
"Ray, I should have asked first, but you beat me to it."
After holding Daniel's hand, Hailen realized that the master and servant were closer than he had thought in private moments. Perhaps it was due to their special relationship as cousins. It was something he hadn't anticipated in his previous life.
He had even witnessed Ray casually addressing his master as "Danny" on one occasion.
"Seeing Ray Melbourne flustered was quite amusing."
He speculated that such scenes were entirely thanks to Daniel's abilities. The First Prince had a unique charm that made others lower their guard. At least in this regard, Hailen acknowledged his talent.
"If I had known you'd recover so quickly, I would have brought flowers and visited the Duke's residence earlier."
Such jokes stemming from that charm were something Hailen found utterly distasteful.
"As I mentioned to His Majesty, my injury was exaggerated. Of course, if Your Highness had visited, I would have welcomed you gladly. I also appreciate your concern, Ray."
Despite the positive words, there was a steely resolve behind them, as if nothing could penetrate Hailen's defenses. He had grown accustomed to brushing off Daniel's playful remarks, and today was no different. Daniel's attempt to draw out some friendliness from Hailen failed once again.
Daniel felt a pang of regret as he noticed Ray's expression, which clearly indicated that any more idle chatter would not be tolerated.
Since Hailen had aligned himself with the First Prince both internally and externally, the three of them met frequently. After the light conversation passed, they focused on topics that no one else should hear.
Ray was the first to speak.
"I believe Oclan wants a war with the Empire."
"Starting strong, aren't you? Ray, that's quite bold of you."
Given the gravity of the topic, Daniel could no longer joke around and took a seat with a smile. Behind that cheerful smile, many thoughts were hidden. Daniel was always keenly aware of the happenings within the Imperial family.
The sudden provocations from the Oclan delegation were seen by many as a move to gain something through their aggressive stance. Some thought it was a tactic to gain an advantage in the ongoing marriage negotiations.
However, the two men present had a much more definitive view. Hailen, following Ray's lead, spoke up.
"If even you think so, Hailen, this could become quite troublesome. The situation in the South is already chaotic enough."
"As Your Highness mentioned, it's unlikely they would challenge the Empire while the South is unstable. There might be some secret agreements among the Southern kingdoms."
"Is that the assumption in Emmast as well? Is that why you suggested further investigation into the South, Ray?"
"...Have you discovered something on your own, Ray?"
Hailen's question to Ray was casual, but internally, he was surprised. He knew Ray, the strategist for the First Prince, had access to a lot of information, but he hadn't expected him to uncover the hidden truth so quickly.
The reason Oclan could consider war with the Empire was because they had secretly allied with the Jenard Kingdom, despite their outwardly hostile relationship.
Hailen knew this only because of his memories from his previous life. But Ray had deduced it solely from the current political climate and the information he had.
'Did he figure out my secret through similar reasoning?'
Suppressing the rising sense of caution towards Ray, Hailen carefully chose the information he would share in this conversation.
Daniel's expression clearly showed how troublesome the upcoming events would be. The First Prince's faction would prioritize preventing the war at all costs.
But Hailen's desires were different. Hadn't he been longing for this war, to the point of ignoring the guilt buried deep in his subconscious?
Kaile, who secretly felt relieved by his own clever words, Roger, who still believed they could change their course, and the specters from his recent nightmares all flashed through his mind.
And finally, the vivid image of Gailront.
'Even if I try to stop it, this war won't be prevented.'
Even if this thought was a rationalization to ignore his guilt, it was the reality Hailen saw.
Moreover, for what he wanted, the man with the golden eyes in front of him had to play a crucial role in the upcoming war.
"If our suspicions are correct, it will be difficult to prevent a war with Oclan. After crossing swords with the Crown Prince, I realized that his ambition is as formidable as the kingdom itself."
"Your words worry me even more, Young Duke."
"I've always known your judgment of people is as sharp as mine."
"To be honest, while His Highness may prefer a more diplomatic approach, I believe we must also prepare for war."
"Is that your personal opinion, Young Duke, or the stance of Emmast?"
Ray's question wasn't due to lingering distrust of Hailen. If war broke out, Emmast would undoubtedly benefit the most, something neither faction of the Princes desired.
Daniel didn't stop his sharp-eyed cousin, who was as wary as a cat, because he was curious about the Duke's intentions. The answer wouldn't be a simple 'yes' or 'no.'
"Given how much you all are wary of our family, shouldn't we take the lead in the war? If everything is entrusted to Emmast, it wouldn't be a loss for me."
"Hmm, using the war to gain an advantage. Hailen, you certainly paint me as a villain."
"Though His Highness may disapprove, it seems the Young Duke and I are in agreement."
"This is quite something..."
In front of the Prince, who was essentially the leader of their faction, Hailen boldly stated that his loyal followers might act differently if necessary. Daniel couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity and the intrigue it sparked in him.
Ray's lack of objection to this statement left no room for dissent.
And no matter how much Daniel spoke of the ideal goal of 'peace,' what he ultimately desired was something grounded in reality.
His sharp golden eyes scanned the beautiful man roughly, knowing his subordinate would understand his intentions without words.
In the brief moment of tension, what thoughts did the three men organize in their minds?
It was Daniel, returning to his usual breezy self, who broke the silence.
"At least I understand that I'm a hindrance to this conversation. I'm quite good at stepping aside when like-minded people are talking. I might as well take this opportunity to probe my enigmatic father's intentions."
"Until next time, Your Highness."
"As I always say, I wish you'd drop the tedious formalities next time, Hailen."
"...It's never easy, no matter how much time passes."
Daniel's steps were light as he rose and left the room, despite the heavy topic of 'war' that had been discussed. He showed no hesitation in leaving the two guests behind in his own palace.
As the door closed silently, the smile on Hailen's lips deepened.
The real conversation was about to begin.
Three years of separation. It could be seen as a long or short time, depending on one's perspective.
During that period, Gailront had to endure emotional turmoil that could only be described as a trial. He despaired in front of an insurmountable wall, and in endless sorrow, he regretted his past.
Ultimately, he grew and changed through this time of endurance, strengthening his resolve for what he desired.
But what about the one who had so casually discarded his one-sided affection?
Given that Hailen, despite his rationality, felt subconscious guilt, it was impossible to deny that question.
It was only after facing Gailront, who declared he wanted nothing but him and was willing to deny his own beliefs for it, that Hailen realized something.
Would that be the love Gailront so desperately sought to reclaim?
"You seem to have something to say to me."
Hailen gave Ray a moment to gather his thoughts as he looked at him seriously. Whether it was out of caution for what he was about to say or a tactic to make Ray anxious, it certainly made Ray tense.
Despite the time they had spent working together, Hailen, the Young Duke, was still a formidable figure to Ray.
"As you know, neither the Prince nor I like to beat around the bush. Let's make a deal."
Even though they shared the same goal of placing their Prince on the throne, Ray couldn't help but be wary of Hailen.
And Hailen's proposal was something Ray hadn't anticipated.
"I'll make sure Sir Gailont—no, Gail—pledges his sword to the Prince."
"Are you saying that, Young Duke?"
Among the strategies Ray had considered to bring the Sword Master to their side, involving the Young Duke had once been an option.
But that had become a thing of the past. Contrary to his confidence, the relationship between the two seemed to have reached a breaking point. Despite the outward appearances, Ray, who kept a close watch on Hailen's every move, knew this well.
Ray involuntarily recalled the recent jousting tournament. The image of a knight throwing himself in front of the Young Duke.
Could it be that the seemingly emotionless Young Duke was moved by that act, leading to a reestablishment of their relationship?
Oclan's intentions were sharp enough for Hailen to acknowledge, but Ray's guess was clumsy and wrong.
Not long ago, when Gailront came to him, unable to hide his feelings and practically baring his soul, Hailen realized something he hadn't expressed in front of him—
'If Gail's feelings are truly genuine, I can definitely use them.'
Cruelly enough, that was it.
And now, using the sincerity he had come to fully believe in, he had no hesitation in proposing such a deal.



Chapter 92
Hailen had to face many people as soon as he recovered his strength.
The incident where he lost consciousness and collapsed was during a horse riding competition hosted by the imperial palace, and his opponent was none other than the crown prince of a foreign country. There were plenty of people looking for an opportunity to hear about it.
Apart from the controversies that the Kingdom of Oclan deliberately stirred up, there were also many who requested a meeting to celebrate the recovery of a high-ranking nobleman who was one of the two major powers in the Central Diplomatic Department.
Although Hailen was used to dealing with various people and their complex relationships, his schedule after recently getting out of bed was too packed. His attendant, Kelvin, was so alarmed that he tried to dissuade him.
It was clear that Hailen could have refused some of the requests without any trouble if he didn't want to, but he accepted most of them, braving his fatigue. It was probably a move to get a perfect grasp of the current situation.
To the extent that he was summoned to the imperial palace.
"Tsk, I thought he was just observing, but my father is truly an inscrutable man."
Despite summoning Hailen, the future Duke of Emmast, to the imperial palace, the only words the Emperor spoke were:
'I hope this will be an opportunity to put to rest any concerns about the state of the Young Duke, who will become the Empire's sword in the future.'
Whether that statement was a warning to Oclan, or a reminder that as the embodiment of the Empire's military might, Emmast should not show weakness, or if there was another hidden meaning behind those words, even his own son Daniel could not fathom.
With Oclan revealing its suspicious intentions surrounding the horse riding competition, opinions were divided, and Daniel could not help but feel dissatisfied with his father, who still concealed his true thoughts.
Daniel, Ray, and Hailen were currently in none other than the Crown Prince's Palace, so at least they could speak their minds without worrying about others. However, Ray found Daniel's disparaging remarks about the Emperor in front of the Young Duke unpleasant.
"How could I dare to speculate on His Majesty's intentions?"
Even though Hailen's response left no room for further probing, as if he had sealed off any ears that might be eavesdropping, it was Daniel who had no choice but to keep his mouth shut. Ray swiftly changed the subject, relieved to have someone who could handle his master's habit of speaking his mind.
"By the way, have you truly recovered completely?"
"Ray, I was about to ask you the same thing. Are you trying to beat me to it?"
After taking Daniel's hand, Hailen realized that the relationship between the master and servant was more intimate during private moments than he had expected in his previous life. Perhaps it was due to their special bond as cousins, which was something he had never anticipated before.
In particular, he had once witnessed Ray addressing his master as 'Danny' while speaking to him casually.
'It was quite amusing to see Ray Melbourne flustered like that.'
Hailen surmised that such scenes were likely due to Daniel's ability as the Crown Prince, possessing a unique charm that could put others at ease. At least, Hailen acknowledged him in that regard.
"If I had known you would recover this quickly, I would have brought flowers and visited the Duke's residence earlier."
However, such jokes stemming from that charm were precisely what irked Hailen.
"As I mentioned to His Majesty, the extent of my injury was exaggerated. Of course, if you had visited, I would have welcomed you gladly. I'll gladly accept your concern as well."
Despite his positive words, his intent was as impenetrable as a needle unable to pierce through. By now, Hailen easily brushed off Daniel's teasing tone directed at him. Once again, Daniel failed to elicit a friendly response from Hailen.
Sensing Ray's demeanor indicating that he would not tolerate any further waste of time, Daniel reluctantly retreated, regretting his inability to make further progress.
In any case, after Hailen became one of the Crown Prince's men, both internally and externally, meetings between these three became inevitable. After some light conversation, they would focus on discussions that no one else should hear.
Ray was the first to speak.
"I believe Oclan desires war with the Empire."
"Starting off strong, I see. That's an unusually bold statement from you, Ray."
Given the gravity of the conversation, Daniel, who could no longer indulge in jokes, sat down with a smile.
In truth, his refreshing smile concealed many things. After all, Daniel was the one who listened most attentively to the comings and goings within the imperial palace.
The sudden provocative attitude of the Oclan delegation was seen by most who lent a hand to the Empire from the Central Department as them strongly asserting their demands. Or, it was said to be an attempt to gain a more advantageous position in the original purpose of the royal marriage process.
However, the two men present here were making remarkably different claims. Of course, one of them was Hailen, following up on Ray's words.
"I agree with Ray's statement."
"If even you think so, Hailen, this will be quite a headache. With the chaos already happening in the south, I wonder what their intentions are."
"As Your Highness mentioned, it is unlikely they would provoke the Empire while the situation in the south is unstable. There may be something brewing under the surface among the southern kingdoms."
"So Emmast also suspects as much. That's why you said we need to investigate the south further, Ray."
"...Did you uncover something, Ray?"
Hailen's question to Ray carried a strange expression, but in truth, he was inwardly astonished.
He knew that Ray, essentially the Crown Prince's secretary, had access to similar or even greater amounts of information than himself. However, he did not expect Ray to approach the hidden truth this quickly.
The reason Oclan could contemplate war with the Empire was none other than the fact that while outwardly maintaining a hostile relationship with the Kingdom of Generd, they were secretly joining hands behind the scenes.
And the only reason Hailen could know this was entirely thanks to the memories from his previous life. Yet this man named Ray had deduced this merely from the current situation and the information he possessed.
'Was it a similar inference that led him to discover my secret?'
Suppressing the instinctive wariness rising towards him, Hailen carefully selected the information he would divulge here.
Just as Daniel's appearance clearly showed his frustration at the impending war, the Crown Prince's faction would prioritize preventing the war from breaking out by any means necessary.
However, Hailen's desire was different. Wasn't he longing for this war to the extent of disregarding the unconscious guilt hidden within himself for his own sake?
The phantoms from the recent nightmare he had—Kailre inwardly relieved at his indecisiveness, Roger telling him he could still change his choice, and the lingering afterimage of Gailront—flashed through his mind.
'Even if I try to stop it, this war won't be prevented anyway.'
Even if this thought was a rationalization to ignore his own guilt, that was the reality Hailen perceived.
Moreover, for what he desired, the man before him holding the golden chalice had to play a crucial role in the impending war.
"If the speculation is true, a war with Oclan will be difficult to prevent easily. After crossing swords directly with the Crown Prince, I realized that just as his arrogance, the kingdom itself is no pushover."
"Your words only deepen my concerns, Young Duke."
"I have long sensed that your eye for judging people is no less accurate than mine."
"To be frank, while His Highness may prefer a more peaceful solution, I believe we also need to prepare for war."
"Is that your personal opinion, or the stance of Emmast?"
It was unlikely that Ray's questioning stemmed from any lingering distrust towards Hailen. If war broke out, it was clear that Emmast would benefit the most in the Empire, and neither of the princes' factions desired that.
Daniel did not stop his cousin, who had become as sharp as a wary cat, because he was curious about the intentions of the ducal house. However, the answer he received was not a simple 'yes' or 'no.'
"To the extent that you are keeping our family in check, should we not seize the initiative in the impending war? If everyone leaves it to Emmast, it would not be a loss for me."
"Hmm, to profit from the war. You are making me out to be a villain in many ways, Hailen."
"Your Highness may find it unpleasant, but it seems Ray and I are in agreement."
In front of the prince, who could be considered the master of their factions, they were boldly stating that their subordinates would act differently if necessary. Daniel let out a wry laugh, finding the situation absurd yet strangely intriguing.
Ray had already refrained from objecting to this statement, leaving no room for dissuasion.
And no matter how idealistic the goal of 'peace' was proclaimed, what Daniel ultimately desired was something rooted in reality.
His sharp golden eyes scanned the ruggedly handsome man. Even without words, his subordinate understood his intentions.
After a brief tension, each of the three men must have organized their thoughts.
The one who broke the silence was Daniel, once again returning to his refreshing self.
"At least I understand that I am a hindrance to this conversation. I am confident in my ability to immerse myself in the discussion between like-minded individuals. I should also try to discern my enigmatic father's true intentions."
"I shall see you again, Your Highness."
"As I always say, it would be nice if you could drop the stifling formalities next time, Hailen."
"...It really doesn't get any easier, even with time."
Daniel's steps as he left the room seemed lighter than one would expect from someone who had just heard the word 'war.' He showed no hesitation in leaving the two guests behind in the palace that belonged to him as its master.
As the door closed without a sound, the smile on Hailen's lips deepened, signaling that the real conversation was only just beginning.
Three years of separation. It could be considered a long or short period of time, depending on one's perspective.
During that time, Gailront had to endure an emotional journey that could aptly be described as an ordeal. He had despaired before the thick wall that was Hailen's one-sided gaze, and he had regretted the past amidst a sorrow that seemed to have no end.
Ultimately, he grew, changed, and gained the determination he needed to pursue his desires through that time of hardship.
If that was the case, could the one who had so casually discarded Gailront's one-sided affection have remained unchanged?
As long as Hailen was a 'person' who, unlike Gailront, unconsciously felt guilt, that question could not be denied.
The realization that Gailront desired only him, and that he could even deny his own beliefs for that desire—this was something Hailen had only come to understand after facing him.
Was that truly the returned affection that Gailront had longed for so deeply?
"It seems you have something to say to me."
Seeing Ray looking at him intently now that they were alone, Hailen allowed a brief pause. Whether it was out of deliberation for the words to come or a tactic to keep Ray on edge, it certainly succeeded in making him tense.
Despite the time they had spent coordinating their efforts, the Young Duke Hailen was not someone Ray could take lightly.
"As you know, Ray, I'm not one for beating around the bush. Let's make a deal, straight and simple."
Even though they shared the same goal of placing their prince on the throne, it was understandable for Ray to remain wary of Hailen, given the difficulty of their situation.
And the proposal that followed from Hailen was something Ray had not anticipated.
"Make Gail... no, Gailront swear his sword to His Highness."
"You mean the Young Duke?"
Among the various measures Ray had considered to make the man known as the Sword Master one of his master's people, the Young Duke before him had been included at one point.
However, that had become a thing of the past. Contrary to his self-assurance, the relationship between the two seemed to have reached a disastrous end. Unlike the outward appearance he tried to project, Ray was well aware of the need to be cautious about Hailen's every move and action.
Ray inadvertently recalled the recent horse riding competition. The image of a knight who had thrown himself in front of the Young Duke to block his path.
Perhaps the Young Duke, who did not exude a shred of human warmth, had been moved by that act, leading to a re-establishment of their relationship.
However, Ray's speculation was crudely mistaken, unlike Hailen's sharp deductions regarding Oclan's intentions that he had acknowledged.
Not long ago, when Gailront had visited him, unable to hide his heart and baring it naked before him, Hailen had realized a certain intention that he had not expressed in front of Gailront:
'If Gail's feelings are truly sincere, I can certainly make use of them.'
Cruelly, that was the extent of it.
And now, having fully believed in the sincerity of the other party, he did not hesitate in the slightest to propose such a deal, exploiting those genuine feelings.



Chapter 93
Unaware of Hailen's cruel realization, Ray asked again.
"If you can truly make Gailront the Duke... your man, what is the price for this deal?"
Even though this person named Ray did not seem to prioritize nobility etiquette and emphasized efficiency instead, he was not a merchant. Even if he talked about a 'deal', he had no reason or intention to bargain with the Young Duke, who was on the same side.
Moreover, in a situation where the reality of war could approach them without their knowledge, the existence of the Imperial Sword Master, which was not simply a number of soldiers but another military force of knights, was important in order to gain possession of it.
Coincidentally, Baylor Brune, known as a hero who could play a similar role, was someone close to the Second Prince in terms of his disposition. Currently, as the First Prince's forces were stronger, he was maintaining neutrality and watching the situation, but Ray knew that if any opportunity arose, he would change his mind at once.
So wouldn't the existence of Gailront become even more important to them?
In the midst of this, the deal with Hailen, which increased that possibility, was a proposal that they had no reason to question or refuse.
"You can easily guess what I want. For that, all the nobility has to do is lend a hand?"
"You still haven't told me what the Young Duke wants."
Ever since Hailen joined the First Prince's side, he had been talking about it.
What did he personally want, even though he was a high-ranking nobleman and held the precious position of Young Duke? Ray had tried to find out, but he still couldn't even guess.
At best, it was speculated to be a power struggle with the Duke, but judging from his actual actions, it was difficult to be certain.
"As I said before, when the time comes, I'll tell His Highness directly."
"And I'll just have to lend a hand in that place. It's fine as long as it doesn't harm the master I serve."
"Good. Then let's consider this deal done."
There was not a hint of worry on Hailen's face about how to persuade Gailront, the condition he had set for the deal. It was a confidence that even Ray, who had noticed Gailront's personal feelings towards him, would find perplexing.
Or perhaps Ray felt a strange sense of pity for that man, the Sword Master, because he could relate to his situation. Hailen's attitude, which seemed to regard Gailront as nothing more than a mere chess piece, struck an odd chord despite his unfamiliarity with emotional fluctuations.
Even so, for Ray, his top priority was Daniel, and for his sake, he could easily disregard such petty sympathy.
"I heard Gail was disciplined for an incident at the jousting tournament. Can you arrange for him to stay by my side during that period?"
"Given the circumstances, it's a sufficient pretext. I'll inform His Highness."
That was all Hailen offered to persuade the knight who had wasted years of Ray's time. As if there was no need for further discussion, he spoke of Oclan's movements, and his counterpart easily brushed aside any lingering unease.
Perhaps Ray himself resembled the person before him, who regarded someone as a mere tool for his goals.
In a place where a warm fire was burning, heralding the approaching winter. The reception room, still unbelievable as an underground area, was the underground liaison point for meeting the Master of the Information Guild.
Hailen was sipping tea with a scent that perfectly suited his taste, waiting for the person he was to meet. He was someone entirely unaccustomed to waiting for others, but today he had decided to forgive the other party easily.
The reason lay in the conversation that followed.
"My apologies for making the Young Duke wait."
"It was I who gave sudden notice of my visit, so I'll overlook it just this once. I'm sure you're in a busy situation."
"...Thank you for your understanding, Young Duke."
What could be the reason for Paison, who used to enjoy the other party's agitation behind a fake face, to be so visibly flustered to that extent?
Hailen, who had been observing Paison's unfamiliar appearance that he had never seen even in his previous life, recalled how Paison had proudly informed him of the national marriage he had been unaware of not long ago. He also remembered the information about Prince Oclan that Paison had shared with him. How much had he paid for those?
And now that it had been revealed that most of it was a disguise by Oclan, Paison would have to pay a price several times greater than the wealth he had received.
It was mischievous, but that was what was making Hailen's current mood pleasant.
"These are the newly investigated matters regarding the Prince."
"Even though we couldn't grasp it before, did you manage to find anything by spending time on it?"
"We've discovered circumstances suggesting that they had already set up the deception even before the delegation entered the Empire."
"It means they had been planning it long before we thought."
The war in the south had been ongoing since Hailen was attending the academy. If he were to consider that even that was part of the Kingdom's grand scheme, it would be natural for the Information Guild, which had focused more on the internal strife within the Empire before the chaos in the south, to have been misled.
Despite not being seriously injured and the tournament itself ending in a no-contest due to the accident, Hailen could not easily forget the Prince's fiery gaze that resembled flames.
The intense excitement akin to madness contained within it as well.
Even though inflicting a deep wound on the Young Duke of Emmast, the Imperial Sword, was part of a rationally devised plan, did his actions of charging at him to take one of his green eyes not seem sincere?
As Hailen listened to Paison's following words, he could confirm just how insane the Prince, Blake, truly was.
"From the beginning, the reputation of the Crown Prince was fabricated. In reality, despite being only twenty-one years old, he is said to have an exceptionally cruel disposition. There were rumors circulating within the palace that he was the culprit behind the death of the Crown Princess. It was because of this nature that he became estranged from his father, the King."
"The seeds of a tyrant, it seems."
"As the Kingdom's national power grew with Oclan emerging as the key to the southern war, there are forces advocating for establishing order in the south and proclaiming a new dynasty."
"With the Crown Prince at the forefront, I presume?"
Even if it was information from a foreign country across the sea, the Information Guild under Paison's command boasted capabilities on par with the Empire's central agencies. That was why Hailen had chosen him after returning, likely spending a considerable fortune.
For such an organization to be deceived, was it truly possible even if they had prepared in advance?
'It means they are formidable.'
In the end, a war was about to unfold, and since the result was the Empire's victory, he might have taken it lightly. Perhaps he had avoided contemplating it seriously to escape the overwhelming guilt from the immense sacrifices.
He had merely intended to profit from exploiting the war—
Yet, a sense of foreboding gradually welled up within Hailen's heart. Apart from finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the subconscious guilt, he had an ominous premonition that the altered future and the Crown Prince's unsettling presence might change the outcome of the war.
That was why he needed it even more.
More than anything, he needed the individual who had ruthlessly swept away that war in the past.
"To make amends, you'll need to provide me with even more information. And... look into an individual among the Imperial nobility named Benedik."
Even as he issued a warning and a new request to Paison, his thoughts drifted, inevitably consumed by the name Gailront that had occupied his mind.
At least the unpleasantness he felt towards Gailront's heart had subsided to the extent that he was confident he could use him. But was it not natural to question whether this path was right?
Perhaps it was because of such musings. Hailen easily overlooked the other party's agitation, which he would have noticed under normal circumstances.
That it occurred simultaneously with the name 'Benedik'.
Thanks to the false mask, Paison quickly regained his original composure, so Hailen failed to notice it until the moment he left.
"The Captain summoned you?"
"Don't tell me you're getting demoted on top of being disciplined?"
It was Gailront who had received the punishment, but Nohan and Marina were the ones making a fuss.
As usual, the three had gathered at the Orlanga residence, and upon hearing that Gailront, who was under disciplinary confinement, would meet the Knight Captain Driye tomorrow, they were in an uproar.
It was understandable, as Nohan had been the one who had thrown the biggest tantrum after Gailront was punished with disciplinary confinement for entering the jousting tournament without permission. Even though he had risked his life to protect the precious Young Duke, he was reprimanded for his mistake before his merits.
He had immediately shared this news with Marina, and she, with her fiery temper, had been running around, claiming it was unreasonable.
Gailront recalled Driye, the Captain of the Imperial Knights, whom he was to meet. Strictly speaking, he was not his direct superior, but the Captain of the knights who served the Emperor prioritized personal protection over command duties. Therefore, Gailront and the other knights directly serving the Emperor received orders from Driye, just like the regular Imperial Knights.
However, that did not mean they were on familiar terms. Moreover, there were many within the highly political Imperial Knights who disliked Gailront.
Perhaps one of them was the Captain of the Imperial Knights.
"This time, don't just accept it without objection. You should seek an audience with the Young Duke instead."
It was only natural for Nohan to feel exasperated by his indifferent friend who seemed unconcerned about the unreasonable punishment. In the end, Gailront even brought up the person he cared about the most.
'Would it be enough to just have him treated by a high-ranking priest?'
Nohan had long harbored resentment towards the Young Duke, whose status was on a completely different level from his own, and only recently had he felt pity for Gailront, who unilaterally sought meetings with him. Eventually, his dissatisfaction had to come out like this.
Gailront's gaze fell upon Nohan, who seemed ready to say something harsh about Hailen at first glance. If it had been someone else, he might have shown not just a stern look but also an intimidating demeanor.
If Nohan had noticed this reaction, which had now become almost instinctive, he would have felt deeply hurt by his friend's behavior. Fortunately, he was able to overlook it easily.
"Enough, let's stop. Nohan. We're still not sure why the Knights summoned Gailront. But if they give him another unreasonable punishment, I'll ask our mentor to protest, even if I have to beg him."
Marina sighed as if she had no choice but to change the subject, sensing Gailront's mood. In truth, her words also reflected her sincere intentions. Since Nord had started establishing connections with the First Prince's people beyond his ties with Hailen, she judged that he would help, even if it was difficult.
"...Thank you for your concern."
Before Gailront could continue with his usual curt tone, Marina cut him off, perhaps anticipating he might say 'but'.
"By the way, I heard you met Roger recently? I see Kelvin occasionally, but Roger never shows his face to me. How has he been doing?"
"I don't know. He appeared after years and started spouting dangerous nonsense. Well, it's true that's why this guy saved the Young Duke, but Mari, you should look into it."
Nohan couldn't help but ponder after the jousting tournament as well. The excessive behavior of Oclan's delegation and their intentions were the most pressing issues at the moment, and it was inevitable that related discussions would seep into the Imperial Knights.
Moreover, those who called themselves knights had to be prepared for any potential situation, as they possessed military might. To the extent that conspiracy theories were even being raised about the possibility of the winds of war reaching the Empire.
However, there was no need to deliberately cause unease by conveying uncertain rumors. Thus, Nohan tried to smooth things over and mumble vaguely.
"With the southern war dragging on, various rumors have been circulating within our knightly order as well. The Crown Prince of Oclan seemed suspicious... It would be a relief if he just left the Empire. With all this talk and that, it's become quite a mess."
"Hearing that, the Imperial Knights really don't seem like my cup of tea, despite being the dream of knights."
"Mari, are you saying that because you couldn't join?"
Fortunately, Marina responded in a playful manner, taking it lightly. Of course, that didn't mean she had completely let go of her concerns about her childhood friend, whom she found it difficult to obtain information from.
And it was Nord, the owner of the residence, who joined their conversation.
"The knightly order I'm assisting is also discussing the unease over the current situation. I don't think we can afford to be complacent and let our guard down."
Being older than them and often relying on him, not to mention Marina sincerely referring to him as her mentor, Nohan couldn't help but respond with "Is that so?" while trying to hide his gloomy tone, as his attempt to change the subject was thwarted by Nord.
"But no matter how prolonged the southern war becomes, do we here in the Imperial capital really need to worry about it, Mentor?"
"Well, I'm sure you two know more about it than a mere knight like me."
"I think Nord's words aren't wrong."
Had not Gailront already heard Hailen directly mention the war? Since he had stepped forward and declared that he would act according to Hailen's will if a war broke out before him, it was only natural that related thoughts would linger in his mind.
That was why Gailront, who would usually have been more reserved, now responded with an answer close to certainty.
Nohan clicked his tongue in resignation, ruffling his own hair. Although he did not wish to burden Marina, who was already preoccupied with her own affairs, with unnecessary unease, her mentor and even Gailront were taking this stance.
Thus, the conversation topic for this evening gradually shifted towards discussing rather serious matters.
Nohan took the lead, recounting information from the Imperial Knights that was not treated as confidential. Nord, who had recently established connections with various individuals, also shared what he knew.
As Gailront listened and pieced together the current situation, his thoughts drifted towards someone else.
Naturally, it was Hailen.
Was this recollection due to Hailen being the one who first brought up such a weighty subject? Or was it simply a habitual tendency to think of him as naturally as breathing?
One thing was certain, however: unlike the three years that had passed, the feeling of longing for the one he desired at this very moment was overwhelmingly joyful and blissful.
If one were to point out that the only thing Gailront had received from Hailen recently was cold sarcasm, it would indeed seem strange. If the others present here knew of such thoughts, they would undoubtedly find it pathetic.
Moreover, there was one piece of joyful news awaiting him soon—
Contrary to the heavy topic of war, Gailront's heart had recently become somewhat lighter.



Chapter 94
"You've arrived, Sir Gailront. I shall escort you to the Young Duke."
The attitude of Hubarot, the butler of the ducal manor, was very polite. It meant that for the time being, he would treat Gailront as more than just a guest. Just as when he had summoned him before under the pretext of treatment, today too his demeanor was the opposite of the unseen master's intentions, who had not even shown his face.
'This man is the son of Lana and Jacob? He doesn't resemble either of them.'
Of course, the thoughts that came to mind could only be personal. Above all, Lana was someone who had left a deep impression on him.
Even before getting close to her, Hubarot had been well aware of Lana’s family relations since she had become the Duchess's maid, so he was not unaware of Jacob's background either.
In truth, during the time Gailront had spent at the ducal manor, there was hardly any chance for him, a mere child servant, to cross paths with Hubarot, the long-serving butler of the ancient mansion. That's why, unlike some of the other servants standing behind him, trying hard to conceal their ambiguous expressions, he had no qualms about treating him with honor as a knight.
Unfortunately, not everyone was like Hubarot, and the gazes directed at Gailront did not disappear.
And Gailront himself, the subject of such varied attention, was not entirely composed if one delved into his innermost thoughts.
Just a few days ago, the atmosphere had been chaotic with the young master of the mansion collapsing, so there was no leisure to revive any special sentiments. For Gailront, this place, the ducal manor, had brought him both his fondest memories and perhaps his worst recollections. Even for someone like him who lived his life solely focused on Hailen, he couldn't help but be caught up in a bit of nostalgia.
'It's unbelievable how unchanged it remains, despite the passage of time.'
Perhaps meticulously maintaining without disturbing what had accumulated over such a long period was another way for the Emmast family to uphold their name. Gailront thought that this stillness, piled up layer upon layer, had gained formidable power.
The power to easily cover up the death of his father, Jacob.
Though he had resolved not to be ensnared by such musings, now that he had entered the ducal manor, it was not so easy. The fortunate thing, if one could call it that, was that more than negative feelings, a sense of anticipation occupied a much larger space in Gailront's heart.
When he had unexpectedly received the summons from the Order of Knights and met with Driye, the Captain of the Imperial Knights, while under confinement and receiving the concerns of those around him, how the order he received had made his heart race.
'It seems the Young Duke was impressed by my performance in the equestrian competition? In any case, I'm under confinement, and it's part of the Imperial Knights' duties to share responsibility for maintaining order within the capital. So being assigned to guard someone who recently had an accident shouldn't be an issue.'
Since those around him knew of Gailront's connection to the Emmasts, they must have thought the order came through the Crown Prince for some political reason. How much effort Gailront had to make to hold back his laughter when he heard that slightly disgruntled voice, something Driye himself would not have known.
Was it not Gailront who had been so happy to the point of getting goosebumps, just from receiving Hailen's gaze and hearing his voice, putting an end to the long separation he had endured?
Moreover, the dream of becoming a knight to that angelic young master, devoting his life to protecting his lord, remained unchanged within him even now. The hope that it could be realized, even for a set period, was enough to bring back the smile of old to Gailront, now grown into a gruff man.
A smile hidden so deeply within his thick skin that neither Hubarot, who was guiding him, nor the manor servants displaying a degree of curiosity that did not cross the line into rudeness, could possibly have noticed.
"Oh, Gailront. No, I should call you Sir now, shouldn't I? Do you remember me?"
"I recall seeing you during the Northern Suppression Campaign."
"Yes, I've been informed that I'll be assigned to guard the Young Duke for the time being. I'll be able to use the facilities of our Order of Knights for training. After all, I'm the one and only Sword Master in the Empire."
"I appreciate your consideration."
There was no shortage of knights standing guard along the paths leading up to the higher floors of the ducal manor, especially where the lords of this place resided. Rather, they displayed an unexpectedly welcoming reaction towards Gailront, showing no resentment that he had chosen to join the Imperial Knights instead of the Emmast Knights who had sponsored him.
Perhaps his recent achievements in the equestrian competition had a significant influence.
'If the Sword Master exists under the Empire's sword, what could be better?' Their covetous gazes lingered briefly.
After passing through that brief commotion, Gailront finally drew closer to the area where Hailen resided.
A place unchanged from when he had stayed or visited the ducal manor.
Whether it was anticipation for the time he would spend there or fear that he might ruin things again, Gailront admitted to feeling tense before this massive door.
Observing him, Hubarot could not help but worry about the Young Duke's reaction regarding Gailront.
As the butler of the ducal manor, Hubarot's position required him to be mindful not only of managing the vast estate but also of the masters' moods, going beyond simply overseeing the mansion. For him, the most vexing issue at present was the tension between the Duchess, the lady of the manor, and her son, the Young Duke.
Apart from Hailen's reduced presence at the ducal manor due to his demanding duties, at some point, he had begun distancing himself from his mother, the Duchess. The start of this was his discord with his betrothed, Katrin, who came from the Duchess's family.
After all, it was a marriage decided strategically based on the interests between the two noble families, so the rift between the two individuals was not a major issue. However, the fact that the Young Duke himself indirectly expressed his intention to postpone the marriage, which was essentially a transaction between the families, had spread into a power struggle within the ducal household.
'It's not unusual for members of high-ranking noble families to engage in power struggles... But if a knight from the Imperial Knights Order gets entangled in it, it won't be easily resolved.'
This was Hubarot's greatest concern. The Duchess, who was not even interested in Gailront due to his commoner background, would be involved with the ducal manor for the time being. And Katrin, who was more inclined to follow the will of her future mother-in-law than her betrothed, had already shown her displeasure towards the knight Gailront during his previous visit.
If amidst all this, the Young Duke were to favor Gailront due to their old connection, it could potentially escalate a simple dispute between family members into something more.
'But the opposite doesn't seem reassuring either.'
With his keen observational skills, Hubarot noticed signs that Gailront was tense about the upcoming meeting. His tightly clenched fist. Regardless of the force that would be exerted there, it was a rare display of pure emotion within this mansion.
Even though he had been a mere child servant, excluding the Young Duke, he was an unusually young presence in this place, occasionally catching Hubarot's eye. While his demeanor fell short of Hubarot's standards, he was not unaware of the boy's efforts to please his lord.
'Reminiscing about the past. Perhaps I'm getting old too.'
Recalling the child he had once glimpsed in such a simple reaction, Hubarot thought that if the Young Duke's response were to be one of two possibilities, the former might be preferable.
Though Hubarot harbored concerns that the ensuing discord might provoke unforeseen turmoil, if this man named Gailront were to take his place by the Young Duke's side once more, devoid of bloodshed or tears as befitting the Emmast name, perhaps he would not discard those fading memories.
There was an expectation that he might witness a scene reminiscent of those two children, lord and servant, as amicable as they had once been on some bygone day.
Amidst Hubarot's sentimental musings, Gailront standing beside him also seemed to steel his resolve, more resolute than tense.
One firmly closed door opened once again.
Whether the sight the aged butler hoped for would return was still unknown.
"Young Duke, Sir Gailront has arrived."
Hubarot bowed respectfully and withdrew, showing no trace of his earlier personal sentiments. In the presence of the Young Duke Hailen, he was merely a butler of the ducal household.
Though Hailen's voice was soft for a man, his arrogant tone made Gailront struggle to control his pounding heart. After a brief greeting, when he raised his head, the scene before him was both familiar and nostalgic for the commoner from the slums.
The habit of the young master from Gailront's memories, struggling to wake from his slumber like any other noble and starting his day late, remained unchanged. Hailen was in the midst of dressing himself this late morning, with his valet Kelvin attending to his attire.
Standing before the large mirror, Hailen stared intently at the cravat Kelvin was tying for him, ignoring the steady gaze he felt on his back.
When the petulant master did not readily welcome Gailront, Kelvin eventually stepped forward.
"Welcome, Gailront. It's reassuring to have you as Hailen's guard."
Was it childish to glare briefly at Kelvin through the mirror with a displeased expression? Kelvin endured it with an awkward smile, but inwardly heaved a sigh. For now, his friend had become too formidable, and he felt a slight concern about fully welcoming him.
Just recalling their academy days, wasn't his master prone to easily losing his composure whenever something involved Gailront, unlike now?
In any case, whether due to the valet's increased nonchalance or not, Hailen's brief pique ended just like that. He still did not turn around to face Gailront, but the tone he addressed him with was his usual casual one.
"Gail, you know what you have to do, right? Your duties by my side start right now."
It was a bluntness that didn't even allow time to adjust to the sudden environment, but Gailront felt all sorts of positive emotions towards Hailen's command.
Was it because he called him by his old nickname? Or because of the word 'side'? Or was it the satisfaction of being able to be with Hailen without any distance from now on? Anticipation, or in other words, excitement began to well up within him.
"I'll let you know where you'll be staying after sunset," Kelvin whispered quietly, but his words didn't even register in Gailront's mind.
And the anticipation that filled Gailront's heart after so long made him naturally become elated. Struggling to convey his feelings even a little. Even if he was deemed unsightly and scorned, he could no longer hold back, for he had already endured this thirst for so long.
Gailront's next words were filled with his profound emotions:
"Please give me any order you need. It is a great honor to be able to guard you, Lord Hailen."
It was a sight so reminiscent of an honorable knight from the tales of old that even Kelvin was taken aback, his eyes widening. After a brief moment of contemplation upon hearing Gailront's words, the master commanded, "Leave us for a moment, we have something to discuss," much to Kelvin's regret as he would have loved to witness the scene unfold.
However, the one receiving such sincere devotion, as always, did not display pure delight in the face of such profound feelings masquerading as loyalty.
As Kelvin exited and the door closed behind him, Hailen addressed Gailront with a cruel, commanding tone devoid of any familiarity.
"You haven't wavered from your claim that you'll do everything I desire, have you?"
"Of course not. There was no falsehood in my words from before."
"Then should you be standing so casually?"
From the time he had been Hailen's servant, even before harboring these feelings, it had been Gailront's habit to read the subtle cues of the young master who viewed the entire world beneath his gaze. Thus, he swiftly grasped the meaning behind those vague words.
Without hesitation or contemplation, Gailront knelt down on the spot.
Observing through the mirror the man kneeling, an act that was far from trivial, and the subject of his submission, Hailen wore a highly satisfied smile.
He could not fathom the origin of this intense emotion that allowed even the sense of inferiority he thought had vanished to rear its head once more in sheer delight.
Perhaps it was tinged with a slight bitterness, as if to caution himself against exploiting the man's sincerity, just as he had intended with the three-year separation—
Still, Hailen spoke again, his gaze fixed on the monstrous reflection in the mirror alongside the beautiful young man, without even turning his head towards the one kneeling before him.



Chapter 95
"Get up. And... this time, you won't have any objections to assisting me, will you?"
Hailen's tone was unusually sharp, as if recalling the incident in the cave from a few years ago during a monster hunt. It seemed he vividly remembered Gailront's reluctance when he had asked for help in dressing.
Hailen's words, which revived that memory and pointed it out, instantly made Gailront understand what kind of demeanor he should show to make the other willing. Just as he had knelt without hesitation, there was no hesitation in his approach as he stood straight in front of the mirror.
It was only natural for him to act like a valet, helping with dressing.
"You've always wondered what I want, haven't you?"
Gailront strained his ears, lest he miss even a bit of Hailen's voice that rang out in the space where only the soft rustle of fine fabric could be heard.
In truth, as he faced Hailen with the distance between them narrowed, he was swayed by the familiar scent of flesh emanating from him and his unchanging beauty that disrupted his vision. Despite his exceptional hearing, such effort was inevitable.
If he didn't concentrate, he didn't know what kind of trouble his scattered wits, as if intoxicated by some drug, might cause.
"Try to figure it out this time, while staying by my side and learning what you must do."
"If I fulfill that... can you, Lord Hailen, give me what I desire?"
Even though Gailront knew that a person's heart couldn't be changed by mere words, this was all he could say. Initially, even as he desired it, the idea that Hailen truly harbored the same feelings for him was as fanciful as a dream.
He only had a modest hope of perhaps touching a strand of similar sentiment.
If someone else knew his inner thoughts, they might find it frustrating, no different from being unambitious. But for Gailront, this wish of his was his greatest desire above all else.
Hailen still did not look directly at Gailront, whose mere presence exuded an overwhelming aura. He observed the massive man, devoid of any human trace, only through the mirror's polished surface.
Even when Gailront's rough hands brushed against his skin, or when he drew closer to dress him, Hailen maintained his cool rationality, unlike the one being swayed. The only positive aspect for Gailront was that Hailen no longer felt repulsed by such conversations related to emotions.
'Does he no longer feel aversion because it's Gailront? Or does it mean I've shed some of my previous life's shadow?'
Hailen simply pondered such agonies. A dispassionate assessment of the situation where his once-unacknowledged sexual preference no longer caused revulsion. Of course, even if he harbored curiosity, he had no desire to explore it.
Even if his current feelings stemmed from Gailront, Hailen, who treated personal emotions as trivial, saw no need to test them through others.
Considering his resolute character, he likely deemed acknowledging Gailront's sincere feelings towards him and accepting them as sufficient consideration. Some might find it selfish for him to toy with and exploit the other's heart, but was this not the very arrogance that defined Hailen?
Whether this haughtiness was innate or a consequence of some tragic secret remained unknown, even if life were rewound.
Time passed like a dream for someone, and Hailen nodded, surveying his impeccable attire.
All that remained was the cufflink for his sleeve.
Only then did Hailen turn to face Gailront, extending his arm as a matter of course.
The precious item carefully wrapped and placed on a nearby side table was a cufflink adorned with a red gemstone. Not the easily associated ruby, but the rare and invaluable red diamond—its existence befitting the Young Duke, yet how highly would Hailen truly value such things?
Gailront thought that the brilliance from his hand, fastened somewhere on his left arm, complemented his emerald eyes as much as it did. Had he not once felt that gazing upon this color made him forget everything else in the world?
Perhaps that was why, despite his ability to control his body to the extreme, he had made a mistake.
The other gemstone lay fallen on the plush carpet. Gailront's expression was one of naked consternation.
"It's fine. Since it has no connection to me anymore, we can use something else."
Even if he picked it up and wiped it clean, the obvious answer was that he should not wear it again.
Was it because of his earlier mistake? For some reason, Gailront felt a sense of foreboding. He took it as a warning that even the slightest misstep could lead to his immediate dismissal.
However, Hailen's following words instantly dispelled the negative thoughts that had arisen.
"No, when you see this red, doesn't it remind you of something?"
Hailen posed the question while looking at the remaining cufflink still attached to his sleeve. Simultaneously, his gaze fell upon a certain part of Gailront.
The true color of Emmast, the same fiery red as his late father's hair.
Gailront, utterly oblivious to Hailen's inner thoughts, simply beamed with joy at the mere fact that his physical features had caught the other's interest. His delight was so evident that deliberate effort was required to conceal it.
"How could I compare my coarse red hair to the gemstones you wear, Lord Hailen?"
"...So that bluntness is inherited from which side?"
At least Hailen's way of showing consideration was not mentioning Lana’s name.
Gailront, who did not hesitate to bow before him, paused for a moment as he picked up the fallen cufflink. Even if he pretended not to know, the memory that followed someone's association could only be of his beloved father.
"My mother's side... had some with the same color as me, they said."
Hailen, who knew that was clearly Lana’s lie, turned back towards the mirror. The crooked smile on his reflected face was only natural.
If Lana, imprisoned in the monastery and living a life below human, heard this assessment from Hailen, she would probably burst with indignation. But he didn't care at all. He had long forgotten any affection for his mother, be it Lana, whom Hubarot occasionally kept watch over by his order, or the Duchess gradually distancing herself due to Katrin.
He wondered if Gailront before him was the same. But even for Hailen, there was no need to deliberately reopen someone's wounds.
Instead, he bestowed his own form of kindness upon the other behind him.
"That. It would suit you better than me."
Hailen's action of directly removing the cufflink from his sleeve and offering it to Gailront was utterly nonchalant. As if he didn't care at all about the other's bewilderment at suddenly receiving something someone else had been using.
Made of red diamond, it was an item embarrassingly expensive compared to Gailront's knight's salary. Of course, he would have been satisfied with just a part of it that had touched Hailen. But this sudden kindness from none other than Hailen himself—wouldn't it cause unease?
As one who observed enough to think he knew Hailen to some degree, Gailront could only feel confused.
"What are you doing? Take it."
"You know I'll be displeased if you refuse, don't you?"
He was at least certain that this statement was true. It was generally considered rude to reject something offered by one's superior. Hailen, who meticulously observed every etiquette as if afraid of being mistaken for a high-ranking nobleman, was well aware that if he expressed refusal, this haughty Young Duke would be greatly displeased, just as he had said.
However, could he simply accept such an extravagant treasure without reason?
Hailen's brow furrowed slightly in the mirror at Gailront's attitude of not accepting it immediately.
Gailront, who was attentive to even his every breath, had no choice but to respond.
"...I will accept it gratefully."
"This is the second gift I'm giving you."
"Do you take me for a fool?"
Gailront recalled the distant memory when Hailen had allowed him, his valet, to call him by his name as an admission gift, and when Hailen had started calling him by the nickname 'Gail'. Simultaneously, the uncomfortable feeling about the inexplicable gift, which had only been a burden, dissipated in an instant.
The mere fact that Hailen remembered their shared memories was enough to lift Gailront's spirits back to the heavens. On this day, Gailront himself would not have realized how violently his emotions fluctuated.
Now without any reluctance, the small pair of red gemstones was placed in an equally luxurious case by Gailront's thick hands. Despite being in mourning, the deep red suited Gailront so well that he regretted not being able to wear it with his dark knight's uniform as per the Imperial Knight Order's regulations.
Perhaps there was another intention behind gifting him something symbolizing Emmast, but in the current situation, how could he easily discern any of Hailen's hidden motives?
From the moment it fell onto the carpet, the red cufflink was no longer Hailen's.
"We'll be heading to the Imperial Palace soon, so get ready."
"Are you meeting His Highness the Crown Prince?"
"So you also expect my destination to be that. No, today I'll be meeting the Prince of Oclan."
"Is it a necessary matter?"
The excitement related to memories was only momentary.
Gailront, who became as impatient as during the equestrian competition, did not hesitate at all to block Hailen's path. After all, both of them here knew well that Blake was a dangerous man.
The unfortunate thing was that the current Gailront could never stop Hailen's will.
"Don't act like Kelvin. You haven't been behaving like that to become my attendant, have you?"
"Is it because of the war you mentioned back then?"
"I only said I'd meet the Prince, but I don't know how far your imagination goes. Well, of course, I'll give you an affirmative answer to your question. Why? Have you changed your mind now?"
Gailront's returning silence did not mean that his will to stand at the forefront of war if Hailen wished had changed. It was due to the complexity of the question about his inscrutable intentions and the weight of war, which was difficult to mention lightly.
Knowing this, Hailen's following words did not contain any harshness.
"You've always thought I was hiding something and wanted to know it."
"It was you, Lord Hailen, who said I was mistaken."
Hailen, who was about to sneer for a moment, asking when Gailront had developed the audacity to question him, closed his mouth. Although he felt the need to correct it, strangely, there was a part where his characteristic irritability could not be endured when dealing with Gailront.
And his uncharacteristic attempt to control his impulse was, of course, due to his calculated intention to make use of the Sword Master, but Hailen had no qualms about it.
"So aren't you curious anymore?"
"Then this time, follow me and observe. Perhaps you'll learn the secret you've been curious about. Or maybe your wish will be granted."
Hailen uttered the blatant lie so shamelessly that Gailront let out a low sigh.
How could he not know that the Hailen before him was reciting things that would never actually come to pass, merely to subjugate him? Even though he knew the other would not truly deceive him, Hailen's audacity in expecting Gailront to fall for his fabricated words without any effort was astounding.
"So you won't believe me?"
Hailen remained unmoved by Gailront's heartfelt words, which he could only utter in the end.
Should Gailront express how pitiful his position was, having to pretend to believe Hailen's lies, no matter how lightly he spoke them? In this moment standing by Hailen's side, Gailront felt both happiness and the terror of standing precariously on a cliff's edge.
But even stronger than that was his hope that this moment with Hailen would last forever.
Would the scales, tilted so rapidly to one side, ever reach a balance?
With their current hearts, it seemed utterly impossible, but who could predict the variability of the future?
Only time would tell whose wishes it would lean closer to.



Chapter 96
No matter how tense the atmosphere, the Crown Prince of a foreign nation and his defiant entourage were esteemed guests of the Empire. To meet him, who was receiving the utmost hospitality at the Imperial Palace, one had to head to the Golden Palace, which could be considered the very heart of the capital, Tengen.
Built during the era when the Empire was still called a kingdom, the Imperial Palace lacked the ambiance of the forgotten age of magic, but it was structured close to a shrine befitting the Imperial Family, who claimed descent from the Sun God Panule. Like the sun that casts its vast radiance over the land, the palace was surrounded by all kinds of gold, glistening so brightly at noon that merely gazing upon it evoked the sensation of admiring a work of art.
For Hailen, who had reasons to frequent this place, such appreciation had now become tedious. Of course, Gailront, who had no choice but to appear often at the Sun Palace where the Emperor resided, showed no signs of astonishment either.
"Gail, remember one thing."
"Now that you are entrusted with my protection, you must not draw your sword recklessly and ruin matters."
In truth, no weapons were allowed inside the Imperial Palace, so Hailen's words carried a different meaning. Whatever he intended to do, Gailront, who received such an order, felt a little apprehensive but did not openly object.
"...You must be wary of the Crown Prince."
That was the extent of his input.
The few knights following behind them glanced at the two conversing in hushed tones, low enough not to be heard by the Imperial Palace maids.
Would the Young Duke's escort consist of only Gailront? However, true to Hailen's nature of being selective about those around him, he had yet to appoint even a dedicated escort knight besides Kelvin.
Generally, those by his side were knights periodically rotated from the Emmast Order, and Hailen never fraternized with them. Or had those knights ever received such an unusual order?
The Emmast knights, inwardly agonizing over the Young Duke's indifference towards his small lord, turned their gaze towards Gailront, who seemed to have gained Hailen's interest.
Whether Hailen was aware that he was displaying an unusual demeanor was unclear. He treated Gailront so casually, as if he had no recollection of their past history. Gailront, too, found guarding Hailen's side so natural that an onlooker might have assumed he was originally appointed as his escort knight.
Leaving that peculiar atmosphere behind, Hailen's party arrived at the palace where the Crown Prince was staying.
Once again donning his mask of a carefree man, Blake stood beside Hailen, accompanied as always by Count Deson and a few knights. Among them were those who had faced Gailront in the jousting tournament, their expressions understandably stern after suffering such an overwhelming defeat.
"I'm relieved to see you've recovered. Although it was a mere 'accident,' I wished to express my personal regrets, hence this meeting with the Young Duke."
Blake's words danced around the core issue, an evasive manner that was vexing from the perspective of the one being addressed. The bright smile plastered on his face bore no resemblance to the frenzied man who had once sought bloodshed.
Observing Blake, Hailen, the perpetrator of the 'accident,' merely had the mundane thought that the man had a thick face. However, the one emanating a chilling aura was none other than Gailront.
Recalling his still-healing wounds on his back, despite his exceptional recovery abilities, Gailront could well imagine Blake's intentions that day. Yet, faced with such shameless behavior, he found it difficult to contain his indignation, even while remembering Hailen's orders.
If he hadn't attacked, what might have happened? After the jousting tournament, Gailront had imagined and reimagined the possibilities.
The scene of a sharpened blade piercing his pale white skin and emerald green eyes nearby. The sight of his brilliant golden hair, dazzling enough to hurt the eyes, soaked in blood still vividly choked Gailront's throat like a lingering dream.
So even before thinking with his head, it was only natural for Gailront's instincts to definitively mark Blake before him as an enemy.
No matter how much he claimed to have restrained himself, could the pressure of a knight possessing such formidable power be dismissed so easily? Count Deson, a civilian, awkwardly smiled and kept his distance, while Oclan's knights betrayed their unease despite maintaining a guarded stance. For they knew well that even if an unarmed combat were to break out, there was no one who could subdue that monstrous Sword Master.
"Since it was our side that sustained injuries from that 'accident,' a little tension is understandable."
It took only a single word from Hailen to instantly quell the overwhelming aura of such a formidable warrior.
Gailront swiftly reined in what he had unwittingly let slip, close to bloodlust.
"I can feel the killing intent. I knew you were sharp, but to be a dog on a leash. Didn't expect the Young Duke to be your master, though."
"While I had hoped for the Crown Prince's consideration, that doesn't mean my dog can never bite."
"Haha, good. Mind your words, then."
It was only natural for one likened to a mere animal to find it offensive, but the one hearing those words, the very subject of this conversation between the two men, showed not a shred of discomfort.
Some might inwardly think, 'Given his origins, he must be used to such insults.' But the real reason Gailront remained unfazed was—
'For a dog to have been leashed, isn't it only natural to consider it a privilege?'
Such a thought flashed through his mind for a moment. Even if his own pitiful state was objectively lamentable, paradoxically, he was just as glad. If Nohan knew, he would surely jump around, exclaiming that Gailront had abandoned all self-respect.
"Since we've made up our minds to meet like this, why don't we dismiss the dogs and have a quiet time together?"
Blake's still light tone was full of grating elements, and the proposal he made was a sensitive matter.
Hailen did not show a particularly negative reaction to it. He, too, was in a position where he could not let others hear what he had to say here.
However, the incident at the jousting tournament, where he had thrown away his own safety, overwhelmed by such trivial emotions as guilt for not preventing the war or whatever, was a thing of the past. Faced with someone who might sacrifice Emmast again, he could not simply follow Blake's words.
Moreover, as long as someone who valued his safety more than Hailen himself was present, it would not be easy for him to become a sacrificial lamb even if he wanted to.
As expected, Gailront quickly stepped forward and blocked Blake's remark.
"While I would like to exchange a move or two with a Sword Master, this is not the place for that. Continuing to show such disrespect would not be good for your master, the Young Duke."
"No, Your Highness. I agree with my knight's words. At least within the Imperial Palace, it would be difficult to find eavesdropping rats. Or... do you not fully trust your own close aides?"
"Our delegation has been tasting death on the Young Duke's tongue every time, but I can't endure it either. Tsk, let's leave one person each. The Count stays, and everyone else, get out."
Blake's action of dismissing all of Oclan's knights except Count Deson should have given the impression that he did not trust his own close aides, but he did not seem to care. He even appeared indifferent to his own compromising position of having yielded first. Should that be interpreted as a gesture of goodwill?
In the end, Hailen had no choice but to accept his intentions.
With the Emmast knights and even the Imperial Palace maids who had been waiting to attend them gone, only the four of them remained. Naturally, the one who stayed by Hailen's side was Gailront, so even if the Crown Prince were to attack here, it would be difficult for him to inflict even a speck of injury.
As the silence lingered, Blake, who had been reclining on the couch, changed his demeanor to the man Hailen had witnessed during the jousting tournament.
Unlike Gailront, who had exuded the oppressive aura of a Sword Master, the glimpse of madness he now revealed, though separate from that pressure, brought a chilling sensation.
'At least he trusts Count Deson enough to show his true face.'
Glancing at the middle-aged count, who remained silent despite his master's transformation, Hailen smiled wryly. Wasn't it one of his useful abilities to never lose his composure, even in tense situations?
"One good thing from our duel that day, Young Duke: I no longer need to hold back."
"One who looks down upon many things need not hide his true heart, I believe."
"The world is full of fools who judge by appearances alone. Meeting someone who can think properly is a proper harvest from my visit to the Empire."
"Surely I am not the only one who has read Your Highness's inner thoughts."
"You now wish everyone to acknowledge it, don't you? Even so, I cannot forget the rapturous expression the Young Duke wore during the tournament. Was it a delusion that made you charge at my blade, despite knowing?"
"That is a clear misunderstanding."
"Anyway, it's a pity. I truly wanted to possess those emerald-like eyes of yours. Ah, has your dog also gone mad like me? It would be to my advantage if a fight broke out here, wouldn't it?"
The Crown Prince's attitude, showing not a shred of hesitation in calling himself insane, caused Gailront's killing intent, which had been resurfacing, to subside once more.
However, to that same extent, Gailront inwardly steeled his guard against the Crown Prince. For the true heart revealed by the man named Blake after the others had left made Gailront certain that the person before him was genuinely insane.
In particular, the mere mention of Hailen's emerald eyes filled Gailront with such rage that he could not bear to touch upon it.
Gailront even wished that the 'war' Blake spoke of would come swiftly. Then, as Hailen had ordered, he could stand at the vanguard and sever the head of this raving Crown Prince. His anger flared to the point where he felt the pitiful lives that would perish in the war would pale in comparison.
In contrast, Hailen, who had been carefully observing Blake's every aspect, did not seem to care at all that Gailront was wavering contrary to his orders. He was merely coldly calculating, with a clear head, what he might gain or lose from this encounter with the Crown Prince.
Although he had a premonition that it would be difficult to control the path forward through this insane man, who seemed unbelievable as a royal from a place nicknamed the 'Eternal Neutral Nation.'
'Still, I'm not without confidence in dealing with madmen.'
For Hailen himself was none other than a madman who had gradually lost his sanity, becoming addicted to drugs.
"Do you not consider further meaningless attrition to be of no value?"
"I find it quite enjoyable, but I would also like to hear the Young Duke's true intentions."
"If both you and I can obtain what we desire through this single meeting today, there could be no greater satisfaction."
That Sword Master, whose formidable skills had been quite grating, was now lashing out like a rabid puppy, while the Young Duke, whom he had evaluated highly in his own way, exceeded his expectations. Blake gazed at Hailen with an increasingly amused smile as the latter's grin deepened.
Greatly curious about what this man, a renowned figure even in Oclan and occupying a strand in their long-standing plans, desired from him, Blake found the words uttered by this man, whose shell perfectly matched his bizarre tastes, quite entertaining—enough to amuse even the deranged Crown Prince, who was not easily shaken.
"Oclan and Emmast want the same thing. It's not strange for us to join hands."
"Are you trying to dig a shoddy trap with such vague words?"
"No, if you wish, I shall show my hand first. Emmast... desires war. Does Your Highness not feel the same?"
Unlike his innocent expression when wearing a mask, a twisted smile, reminiscent of the one he had shown when attempting to attack Hailen, appeared on Blake's face. Fortunately, this time, it was a smile indicating genuine interest in the other's words.
Hailen smiled back at the Crown Prince, as if delighted to have found a kindred spirit who understood his intentions.
Even though he knew Gailront behind him would be puzzled, and that the formidable Blake would not truly believe his words, Hailen did not hesitate to reveal a part of his plan.
'If it's a war I cannot prevent, or choose not to prevent, then controlling it with my own hands would be the best way to minimize casualties.'
Even if this rationalization was an excuse for his selfish self, his intentions were sincere.
Of course, there was a separate, true motive behind his proposal to join forces with the man who had charged at him with the intent to attack.
"And before that war, I desire the downfall of my father, the Duke of Emmast."
It was not truly a proposal to join forces in overthrowing the Duke. Aware of the future that lay ahead, it was merely one of his judgments made out of concern that it might change.
"Look, the Duke is not as formidable a fortress as you might think, to the extent that even his heir is considered an enemy," were words meant to encourage the Crown Prince's plans.
He had thought the sense of betrayal and malice towards the one he had believed to be his father all his life had dulled considerably during his new lease on life. Believing it a fair trade to make use of his status as the Duke's son to the extent he could repay him, he had performed his role as the Young Duke to the best of his abilities.
Yet, the moment Hailen uttered those words, the emotion that welled up within him—
'Perhaps I... have been desiring revenge all along.'
He could no longer deny the truth he had tried to ignore—that it resembled a feeling akin to elation.



Chapter 97
The late-night discussion between the Young Duke of Emmast and the Crown Prince of Oclan inevitably leaked out, despite their efforts to keep it private. With the kingdom's intentions being questioned, how would the actions of Hailen, an ally of the Crown Prince, be perceived?
Even those in his own faction would likely be perplexed by this.
Yet Hailen left the palace without a shred of concern over the matter.
On the way back to the ducal residence, Gailront, the only knight accompanying him in the same carriage, swallowed his unvoiced questions time and again.
"In that case, why don't you follow me this time? Perhaps you'll uncover the secrets you're curious about, or even have your wishes fulfilled," Hailen's words echoed, words that had subtly instilled false hope despite their deceptive nature. Since he was never explicitly granted permission to ask about the curiosities he gained from following Hailen, Gailront found it difficult to voice his doubts.
And sitting across from the hesitant Gailront, Hailen too wished to delve into the other's thoughts. Although their motives differed, he wanted to know how Gailront had evaluated the statements he had made to the Crown Prince.
Even after their lengthy conversation, Blake would not fully trust Hailen's claim of desiring war and walking the same path. However, he would undoubtedly be interested in Hailen's expressed desire to undermine his father, Duke Emmast, to the same degree.
Through his memories of his previous life, Hailen was well aware that Oclan's pre-war plans involved targeting Duke Emmast himself. It was not uncommon for a son to engage in a power struggle with his estranged father. Moreover, Blake himself was in a similar situation.
"Come to think of it, I essentially declared my intention to strike down my father in front of his heir."
Although unintentional, the situation had taken an intriguing turn, and as the one privy to the truth, Hailen could not help but ponder its implications.
If the secret related to their births were to be revealed, and Gailront looked back on this day, what thoughts would he have and what emotions would he feel? Would he resent himself? Or would hatred overflow and cause him to lash out for revenge?
'After all, I'm already the very culprit who robbed you of your entire life.'
What an absurd situation it would be for none other than Gailront to say he resents such a self.
Suddenly, Hailen became curious. After learning the secret, how would Gailront resolve that heart he possessed?
Would he feel ashamed of his past self and use it as nourishment to further fuel his anger towards the one who stole his life? Or would he struggle in confusion, trying to erase that heart? Since Hailen still regarded the Gailront before him as close to the image of a 'virtuous' knight, he expected the latter.
For if he saw Gailront's actions, struggling to express his heart to him in some way, the sight of him resenting and cursing himself simply wouldn't suit him.
No, perhaps he wished for that.
And as always, Hailen found such thoughts of his own distasteful.
"You were so confident about staying by my side, yet you couldn't even follow a simple order."
Although his tone seemed somewhat exaggerated, the deeply contemplative, and moreover, exceptionally perceptive Gailront when it came to Hailen's negative emotions, failed to notice. He merely assumed his words were reprimanding himself for going against the warning 'not to draw your sword easily' before meeting the Crown Prince, and lowered his head.
Gailront himself acknowledged that his actions today were unbecoming of a knight. Regardless of the Crown Prince being the master's enemy he was sworn to protect, his inability to restrain his hostile emotions and even his killing intent was a mistake that a mere trainee fresh from the sword would make. He had been too elated and filled with expectations at being able to remain by Hailen's side after their long separation, leading to an inexcusable lapse in vigilance.
However, separate from his self-reflection, Gailront had something he wished to convey to Hailen.
Moreover, unlike before, he had resolved to no longer hesitate in expressing this sentiment—
"My conduct was shameful and lacking for one meant to be your escort knight, but I do not regret it."
"Yes, if the same situation were to occur... If someone tried to harm you, Hailen, I would be unable to restrain myself again. Even if it is deemed unknight-like, I do not care."
Just when had Gailront started speaking so boldly before him?
Hailen felt a sense of bewilderment as he met the piercing black eyes that seemed to bore into him, a far cry from the downcast gaze earlier.
Perhaps those three years were unnecessary. Just facing these dark pupils rippling with longing was enough for him to feel the sincerity Gailront was expressing with his entire being.
Was it because he had been speculating about Gailront's reaction when the truth came to light? For some reason, Hailen found it difficult to meet that gaze. He felt a tightness in his throat. It was not a thirst from a lack of moisture. Rather, it was a sense of pressure, as if something was trying to weigh down on the nape of his neck.
However, Hailen could not accept such emotions reaching him through none other than Gailront, so he brushed off the unsettling feeling with his habitual acerbic remarks.
"The Crown Prince referred to you as a dog. It suits you well—a rude, obsequious mutt who doesn't know its place, groveling before its master. Shall I include that whimpering gaze of yours, as if begging for treats?"
"If you offer, I will gratefully accept."
"Ha, you've grown quite brazen."
A fleeting thought crossed Hailen's mind, wondering what Gailront meant by 'treats,' but he paid it no further heed. No, he had to refrain from dwelling on such notions.
Conveniently, the carriage arrived at the ducal residence. The coachman swiftly opened the door and set up the step to assist the Young Duke in disembarking, only to receive a "Clumsy oaf" remark. Recognizing his fault, Gailront gestured to the coachman not to worry, but Hailen, who had already started walking ahead, remained oblivious.
Naturally accepting the greetings from the servants, Hailen entered the ducal residence, prompting Gailront to quicken his pace lest he fall behind. With his large strides, it was easy to catch up to Hailen's unhurried gait, which exuded neither haste nor composure beyond that of a knight—yet something about his demeanor seemed to emanate an underlying emotion.
Gailront's steps, driven by the desire to keep up with Hailen at all costs, resembled those of a loyal hound chasing after its master. At the very least, the animal analogy directed at him might not have been entirely inaccurate.
Hailen's personal funds largely comprised the capital of Mirana's upper echelons. Initially, Genry held a considerable stake, but for various reasons, his influence was significantly diminished.
Firstly, it was Genry's own wish to prevent Roger from following in Mobella's footsteps, whose shares were fragmented, causing turmoil. Accepting this view, Hailen's assets were also transformed and invested to prevent Emmast's involvement.
Through Paison, Genry had created a new identity unknown even to Roger, undergoing a complex process—though whether this was truly Genry's intention remains uncertain. It was one of Hailen's contingency plans, prepared for when they all had to abandon their positions as the Young Duke.
The second reason was due to the intense clash between Genry and Hailen regarding Mirana's business plans. Since Hailen already knew the future, his investments aimed at profiting from the inland war were incomprehensible to Genry.
Of course, as is well known, this came to an end with Roger's participation in the war. Observing the current situation, Genry was impressed by the Young Duke's outstanding insight and was pleased with his son's judgment in supporting him.
Thus, for Genry, Mirana was now merely a competitor threatening Mobella's upper echelons, but he had no reason to harbor genuine hostility due to Roger's presence.
It was also common for the father and son to frequently meet and openly discuss matters related to the upper echelons.
"The atmosphere suggests it's not absurd to assume Oclan will declare war on the Imperial. Some even speculate that the southern kingdoms are plotting something among themselves."
As Genry listened to Roger's words, his demeanor resembled that of a subordinate receiving a report rather than exchanging opinions as fellow upper echelon members. Even setting aside their special relationship, Genry still played the role of a mentor to Roger.
'Now I wonder if I have anything left to teach him.'
Trying not to overtly display his pride in his son and disciple, Genry donned the mask of a dispassionate merchant. Lately, he had been easily revealing his heart, leading Roger to comment that his gaze was unpleasant.
In truth, Roger's remark stemmed from his characteristic irritability rather than sincerity.
"If a war between the south and the Imperial truly breaks out, then the Young Duke's foresight is indeed remarkable. However, from a continental perspective, it would be a most unfortunate event."
"...No one could have stopped it."
Genry was well aware that Roger's allegiance lay with Hailen when he said those words.
Even if not to the same extent as Roger, who co-led the upper echelons with him, Genry, who was aware of the other owners of Mirana, could not have failed to discern Hailen's movements. After all, his business plans that initially seemed outrageous were precisely what heralded the impending war.
At the very least, Genry possessed a broader perspective than Roger, having led the upper echelons for as many years as he had lived. He knew that the Young Duke, who seemed to possess superior insight, welcomed the war—whether for the sake of his family's power or the interests of the upper echelons he held.
However, unlike Roger, Genry did not believe that Hailen directly intended this misfortune. How could an event of such magnitude be brought about by the will of a single person? Even if that person was the only son of the Imperial Commander-in-Chief, who would lead the war from his lofty position.
The perplexing aspect was that the words actually leaving Genry's mouth conveyed something different from his inner thoughts.
"In this situation, it is we merchants who must maintain our composure. Are we not merchants who prioritize profit above all else? Rather, we should listen to our own conscience as much as we value trust. Do not be swayed too much by the Young Duke. He is not one who harbors cruel intentions, is he?"
"Are you doubting Hailen's intentions, Master of the Upper Echelons?"
"It is your very question that deepens the suspicion."
"He merely... tries to apply a dispassionate standard to reality and seek the best course."
"Yet the profits the Young Duke will gain from this war are far too great. Have you considered how much power the ducal family will acquire? Merchants should not calculate solely in terms of material gain."
Not being able to answer was tantamount to an affirmative response.
Why did Genry deliberately express such a skeptical and cautious attitude towards Hailen?
Above all, as Roger's father, Genry could not be unaware of the faith his son placed in the Young Duke. As time passed, that faith grew stronger, and Genry was sometimes amazed at Hailen's ability to draw in Roger, who still maintained a certain distance.
And as he observed the current situation, he realized his own aging while acknowledging the young Young Duke, but he could only heighten his caution regarding his son.
'I thought he was formidable, but now he feels dangerously so.'
Roger had grown into a talent that would soon surpass him. Objectively, as a mentor, it should have been gratifying for his disciple to walk the same path as such an eminent figure.
However, Genry also played the role of a father.
Even if Roger still did not acknowledge it, Genry had decided to live the rest of his life as a father, not a merchant lord, so he could not help but worry about Roger like a colt left to graze.
Even if it meant hindering the path Roger desired.
And, fortunately for Genry, this warm denial of his was not entirely discarded, as proven by Roger's subsequent words.
"Do not worry too much. At least I... have not forgotten the virtues you taught me as important for a merchant."
Roger recited this in a softer voice than before, his ears reddening. His expression did not change, but his ears reacted first when he felt embarrassed, a habit of his.
His words and visible reaction warmed Genry's heart. If it was the sincerity from his son, whom he cherished so dearly yet found difficult to express directly, it would instantly melt even the most hardened heart.
Such a response, which seemed to surpass imagination, coming from what was merely a word of caution to be wary of someone, was enough to moisten the eyes even of a merchant who always maintained a calculating and dispassionate demeanor.
'It seems I have truly grown old.'
Roger, standing right in front of him, could not have missed Genry naturally averting his gaze. He deliberately cleared his throat, disrupting the warm atmosphere that had settled.
For Roger's shamelessness had not yet ripened enough to endure such embarrassment, unlike Genry.
Moreover, their father-son conversation had not yet fully concluded.



Chapter 98
No matter how moving the long-cherished affection between father and son comes and goes, it is difficult for them to easily dismiss the matter they are meeting and worrying about.
Especially since they were two merchants who resembled each other in different directions, it was easy to shake off the momentary itch and find their original reason at once.
"My opinion is that the war will not break out at least until next year. The Crown Prince of Oclan is such an unknown figure, but considering the situation in the south, no matter what negotiations they have made behind the scenes, they will not be able to attack the Empire until they form a proper alliance."
"I agree with that, but the flow of the market will fluctuate in many ways before the war breaks out. The most important thing in war is supply, and the ones most closely related to this are the merchant guilds of the country. It's not just one or two who will rush in trying to gain profit somehow."
Even the current Jeil Merchant Guild, which shakes its size on the continent, not just the Empire, is only now realizing and trying to move, but it is not easy due to such a sudden situation.
On the other hand, what about Mirana, the guild master of Roger's guild? They have already prepared the maximum possible for the guild in terms of supplies for the war.
Roger, who knows well that this was entirely based on Hailen's will, once again recalls his master's amazing ability.
A question came to mind. What was the conviction of the Young Duke that enabled him to prepare faster than anyone else, including Genry, who is called the Grand Merchant, for a situation that even he could only grasp so late?
"Guild Master, how do you think Hailen was able to predict this war?"
"Well, it must be thanks to the many circumstances around him. The position of the next Commander-in-Chief, the intelligence of the ducal family, and his wealth. All of them would allow him to see a world that merchants like us cannot foresee."
"Why, is something bothering you?"
Genry's question stemmed from a concern that Roger might harbor some sense of deprivation towards the Young Duke, who was around the same age, but in reality, what Roger was contemplating was far from that.
From the beginning, Roger was well aware that Hailen was a person from a different world than himself. Although he had once struggled to fit into aristocratic society, he had since abandoned that pursuit and chosen the path of a merchant. It would be a lie to say that he had never felt envious towards his peer sitting in a much higher position, but it was Hailen's outstanding insight and the bold judgments stemming from it that caused Roger's current sense of disquiet, rather than his status.
Therefore, the unease Roger was feeling now was a different kind of puzzlement from the wariness Genry harbored towards Hailen.
Before he had sincerely followed Hailen as his master, Roger had unintentionally collected rumors about him while they were in the same social circle at the academy. Even after that, Hailen never hid anything from Roger regarding matters related to the upper echelons that were not publicly known. Thanks to this, Roger had realized in advance that Hailen desired war.
That was why he naturally harbored these questions.
'How was Lord Hailen able to predict this war so quickly? Why does he place such significance on this war? Is this really a step towards becoming the next Duke?'
From one question, dozens more arose. It was Roger's habit to derive multiple hypotheses from a single piece of information, and the same applied to the doubts he harbored.
Questions he could not bring himself to ask even Genry, who was sitting across from him.
It was Roger's faith, trust, and a kind of loyalty towards Hailen that prevented him from voicing them—
Even so, Roger was not the kind of man to abandon his own curiosity.
In fact, his unquestioning obedience to Hailen up until now was puzzling enough.
The Marquis of Sowrel had long been related by marriage to the Marquis of Mondel's family, who had been in charge of managing magic tools for generations.
His daughter had married Gowen, the eldest son of the Marquis of Mondel, who had been in charge of managing magic tools for generations, about 7 years ago in a somewhat sudden ceremony. Not long after, she gave birth to a son who was doted upon by both families. Moreover, since the child's father had been unable to get up due to an accident when the child was just a newborn, the boy was like a sore thumb to both families.
The scale of today's banquet was unbelievable for a mere seventh birthday celebration. Of course, it was only natural, as the guest of honor was the grandson openly doted upon by the Marquis of Sowrel, the maternal uncle of the Second Prince, one of the two princes closest to the next Crown.
The Marquis had taken a second wife to continue his lineage after his previous wife passed away due to illness, leaving behind only a daughter. However, for some reason, the son born to his second wife was diagnosed as being as dull as a rock. Hence, rumors circulated that the Marquis might pass his title of Marquis of Sowrel to his grandson, who was around the same age as his son.
Putting aside their connection to the Imperial family, the Sowrel Marquis' household was gradually expanding its influence in the west. Perhaps this grand birthday celebration was for the young heir who might inherit all of that in the future. Everyone was mobilizing their connections to obtain an invitation.
Of course, Hailen did not need to go through such trouble, even if he belonged to a faction opposed to the Sowrel Marquis.
"You must be used to these kinds of banquets by now. I've seen you at similar events many times before, Gail."
"I did not attend to enjoy myself. I simply wished to see Lord Hailen, if only for a moment."
Hailen, who had not expected such an answer, could not help but pause the wine glass he was about to drink from.
Did Gailront take this as a sign of displeasure towards his attendant? He naturally reached out and offered a different, flavorless drink that seemed to be for clearing the palate. His action was akin to that of an attendant accompanying someone to a banquet, though in reality, the one Hailen had brought with him today was not Kelvin, but Gailront.
It had been several days since Kelvin left the capital again at the command of his master. Hailen had sent his attendant to the south to divert his gaze, worried that the Duke might be wary of him. In truth, the demanding tastes of the Young Duke, who was not easily intimidated by people, meant the Duke's attendants were accustomed to taking turns guarding him.
However, the imposing knight who had filled Kelvin's vacant spot these past few days was amusingly someone who looked like he had never heard of attending to anyone before. But it was not strange for the two of them that this person was Gailront.
While Hailen had not expected Gailront to eagerly perform such un-knightly duties by his side, he had also not anticipated hearing such blatant words from someone who occasionally reminded him of his innocent childhood.
In any case, one thing was certain: Gailront was fully enjoying this time, though Hailen genuinely wondered where such a disposition stemmed from. He even wondered if upbringing was more important than bloodline.
Gailront, perhaps sensing some embarrassment over his remark, took the lead in changing the subject.
"Will you not meet the Marquis first?"
"I don't see the need to draw attention to myself. It won't be a problem if I don't strictly follow etiquette at the young heir's birthday celebration."
It was only natural for Gailront to be puzzled by Hailen's bored tone as he dragged out his words. From Gailront's perspective, Hailen's mere attendance at this celebration was bewildering enough. No, others would likely feel the same way.
No matter how extreme the conflict between factions became, there was no reason to avoid those who were practically in-laws in the tightly-knit aristocratic society. However, that did not necessitate attending such a trivial event either.
At least, not for someone like Hailen, whose mere presence drew all eyes in such a weighty gathering.
'Anyone watching would think he came to ruin the joyous celebration.'
Even without the Emmast family, it seemed he was properly recognized as someone on the side of the First Prince. Hailen inwardly sneered at the thought.
In any case, according to the unspoken etiquette of high society, it was difficult to greet someone first before the superior showed signs of permission. Unfortunately for those who seemed eager to somehow approach this beautiful Young Duke regardless of political intentions, Hailen had no desire to open his mouth until the true guest of honor appeared.
So he might as well exchange some light banter with Gailront by his side. Even Hailen himself did not know when the two of them had started spending time like this.
"You know this leisure time won't last long, right? It won't hurt to enjoy the banquet. Just make sure you remember that."
"Lord Hailen... you are truly an unpredictable person, at least for me."
"Spare me the unnecessary words. It's not like you'll stop observing me with that gaze of yours."
"Alright. It seems the guest of honor of today's banquet, young Yeongshik, is making his appearance, so we should offer our congratulations. He's seven years old, was it? What crime could a child have committed?"
Following Hailen's gaze, Gailront's head turned as well.
There was a bright-eyed child who had just appeared and was receiving congratulatory greetings from the elaborately dressed banquet guests.
Young Yeongshik, who had appeared holding his mother Lady Gowen's hand, blended seamlessly into this grand banquet despite his tender age of seven. His features did not resemble any of the adults around him, but his beaming face evoked the image of his maternal grandfather, the Marquis of Sowrel. No wonder the Marquis doted so much on this grandson who resembled him.
At the same time, the true host of this banquet, the Marquis of Sowrel himself, stepped forward.
"I express my gratitude to all who have attended my grandson's birthday celebration."
"Congratulations, my lord Marquis. Young Yeongshik has indeed inherited the dignity of Sowrel, already standing out from an early age."
"Rumors of his precocity have already spread far and wide."
"The Marquis of Mondel must deeply lament not being in the capital by His Majesty's command. To be away from such an adorable grandson."
"Might His Highness the Second Prince not be attending the banquet?"
Even for a child's birthday celebration, the harsh etiquette of high society could not be dispelled. Seeking pure innocence itself was an impossibility in this world. In the face of someone's deliberately barbed question, even the Marquis of Sowrel's affable smile wavered slightly.
"How could His Highness not attend, when he dotes so on this child, his cousin's son? He must be delayed due to the recent complex circumstances, toiling day and night for the Empire's sake."
Though he put on such a front, the Marquis of Sowrel recalled his foolish nephew, who had complained about having to attend a mere child relative's birthday celebration.
The Marquis had dismissed it as a childish rebellion against his mother, the Empress, and his maternal uncle. But after coming of age, the precious prince's defiance only grew more intense, becoming a thorn in the Marquis's side. At times, he even worried the nephew might become a greater problem than his waning faction's struggle against the First Prince.
'Tsk, he'll complain but show up in the end. If he refused outright, I might think he had some ulterior motive.'
Catching sight of the Second Prince, Franz, deliberately making a late entrance, the Marquis concealed his displeasure.
And realizing the Young Duke, whom he had once compared to his lacking nephew, had appeared here just as he had spoken at the last noble assembly, the Marquis donned a mask of composure once more.
The Marquis, too, would not treat this banquet as a mere grandson's birthday celebration.



Chapter 99
The time for the banquet ripened in an instant.
Since the young Gowen's birthday banquet was held at the Sowrel Duchy, his maternal family's estate, the signs of the soon-setting sun were visible through the windows outside the grand old mansion that they could be proud of.
Even in the banquet hall of the estate, there were places to avoid people. Originally, Hailen was someone who attracted attention, and here, curiosity was bound to be excessive, so after finishing his conversation with Duke Sowrel, the place he headed to was the outdoor terrace where he could cool his head.
"Don't lower the curtain, Gail."
"I thought it was with the intention of avoiding the commotion."
Since lowering the thick curtain attached to a place like the terrace meant that one did not wish to be disturbed, Gailront expressed his puzzlement.
Meanwhile, recalling that Hailen had said he had learned these implicit etiquette by attending numerous banquets to be seen by him, a mischievous feeling came over him. Perhaps it was due to the wine that had risen to the tips of his hair, the cause of his fervor.
"Do you know in general what situation that curtain is lowered?"
Unlike his usual straight posture, Gailront's expression hardened as he looked at Hailen, who was leaning slightly disheveled near the railing. Was it not like the attitude of a mischievous person teasing the reaction of an innocent?
It was only then that Gailront could be sure. That Hailen was more intoxicated than he had expected.
There was some unease. In the precarious conversation with the Duke, the reason for which he could not understand even if he went back, there was an intensity that did not suit their relationship.
Of course, it was Duke Sowrel, who usually enjoyed such strong wine, who made the suggestion first, probably with the intention of probing the inscrutable young Duke with intoxication.
However, he had not expected Hailen to be this intoxicated. Apart from his outward appearance that remained pale without any change in complexion from the effects of alcohol, he showed no wavering whatsoever in uttering words that could chill the Duke's heart.
"...Shall I bring you some clear water?"
In the end, this was the limit of the answer Gailront could utter. Perhaps it was a precaution against himself, who could not help but harbor all sorts of desires even at the other's light jest.
Moreover, on the other hand, a doubt arose. In this place no different from enemy territory, was Hailen truly someone who could let his guard down so easily? Such was the perplexity.
And the light banter that Hailen might have enjoyed, as well as the curiosity that Gailront harbored, were all drowned out at once by a noise. It was the murmurs of some people coming from outside the terrace.
"Young Gowen, that is, the child is still black-haired even at the age of seven?"
"Perhaps it is a relief for Lady Gowen from the Duke's perspective. For one cannot know what color will manifest in a child."
"It was seven years ago that a sudden marriage took place between Sowrel and Mondel, was it not? The Lady did not even carry the child for a full eight months before giving birth..."
"How close was she with her original fiance? Her husband changed suddenly due to the will of the family, it must have been difficult to forget easily. Who knows if they kept in contact after that?"
"If the rumor is true that the young one is not the son of the Duke of Mondel, it would cause an enormous scandal. Were those two families not bound by a sturdy alliance through marriage?"
"Perhaps. The Lady might even step forward to lift the recently closed permission for magic tools. You all have heard how strict Mondel is about it, have you not? His Highness the Crown Prince raised suspicions of irregularities in the management of magic tools."
They seemed to have no inkling that there was a carelessly closed terrace near the place they had hidden themselves to avoid attention. Nor that beyond it existed two men.
Hailen had no interest in such common gossip, but those words were laced with malice in many ways, so Gailront could not listen to them comfortably. He tried to ignore them and turned his head back to this side, where he still had to worry. Unlike his light banter earlier when he tried to tease his counterpart, Hailen was frowning, his brows furrowed.
'Surely he's not going to reprimand those loose-lipped people, is he?'
Hailen was someone who did not tolerate annoying people, someone who had no reason to do so, so Gailront couldn't help but worry. If his guess was correct that Hailen was intoxicated, he might forget the situation here filled with enemies.
In fact, even if that were the case, there would be no trouble for Hailen, who held the rank of Young Duke. However, Gailront became concerned about the potential situation.
For the object of his concern was none other than the one he held in his heart.
And contrary to Gailront's concern, Hailen had no intention of pointing out the gossip or those chattering. What he was annoyed by were the deep thoughts that arose from their conversation.
Both their conversation and Hailen's displeasure were all due to the fact that the young child still had black hair.
This story goes back to the ancient era of magic.
There was a high concentration of mana dissolved in the atmosphere, an era when mages existed. However, for some reason, the energy called mana gradually disappeared, and with it, the era of magic came to an end.
What remained were magic tools that stored mana in special objects to wield mysterious power even now, and the descendants of mages who had mana in their bodies to use as magical power.
Here, the descendants of mages refer to those who were prevalent in many noble families with long histories, and curiously, their magical power manifested in predetermined colors, including genetic traits.
Moreover, one of the many peculiarities was that even if one was born with such a quality, it did not manifest at the same time for everyone.
Just as Gailront had dark hair when he was young, the birthday boy, the child, had not yet manifested that trait either.
Not all noble families in the Empire possessed such a genetic color. Therefore, the families that did possess this trait were considered to have a deep history of their own.
It was a fact related to this that the Imperial family was born with golden eyes to prove their descent from Panule, that those who inherited the blood of Emmast had red hair generation after generation, and that the blue-blooded Pamels boasted blonde hair.
Incidentally, the Mondel Duchy was also one of these families, and those who inherited their blood were destined to be born with brown hair tinged with green. On the contrary, since the child's maternal family, the Sowrel Duchy, was not descended from mages, young Gowen would naturally prove his inheritance of Mondel blood as he grew.
Generally, black-haired children fully establish such outward traits by the age of sixteen, the age at which they participate in the debutante ball and are considered adults in the Empire. If that seven-year-old child still did not manifest Mondel's color by then, it would truly prove the rumor of the Duchess's infidelity.
There was a limit to the Empire's dyeing techniques, so apart from the magic tools whose permission had been revoked for some reason, there was no way to completely change the color of one's appearance.
And who would be more sensitive to the continuation of bloodlines than the one present here?
Unlike Gailront's concern, Hailen, who maintained quite a sober mind, inwardly sneered at those who made all sorts of ominous speculations about the black hair of the child celebrating his birthday today.
'They must have gossiped like this when my secret was exposed in my previous life.'
The whispers that automatically followed in his nightmares. Whether it was truly due to the effects of alcohol, he couldn't help but frown deeply.
"Lord Hailen, are you alright?"
"How ironic that you happen to be in front of me like this."
"Don't pretend you didn't hear. Your ears couldn't have missed my words. It's just another one of those headaches, as always."
With those words, the intense discomfort that even marred Hailen's beauty vanished from his face. However, Gailront couldn't easily dismiss the momentary agitation he had witnessed.
In the end, disregarding even the command he tried so hard to uphold, he lowered the curtain of the terrace.
Whether it was due to the presence he sensed nearby, or thanks to the partition separating them from the banquet hall, the voices of those loose-lipped gossipers were no longer audible.
The nightmarish memories that had surfaced in Hailen's mind, as well as the unpleasant feelings that seemed to follow him, appeared to dissipate as well.
The amusing part was that Hailen was not the only one who had to take in the same subject in such a provocative manner within this banquet.
As the Count had guessed, the Second Prince, Franz, only made his appearance and drew attention as the birthday banquet neared its end.
"I fail to see why I should bother attending a mere brat's birthday."
"Her Majesty the Empress specifically requested it. Young Gowen is also the Count's cherished grandson."
"You expect me to heed my uncle's wishes?"
"That's not what I meant..."
Flustered by Franz's harsh retort, the frail woman tried to protest with a pale, sickly expression, but it was to no avail. Some onlookers shook their heads in pity at the sight, but their expressions also held a hint of mockery towards the inadequate one.
The Second Prince's wife, named Olia, was a woman of modest and pure beauty, but she was infamous in high society for always being treated harshly by her husband. This was due to her background as a daughter of a Count's family, the fact that Franz had never desired this marriage in the first place, and that she had miscarried the child she was pregnant with at the time, and had been unable to conceive since. Her frail body was clearly ill-suited for such torment.
But where would that man Franz possess the consideration to regard the difficulties of the Prince's wife? He was simply displeased with the reality of being forced to attend this petty banquet just to appease his uncle.
"I greet the Second Prince and the Princess. It is an honor for such esteemed guests to celebrate my son."
"It is a joyous occasion for my cousin, so I should attend in person. My uncle does not seem to be present."
"If His Highness the Prince had known you would grace us with your presence, my father would have awaited you. He has sent for attendants, so he will be down shortly."
"Well, my uncle is reaching an age where his strength is waning."
Such banquets were indeed occasions to solidify the Second Prince's faction, which was why the Empress had urged her son to attend. But it did not even register in Franz's mind.
Whether it was appropriate to regard the Count's potentially delicate health, which could be a sensitive issue, with such casual remarks as mere jokes. Or perhaps he wished for his uncle to physically falter and fade away.
"The child has grown much since we last met. He should be tired enough to sleep, yet his eyes are so bright."
Olia, well aware of Franz's dissatisfaction with the Count, tried to steer the conversation. This was about all the meek Princess could do for her husband.
She also adored young children, and her gaze upon the seven-year-old Gowen revealed a genuine fondness for the child. Perhaps it was due to her own lamentable circumstances regarding children.
Such an expression from Olia, who could not even bear him a child, would hardly please the embittered Franz. To him, the barren Princess was merely kindling to be rid of sooner, yet she was not so foolish as to reveal her sincerity to that extent, and her sharp gaze turned towards the black-haired child.
"It's only seven years old, so we can afford to wait and see."
Franz's pointed remark was perhaps closer to venting his frustration. Even if he pretended to be indifferent, how could the Countess be unaware of the rumors swirling around herself and the child? Despite being cousins, he could only offer such a curt response since he was addressing the Prince.
However, her father was a sly fox who prowled the political arena as if it were his own backyard. Even if she appeared to be a mere noble lady raising a child, she carried that bloodline, so she was no pushover.
Her subsequent words carried their own subtle barbs.
"Did not His Highness the Prince also fail to manifest the sun in his eyes until the late age of sixteen?"
Franz could only grit his teeth in response to his cousin's words. His heart desired to confront her for insulting him, but she was who she was. Moreover, there were many eyes watching, so displaying his anger here would only make him the one who got pricked.
'She must still harbor resentment over the marriage with Mondel. The rumor that the child will remain black-haired even as he grows older is likely true.'
All he could do was silently hurl scathing remarks in his mind.
At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if the Countess had caught wind of something related to that marriage.
After all, was she not the one involved in the sudden marriage pact between the two families, arranged to conceal Franz's secret?
However, before the Count of Sowrel reappeared to once again soothe Franz's ruffled feathers, he could not bring himself to question the Countess about any part of his suspicion.
He could only vent his frustration on Olia.