* * *
“Is Young Master Nertian alright?”
“Yes. He must’ve been really worried something had happened to me.”
Martius hadn’t been able to stop crying, and the two of them had cried for so long that the servants had to come in and separate them just to calm things down.
“For someone who’s been with his older brother since childhood, I suppose it makes sense.”
Even so, it felt strange to Zeroth that Martius had stayed silent until now.
He gently brushed the pink under Sylvian’s eyes.
“Can Martius stay at the Duke’s estate a bit longer?”
“Of course. He’s family to Sylvian.”
A small hand reached out, gently clutching his.
Sylvian’s hesitation, his constant gauging—when would he finally reclaim his freedom, his right to enjoy things?
Despite how passively he’d been pushed around all his life, Sylvian still acted like someone who didn’t realize what he deserved.
Always cautious.
“But… hmm.”
“Did you hear something?”
“They said… the Duke’s house is falling into ruin…”
Letting his words trail off on purpose, he could feel the way Zeroth immediately grew uncomfortable.
Sylvian clung to him like someone plagued with anxiety.
He’d hold his hand for no reason, fiddle with his sleepwear, meet his eyes only to quickly look away.
Like someone full of guilt.
Someone wondering, “Am I allowed to have something this good?”
He laid bare every soft, vulnerable part of himself—the kind that made Zeroth want to do anything for him.
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
So he wasn’t exactly deceiving Zeroth either.
Every day, Sylvian’s old habits clashed with the memories of the soul that now shared his body, flaring up at random.
If only he’d known nothing.
If only he hadn’t realized, the moment he was reborn, that he was now living someone else’s life.
Maybe his mistake was trying to fix things too easily from the start.
Maybe he should’ve just gone rogue, rebelled against the viscount, lived wildly.
It might’ve been better to run around causing scandals and getting married after stirring up some chaos.
He hadn’t expected the things he gave up on—just to take the easy route—to come back and tie him down like this.
“Did the young master say that?”
Nod.
“Sylvian. You’re the duchess. You can do whatever you want.”
But doesn’t that require your permission?
Sylvian met Zeroth’s gaze with that intention in his eyes, and a gentle kiss followed.
“I want to give you everything you desire. Even the Empire, if that’s what you want.”
“…That, I can’t accept.”
Only then did Sylvian’s face finally relax.
Zeroth pressed another kiss to his lips and didn’t let go.
‘I don’t need the Empire. Just tell me you love me.’
Locked in that gaze, Sylvian waited for his answer as he received Zeroth’s kiss.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Marquis Karl Rooster, who had just returned from duties at the imperial court, spotted Count Cavern from afar, looking at him with desperate eyes.
Saying he had forgotten something with his companions, he changed course.
There was nothing he needed to say to Count Cavern, whose son was set to be executed.
The Emperor had flown into a rage upon hearing that nobles were using drugs and aphrodisiacs to engage in mass orgies and had even killed commoners in their debauchery.
With the investigative bureau and Duke Graham’s family backing the operation, every last secret club had been dismantled.
Though many claimed Cavern was simply facing backlash for touching the Duke’s wife’s family, Timothy’s crimes were far too severe.
Karl briskly returned to the foreign ministry office.
“Idiot.”
The execution of the nobles involved in the crime was scheduled for just two days later.
Many noble houses protested the punishment as too harsh, but the Emperor was unmoved.
In fact, the commoners, enraged by the nobles’ cruelty, had held daily rallies demanding executions, only dispersing once the Emperor issued his decree.
‘No matter how precious your child is, there’s a line.’
Clicking his tongue, Karl resumed work, remaining at his desk until dusk blanketed the city.
As most employees left for the day, Karl finally exited the office and walked leisurely toward his carriage.
Click.
“Wh—”
“……”
Karl slowly raised his hands, feeling the cold press of a blade against his back.
Only then did Count Cavern sigh deeply, as if apologizing, and lead him into an empty office.
“Count Cavern. This is quite rude of you.”
“I’m sorry, truly. But you’re the only one who might be able to help.”
He knelt before the much younger marquis.
There was nothing else he could do.
No amount of money could buy him an ally.
Even his bribed servants refused, fearing their heads would roll if caught up in this mess.
“What could I possibly do? His Majesty is furious.”
“I’m not asking you to reduce the sentence.”
Seeing the desperation in the old man’s eyes, the marquis sighed, covering his mouth with his hand.
‘So quick to bite the bait.’
“Please, Count. Get up.”
“Marquis, I’m not asking you to do something impossible.”
‘What a load of nonsense.’
Karl could clearly see what the Count was aiming for.
Since avoiding the death sentence was impossible, the simplest route was to swap the condemned with someone else.
Anyone caught doing such a thing would also be executed.
‘And that’s not ‘something difficult’?’
Karl let out a small chuckle.
“Count, I won’t break the law.”
“No! I just need you to introduce me to a few people.”
“……”
Karl’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The Count, eager to persuade him, relaxed at the faint hint of interest.
“I’ll give you that mansion you wanted. It’s yours.”
“Right now, refusing might actually be more helpful.”
“I’ll transfer the deed quietly, once the matter’s been forgotten.”
Faced with polite rejection, the Count hastily offered more.
“What about ships? I’ll lease you vessels from my merchant fleet. No names, free to travel anywhere.”
To save his son, the Count was unloading everything he had.
His wife hadn’t gotten out of bed since their second son was sentenced to death.
He’d made bold promises to cheat death, but even if he wanted to cut ties, it was hard to shake off someone who greeted him cheerfully every morning.
“For something ‘not difficult,’ that’s an excessive offer, don’t you think?”
When the marquis shook his head, the Count grabbed the hem of his pants.
“You… you have the means to help, don’t you?”
“Even if I do, I’m not obligated to help you. Do you really think that’s enough to buy my help?”
His tone was laced with mockery, and Count Cavern lifted his head.
The face he once thought so composed now seemed strangely twisted.
“…Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Did you hear some rumor about me?”
That Karl Rooster, marquis of the empire, secretly ran a lethal assassin group in the back alleys, away from the Emperor’s eye.
That the famed “Cleaner” who would do anything for a price was also under Karl’s command—someone must have whispered this to the desperate Count.
Gulp.
“Y-yes…”
Though he himself was an Alpha, this man was something far more dangerous.
Without realizing it, Cavern took a step back.
“Hm, you’re unusually direct. No one ever comes to me like this. Discretion is sort of a basic rule.”
“If you save my son—I’ll grant you any request. My merchant fleet has everything!”
“Let’s start with a confidentiality contract. If word about me gets out, I’ll have a hard time making a living.”
Karl smiled sweetly and pulled out a magical contract.
“Will you refuse?”
“W-what happens if I do?”
‘You obviously won’t leave here alive.’
* * *
