* * *

It was obvious to anyone that Felix had gone out of his way to impress.

Like a peacock displaying its plumage, he seemed eager to show off.

Lowell began to suspect that Felix, mistaking his own feelings, might believe he was experiencing the fiery passion of a first love—and that Lowell was the target.

‘He might just be confusing kindness with affection because no one’s ever treated him well.’

Most people would think love in a marriage was a good thing, but Lowell disagreed.

He believed love always came with an expiration date—at least, love directed at him always had.

Consequently, he felt that relationships based on camaraderie and responsibility were healthier than ones driven by romantic passion.

Felix’s possible misconception struck him as troublesome.

‘Felix will realize in time that his feelings are a misunderstanding or will cool off soon enough. Until then, I’ll help him shoulder his responsibilities.’

The carriage bustled forward, carrying the two, each immersed in their own conflicting thoughts.

“We’ll have to proceed on foot from here,” the coachman announced.

Carriages couldn’t enter the imperial grounds, but special permission had been granted for them to approach the banquet hall.

Once again, Lowell took Felix’s hand as he stepped down.

“Ah…”

A momentary wave of dizziness blurred Lowell’s vision, a remnant of his lingering pain.

Felix quickly caught him by the waist.

What had started as a simple gesture of support turned into something more intimate, and both of them felt a sudden surge of heat.

“I’m fine now,” Lowell said softly.

Even so, Felix didn’t let go of his waist, instead holding him more firmly and escorting him to the hall.

Lowell was acutely aware of the warmth of Felix’s trembling hand but couldn’t bring himself to push it away.

Before long, the grand banquet hall came into view.

“Presenting Grand Duke Felix and Lord Lowell Clarke.”

With the announcement, all eyes in the hall turned toward them.

Some gazes were filled with curiosity, others were openly hostile, and a few even brimmed with disdain.

‘Just a little kindness, and he’s already softening up.’

Suppressing a wave of irritation at everyone in the hall, Lowell walked forward.

A few of the more hostile stares seemed to target him specifically, though they were oblivious to how transparent their intent was.

‘So those who want to curry favor with the emperor are all dressed in orange.’

Orange, reminiscent of the emperor’s golden hues, symbolized loyalty.

As the original novel had described, those aligned with the emperor—or hoping to appear so—dressed in orange.

Some nobles wore garishly bright outfits that hurt the eyes, desperate for the emperor’s attention, even if it made their faces look like ghostly floating masks.

“Your Grace, we seem to meet often these days.”

One of these orange-clad nobles approached Lowell and Felix with a sly smile.

‘That’s a jab at Felix, implying he’s neglecting his duties as a lord to loiter in the capital. Clearly, they’re running out of legitimate complaints to make.’

The man, his face as red as a roasted sweet potato, looked as unappealing as his demeanor.

Lowell barely held back a grimace.

‘Judging by his audacity, he’s trying to provoke Felix under the guise of supporting the emperor.’

Lowell glanced at Felix, who remained unfazed by the petty jab.

Instead, Felix seemed more concerned with Lowell looking at him, tightening his grip on Lowell’s waist.

“Have we met? I don’t recall,” Felix said casually, speaking down to the man.

There’s a big difference between being subtly ignored and being blatantly dismissed.

Only the exceptionally foolish or those with strong backing dared to provoke Felix openly.

‘This guy must be in the exceptionally foolish camp.’

Lowell stifled a laugh as he watched the man’s already red face darken further.

Felix, unaware of the effect he’d just had, seemed unexpectedly admirable to Lowell.

“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Sage, heir to the Baron Arendelle.”

A baron’s heir, not even a count’s.

Lowell nearly let out a chuckle.

It was laughable that this man thought opposing Felix might win the emperor’s favor.

Clearly, he didn’t know that the emperor despised fools almost as much as he did Felix.

‘Judging by his age, he must be a pretty unreliable heir to still not have inherited the title.’

Felix barely glanced at Sage before turning away, his disinterest more apparent than if he’d been staring at a wall.

“I doubt we’ll meet again, so I won’t bother remembering your name.”

Felix wasn’t being spiteful—just honest.

‘He’ll return to his estate soon and has no intention of coming back until the next Blessing Month, so he means it.’

Lowell felt a vicarious satisfaction.

“Everyone, show proper respect to His Majesty!”

The bustling hall quickly quieted as the emperor entered and ascended to the highest seat, radiating an almost leonine authority.

“Raise your glasses,” the emperor said with a genial smile that fooled no one.

“May we all survive to meet again in the next Blessing Month.”

His words were anything but a joke.

Moments like these often preceded purges of disloyal nobles.

Felix, unbothered, casually eyed the drink Lowell was holding, while Lowell silently prepared for the toast.

“Cheers.”

The Emperor concluded a brief greeting and raised his glass high, calling for a toast.

The gathered nobles, who had been holding their glasses aloft for a while, followed his lead, raising their glasses and bringing them to their lips.

Lowell, with no intention of actually drinking, mimicked the gesture and brought the rim of the glass to his lips.

However, Felix, who had been watching him intently, widened his eyes in disbelief and grabbed Lowell’s hand.

“Someone who’s pregnant shouldn’t drink alcohol.”

Felix’s expression was intensely serious, as if explaining an elementary truth.

He seemed genuinely convinced Lowell might not have known.

“I was only pretending to drink. Don’t worry, I won’t actually drink it.”

Still unconvinced, Felix took Lowell’s glass and placed it firmly on the table.

The timing was unfortunate, drawing attention from the crowd just as everyone was toasting.

Even the Emperor twisted his lips into a subtle smirk, his cunning gaze flickering with faint interest.

“Ah, yes. I heard there’s good news.”

His gaze left no doubt about whom he was addressing, and everyone caught on immediately.

“I heard from the temple a few days ago that the Grand Duke Felix has found his match. You make a fine pair.”

The Emperor’s remark was laced with derision, clearly intended as an insult.

Lowell lacked the proper status to be a duchess, and Felix, cursed as a mage, was often ridiculed.

The Emperor likely thought this pairing would offend them both.

However, his words failed to cause any visible discomfort.

If anything, Felix seemed slightly flushed, almost excited.

“It’s an honor, Your Majesty.”

In Felix’s place, Lowell, donning the guise of an innocent and oblivious youth, smiled brightly and bowed.

The Emperor’s eyes glinted with disdain for Lowell’s feigned ignorance.

“I see. And when is the wedding?”

“After the child is born, we plan to hold it in the duchy.”

Felix responded, instinctively shielding Lowell slightly behind him—a protective gesture toward his partner.

“Well, I hope the birth goes smoothly, and the ceremony follows without incident. Considering Felix drained the life force of my dear sister just to be born, I can’t help but worry.”

The Emperor’s words were biting, his use of “sister” tinged with subtle bitterness, though only Lowell seemed to notice.

The surrounding nobles erupted in sycophantic laughter, showering absurd praise for the Emperor’s “thoughtful” concern.

Felix, unable to counter such violent words, pressed his lips together tightly, the faint smile he’d worn moments earlier now replaced by a familiar shadow of gloom.

That bastard.

He really had to bring up his sister.

Lowell cursed inwardly, glaring at Felix’s downtrodden expression.

From Lowell’s perspective, Felix seemed dispirited, though others saw his intense, anger-filled gaze toward the Emperor as brazen defiance.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s advice. I’ll be sure to take care of myself. The Grand Duke has been so considerate that I’m confident he’ll continue to be a great help.”

Lowell replied boldly, refusing to back down.

The Emperor adjusted his posture, intrigued by Lowell’s unexpected audacity.

He seemed intent on assessing whether this confidence stemmed from sheer stupidity or genuine nerve.

Suppressing his seething anger, Lowell forced a radiant smile.

What’s so special about an emperor anyway?

Having grown up in a modern democracy, Lowell found the Emperor neither fearsome nor awe-inspiring, but rather pathetic—an aged man abusing his power to oppress others.

A senile fool resorting to petty violence because he can’t fix his own flaws.

Feigning nonchalance, Lowell rested his head on Felix’s shoulder.

Though Felix flinched slightly, he didn’t push him away, appearing rather pleased.

Meanwhile, the nobles who overheard Lowell’s comment about Felix’s kindness struggled to hide their disbelief.

Their faces betrayed their thoughts: That dark demon? or The youngest son of House Clarke has truly lost it.

“Indeed. Grand Duke Felix has found himself an exceptional match. Let us celebrate their engagement.”

The Emperor turned his attention elsewhere, growing bored. Lowell, still leaning on Felix, let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The tension had left him feeling faint, his fever creeping back.

We can’t leave this hall until the Emperor departs.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen until the partners’ dances were over.

Lowell longed to get it over with and retreat to the comfort of a bed.

* * *