* * *
“But, Duke, there’s really no one else who can take on this role.”
“Th-that’s right! I’ve never even held a sword in my life!”
Even as he stammered, Viscount Etherion made sure to get his point across.
Ashard let out a scoffing sigh.
“…And you’re proud of that?”
Trovien nobles were built sturdier than those of other empires.
Swordsmanship was a basic requirement for young nobles.
Most of them could at least defend themselves.
So saying only Ashard was capable was an exaggeration—clearly, no one wanted the hassle.
Ashard’s gaze naturally fell on Viscount Etherion.
‘Okay, maybe except him.’
The Etherion family had always been skinny and frail, excelling in academics rather than physical strength.
They had served as imperial advisors for generations, so the viscount’s claim wasn’t entirely false.
“Regardless, I won’t do it this time. Let that be clear.”
The room filled with sighs of despair.
The mood in the chamber dropped into hopeless silence.
A few nobles even looked to the emperor, eyes pleading for him to overrule the Duke.
“What’s your reason?”
The emperor’s voice cut in.
Ashard’s gaze turned sharp.
One corner of his mouth curled slightly, as if he already knew exactly why Ashard had refused.
But he asked anyway—knowing full well what it implied.
The remaining man should be Ashard’s responsibility.
“If I give you my reason…will you revoke your decision?”
“Is it proper to be so indecisive? Even as an emperor, I cannot afford to go back on a decision I’ve already made just because of your words. It would be a blow to my dignity.”
Only at times like this did the emperor seem to care about dignity.
It had only been a few days since Ashard last saw him kneeling before his older brother, apologizing profusely whether Ashard was present or not.
“……”
Ashard’s gaze turned cold.
There was no way His Majesty, so perceptive, had failed to notice the way those three looked at Eren.
He clearly knew.
He knew everything and was doing this on purpose.
As Ashard’s golden eyes darkened to a low, heavy hue, the emperor avoided his gaze and began to control his expression.
‘Ah, he’s figured it out.’
Cidrein smiled, wearing the mask of a benevolent ruler.
He had felt it since the first time Eren Nefendis was brought to him.
There had been something off about Ashard’s desperate attempts to hide Eren.
His suspicions were confirmed more recently—on the day those three stormed the imperial palace.
They abandoned him, left him alone amidst enemy nobles, and rushed off at the mere sound of Count Nefendis’ voice.
It would have been strange not to notice something then.
“It may not be as bad as you think.”
Do you know the most effective way to grow stronger?
It’s to keep a rival of similar skill close by.
The same principle applied to emotions.
If someone nearby held the same feelings as you, it made it easier to recognize your own—and in the pursuit of the person you love, you wouldn’t hesitate to do anything.
That day, when Ashard left him behind and ran to Eren, there had been a touch of personal emotion.
But ultimately, it was that very logic that led the emperor to his decision.
“If it’s not so bad, then Your Majesty can do it yourself.”
“I would, but someone needs to remain in the palace.”
“……”
Ashard’s expression hardened further.
If the emperor wasn’t going himself and still wanted to leave someone behind at the palace, it left Ashard with even less justification to refuse.
And if he did refuse, that wretched emperor would no doubt cloak the order in imperial authority.
“So then—who is it?”
At Ashard’s question, the emperor’s lips curled ever so slightly.
“By now, he should have arrived at the Fridit estate.”
“……What did you just say?”
No response came from the emperor.
‘Damn it.’
Ashard cursed under his breath and immediately turned on his heel, heading straight for the carriage.
“P-please give that to me.”
Eren urgently reached out to snatch the scarf from his hand.
But before he could touch it, the scarf was lifted just out of his reach.
The green eyes fixed on Eren shimmered dangerously.
“……Marquis Renan.”
At Eren’s lowered voice, Julius silently looked down at him.
Then he pressed his thumb against the flushed mark on Eren’s neck—as if testing whether it would fade.
“It’s been a while since we’ve met like this, Count Nefendis.”
Thanks to Julius pulling his hand back slightly, Eren was able to retreat.
The strange expression that had hovered on Julius’s face vanished without a trace, replaced with a smile.
It was as if he were wearing a mask.
Eren, unfazed, only gave a small nod, offering no reply.
“You probably have no idea how worried I was when you disappeared like that.”
His tone implied relief at seeing him again, but Eren didn’t let his guard down for a second.
That smiling face and gentle voice—his hand, which had just touched Eren’s neck, was now being wiped with a handkerchief as if it had been sullied.
‘I don’t like either of them, but I’d still have preferred Carlyle over this.’
“Is that so?”
Worried? Please.
He just didn’t have anyone around to satisfy his lust—that much was obvious.
“I’m alive. That should be enough.”
Eren cut Julius off sharply, staring at him with indifference.
He couldn’t give him any kind of reaction.
It was a lesson he had learned only after spending a long time in this possessed body.
The moment he showed surprise or even the smallest bit of civility, they’d take it as affection and run wild with their own interpretations.
Perhaps he’d grown used to it.
The cold tone came out easier than expected.
Thanks to Ashard’s constant barrage of strange remarks that had left Eren flustered more times than he could count, he no longer trembled like a leaf at every touch from these so-called original leads. His gaze remained calm.
When Eren didn’t react, Julius’s eyes narrowed.
Contrary to Eren’s assumption that silence would be enough, Julius was more twisted than he’d thought.
What flickered in his heart at that moment was intrigue—interest in the changed Eren.
“So the Count has this cold side to him too?”
“……”
“It suits you quite well.”
What the hell is wrong with this lunatic?
It was unfortunate that he couldn’t curse him out loud.
React, and Julius would be all too pleased.
Ignore him, and he’d act like the coldness was charming.
How the hell was he supposed to keep up with this twisted rhythm?
“There was something I wanted to ask.”
“You should learn to restrain your curiosity.”
Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded arrogant.
But from Eren, it just seemed sharp and biting—like a kitten bristling at a stranger. Julius burst into loud laughter.
‘Is he bipolar? What the hell is so funny?’
Eren hadn’t said anything that funny.
He looked at Julius like he was a madman, making no attempt to hide it.
His thoughts were written all over his face.
“I hadn’t had much reason to smile lately. But meeting you again has certainly fixed that.”
Oh, come on.
I didn’t do anything of the sort.
He wanted to say that—his throat burned with the urge—but he managed to hold back.
He had no idea what was so funny to Julius.
* * *
