* * *
Ranshel patted the horse’s jaw as it munched noisily on a carrot and spoke.
“Hyung, can you do me a favor?”
“What now?”
“Um, it’s about the young master’s mother. Lady Charlotte. Do you know where she is right now?”
Simon’s gaze turned sharp.
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Well, the young master has been waiting for his mother to return to the estate. People are hush-hush about it, but turns out, she fell in love with a commoner and ran off in the middle of the night.”
“Wow, that place is a mess too. She ran away and left her kid behind?”
“…That’s none of my business, really.”
Ranshel gave a sweet, innocent smile, feigning nonchalance.
“So I was thinking, if we capture her, couldn’t we ransom her back to the Fomel family for a nice sum?”
“…You’re suggesting a hostage situation?”
“Not a bad idea, right? She’s someone with plenty of influence to exploit.”
Simon listened with a frown, then gave a small nod.
“Fine. Doesn’t cost me anything. I’ll look into it.”
“Mm, thanks.”
As he shook the now-empty carrot container, Simon let out a dry laugh.
“Ranshel, you really are one terrible bastard.”
Ranshel casually stroked the horse’s mane and replied coolly.
“I know.”
Zavad hated Delta Seminary.
He found it unbearable to be trapped in a space with others, stripped of the freedom to move away from his desk during set hours.
Still, the scent of expensive perfumes intermingling in the air, the soft rustling of fine fabric brushing across desks—those small luxuries helped him endure this suffocating box.
Here, seeing people as individuals meant nothing to Zavad.
Everyone around him—front, back, left, and right—existed not as persons, but as representatives of their noble houses.
Long ago, he had categorized them into two groups: those who might be of use, and those who weren’t.
“Onew.”
“Hm?”
The boy sitting beside him turned his head.
Onew was the eldest son of the Toba Count’s household, and one of the rare few Zavad considered worth building a relationship with, for potential future benefits.
“You know any famous pastry shops in Lima?”
Onew blinked drowsily with his innocent face.
“Uh, yeah. I know a couple. But why? If you want sweets, you can just ask the dorm kitchen. They’ll deliver it right to your room—it’s nice.”
“That’s a good suggestion, but…”
Zavad smiled gently, thinking:
‘What nonsense.’
He had no intention of receiving food of uncertain content made specifically for him.
He’d rather have mediocre snacks made for the general public.
At least then, his life wouldn’t be in danger.
Zavad resisted the urge to ask if Onew had left his overfed brain back in the dorm.
The fertile farmland of the Toba estate still danced temptingly in his mind.
“…Sometimes you just want a bit of fresh air. I thought I’d stroll around during our outing hour and pick something up.”
“I see. What kind of sweets do you like, Zavad?”
“Not really into any particular kind.”
“…Huh? Then aren’t you going to buy them for yourself?”
“I am. But I’m not the one eating them. I’m raising this thing—I’m not sure if it’s a dog or a pig.”
Zavad leaned back in his chair and looked out the window.
The sun hadn’t moved much since earlier.
As if time had frozen….
Onew bobbed his head enthusiastically, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Oh, you’ve got a sweet-toothed pet! Just toss it sugar cubes. If you give it too much nice stuff, it’ll get spoiled.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
It was far too late for that creature to be “spoiled.”
But it seemed Onew misunderstood, nodding with a dreamy smile.
“Ah, I get it. You really adore it, huh?”
What are you even getting? Zavad forced a smile, only faintly creasing his brow.
“…Honestly, I don’t even know what that feels like.”
“Huh? You don’t know what ‘adorable’ is?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s nothing big. It’s when just looking at them makes you smile.”
Why would that make you smile?
All it does is piss me off.
“It tickles your chest, like a bird fluttering its wings inside….”
Tickles? It just hurts.
Zavad slowly rolled his eyes.
He didn’t know what it meant to smile just by looking at someone, or to feel that fluttering sensation in his chest.
– Zavad.
The only thing he did know was pain.
– I’ve seen so many sparkling and beautiful things, but nothing is as lovely as love itself.
What’s so beautiful about a romance with a mere commoner?
– Be well.
His mother, cloaked in a long robe, left with only that light parting remark.
He hadn’t even been able to cry out for her not to go.
He wandered the room, lost.
And when he finally rushed out too late with arms outstretched, he saw him—that man, far in the distance.
The man who had come to meet her had a filthy dagger, stained with dark red, strapped to his hip.
His whole body was coated in dust and grime.
His dazzlingly beautiful, pristine mother had taken that filthy man’s hand and walked away.
One step, then another, growing smaller in the distance.
Zavad couldn’t find even a trace of beauty in their love.
A mere commoner.
A dirty, base-born man.
A lowly creature with nothing but overflowing greed.
The man who had dragged his mother from golden splendor down into the coarse earth.
How could she cling to something like that—and then leave without a second thought?
How could her steps be so light, so cheerful?
What was so…
“…Yeah. I think it still hurts.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Just tell me where the pastry shop is later.”
Everything that can leave at any time always hurts.
If you want to hurt less, you have to hold on tight and never let go.
And to do that—just as he’d been taught, just as he’d thoroughly learned—he needed power.
Enough strength that nothing could be taken from him.
And once he had it, he’d hide the precious thing where no one could find it.
Keep it with him until he died.
That would be enough.
As soon as class ended, Zavad rose from his seat and headed straight for the chapel.
Inside the open double doors, a crowd of worshippers had just finished praying and were pouring out.
Since it was a chapel within the school, they too were all children of noble houses.
Frey walked among them, receiving praise and reverence.
The moment he spotted Zavad, he changed course and approached him directly.
Zavad extended one arm, and Frey, as if he’d been waiting, placed his hand on it.
Soft whispers floated from behind them.
“…The Pomel family….”
“…The Saint and the duke’s second son….”
“…The imperial bastard….”
Zavad deliberately slowed his steps.
Those exiting the chapel, those entering, and even students strolling the corridor after their lessons—he wanted all of them to witness this.
He only spoke once the area had relatively cleared out.
“Any response from Vershel?”
“Yes. They seem open to the idea, but would prefer to meet the Duke Pomel in person to discuss matters.”
Zavad twisted his lips slightly.
“Then we’ll exchange letters, even if it takes time.”
“I figured as much…”
“Yes.”
He was certain.
Benjet Pomel would never leave his estate to come to the capital.
It was deeply unpleasant and irritating, but Zavad understood why.
He got it.
It was the same reason Benjet had remained cloistered in his tower room for years, never once attempting to abandon his title or leave the estate.
Because he didn’t know when she might return.
If she ever came back after casting off her commoner’s life, the first place she’d go would be the Pomel estate.
There would be nowhere else for her to go.
* * *
