* * *
“Duchess, I need to step out to the lounge for a moment—”
“Oh my! I’ll go with you. You mustn’t wander alone.”
Madam Holt, who had been laughing and chatting with the other ladies, was startled by Sylvian’s completely flushed face and immediately supported him.
“I really, really wanted to meet Yuri.”
“Yuri? Oh, just call him by his name. I didn’t know you were so eager to see my son.”
The Countess, with a sympathetic expression, helped Sylvian along.
It seemed the Duchess had been yearning for someone to confide in.
“I heard Yuri has other plans, but I’ll be sure to tell him to visit the capital during his break.”
“Really? You promise?”
Hearing the Duchess’s hopeful tone, Madam Holt made a mental note to suggest to her son that he come home during the holidays.
“I know the way now, so I’ll go alone.”
“Oh no, I’ll escort you to the lounge.”
The moment they left the party hall, Sylvian tried to send her back.
He needed to be alone so the Alphas eyeing him would have a chance to approach.
But Madam Holt was unshakably determined.
“My child is a male Omega as well, so I was very worried. But he grew up healthy, and I’m sure you will too.”
As he listened to her kind words, Sylvian found himself picturing how adorable the main character, Yuri, must have grown up to be.
No wonder he could stand toe-to-toe with Zeroth, always clashing with him but ultimately breaking through with sheer optimism.
‘Where the hell is he right now?’
The Emperor and the missing Zeroth had yet to return to the party.
“Duchess, rest here. I’ll let you know when the Duke comes looking for you.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as the Countess left, Sylvian sprawled onto the sofa in the lounge.
Since this space was reserved for the Duke and Duchess, no one else would enter.
Knock, knock.
‘Who could it be?’
He had been racking his brain trying to recall the original storyline when the sound of knocking made him open his eyes.
His plans had already gone awry with Yuri’s delayed return, and now, someone had the audacity to disturb his thoughts.
“Who… is it?”
“Sylvian, it’s me. Open the door.”
‘Father, this time.’
Pressing his lips together, Sylvian lightly patted his cheeks to compose himself before carefully opening the door.
“F-Father?”
“Yes. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”
Sniff.
The Viscount let out a choked sob as he pulled his still-thin son into an embrace.
“You must have suffered.”
‘Suffered? Oh, absolutely.’
Sylvian remained silent, unwilling to risk saying the wrong thing and inviting trouble.
“Let’s talk inside.”
“T-this room isn’t open to just anyone.”
When the Viscount stepped forward as if to enter, Sylvian quickly blocked his way.
“What nonsense! Do you know who I am?!”
“F-Father, but the Duke—”
This was supposed to be their private space.
Or at least, that was how Zeroth had put it.
It was obvious this was just a place for noblewomen to rest, but Zeroth clearly had no intention of letting him be.
“Just say you invited me to talk.”
“…Fine.”
At least he didn’t seem like he was about to hit him.
Still, something felt off.
Steeling himself, Sylvian nervously glanced down the hallway before allowing the Viscount inside.
“Do you know how your mother cries herself to sleep every night?”
“I… I’m sorry. I spoke to the Duke about it, but—”
As soon as the viscount brought up the topic, Sylvian cut in first.
He knew the duke had no intention of listening and pleaded with him as much as he wanted.
“You said you already told him?”
“Yes. But he refused, so there wasn’t much I could do.”
“What on earth did you do to make the duke hate us so much?”
As expected, the true king of gaslighting was his father.
If there were an empire of gaslighting, he would be the emperor.
The longer he spoke, the lower Sylvian’s head drooped.
Drip.
“I’m sorry.”
“When did I ever tell you to cry? Of course, you’re doing your best. But your mother keeps crying so much that I’m at my wit’s end.”
As tears hit the floor, he suddenly recalled his wife’s words: Never make Sylvian cry.
Startled, he hurriedly raised his arms and rubbed his face roughly.
Because of that, the skin around his eyes got scraped, leaving a scratch on his face.
“Ugh.”
“I’m absolutely not blaming you. Just… make sure to speak to the duke properly. I mean, very properly.”
I already spoke properly.
It was true that my mother told him to get a divorce, but she didn’t mean it like that. I explained it well!
Every time I did, though, it was amusing to see Zeroth’s rage meter rise in real-time.
Listening to the viscount, Sylvian nodded, deciding he would plead with the duke again.
“So the duke isn’t divorcing you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Frustrated, the viscount thumped his chest. His son flinched at the movement, but he didn’t notice.
“Then does that mean he’s thinking of divorcing you someday?!”
The viscount wanted to scold his son for not understanding the duke yet.
If the duke hadn’t been acting so recklessly, he would have raised his hand already.
“But—!”
“But what? A man of the duke’s standing can’t afford not to think about the future.”
Of course.
Nodding to himself, the viscount recalled a few noble Alphas who had approached him earlier, subtly asking about Sylvian.
He didn’t know how much he could squeeze out of them, but if his wife was right, he might be able to extort more than the money the duke had thrown at them.
So wouldn’t it be wise to expand his connections in advance?
“Come on. There are people I need to introduce you to.”
“Father, I’m feeling a little dizzy right now.”
“I told you not to drink alcohol.”
Seeing his son swaying unsteadily, the viscount clicked his tongue with disapproval.
“The duke will arrive soon. We need to go to the banquet hall.”
“…Alright.”
Sylvian had no choice but to stand up as his father yanked him forward.
Earlier, quite a few nobles had gathered near the viscount.
Normally, they wouldn’t even spare him a glance, but they were likely trying to establish some kind of connection with the duke’s household through him.
If I show up with the viscount at the banquet now, people will assume he has some influence over the duke’s affairs.
I should completely ruin that.
Pretending to comply, Sylvian felt rather pleased at the thought of dismantling his father’s schemes.
“Viscount, if you walk so fast, the duchess will have a hard time keeping up.”
Someone called out to them on the way to the banquet hall.
A man with an unattractive face attempted a devastatingly charming expression as he politely extended his hand toward Sylvian.
“May I have the honor of escorting you to the banquet?”
Timothy Cavern.
The second son of Count Cavern.
A knight with barely passable skills, notorious for his womanizing habits, and destined to inherit only a minor barony if he failed to surpass his older brother.
‘I didn’t release my pheromones to attract this kind of useless guy.’
* * *
