The child who learned sadness developed one more habit besides smiling regardless of how he felt. When occasionally submerged in terrible loneliness, when feeling miserable, when it became unbearable—he’d take out the handkerchief the girl had given him.

[Then I’ll love you!]

And he’d recall that promise to love him without compensation, over and over. Though he knew it was a promise that couldn’t be fulfilled, those words, that smile, that girl remained as comfort.

Because it made him feel not like someone easily abandoned and ignored, but like a person naturally worthy of affection, he kept clinging to that promise.

However, time flowed steadily past that precarious moment. The expectations and comfort from back then naturally diluted over the long years.

Now he could smile skillfully without recalling the promise, could perfectly hide his emotions, and no longer thirsted for what he lacked. Yet he still habitually carried the handkerchief with him.

Then came the day when he’d finally become a boring adult.

After finishing military strategy, history, and economics lessons in the morning and spending the afternoon at the training grounds, he finally had reading time. A maid with an unfamiliar face, seemingly new, set down tea he hadn’t requested on the table.

“P-please enjoy it while you read.”

“Thank you.”

At his gentle greeting, the maid’s face flushed bright red. Royden, glancing at the maid’s retreating back as she hurried away, checked the green tea and frowned.

“Don’t you dislike this tea because it’s bitter?”

“It’s fine.”

“What’s fine? Hey, even if that maid spilled the teacup on your pants, you’d say it’s fine, wouldn’t you? No, you’d ask if she’s okay.”

Despite his criticism, Julian only smiled ambiguously. He’d actually asked servants who made mistakes around him if they were okay quite often.

But Royden, seemingly fed up with that habit, shuddered.

“Somehow as you age, you get more and more boring.”

“…”

“And yet those love letters never stop coming… Everyone should know you’re just a guy with a pretty face. No wait, your status too, no wait, your swordsmanship… What, you have everything?”

Clicking his tongue, Royden looked with dissatisfaction at the letters piled high on the desk.

As Royden lamented, the love letters coming to him increased exponentially each year. Despite having almost no social activities because he was absorbed in knight order work following Father or out on subjugations.

“I’m so jealous I could die.”

“Actually, I’m the one who’s jealous of you.”

Julian, having set down his book, honestly shared his feelings. Then Royden made a dumbfounded face like he’d heard something absurd.

“Of what exactly?”

“Because you’re loved. You have your grandfather, your mother, and a lover.”

“I broke up with her a while ago… No, look here, Young Grand Duke. If I had your face, I’d have swept up all the love in this world.”

Royden gestured at the pile of letters and let out an incredulous laugh. He sighed deeply, seemingly frustrated with his friend tilting his head stupidly.

“Geez, what good is having everything? You only have me as a friend.”

Though his pride was slightly hurt receiving such a pitying look from Royden, he couldn’t refute it. Because that one person was truly the only one he could call a friend.

‘No, is it just one person…?’

Julian, suddenly recalling red hair fluttering in the cold wind, unconsciously reached for the pile of letters. But this time too, there was no seal with a rose emblem.

Though he hadn’t known as a child, now he knew the rose on the handkerchief symbolized Blanche. By that time he also knew the relationship between Blanche and Chester, so he’d never once sent a letter to the girl.

Yet he secretly hoped for a letter from the girl. Though it wouldn’t be easy for someone with the Blanche name to send correspondence to Chester, wouldn’t that girl write at least once?

Of course, she might not have sent one for the same reason as him, or perhaps she hadn’t noticed his family, or maybe she’d long forgotten about their encounter.

‘As expected, nothing.’

As he calmly returned the letters to their place, Royden beside him smirked with his lips twitching.

“Looking for the rose girl? Disappointed she’s not there?”

“No.”

Julian, his face hardening, denied it immediately.

Royden had discovered the rose embroidery on the handkerchief he always carried and interrogated him daily about the handkerchief owner’s identity. 

Despite being continuously ignored, Royden seemed to have concluded the handkerchief owner was something like Julian’s first love.

“Sure sure, I’ll believe you.”

His voice, completely disbelieving, was full of laughter. Julian, who’d been opening and closing his mouth, soon turned sharply away from him.

Instead, he opened a prettily wrapped love letter. Opening the pale purple envelope released an unseasonable lilac fragrance. Inside were sentences even sweeter than the sweet flower scent, filling it densely.

A wide blue lake, sweet candy, a popular piano melody… Sentences describing him with all sorts of things continued in succession.

<When white snow sparkles under the sun, I naturally recall you who must be likewise shining while traversing the white snowfield. Then, I find myself envying even the sunlight that touches your frozen cheeks.>

They only knew his face and status at best. It was very strange and odd that they could profess love like this while knowing nothing of his shabby interior.

But he knew. What they admired was his shell. Above all, they were people craving his love, not pouring love onto him.

So ultimately, he who wanted to receive but feared giving would probably never be loved.

Julian, swallowing such bitter self-deprecation, set down the letter.

‘These people, and perhaps even that child, might be disappointed if they knew me now.’

He pierced himself with this cruel thought. Yet, before the sting of that wound could fade, unexpected news arrived.

An imperial decree ordering the union of Blanche and Chester had been issued.

“These conscienceless things have decided to deceive me.”

At the sudden marriage proposal, Mother rarely expressed anger. The one who quickly regained composure was Julian, the person involved. After checking the decree, he spoke calmly.

“I’ll go and refuse directly.”

He left straight for the capital, even leaving behind Royden who wanted to come along. The capital was an extremely tiring place where danger always arose, but this time was different. 

Because he could finally meet the child.

Consequently, he reunited with the child. Though there was an incident of mistaking the other person, he confirmed the child was doing well. So he planned to return once the engagement was broken off.

However, his plan was miserably shattered. Far from breaking off the engagement, he ended up accepting an immoral and illogical relationship called a fake engagement.

The other party emphasized that not a shred of responsibility or sincerity existed in this relationship where they used each other. 

But holding affection for the child from the position of someone’s fiancé felt inappropriate, even if it meant friendly affection. So he’d even resolved to shake off the remaining comfort.

Until he learned the child remembered their promise and was trying to keep it.

* * *

“Please make some time. There’s something to discuss about the festival incident.”

The first day arriving in Rubenitar. Rosenia visited his room. He gladly nodded. He’d been thinking he should discuss the festival incident with her sometime anyway.

A few days later, the two who went out to the plaza together sat facing each other in a small tea house located in a secluded alley.

Plain white teacups without any pattern were placed before them. Without touching the tea holding warmth, Rosenia spoke first.

“To get straight to the point, it seems like it was indeed a crime targeting Chester as you suspected, Young Grand Duke. I tracked their movement route and they seem to have followed from your townhouse.”

“…As I thought.”

“Yes, Brian and I getting involved seems to have been pure coincidence though. That b*stard happened to crawl into where they were lurking… Well, they probably judged him suitable as a hostage to lure you who were nearby. The problem is the mastermind…”

“Actually, we’ve been investigating the mastermind separately too. Because there were quite a few suspicious aspects.”

The hostage situation at the festival location that risked becoming a major disturbance, skills beyond simple ruffians, and the way they particularly targeted and rushed at him.

Not one thing was normal.

“Did you find the culprit?”

“Actually, there is a suspected person.”

He’d recovered the weap*ns the assassins used on the spot and found the hired guild. When he threatened the guild master, he easily learned even the client. As expected, it was one of the factions supporting the Emperor.

But he knew even this person designated as the client was merely a chess piece for someone higher up.

‘Count Clark.’

Someone who endlessly conceived extreme scenarios, who believed only force and threats were strong warnings. And the one who created his subordinate’s tragedy.

Knowing the assassination would fail and he’d lose a limb, he carried out that deed purely to send a message. To quickly disappear from the capital, far from the throne.

Julian was angrier at that shallow intention. That man, not satisfied with destroying his subordinate’s life, now dragged in even civilians to issue a warning.

Though Mother always said there’s a time for counterattacks, his patience had long run out. Whether torturing the chess piece or committing acts resembling him, he would punish him.

For that, he first needed solid evidence. Even more so to claim self-defense after taking his head, saying he wasn’t the aggressor.

But… was it okay to tell Blanche, a core force of the Emperor, about his plan? Separate from trusting the child, he couldn’t be certain it was right.

However, Rosenia didn’t press him as he hesitated. She simply acknowledged.

“I see. Then are you planning to report directly to the Imperial Family?”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t secured evidence yet.”

Veins bulged in his hand gripping the cup. Rosé, staring down at the trembling tea, proposed one solution.

“There’s a collector in Rubenitar who possesses relics of an old light mage.”

“A light mage’s relics?”

“Yes, among them there’s supposedly a magical tool that can read the memories of the dead. When I searched the Imperial records, it was one of the magical tools on the list my grandmother made.”

“You’re saying to secure evidence with that item?”

“The bodies were all burned, but it’s not bad to try, right?”

“That’s true, but then that item…”

“Since I couldn’t find it at the estate, there’s a high possibility that collector bought it.”

“Then we just need to find that collector now.”

So Julian spent mornings on Mother’s work and afternoons searching for the collector with Rosenia. Perhaps because they’d conversed constantly even while heading to Rubenitar, they naturally built enough friendship to allow using first names.

However, the more Julian got to know Rosenia, the more he felt a slight sense of disconnect. 

Unlike the child in his memories who’d seemed bright, warm, and a bit sad, she had a firm, dry side more like Mother.

Rather, Chartia smiling with reddened eyes before the sea seemed more like the child…

The moment that thought crossed his mind, he shook his head roughly, trying to banish it. What a disrespectful thought—especially when the child was even dividing her time to help him!

Still, he couldn’t deny that his own behavior felt strange, particularly when it came to matters involving Chartia.

[You need to distinguish between sympathy and affection.]

One day, Royden chastised him with a grave expression.