Chapter 2 – What Remains the Same and What Doesn’t (12)

Demetrian, whom Chloe encountered in the Imperial Palace’s central courtyard, stood for a long time with a somber expression.

“Is something wrong?”

It was only when Chloe and Mirabelle approached that he managed to erase the emotions from his face.

“Did you borrow books? Let me carry them for you.”

His weakly spoken words left Chloe unable to respond, so she handed over the books. In the past, she might have jokingly refused, teasing him about having such chivalry.

It was disconcerting to see his usually emotionless face filled with some kind of emotion. Moreover, if she had to categorize it, it was gloominess.

If his usual lack of expression was due to a relaxed confidence that he need not show his emotions, the current one seemed closer to suppressing something. Chloe was unsure whether to ask what was wrong or if it would be meddling, so she said nothing until they passed through the outer palace.

Demetrian also seemed deep in thought, walking silently without offering any excuse like he hadn’t been waiting for her or that their meeting was coincidental.

“Are you on your way out of the palace?”

Only when Chloe, having confirmed the Lacroix carriage was waiting, managed to fabricate a plausible statement did Demetrian, as if coming to his senses, mutter after a brief pause.

“…No, I think I have to see the 1st Prince.”

“Did you come back out because of us?”

“Well, sort of…”

In truth, Demetrian had just decided on it, but Chloe, who was worried about his gloomy demeanor, decided to accept that as an answer.

Mirabelle was the first to take the books and get into the carriage, and Chloe took Demetrian’s hand to climb in after her.

“Ah, I need to return your handkerchief.”

“Next week on Labor Day, wasn’t it?”

The day was approaching when she would return the thick book that had been lying unopened in Chloe’s room for over a week. The day of their private book club, a tradition of their friendship spanning over a decade.

“Yes, I’ll come to the Senate in the afternoon.”

“…I’ll come to your house.”

“You’re coming to our house?”

“Yes, it’s been a while.”

Since he began working at the Senate, they had been meeting in the Senate lounge on Labor Days, which were semi-holidays with only morning duties. Chloe was puzzled by the slight brightening of his previously dark expression as they exited the outer palace.

* * *

Standing before the audience chamber, Bjorn Scandar sighed deeply.

‘I’m so sick of this.’

Having come to Arthuzen as a hostage at ten years old, he had spent more than half his life in this city. And his disgust with the Empire and his situation only grew with each passing year.

‘Brother, please take care of my son.’

What disgusted him even more was his father. A man without any sense. What kind of nerve did he have to become so close to the Imperial Prince during these nauseating times?

The hostage period was supposed to end upon reaching adulthood, but Bjorn, unwilling to face his endlessly cowardly father, made sure Arthuzen couldn’t let him go even at twenty-seven.

Grinding his teeth quietly, Bjorn calmed himself before signaling to the attendant.

“Prince Bjorn of Scandar is here.”

“Let him in.”

At the Emperor’s words, the audience chamber doors opened, and Bjorn, having left his guards outside, entered.

“I greet the Sun of the Empire.”

“Yes, it’s been a while.”

“Have you been well?”

“Yes, and you must have been too…”

The Emperor, seated on the throne, began while stroking his dark brown beard.

“Your country’s rabble have been up to something again.”

Perhaps because the ruler of the continent had no need for unnecessary pleasantries, he was very direct.

Having stayed as a hostage prince for seventeen years, Bjorn had contacts in the police headquarters who informed him about how the separatists were arrested and the charges they faced.

“My father holds Your Majesty in the highest regard, and our country has been striving to eradicate those remnants.”

“Yes, I’m aware of your father’s efforts. But it seems they weren’t enough.”

“I am ashamed.”

Bjorn feigned a somber expression and bowed his head.

“They breached the security during the festival week. Could there have been someone assisting them?”

“I apologize.”

Knowing full well that during their precious festival period, not even Scandarians would relieve themselves to the west, he makes such absurd remarks.

A pointless conversation. An audience with a predetermined outcome.

Bjorn could only leave the audience chamber after promising to demonstrate the vassal state’s loyalty with a certain gesture of sincerity to the Emperor.

“Hah…”

As the door closed behind him, Bjorn sighed deeply. If only that sigh could lessen the humiliation he had just endured.

This painful cycle. Tiresome, tiresome, utterly sickening.

Since being thrown into this city at ten, whenever he entered that room, he always had to be grateful for something, apologize for something, and plead for something. Though the carpets and chandeliers changed with the seasons and years, the basics remained unchanged.

The Emperor. The throne. Himself, bowing.

The Empire’s social scene was luxurious, but its constituents were detestable. The ladies who cast lingering glances at him were like parrots performing clown acts, and the foolish young nobles? They were imbeciles born into noble Imperial families, trying to match wits with a prince of a kingdom. Whenever he was treated as a distinguished guest, supposedly as a foreign prince, he felt like a toy in a pathetic role-play.

If there was anything that didn’t bother him…

‘Lady Lacroix of Count Palatine.’

Unlike the parrots who blushed at the sight of him, she treated him as if he were nothing special. She was one of the few women he met in the empire who spoke anything worthwhile, and meeting her felt like he could breathe a little easier. It was a bit unsettling that she took an interest in his insignificant homeland, though……

Bjorn thought long about the face he had seen in the courtyard earlier.

* * *

Demetrian was convinced that the 1st Prince Frederick was connected to ‘someone’ supporting the separatists. He stood to gain the most if things went as they wanted.

The Imperial Family was harmonious, and the relationship between the princes and the Emperor and Empress was amicable. The only issue was the delayed appointment of the Crown Prince, but it wasn’t as if the Emperor was neglecting Frederick. After all, he was working in Internal Affairs.

No one knew why the Emperor delayed the appointment. They simply said he was waiting for a revelation from the gods. Demetrian, who judged by logic and reason, couldn’t understand the Emperor’s stance, but even if he were not a Young Duke but the Grand Duke, there was nothing he could do.

‘I can understand why the 1st Prince is anxious.’

Demetrian was raised as a successor and was steadily advancing towards the dukedom. Etienne, once accustomed to the police department’s work, would move to the administrative office to receive training as the successor of the Lacroix Count Palatine.

Other young nobles also knew from the time they took their first steps that they would become successors, and they lived accordingly.

‘But the 1st Prince……’

He might harbor irreverent thoughts towards a father who keeps delaying what should be given to him without clear reason, but he wasn’t the type to act on them. Demetrian knew part of his feelings towards him was sympathy.

“What brings our esteemed aide here?”

Not long after waiting in the prince’s reception room, Frederick appeared in a light shirt. Demetrian grumbled in response to the friendly prince, who patted his shoulder while shaking hands.

“Don’t say it so warmly.”

They had known each other for twenty years, regardless of him being the heir of a ducal house and Frederick being a prince. Although he was closer to the 2nd Prince Daniel, who was closer in age, Frederick was also like an older brother he had known for a long time.

“So, what brings you here?”

“When I went to Internal Affairs earlier regarding the relief fund.”

“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Sometimes feelings get hurt while working; that’s just how it is.”

Laughing, he rubbed his smooth chin, which hadn’t yet grown a beard. Demetrian thought such small gestures were just like the Emperor’s. Probably because he had grown up watching and learning about the position that would one day be his.

“Thanks to your excellent mediation, even the foolish Internal Affairs officials mostly understood.”

Yes, this aspect… Overall, he was a good person, but sometimes he had these petty sides.

Today’s task was to convey the Senate’s stance on the relief fund for the Empire’s people, who were experiencing a lean season, and coordinate with Internal Affairs. The problem arose when he suggested supplementing it with a charity fund instead of relying solely on a property tax on the nobility.

He tended to view attempts to reach a better compromise as attacks on himself, probably stemming from… a kind of inferiority complex.

‘Does growing up with people like Daniel or Olivier make a person like this……?’

Was it the fate of someone with a younger brother a year younger who was superior in every way and a cousin of the same age who achieved everything slightly faster? It was the one flaw that could be pointed out as Frederick’s shortcoming, something Demetrian would never understand in his lifetime.

Unbeknownst to Demetrian, he was also one of the factors that triggered Frederick’s inferiority as another successor.

“I’m so glad you and the Internal Affairs officials were understanding, Your Highness.”

“Oh, come on, it’s only natural. But to come all the way here in the evening because of that.”

It’s obvious he’s smiling so broadly, yet he says such needless things.

‘If I pay attention to his feelings, will the situation change a bit?’

It was something he hadn’t even considered ‘back then’…

Knock, knock.

While Demetrian was contemplating his own plans behind a polite facade, one of Frederick’s attendants entered the reception room with an apologetic look.

“Your Highness, um…”

At the whispered words, Frederick’s face briefly hardened. Then, as if nothing had happened, he put on his usual friendly smile.

“Young Duke, I forgot I had a prior engagement. Let’s meet again when you come to court tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes. Then please rest well.”

Having no reason to stay longer after the sudden dismissal, Demetrian stood up, thinking it was fortunate. Frederick didn’t stand up, only raising a hand in farewell, likely because the guest with the prior engagement would come to the reception room.

Caring for others’ feelings.

In the past, he would have thought it wasn’t worth considering. He had always believed logic was more important than emotion, ability more than sentiment, and competence more than connections.

But knowing now what emotions could lead to…

‘There are mistakes made by being swept away by emotions, but there are also mistakes made by missing them.’

While thinking this and walking down the corridor, a man waiting on the opposite side came into view. It was Frederick’s ‘guest.’

Demetrian’s face unknowingly hardened. Lately, Demetrian found himself easily swept away by the ’emotions’ he had been contemplating.

“Isn’t it the Young Duke of Crevelle?”

A man with light blonde hair tied low, wearing a painted smile.

“Yes, Prince. It’s nice to see you here.”

He was the one receiving Chloe’s shy smile earlier in the day.