Chapter 11.1 – Who Are You, Then?

When Syria returned to the banquet hall, the ball was already ending. Almost no one was dancing, and the number of nobles had clearly dwindled. Fortunately, Prezia, whom she didn’t want to meet, was nowhere to be seen.

“Did I come back too late…?”

Looking up to the second floor, she saw Gallion looking miserable, and the Emperor, clearly annoyed, fiddling with the sword at his waist. He seemed ready to draw it at any moment, irritated by his nagging aide. Syria quickly turned her head.

‘Don’t look. Don’t look.’

She felt a wave of self-loathing—she’d done something shameful outside, even if it was just on the rooftop. Not being able to properly refuse was one thing, but the moment a finger had entered, her body had already been overtaken by desire.

‘What kind of story is this, anyway?’

She tried not to think of the original, but the plot had diverged so much that she couldn’t help but feel lost. As she hung her head, blaming her body for being consumed by desire, her shoe toe bumped into someone’s foot.

“Lady Syria, I’ve been looking for you.”

It was Alpen. He had come to talk about what they hadn’t discussed after the Emperor appeared.

His golden hair shimmered, and he usually smiled gently and nobly. But now, his expression was cold, as if he was here for a confrontation.

“Oh, you found me.”

“Where have you been?”

Alpen had seen her leave right after the Emperor, and suspected she might be with him, but later, when Karl returned alone, Alpen breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Why am I acting this way?’

He didn’t understand his own feelings, but couldn’t help it. He kept worrying whenever she disappeared from his sight. His gaze always lingered on her, and whenever she vanished, he chased after her.

He thought about asking Firenze, but turned away when he saw her face. He clenched his fist, annoyed at himself for acting like an upstart knight tied to his family. He’d searched the whole banquet hall and even the garden.

Syria’s eyes widened at Alpen’s sudden appearance, then she smiled sheepishly.

‘Ah, this is embarrassing.’

She’d kicked away the proposal ring from this proud man, and now he was asking why.

“I just went out for some air.”

“…Did you go alone?”

“…Yes.”

She felt a bit guilty, but couldn’t answer honestly.

“I thought we had something to talk about.”

“…I’m sorry, but…”

“No, I’ll listen next time.”

Alpen cut her off, as if he wouldn’t hear any more.

“No… Duke! That’s not what I meant…”

“No, I forgot that I should give you enough time.”

‘I have thought about it enough…’

She’d already decided to remain single, just living her life admiring men’s rear ends.

She’d rejected marriage several times, but the original protagonist still didn’t seem to get it. At this point, his pride should be hurt, but Alpen still seemed intent on pushing for marriage.

‘He even prepared a ring…’

Syria clicked her tongue, but seeing his closed-off attitude, she could only stay silent. In the end, Alpen said they’d talk again at tomorrow’s banquet and left.

‘I doubt tomorrow will be any different.’

Thinking the banquet was ending, Syria decided to find Duke Dronia. Scanning the crowd, she spotted a man carrying a tray of wine glasses.

‘…Wait?’

He looked like an ordinary attendant serving wine to guests, but to Syria, he was anything but.

‘Isn’t that the same man from earlier?’

She recognized him by his rear—the same one who had hidden something behind the statue. It wouldn’t be odd for him to work at the Imperial Palace, but there was something else.

‘He was wearing a guard uniform earlier, so why is he dressed as an attendant now?’

Even from a distance, the sharply pressed guard trousers showed off his lower body like a knight’s. Attendants’ pants were looser, but she recognized the impressive lower half she’d admired earlier.

‘Is it really him? Or am I mistaken?’

She might be obsessed with rear ends, but surely there were others with similar shapes. She was just a bit more observant than most, so it was possible she’d made a mistake.

‘No, that’s not it… But it feels like it is…’

Syria stared at the man, uncertain. She gazed so intently that the man, sensing her stare, suddenly turned his head.

“Syria, let’s go now.”

But just then, Duke Dronia approached, so the two didn’t meet face to face.

“Oh, yes. Father.”

She thought it odd—there was no way they’d have a guard serving due to a lack of staff—but since it didn’t matter, she quickly forgot about it.

* * *

Duke Dronia didn’t say anything about Syria’s long absence, as if he didn’t mind. On the way back in the carriage, Syria hesitated and then asked, because the Duke’s face seemed strange after his confrontation with the Emperor.

It was a carriage for high nobles, so it rolled quietly without any rattling noise. The silence was awkward, so Syria decided to start a conversation, even if the topic wasn’t cheerful. For the first time, she asked directly.

“Father, are you on bad terms with His Majesty?”

“…That man is dangerous.”

“Well, yes, but… He doesn’t seem like a truly terrible person.”

Duke Dronia’s eyebrow twitched. Syria lowered her gaze to her legs, sensing his look—like he wondered why she was defending a tyrant. Her shoes dangled, half on and half off her feet.

“You say that because you don’t know. That man doesn’t consider anyone his own.”

He continued, saying the Emperor had a cold heart, enough to kill even his own close aides if he felt like it.

“Then you won’t serve the Emperor, Father?”

When Syria asked more directly, the Duke’s face darkened a little, as if searching for words.

“Then why do you want me to marry into the Roxihart Dukedom, which is part of the Emperor’s faction?”

She didn’t want to keep going in circles about marriage, but it didn’t make sense—he didn’t support the Emperor, yet wanted his daughter to marry someone on the Emperor’s side. Syria widened her eyes and looked at the Duke’s face.

No answer. She thought maybe he wouldn’t answer again, and was about to look down when—

“Because the safest family in the Empire right now is Roxihart.”

“…?”

It wasn’t about being the greatest or having the highest status, but about safety. For peace, the Dronia household was just as good. With the strongest Duke in the Empire protecting her, why bring up safety?

He wasn’t the main character, but as a supporting one, he was the strongest in the novel—someone with no weaknesses, a true sword master.

Or was he hinting at some future danger? Syria was glad he answered, but still couldn’t understand.

“I’m not certain if His Majesty bears our family any ill will, but he’s definitely not friendly.”

Miland remembered ignoring Karl during the civil war two years ago, and rejecting his outstretched hand six years ago, afraid he might lose his motherless young daughter. He’d refused without properly investigating, only thinking of his daughter, and hid how much he cared for her.

He hadn’t expected Karl’s success. He didn’t know when Karl had built such power. He only thought of his daughter being left alone if he wasn’t there, and didn’t show how much he cherished her.

The Emperor was thorough in revenge. Countless families who had oppressed him or failed to support him had been purged. Only the Dronia household and its vassals had been spared, but the Emperor wouldn’t overlook anyone who didn’t show complete loyalty forever.

His greatest concern was that Syria, his only weakness, kept meeting with the Emperor.

‘If I’d known, maybe I should have joined hands with the Emperor…’

He’d never regretted anything in his life, but his only child was his greatest weakness.

‘Syria almost died once.’

Miland remembered that day a few months ago, closing his eyes at the pain that had torn his heart apart.

He couldn’t trust the Second Prince’s group, who kept watching Syria, nor the Emperor, who kept calling for her. His safest option was to marry her into the Roxihart Dukedom.

If the Emperor’s side won, Miland wouldn’t be safe, but Syria, with a changed surname, would be. If the Second Prince won, he could simply retrieve his daughter from the fallen Roxihart family.

That was his plan, but things got complicated when Alpen suddenly declared he’d join the Noble Faction. He’d only pretended to side with the nobles to deceive the Second Prince, but hadn’t expected Alpen to actually act on it.

‘I said I’d pretend not to hear it…’

He couldn’t explain everything, so he didn’t know what would happen next. Right now, he couldn’t predict who would win in the coming confrontation between the Emperor and the Second Prince.

Miland decided to act according to how things developed on that day. But this was something he couldn’t explain to his daughter. His eyes dried out as he carried a secret he couldn’t tell anyone.

“Hmm… I don’t think His Majesty hates us that much.”

Syria tilted her head.

‘He’s a bit of a strange pervert, but he doesn’t seem that bad so far…’

To be honest, meeting the Emperor, she realized she’d been scared for nothing because of the novel’s story. He didn’t draw his sword at random or kill people without reason.

‘Even the tyrant label…’

If he were truly a mad tyrant, wouldn’t he behead people all the time? Swing his sword at meals, in the bath, and laugh while killing? But the Emperor was only cruel when slaying monsters—he didn’t kill people recklessly.

‘Though he does threaten to kill a lot.’

During the rebellion, of course, he killed enemies. As for his siblings… Well, they were worse, so they deserved it. Syria recalled the scars on the Emperor’s chest and cursed those guys for dying—they had bullied a child just because he was better than them.

“You’re still too young to know.”

“But from what I’ve seen…”

“No. There are many dangerous people in the world. So listen to your father.”

She tried to argue, but Miland gently cut her off, as if pacifying a child.

‘Really, I’m not a kid…’

She was an adult who’d lived in society, just ignorant about this world. With her words blocked again, Syria could only swallow what she wanted to say.