Was it just their imagination, or did the air in the council chamber feel colder than usual today?

A flicker of doubt crossed Felix’s face as he studied Raphael, who was seated at the head of the table, with caution.

But once the meeting began, Felix sat up straight immediately.

Idle thoughts were pushed aside.

“The public mood in Rotten has already been deeply shaken by the poor harvest. Yet evidence has emerged suggesting that His Highness the Crown Prince intended to impose heavy tariffs on imported nitrate fertilizer, which is essential for grain cultivation.”

Now that Raphael had openly revealed his ambition for the throne, disregarding the Emperor’s wishes, the reformist ministers had also become increasingly active.

Under Raphael’s direct leadership, they were gradually exposing the Crown Prince’s corruption, demonstrating his unfitness to succeed to the throne while striving to restore Rotten’s finances.

As the Emperor’s health deteriorated, Raphael remained silent for some time, but this could hardly be described as inaction.

During this period, Joshua seized the authority of the Emperor’s proxy and quietly continued a shadow regency.

As a result, Rotten’s finances, once resilient even through repeated crises, had at last begun to show signs of fracture.

Marquis Ludencia, who had initiated the discussion, cast a cautious glance at Raphael’s cold, expressionless face before continuing.

“The Empire has long held an exclusive import contract with the Duchy of Bellus. Priority rights were granted to domestic procurement guilds. However, recent intelligence suggests that His Highness has been secretly negotiating a new profit-sharing agreement with a foreign nation.”

A low murmur spread among the ministers.

“If fertilizer imports are disrupted during a farming season already struck by poor harvests, the farmers will suffer first. Market prices will rise immediately as well.”

Another minister sighed and shook his head.

“This is no simple administrative mistake. It is interference for personal gain. To seek profit while the people’s hearts are already unstable? It is madness.”

Marquis Ludencia lowered his eyes halfway and spoke with care.

“If we publicize this matter ourselves, it may provoke further unrest… perhaps it would be wiser to let rumors spread naturally and stir public opinion among the imperial citizens.”

At once, the eyes of the reformist ministers turned toward Raphael.

Their throats bobbed as they swallowed dryly, waiting for his permission.

“Rather than that, why not have Count Ambershire present the matter directly at the next State Council meeting?”

Raphael made an unexpected proposal, once again filling the room with tension.

Count Ambershire was officially aligned with the moderates.

To the other ministers, he seemed fair-minded — someone whose loyalties were difficult to discern.

However, using him to spread rumors about the Crown Prince during a State Council meeting posed its own risks.

If the evidence was weak, the Crown Prince could instead be portrayed as the victim of baseless attacks.

The political opportunity Raphael sought would vanish in that moment.

“They would not attempt such a deal without preparation. They have surely already arranged themselves an escape route.”

Marquis Ludencia offered a counterargument to Raphael’s proposal.

At this, Raphael sank deeper into his chair and let out a faint, mocking laugh.

Sitting with an air of effortless arrogance, he slowly swept his gaze across the ministers.

Distrust lingered in their eyes.

Although they were supporting him now, traces of reluctance still showed on their faces, as if they could not quite trust him yet.

Raphael tapped the armrest lightly and continued in a low voice.

“They know well enough that a profit-sharing contract is a double-edged sword. First, we move against the nation the Crown Prince is courting and shake the negotiations. Raise the conditions, or quietly let it reach their ears that this agreement may be considered illegal within the Empire. That alone should be enough.”

The ministers stirred uneasily.

A few concerned voices rose from among them.

How were they supposed to identify the nation involved in the negotiations?

And how could they possibly sabotage negotiations about which they knew nothing?

All they had was fragmentary information. No detailed information had yet reached them.

Those who wished to stir up reform in Rotten by condemning the unfitness of the Crown Prince still occasionally revealed that they did not fully trust the young duke.

And not without reason.

For years, the duke had done little more than observe the shifting tides of politics from afar. Then, suddenly, he changed his stance and declared himself their ally, causing confusion even within their own ranks.

Could this be just another power struggle?

As the tension in the chamber steadily mounted, Raphael’s indifferent, silver-grey eyes suddenly sharpened.

“Once we make contact and the nation that offered terms suddenly reverses its position, the Crown Prince will be forced to seek another route. Since the matter has already been raised in council, they will proceed with even greater secrecy. If we stir public opinion at that precise moment, we can strike directly at his standing.”

With this plan, Raphael intended to ruin the Crown Prince’s covert agreement entirely.

Then someone broke the heavy silence in a displeased tone.

“And what of the other variables? We do not even know which nation he is dealing with, nor whether they would move according to our wishes.”

Several ministers nodded in agreement.

Raphael looked around the council chamber, studying each face in turn with a bored, detached air.

His reply was dry and cutting.

“If we merely disturb the merchant houses that have long controlled these imports, discovering the identity of the Crown Prince’s secret negotiating partner will be easy. No organization is without its internal divisions. Surely all of you are aware of the severe factional struggles among the guilds around the port for trading rights?”

He let out a short sigh and tilted his head back slightly.

Those who met his languid gaze shrank back in silence.

“You mean to say…”

As one minister trailed off, beginning to grasp Raphael’s meaning, his eyes filled with cautious realization.

Raphael’s low voice rang coldly through the chamber.

“If you wish to place me at the front and use me as the true power behind your ambitions, then should you not at least be more capable than this? To sit upon a board already laid out for you, yet fail to see even that much.”

Those gathered around Marquis Ludencia flushed red in the face and let out awkward coughs of embarrassment.

Across from them, several other ministers covered their mouths with clenched fists, struggling to suppress their laughter.

“The attempt to move public opinion is admirable. But should you not at least understand what the people truly need? Instead of wasting time on this kind of worthless armchair debate.”

Raphael cut them down coldly, then rose from his seat without hesitation.

“We’ll end today’s discussion here. You are all dismissed.”

Without hesitating for a moment, he turned his back.

Felix, who had briefly left the chamber for another appointment during the meeting and had only just returned, spotted Raphael and silently followed him.

As soon as the two men had left, the silence that had filled the room was broken by a low murmur.

Since the sudden death of the former Duke Frédéric from tuberculosis, many had underestimated the young Duke, who had inherited Blancheau at such an early age.

Now, as though they had been struck across the face, they stared at one another in stunned confusion.

“A telegram has arrived from Vincent, whom we sent undercover to the southern port city. Just as you predicted, there are covert efforts underway to open trade with the Seattle Archipelago.”

Felix had already received the message via courier during the meeting.

As soon as they stepped out of the restaurant, he started talking as though he had been waiting for the opportunity.

Raphael stopped in front of the waiting carriage.

As the coachman hurried towards them, Felix raised a hand to stop him, opening the carriage door himself.

“Of course, we still need to uncover the finer details. But if they’re attempting to align themselves with Seattle, a state notorious for its expansionist tendencies, then the answer is already clear. They may even intend to reshape Rotten’s ideology itself to suit their own tastes.”

Raphael held the carriage door open and turned to look at Felix.

“Then we stop them.”

At the low resonance of his voice, Felix instinctively lifted his head.

The cold gleam in Raphael’s silver-gray eyes made him swallow dryly without meaning to.

“Before Joshua does something stupid and ruins Rotten even further.”

***

[My beloved Rose.

Because Raphael has completely blocked any path for me to approach you, I have no choice but to consider the worst possible move.

I understand well your determination to help your maid, even if it means deceiving Raphael’s eyes.

But to resolve this matter, I will need my mercy… and your courage.

Ah, my love.

Cast aside your petty emotions. Do not be deceived by Raphael’s false performance.

Do not forget that the only person who will ever truly love you is me alone.

Every day at noon and again at four in the afternoon, just as always, I will send our lovely little bird, Tiny, to Bellevue Forest.

So that you may recover your memories as soon as possible and escape the snare of Raphael—the man you have hated so deeply.

Please… do not let go of the hand you first chose to hold.

I will be the one to pull you out of that gutter.]