Chapter 3
Confirmation (1)
Edmund dressed in formal attire that had been fashionable ten years ago and made his way to the Imperial Palace. The Palace greeted him just as he remembered it—unchanged.
Even the gazes directed at him—a man who had become Duke at barely nineteen—were exactly the same. Jealousy, envy, suspicion…
But to a man who was thirty-two and twenty-two at once, the looks coming his way were no more than dust rolling across the ground.
“Say, Lord Belzen, did something happen at the estate today? His Grace seems to be in remarkably high spirits.”
“He appears no different than usual to me.”
“No, truly—he seems much happier than normal.”
Behind them, Hans—Edmund’s aide—kept insisting that the Duke seemed unusually cheerful, despite the knight Belzen’s skeptical reaction.
In truth, Hans was right. Edmund was in a good mood. And why shouldn’t he be?
The sight of people who had died by his hand—or by each other’s—moving about alive was like watching a play unfold. It even made him fantasize that perhaps all of this was a performance staged for his sake—for him, who had died after losing Elia.
*Surely the Count’s household is the same.*
Would a performance be waiting for him at the Roan Count’s estate as well? The thought only made him happier.
But there was no need to rush. This couldn’t possibly be a dream, and even if it were—if it all turned out to be a dream, he would simply return. If he opened his eyes to find himself back in the world after Elia’s death, he would draw his sword without hesitation and pierce himself through. As many times as it took to return.
“Your Grace, you have arrived.”
The attendants lined up in the corridor bowed low in greeting. Edmund recalled that among them were spies sent from the Marquess’s household.
How should he deal with them?
Of course, if he simply followed the same course as before, his cousin would still ascend the throne, and all his enemies would still die and disappear.
But Edmund hesitated.
*There’s no need for things to be the same as before.*
Elia’s life would be different now, and his would be different too—so shouldn’t the lives of those who would die also change?
Advancing tomorrow’s deaths to today, seizing next month’s power a week early—that would be enough. Everything would change, and everything would unfold exactly as he desired.
When they arrived at the study on the second floor, the knight Belzen opened the door first to check the interior.
The wait was excruciatingly tedious. It was a rule he had always observed until he’d dealt with his enemies—but still.
*Pathetic.*
Even the study looked shabby and worn to the thirty-two-year-old’s eyes. Only three or four people in the Palace had a private study of this size—but Edmund knew exactly how much more he could have, so it was only natural that it failed to impress.
“Hans.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Bring me all the documents from the past month.”
“…I’m sorry? A whole month’s worth? If you’ve already approved them—”
“Even the ones I rejected.”
“Ah, well then I’ll start with the past week’s worth and bring those first.”
A single week’s worth would already fill a desk the size of a house—let alone a whole month.
*Let’s see. A week’s worth should be about thirty cases, so two weeks’ worth ought to look substantial enough, right?*
Hans, as always, was already thinking of cutting corners. But Edmund added an order that left no room for laziness.
“A full month. Immediately. And send word to the Roan Count that I’d like to have lunch together.”
“Y-yes…?!”
Hans, who had served as aide for four years now, let out an ambiguous sound of bewilderment at an order he’d never heard in his life.
Edmund, meanwhile, was calmly looking around the study as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
Hans stared blankly at the strange sight.
“Hans.”
“I’m—I’m going!”
Taking the order that was as good as telling him to get lost, Hans hurried out of the study. First things first—while the Duke reviewed today’s documents, he needed to secure that lunch appointment with the Count of Roan.
Even in his haste, Hans grabbed Lord Belzen, who was standing guard outside the door, and poured out his grievances.
“Are you *sure* nothing happened? Really, truly sure?”
Hans couldn’t shake the same thought for the rest of the day.
*Four years. I’ve been serving him for four years now. But today, His Grace was just too strange!*
—
* * *
—
Edmund re-reviewed the past documents at about the same pace Hans was hauling them in. Not reading through the contents—merely scanning the covers at a glance.
That was only natural—he was merely picking out the cases whose outcomes had been particularly regrettable and making corrections based on his memories.
But to Hans, Edmund looked like a monster of productivity.
*He’s always been fast, but this is just—this is insane. He finished everything before lunch even started?*
Could His Grace be plotting to bring down the Empire? How else could he resolve matters by merely glancing at a single page?
Even while busy carrying documents, Hans couldn’t contain his curiosity and sneaked a peek at the approved files.
They looked so clean he thought, *Figures—he barely skimmed them.* But after checking the last page, he had to revise his opinion.
The Duke’s newly added instructions were both specific and polished—flawless.
*How strange. He was never one to take interest in something like trade negotiations with the Kernten Duchy. I’ve never even heard of Kernten—it’s a backwater region. Wait, is this where black stone is mined?*
And that wasn’t the only strange thing.
Today, Hans had made eye contact with the Duke three times. Three times!
A man who wouldn’t even glance up at a greeting or a light joke—who was five years younger than Hans but carried himself like a crotchety old man who’d lived three lifetimes—that had been his usual self.
*Something definitely happened!*
Even on the way to the annex’s dining hall, where his lunch with the Count of Roan was scheduled, Hans couldn’t shake his unease. Questions kept piling up without a single answer.
The lunch invitation itself was unprecedented. It was always the Count who requested meetings, and even then, the Duke would only agree to one out of three, pleading busyness.
And now the Duke was *proposing* lunch?
“This really is something else.”
The amiable people of House Roan agreed with Hans’s observation that “His Grace seems different today.”
“But isn’t that a good thing? His Grace always dines alone, so Sir Hans must have been lonely.”
Yet, as expected of the easygoing Roan household, their response was gentle—and thoroughly unhelpful.
What’s good is good, they said.
*My gut tells me this isn’t something to just brush aside…!*
Elia’s older brother, Count Eugene Roan, was likewise too busy being pleased at the unprecedented invitation to question it.
*Come to think of it, this is the first time Duke Raspe has ever invited me to a meal.*
Many who admired Duke Raspe had orbited around him before falling away on their own, but Count Roan had persistently remained at his side.
Of course, he’d been hurt by the Duke’s consistent indifference. But Eugene had no intention of giving up.
Duke Raspe was the sole benefactor who had helped Eugene keep his title.
Even if the Duke’s household had its own reasons for keeping Roan as an ally, the debt Eugene owed Edmund was real.
*Besides, we’ve known each other since childhood—I can’t help but worry about him.*
They had both lost their parents, and at least Eugene had Elia, but Duke Raspe had no one. So he wanted to treat him like family.
*”Edmund is a lone wolf who stands above everyone, and we’re a family of rabbits clinging together underground. Who exactly is supposed to pity whom?”*
Elia would click her tongue and call it a useless sentiment. But still… even the Duke must get lonely sometimes.
He was only human, after all.
*I’d hoped that someday he’d open his heart, but to actually receive a lunch invitation…*
Eugene was already giddy at the thought of going home and bragging to Elia. She’d probably accuse him of dreaming.
Carried away by his excitement, Eugene let his imagination run a little wild. Things like Elia and Edmund growing closer, for instance.
*After all, there’s no other suitable match for either of them—so the Duke will end up marrying Eli anyway. Once they’re family, even the Duke will grow attached. Good—I’ll drag Elia along to the Duke’s estate again next week.*
Eugene faced Edmund with a smile. His counterpart’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but today it didn’t feel uncomfortable.
“Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace—after having dinner at your estate just yesterday, and now lunch today.”
“It’s nothing. We’re to be family soon, after all.”
“Ah… yes. Of course.”
This time, even the Count of Roan couldn’t help but be surprised. It was the first time Edmund had ever brought up the engagement unprompted.
*Did bringing Eli to the Duke’s estate yesterday have an effect? But it was just an ordinary visit—the two of them didn’t even speak. What was different about yesterday?*
The Count chewed on his shrimp appetizer while racking his brain for any recent changes in his younger sister.
*The servants were all saying how pretty the young lady looked today. Given how she usually is, they were probably just flattering her… but did she look particularly special?*
Sorry to say, but no brother ever thinks his sister is pretty.
Eugene was convinced that even if Elia looked exactly like the youngest daughter of House Poitiers, he’d still think, *Well, she looks like a human being, I suppose.*
*The only time Eli looks decent is when she’s eating. She’s too lazy to seek out food, but if you put it in front of her, she’ll munch away happily. Yesterday’s dinner—I ended up leaving some, but she ate everything, including dessert. Maybe her ideal type is someone who appreciates a good appetite…*
The meal proceeded as quietly as usual. Occasionally, the sound of the Count’s utensils lightly brushing against his plate could be heard.
With no conversation, the Count spent his time speculating—until dessert arrived—about what could have caused the Duke to act so differently from yesterday.
*No matter how I think about it, the only thing Eli did well yesterday was finish all the duck.*
“Count Roan.”
“As I thought—no, I apologize. Please, go ahead.”
The Count, lost in trivial thoughts, scrambled at the sudden sound of Edmund’s voice.
“I was thinking of stopping by the Roan estate after today’s schedule.”
“The… you mean our Roan estate? Of course, I would be honored to host Your Grace, but unfortunately, today I—”
“You may attend to your own business. I have matters to discuss with my betrothed.”
The moment Edmund finished speaking, a dessert spoon clattered to the floor with a *clang*. But no one at the table flinched at the noise.
They were all too stunned by the Duke’s mention of his “betrothed” to have any capacity for further surprise.
“I realize this is short notice and I’ll be arriving unannounced, so I’d like to bring a gift by way of apology for the rudeness. Is there anything your sister particularly favors?”
Edmund did not know eighteen-year-old Elia’s tastes. He knew twenty-eight-year-old Elia’s tastes, but even that had been gleaned indirectly from the Duke’s household expenditure records.
The shoe store whose name appeared without fail every month; the cake shop under contract to provide the Duchess’s snacks; the musicians Elia personally invited every wedding anniversary…
Nothing beyond that. Despite loving her enough to die of loss, Edmund was so ignorant that he couldn’t even think of a single simple gift.
Still, he wasn’t anxious. He had reclaimed time now.
“What Eli likes… books, and… hmm, does she like anything besides money…? Ah, no! That’s not what I meant. I mean, Eli has a good head for finances!”
“Tsk. Count Roan. You won’t have much longer to live off your sister, will you? Shouldn’t you start getting to know each other while you still have the chance?”
When the Count failed to produce an answer, Edmund—uncharacteristically—scolded him.
*Wait a minute. Is this… is he scolding me for not knowing Elia’s tastes? No! Isn’t it actually normal for siblings not to know what each other likes? Eli probably doesn’t even know when my birthday is!*
The Count was so indignant he could have screamed, but he couldn’t very well say, *Your Grace was raised without siblings, so you wouldn’t understand.* So he just kept his mouth shut and apologized.
“Yes, Your Grace is quite right.”
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
“You’re—you’re really going to see Elia… Yes, of course. Please do. I’m terribly sorry I can’t escort you.”
The Duke rose and left as abruptly as he always did, having said his piece.
Left alone, the Count replayed the Duke’s admonishment in his bewildered state.
*Ah, I knew it sounded familiar!*
*”You won’t have much longer to live with your sister, will you? Shouldn’t you start getting to know each other while you still have the chance?”*
*…That was exactly what I said to the Duke yesterday!*
