Chapter 04
Cheyton, having grasped the situation, furrowed his brow and glared at Viscount Zichelia.
“To attempt to assault the bride on her wedding day, Viscount. You’re even more of a scumbag than I thought.”
“Your Grace, how did you come here…”
“I received an invitation to the wedding too. From Marquis Zichelia.”
Cheyton spoke sarcastically, pulling the invitation from his pocket and waving it.
“Did I come to a place I shouldn’t have? Viscount.”
“Of course not, how could that be.”
The viscount, who grew weak in the presence of the strong, bowed obsequiously.
“It’s the wedding of the Railaten family, loyal subjects of our great Emperor. Of course I should attend.”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
“Our Majesty seems to have sent me to that war-torn place this time with the hope that I wouldn’t return alive. But here I am, alive and well, attending the wedding… I wonder if His Majesty will be disappointed again?”
“N-no, not at all. Everyone will welcome Your Grace’s safe return.”
“Is that what you think, Viscount? That His Majesty will welcome me?”
Cheyton crossed his arms behind his back and slowly circled the viscount, like a leopard sizing up its prey.
“Your Grace, I…”
“But surely the viscount wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the sole daughter of the Railaten family, those great loyalists to our Emperor?”
“It’s a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding.”
“It had better be. As you know, His Majesty is ruthless. Just look at how he keeps sending his own nephew into deadly peril.”
The viscount lowered his gaze and nodded vigorously. Cheyton stopped abruptly and peered closely at the viscount’s face, murmuring softly.
“…Then I’ll inform His Majesty that the wedding between you two has been called off. You may leave now, Viscount.”
“I-I’ll take my leave.”
He should be grateful for being let off so easily. The viscount fled hastily without looking back.
Cheyton, watching the viscount’s retreating figure disappear, approached Roshanne.
“There’s no need to thank…”
“There’s no need to thank me, Your Grace.”
Cheyton’s eyebrow arched crookedly.
“Are you finishing my sentence for me, my lady?”
“If I had married Viscount Zichelia, the Railaten family would have grown even stronger, and the Emperor’s power would have increased as well. That wouldn’t be good for you, would it? So there’s no need for you to thank me for breaking off the marriage.”
That child from back then had grown up so splendidly. It truly hit home how much time had passed.
The person before her was no longer the little kid from the subjugation squad ten years ago, but the fully grown Grand Duke of Barpheus, and she was no longer the hero leading the squad, but Lady Roshanne of the Railaten family.
Yet in this moment facing him, Roshanne felt as if she had returned to that time.
“…’Would it?'”
So she didn’t notice Cheyton furrowing his brow as he mulled over her words.
Cheyton scanned Roshanne with narrowed eyes. He looked both incredulous and as if he were observing some curious creature.
Unaware of the reason, Roshanne tilted her head slightly to one side.
“You…”
Cheyton, staring intently without blinking as if in a staring contest, parted his lips to say something. At that moment, the presence of someone approaching from behind him was felt.
“Your Grace.”
Cheyton clamped his lips shut.
“His Majesty the Emperor requests your presence.”
It was because one of the Emperor’s attendants had appeared behind Cheyton. The moment he heard “Emperor,” a chilling sneer crossed Cheyton’s face.
“It seems our Majesty is calling me in anticipation, wondering if his nephew might have lost an arm this time. He’ll be disappointed to see me with all limbs intact again.”
With a bitterly sardonic smile, Cheyton ran a hand through his hair. Though his words were harsh, he couldn’t refuse the Emperor’s summons.
Just like ten years ago.
“I must go ahead, my lady.”
Cheyton gently took Roshanne’s hand. And he personally brushed his lips lightly against the back of it.
Up close, his red eyes resembled sparks heralding destruction.
“I originally came to congratulate the marriage, but since it’s fallen through, I suppose I should congratulate the broken engagement instead. Congratulations, my lady.”
“…Thank you. Your Grace.”
“Why is your manner of speaking… No, never mind. I look forward to our next meeting.”
Cheyton carefully set Roshanne’s hand down and straightened up.
Then, with a glance laced with contempt, Cheyton followed the attendant.
‘…The Emperor.’
By now, the Emperor must have realized that the hero’s soul had vanished.
Roshanne watched Cheyton’s back as he walked away, then turned her gaze to the corridor window.
The guests who had come were voicing their complaints as they prepared their carriages to leave.
Roshanne’s wedding had spectacularly fallen apart.
＊＊＊
“Where did it go? Where, where has it gone!”
The secret library exclusive to the Emperor, where no one else could enter.
The Emperor was turning the entire library upside down as if he had gone mad. Glass shards scattered in all directions, and stacks of ancient books lay strewn chaotically across the floor, yet the Emperor did not stop.
“Who, who dares to covet what is mine? Who!”
He rummaged through everything frantically, as if overturning the entire library would somehow reveal it.
“My hero!”
Gazing at the shattered crystal orb, the Emperor let out a wail as if collapsing. More precisely, it was upon seeing that the soul of the empire’s guardian, sealed within the orb for hundreds of years, had vanished.
He had sensed an odd energy during the state council meeting, prompting him to halt the proceedings and rush out to check.
The guardian of the empire, the hero.
A gift bestowed upon the empire by the gods.
A dog that only the Emperor could command.
A living weapon of murder, an asset of the empire.
“No, no! This can’t be!”
The very crystal orb that had sealed that guardian was now broken, and the soul had disappeared without a trace.
The location and tool sealing the hero’s soul were top secret. So who on earth, and how, had known the place where the hero’s soul was trapped and taken it away?
The hero’s soul had taken on a faint, mist-like form, making it identifiable.
But no matter how much he searched the secret library, not even a wisp of that mist appeared, and the Emperor slumped down with a vacant expression.
His face turned as pale as a sheet of paper.
“Your Majesty.”
From one step behind, the palace magician, Jarell, who had been watching, quietly spoke. The Emperor’s wandering rage, lost and directionless, turned fully toward Jarell.
“You, you stole it from me.”
The Emperor staggered to his feet, approached Jarell, and grabbed his collar roughly.
“Y-Your Majesty. How could I dare…”
“Then, has anyone entered this place? I clearly ordered you to guard it well.”
“Only those permitted by Your Majesty can enter here. There are no traces of the magic being broken.”
“Then who!!”
The Emperor bellowed. The shout echoed through the narrow library like the roar of a beast.
With bloodshot eyes bulging and veins popping, the Emperor muttered.
“Then who stole what is mine, huh? If no one has entered this place, it must be you. Only you. Huh?”
“I-It’s not me, absolutely not.”
The Emperor’s gaze gleamed like that of a madman. He seemed ready to kill Jarell on the spot if provoked.
“If I were the thief who stole the soul, I would have fled long ago, Your Majesty. I truly did not steal it.”
“…Then who took it?”
A chill ran through Jarell at the cold voice dripping from the Emperor’s lips. Terrified, Jarell could only tremble his lips without uttering a word.
“…Tch.”
The Emperor clicked his tongue as if looking at something useless and released Jarell’s collar.
“…What about tracking magic?”
“I-I already tried it, but it cannot be traced with tracking magic.”
Grit.
The grinding of the Emperor’s molars echoed gruesomely. With tension in his jaw, the Emperor glared at the utterly useless Jarell.
The hero was the guardian of the empire.
One who could save the empire from danger… meaning a great asset that could strengthen imperial authority and make everyone prostrate at his feet.
It was at that moment the Emperor’s hand began to reach for Jarell’s throat.
“Your Majesty.”
A voice from the aide above the secret library called out to the Emperor.
“The Grand Duke of Barpheus is waiting in the audience chamber.”
Ah, right. There was also that damned long-lived nephew.
The Emperor rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, and ascended the stairs of the secret library.
After climbing the dim stone steps for quite a while, a bright light appeared at the end. The Emperor headed toward the light with an indifferent expression.
Emerging from the secret library led directly to the Emperor’s bedroom.
Jarell followed behind the Emperor and closed the library door with magic. The stone wall shut, and bookshelves covered it over.
“My nephew has returned at my summons once again.”
The Emperor wiggled his fingers, and the aide opened the bedroom door, calling in the servants waiting outside.
The servants entered the bedroom, removing the Emperor’s soiled clothes and preparing new ones.
But before donning the new attire, the Emperor halted the servants’ actions.
“There’s too much dust, so I’ll bathe first. Prepare the bathwater.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
At the Emperor’s command, the servants hurried off in quick steps to prepare the bath.
As the Emperor sat in a chair and wiggled his hand, the perceptive aide brought a bottle of liquor and a glass.
“Is my nephew’s limbs intact this time as well?”
“From what I could see with the naked eye, there were no abnormalities.”
“Oh dear.”
A sly smile crept across the Emperor’s face as he poured the liquor until it overflowed the glass.
“No one wishes for his safe return, yet he always comes back alive like that.”
Even as the liquor overflowed generously, the Emperor continued pouring without stopping. It spilled over the glass, soaking the table thoroughly, then dripped down and soon stained the carpet.
“Shall I send him away?”
Once the entire bottle was neatly emptied, the aide, confirming this, asked.
“Oh, no. My nephew has returned after quelling the signs of civil war; I must welcome him warmly.”
The Emperor smiled slyly and handed the empty bottle to the aide.
“Tell him to wait with a drink. Say it’s a celebratory toast.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And convey that, as you can see, I’m soiled and need to wash.”
“I will do so.”
“Anything else?”
“…Ah. The wedding between the Railaten family and the Zichelia family, scheduled for today, has been canceled.”
“That’s fine. Anything else?”
“There is nothing more.”
“Then go.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The aide left carrying the empty bottle.
“Jarell.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Find the hero. By any means necessary. I don’t care who took it.”
“Yes, understood, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor had no intention of granting freedom to the hero.
The guardian of the empire must always belong to the empire.
Cheyton, who had been bestowed an empty liquor bottle by the Emperor, stood with straight posture, waiting for hours.
But in the end, even as the sun set and the moon rose, the Emperor did not show himself.
