A bundle of documents was flung down onto the heavy mahogany desk.
The study of the Requies ducal residence. The always cold and composed Duke's expression had crumbled. On the papers scattered across the floor, red-ink X marks and the crimson stamps reading "Rejected" and "Audit Requested" stood out vividly.
“What in the hell is this farce?!”
At the Duke's shout, the butler shrank his shoulders. Eyes bloodshot with red, the Duke ground the papers fallen on the floor under his heel. Had it been the Emperor's name, he wouldn't even have been angry. That young whelp was, after all, the Emperor. But the seal stamped at the bottom of the documents wasn't his.
The Empress.
“Luanisiel…!”
A sound of teeth grinding leaked from the Duke's mouth. The blemish and the failed product of the House. A halfwit who'd refused to master even magic, or swordsmanship, or so much as the art of conduct in high society, and had tried to flee to the temple. He'd dragged out the one with at least a glossy shell and sat him beside the young whelp, and yet—
The man was an idiot who couldn't seduce the Emperor or seize control of the regime, who couldn't do a single thing. The only thing he could do was keep his mouth shut and hole himself up in a corner of the imperial castle like a ghost, not making a single sound of breath. The thing he'd thought was quietly rotting away had dared—
“To plunge a knife into your father's back?”
The Duke couldn't believe it. No—he didn't want to believe it. Those sharp points of criticism that had severed the House's funding. "Price inflation," "phantom inventory," "contract funneling." These weren't found by mere luck. He'd accurately pierced through the House's covert money-laundering methods and struck at the vital point.
That stupid, feeble whelp had spent five years holding his breath, and now, of all times, had pulled something like this?
The Duke twisted his face into a fierce scowl. The back of his neck stiffened from the blood pressure surging up. The fact that he'd been bitten by something less than a dog he'd raised came at him as an unbearable humiliation.
“This insolent whelp… it seems he's grown bold, emboldened by the Emperor's backing, with no sense of his place.”
How he'd seduced the Emperor enough to be handling documents of this caliber was a mystery. But for the start of it to be baring his teeth at the House—
The Duke roughly snatched up the hem of his coat with trembling hands. Murderous intent glistened in his eyes.
“Today I'll knock that attitude right out of him. I'll carve into his very bones what the price of turning your back on the House is.”
“Y-Your Grace! If you go without prior appointment—!”
“Silence! Who would dare stop me from going to discipline my own son!”
The Duke shook off the butler and left the study. To trample the failed product down once more, to return him to a doll that could never so much as part its lips again.
With each footstep, cold fury dripped down.
Kirian was, in his own way, a reasonable boss. Since the man had crammed several days' worth of work into one go, he let him rest for the remaining days. Of course, time was also needed to fire off the countless revision items to each noble House, but that wasn't important to Luan. He just needed time to top up on sugar and sleep.
The sweet rest was short.
It was while Luan was rebooting his brain with dense, dense chocolate cake. The chamberlain knocked on Luan's door with a troubled face.
“Your Majesty the Empress. Duke Requies has… requested an audience.”
Luan's fork stopped in midair. So what was coming has come.
The gaze that had been hazy as a frozen fish's eye returned a little. Among the document stacks he'd sliced apart, there'd been heaps of misdirected funds connected to House Requies, so from the perspective of a Duke who'd had his straw stuck in nicely, he'd be steaming mad. It was enough to make his eyes roll back.
“And His Majesty?”
“He's in a meeting in the study.”
If Kirian's not here, then neither is Kael, the escort knight who trails behind him like a goldfish's droppings. With not a single one of the figures the Duke was wary of remaining, things had gotten troublesome.
“What did he say?”
“The Duke… said he wished to have a family conversation with Your Majesty, and is waiting in the reception room.”
Cozy family chat, my foot. It means he's dying to thrash me in private. Luan let out a sigh and rose from his seat.
“Show me the way.”
If he's an unavoidable malignant complainant, the best policy is to handle him fast and be done with it. He'd thought that coming to another world would mean never having to see the face of a malignant complainant again, but apparently that wasn't the case either.
He followed behind the flustered chamberlain to the reception room. After dismissing him, the moment the door closed, a murderous pressure that crushed the space pricked at his skin. The middle-aged man seated on the sofa, Duke Requies, set his teacup down roughly the instant Luan entered. The sharp clatter shattered the silence.
“Your Majesty the Empress.”
The Duke slowly rose to his feet. Snake-like, thin and cold eyes raked over Luan.
“You move your residence to the main palace and suddenly you're living quite well, it seems? You've stirred up some entertaining business.”
“It's been a while, Duke. I've been busy and couldn't reach out.”
Luan replied dryly and sat on the sofa across from him. The Duke's eyes narrowed. The old Luan would have trembled like an aspen at the mere sight of his shadow, yet this one was bold beyond measure.
Of course he was. What was inside this body was a former civil servant of titanium mental fortitude, who'd weathered every storm of public complaints. As if I haven't seen one or two complainants screaming with the veins bulging in their necks. The sort who barged in with the energy of today's the day I get you—that was familiar to the point of being tiresome.
“Busy?”
The Duke laughed, as if dumbfounded.
“Right. You must have been busy. Busy stabbing me in the back of the head.”
The Duke pulled a crumpled bundle of documents from his coat and threw it onto the table. They were the requisitions Luan had stamped "Rejected" and fired off.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, those.”
Luan gave the documents a glance and nodded indifferently.
“There were figure errors. The signs of embezzlement were obvious too. Isn't preventing the waste of the national treasury the natural duty of an Empress?”
“…What did you say?”
“Have them rewritten and resubmitted. With proper receipt verification, of course. Fake— no, falsified receipts are obvious.”
The Duke's face turned red and purple by turns. The audacity. He'd been a whelp who should've counted himself lucky to keep his mouth shut and serve as a pretext. And a creature like that dared try to grab the House by its leash?
“Luanisiel!”
The Duke bellowed.
“You've lost your mind! You think you've become something because you fawned over the Emperor?! A halfwit who can't do a single thing on his own!”
“More of a returnable product than a halfwit, I'd say.”
“What nonsense is that?!”
“I've submitted divorce papers. You didn't come here knowing that?”
“Y-you madman…! You dare try to ruin the House's plans? Cancel it at once! Throw yourself flat and beg before the Emperor takes your head!”
“I'm already in agreement with His Majesty. And lower your voice, would you. This is the imperial Emperor's main palace. Not the Duke's private quarters.”
“You insolent—!”
The Duke strode closer. An oppressive shadow loomed over Luan. He instinctively shrank his shoulders. In his head he thought what a nuisance, but the memory of abuse lingering in this body summoned up fear.
“You're nothing without the House! Have you forgotten thanks to whom you sit in that seat?!”
The Duke's hand rose high.
“For a whelp who can't grasp his place, a beating is the cure.”
Whoosh. The Duke's palm came flying toward Luan's cheek.
Ah, this is going to hurt like hell.
Luan squeezed his eyes shut. He had neither the stamina to dodge nor the strength to resist. Just as he was resigning himself to guess I'll take a hit and send him off—
Smack!
With a dull sound of friction, the Duke's hand stopped in midair. There was no pain. When Luan slowly opened his eyes, a familiar black sleeve of a uniform blocked his view.
“…Your Majesty.”
It was Kirian. He had a brutal grip on the Duke's wrist. The Emperor's expression had lost all its usual mischief, settled into something chillingly cold.
“What is the meaning of this, Duke Requies?”
A low, growling voice. The Duke's face flooded with shock. When had the Emperor—who should have been in the study—come in?
“Y-Your Majesty… this is…”
“Raising a hand to the Empress in the Emperor's own main palace.”
Kirian flung the wrist he'd grabbed away roughly. The Duke staggered backward. It was a disaster. In his agitation he'd forgotten this was the main palace and raised his voice.
Kirian stepped in front of Luan, blocking him, and looked down at the Duke. It was plainly a protection, and a claim of ownership.
“The Empress is the mother of the empire, and my consort. The only one who can lay a hand on that body is me.”
The words struck Luan as odd, but now wasn't the situation to nitpick. The Duke broke into a cold sweat in his fluster. The Emperor had been a whelp he'd held in his palm and toyed with in childhood, but the moment he came of age, he'd seized real power in an instant. He wasn't a figure to be taken lightly.
“It's a misunderstanding, Your Majesty. He broke the House's discipline and acted as he pleased, so as his father I merely meant to discipline him.”
“Discipline?”
Kirian gave a sour smile.
“The Empress's education is the imperial family's purview. Not a matter for the Duke to involve himself in.”
“But, that child is—!”
“And.”
Kirian's gaze gleamed sharply. Pointing at the documents strewn about like garbage with a jerk of his chin, he said:
“The documents the Empress handled yesterday—I delegated full authority to him. If you have a grievance, say it to me directly. Don't go threatening my people behind my back.”
Luan's eyes went round. "My people"? Since when? When was that agreed upon? It was hardly an apt word for someone facing divorce, but since he disliked the sight of the Duke before him even more, he held his tongue for now. Kirian, undeterred, gestured toward the door with his chin.
“If your business is done, you'll see yourself out. My Empress is tired.”
It was an order to leave. The Duke gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists. Now that the Emperor himself had stepped in, kicking up any more of a fuss here could get him branded a traitor. As he passed Luan, the Duke spat out low.
“…Mark my words. You'll feel in your very bones what the price of turning your back on the House is.”
The Duke slammed the door and left. Silence settled over the reception room once more. The tension drained out of Luan, his legs gave way, and he sank down onto the sofa.
“Haah…”
His heart pounded like mad. He hadn't been hit, but he felt as if the life had been sucked out of him. Handling complaints really is emotional labor. Just then, Kirian turned to face Luan.
“Are you all right?”
“…Yes. Thanks to you, I'm alive.”
“Were you just going to sit there and take it? Not even dodging, with that clever head of yours.”
“You need stamina to dodge to dodge. And besides… if I got hit, I was planning to wring a settlement out of him.”
Luan smiled bitterly.
“Ha. You really are…”
Kirian stared fixedly at Luanisiel's pale cheek. If he'd been even a little late, a red mark would have been left on that white face. The instant he imagined it, a peculiar displeasure surged up.
“From now on, don't meet the Duke one-on-one without my permission.”
“Pardon?”
“I won't allow you getting hurt where my eyes can't reach. You're handling my work right now, after all.”
Kirian gave an excuse that wasn't quite an excuse and tapped Luan's shoulder.
“Let's go. There's a mountain of documents.”
“…Did you save me just now so you could put me to work?”
“Naturally.”
Kirian grinned and led the way. Luan gazed at that broad back and heaved a deep sigh.
…This one or that one, they're both awful bosses all the same. No, wait—is that one on the malignant-complainant side?
Grumbling all the while, Luan dragged his throbbing legs and followed behind Kirian. At any rate, a tyrannical employer he could reason with was a hundred times better than a violent father.
