“Y-Your Majesty! The meeting isn’t over yet!”
“Move.”
Kirian ignored the nobles trailing after him in protest and tore down the corridor. His heart was pounding like mad. It was because of the report he’d gotten mid-meeting.
The Duke of Requies has come to see the empress with an ominous look about him.
That news was more than enough to snap his reason.
There’s no telling what that man might do.
As a politician, the duke was a seasoned figure. But to his own flesh and blood, Luan, he was a nightmare itself. It was famous that the duke’s children were, every one of them, under his control. Hadn’t Kirian himself already witnessed the duke trying to strike Luan?
To that man, a child was nothing more than a useful tool. But right now Luan was a patient, his body not even sound.
Kirian crossed the corridor in a single rush and reached the front of the main palace drawing room. The escort knights guarding the door were flustered. He looked ready to kick the door in and take the duke’s head that very instant.
But.
“Five years here or eighteen years at the ducal estate—it was all the same to me.”
Luan’s dry voice, coming from beyond the door, nailed Kirian’s feet to the floor. His hand hovered in midair over the door handle.
The same?
The five years he’d neglected him were, to this man, a hell no different from the abuse of the ducal estate?
“Everywhere, I was a ghost. A presence that might as well not exist. A defective product who had to live holding his breath.”
I’m sick of that now. There wasn’t even resentment in Luan’s voice. Only a profound weariness clung to it.
“I despise the imperial palace, a prison gilded on the outside—but I’ll pass on the hell that is Requies, too.”
Thud. Kirian’s heart sank. He realized, to the marrow of his bones, that the time he’d turned away from Luan for being Requies’s second son had been yet another prison to the man. That he himself… had been letting Luan die.
No different from the duke.
Guilt surged in like a wave. His chest felt tight. That was why he couldn’t go in. Because it felt as though he had no right to open that door.
But what broke that stillness was a sharp sound.
Smack—!
The skin-crawling sound of flesh striking flesh. Kirian’s pupils contracted in an instant. The guilt evaporated in a flash, and his mind went white.
How dare he!
Kirian threw the door open. The scene inside the room took shape in a single glance.
The Duke of Requies, panting, his hand raised. And Luan, standing upright, looking at him. His pale cheek was already swollen red, and blood beaded between his split lips.
“What… do you think you’re doing?”
Kirian strode into the room. With every step, killing intent surged, crushing the air in the room.
“…You must be desperate to die.”
A low, vicious voice, as if scraped up from the very bottom of hell, leaked out.
“Y-Your Majesty…?”
The duke backed away, flustered. Something had gone wrong. Though Kirian had grown and stripped a fair amount of real power from him recently, the duke’s image of him had, for a very long time, been a young scarecrow of an emperor.
But what of the man before his eyes now? He was a beast. An out-of-control one, roused by the scent of blood.
“In my palace, without even my permission.”
Kirian closed the distance to right in front of the duke in an instant. He roughly seized the duke by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
Crash!
“Gah!”
“You dare lay a hand on my person?”
Kirian’s eyes blazed. It was a vicious glare, as if he’d tear the duke apart that very moment.
“Whether you’re a duke of the empire or the empress’s father, it makes no difference to me.”
Kirian drew the sword at his waist. The cold blade touched the duke’s throat. A red line was drawn across the throat by the sharp edge. With just a little more force, the throat would be severed clean through.
“Duke of Requies. Don’t imagine you’re leaving here alive today.”
Today you die by my hand. No—I’ll kill you and hang your head on the city gate. At the threat in those blazing eyes, the duke froze.
“Y-Your Majesty! Please, calm yourself! I was merely disciplining him as a father—!”
“Discipline? Striking him with that filthy hand is discipline?!”
Kirian roared. If he didn’t kill the duke here and now, he felt he wouldn’t be able to bear his own guilt.
“Die.”
Kirian put force into the hand gripping the sword. A trickle of blood ran down the duke’s throat. Terror filled his eyes. It was the very moment his head was about to fly.
That was when it happened.
“That’s enough.”
A low voice severed the taut killing intent in a single stroke. With just that voice, Kirian’s hand stopped dead in midair.
Kirian, breathing roughly, slowly turned his head. Luan, his cheek swollen, was watching them indifferently with bloodied lips. With an utterly weary face, as though spectating someone else’s affair.
“It’s noisy. It’s making my head ring, so stop and see him out.”
But Kirian’s sword still pointed at the duke’s throat. His red eyes were still wavering, his reason not yet recovered.
“…What?”
Kirian looked at Luan. The swollen cheek, the split lip. The scent of blood. Watching that wretched sight, something hot surged up from within him. He bellowed.
“Are you taking this man’s side right now?!”
But his heightened emotions burst out in entirely the wrong direction.
“This is the man who struck your cheek and drew your blood! And still you side with him because he’s your father? You’re telling me to hold back?!”
No. The one he wanted to rage at wasn’t Luan. It was fury at himself for failing to protect him, and murderous intent toward the duke who’d dared touch him.
In Kirian’s anger were mingled a childlike indignation and worry. Why are you just standing there like a fool, letting yourself be hit? I’m telling you I’ll kill this man for you—so why on earth are you stopping me?
But the expression wouldn’t come out the way he meant it. At the sight of himself, no different from the old man who’d just been bellowing at Luan, Kirian despaired.
Yet Luan’s reaction to his words was unexpected.
“Huh?”
Luan’s brow scrunched up hard. It was a sour expression, like someone who’d drunk spoiled milk. At the genuine disgust on his face, Kirian faltered.
“You’re saying something truly horrifying.”
“…Hm?”
“Me, side with that man? It gives me chills.”
Luan rubbed his arm, unable to smooth out his expression. It was a revolted look, as if a bug had landed on him.
“I’m stopping you for your sake, Your Majesty.”
For my sake? Kirian blinked slowly.
“Cutting that man’s throat here and now would feel satisfying, sure—but what do you plan to do afterward?”
Luan spoke coldly.
“A duke of the empire, in the emperor’s own main palace, executed on the spot without trial?”
Will the nobles sit still for that? Do you want to start a civil war? How tangled are you trying to make the political situation? Luan’s gaze was saying, And who exactly is going to handle that troublesome cleanup?
“Don’t go making troublesome work for yourself—put that sword away.”
Blood spatter’s a pain to clean, too. What did the servants do to deserve it?
“…”
Kirian gaped blankly. It wasn’t a plea to spare his father, nor weeping and clinging. He was just looking at Kirian with the eyes of someone watching a puppy about to make a mess, citing the most realistic and lazy of reasons.
At that absurd logic, the heat that had risen to the top of his head cooled in an instant. The red, wavering eyes slowly recovered their original composure.
“…Hah.”
Kirian let out a hollow laugh, withdrew the sword in his hand, and roughly released the duke’s collar. Thump. The duke slumped gracelessly to the floor. Flung down like a piece of baggage, he clutched at his throat.
“Cough, cough!”
The duke coughed, his face flushed red. A stinging wound left by the blade remained on his throat.
But what he couldn’t bear more than that was the shame. The terror of nearly dying at the hands of an emperor not even half his age. And the humiliation that a defective product had been the one to save him.
The duke rose to his feet, trembling. His clothes were a mess, and his dignity had fallen to the floor.
“…Your Majesty.”
The duke ground his teeth and started to open his mouth.
“Out.”
Kirian cut him off coldly. He no longer looked at the duke, his gaze fixed on Luan.
“I’m sparing you because my empress dislikes the noise. Get out of my sight this instant.”
Never set foot in this place again. At the cold command, the duke clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms. He glared at Luan with venomous eyes.
You… you dare reduce me to this?
The fury he couldn’t spit out in words turned toward Luan. But Luan languidly turned his head and met the duke’s eyes. He had no reason to cower.
“Father, before you go, do settle the account.”
Luan wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he spoke. The inorganic eyes, like ones regarding a bother, were unfamiliar.
“Defective as I am, I was at least raised at the ducal estate—so I suppose you’d want me to pay my dues.”
There were food costs, clothing costs, education costs. Luan counted on his fingers.
“Let’s call it even.”
“…What, even…?”
“I stopped His Majesty and saved your life, didn’t I. I’m saying we settle the account with that.”
The duke’s jaw dropped. He was floored by the vulgar choice of words. But Luan was serious.
“The cost of raising me, I’ve collected today as the price of your life. If we end the father-son bond here too, the account balances out perfectly.”
Seems I valued it pretty high. Still, it’s a duke’s life, so it’s probably worth this much. Luan’s expression hardened coldly. On second thought, it feels like a losing deal after all.
“So from now on, don’t interfere in my life. Whether I divorce, remarry, or die in a ditch. It’s no concern of the house.”
It was a declaration of severance. Notice that he was no longer the house’s tool, nor its son.
The duke was so dumbfounded that no words would come. But for now he had to withdraw. Because Kirian’s hand was drifting back toward the sword hilt.
“…You’ll regret this.”
The duke spoke through grinding teeth.
“How cold it is outside the shelter of the house. I’ll make you feel it down to your bones.”
He glared coldly at the two of them one last time. It was a vow of revenge—to carve the disgrace he’d suffered today deep into his bones and pay it back a thousandfold without fail.
Slam—! The duke shut the door roughly and vanished.
Kirian clenched his teeth. Luan was right. His power was still insufficient. So much so that killing the duke would mean fretting over the aftermath. He needed power.
Stillness alone remained in the room again. But it was a different kind from before. Between the two left in the wake of the passing storm flowed a strange current.
I should thank him, shouldn’t I?
That was already the second time he’d been helped. This time he’d taken a slap for talking back, but still—hadn’t Luan stopped him from taking another one? Luan opened his mouth.
“Your Majesty…”
“…Medicine.”
“Yes?”
“Bring medicine! At once!”
At the sound of Kirian bellowing out the door, Luan covered his ears despite himself. Did he boil down a train whistle and eat it?
The killing intent that had seemed ready to slay the duke had long since vanished. In its place remained only a young emperor, flustered and unable to settle, at the sight of Luan’s wound.
How do I soothe this one now?
But, touching his throbbing cheek, Luan thought that it wasn’t so bad, just a little. At the very least, this racket was the sound of someone trying to protect him.
