Chapter 73………………….
“Ugh…!”
Not knowing what else to do, Aslan stretched out his hand to grab the one reaching for him.
But the gap between branches was too wide. His short arms couldn’t reach Lloyd at all.
Worse, when he let go with one arm to reach out, his remaining limbs couldn’t hold his weight, and he slipped.
“Waaah!”
“Aslan!”
Without hesitation, Lloyd leapt after him.
Fortunately, thanks to the difference in weight, Lloyd fell faster than the boy, managing to snatch Aslan out of the air before he hit the ground.
He reached desperately for a branch—
“Ghhk…!”
—but none were within his grasp. He had no choice but to clutch the trunk itself.
The rough bark scraped painfully against his palms.
He didn’t even have the chance to find a foothold—his grip was already slipping.
Just as the two of them were about to fall, Aslan spotted something and pointed frantically.
“Uncle! There! Over there!”
“……!”
He was pointing to the lowest branch of the tree.
It was far, but Lloyd’s long legs could just about reach it.
He stretched out his leg, balancing Aslan tightly in his arms, and used the branch as a foothold to spring down to the ground.
Thud!
The earth shook with the impact. Shock traveled up through his knees, but they landed safely.
“Haa…”
Lloyd exhaled heavily in relief, setting Aslan gently down on the ground.
At a glance, the boy had no injuries.
But Aslan looked strangely dazed, so Lloyd asked just in case.
“Are you all right?”
“Mm…”
Aslan nodded blankly.
Then he sniffed lightly, looked up at Lloyd, and asked:
“But, Uncle… who are you?”
“H-huh?”
Lloyd froze, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
He’d jumped knowing he might be exposed. Yet thanks to the mask and wig, Aslan hadn’t recognized him.
“Snff… You smell familiar, though…”
The more Lloyd backed away, the more Aslan closed in, sniffing at him.
The scent was familiar but not.
Why?
The build was familiar, but the hair color was strange.
‘The voice… it’s definitely Uncle Id’s, but maybe not…’
Since Pablo had been wearing the mask and wig earlier, their scents had mixed, leaving Aslan confused.
At that moment, Pablo burst out from the window and shouted:
“Your Grace! Are you unharmed?!”
At those words, Aslan’s round eyes grew even wider.
“You’re… the Archduke, Uncle?”
Damn that tactless fool, Pablo.
“Aslan!”
Unlike Ayla, who only cried out his name, oblivious to the situation, Aslan calmly waved to show he was fine—then suddenly remembered something and bowed to Lloyd.
“Ah! I almost forgot. Thanks for saving me!”
His hands still raised awkwardly in the air, his bow was far from noble etiquette—but it was so very Aslan.
‘Good. He doesn’t seem to suspect it’s me.’
If he had realized Lloyd was Id, he wouldn’t be acting so polite.
Relieved the boy wasn’t too shaken, Lloyd let out a small chuckle—only for Aslan to shoot him a sharp question.
“But why was Archduke Uncle with Ayla? Where’s Uncle Id?”
“Uh… Lord Mente was busy, so I was filling in for a while.”
“That’s not okay! Ayla likes being with Uncle Id more. Don’t bother him!”
“I-I’ll… keep that in mind.”
Lloyd had just been scolded by a child.
When really, Aslan was the one who deserved a scolding.
Trying to regain his authority, Lloyd deepened his voice.
“Then why were you up there, in such a dangerous place?”
Aslan answered without the slightest hesitation:
“I wanted to secretly see if Archduke Uncle was a bad person.”
So much for “secretly”—he’d already been caught. And he had no intention of hiding his motive.
That brazen honesty left Lloyd at a loss for words.
Before he could think of where to even start scolding, Aslan suddenly gasped and leapt up.
“Oh, right! I’ve got to get back to Mama—before she finds out I snuck out!”
He glanced around, trying to remember which way he’d come.
The blood staining his pale green dress was bothersome, but changing his clothes would only make things more suspicious.
Lloyd pointed toward the annex.
“Go that way. Your mother must be worried.”
At that, Aslan beamed and nodded, then pointed insistently at Lloyd’s palms.
“Uncle, make sure you treat your hands! And thanks again!”
“Ah.”
Lloyd spread his hands.
Thorns were lodged in his palms, and blood welled from scraped patches of skin.
The forgotten pain began to sting all at once.
‘Still, maybe I managed to shake off the “villainous Archduke” image a little?’
Aslan was a child with clear likes and dislikes. If he had judged Lloyd to be truly bad, he wouldn’t have smiled at him like that.
Watching the boy run off into the distance, then back at his bleeding palms, Lloyd couldn’t help but smile faintly.
What a little troublemaker.
Minerva must have her hands full with him.
“Aslaaaan!”
As expected, as soon as he returned, Minerva’s booming voice filled the annex.
“I told you! I told you not to disappear without telling me!”
“But Mooom!”
“And what’s this blood on your clothes?! Are you hurt?!”
My precious child, with blood on her clothes!
Minerva spun Aslan around, frantically checking for injuries.
Though dizzy from it, Aslan answered dutifully.
“Ah, that’s the Archduke Uncle’s blood. He got hurt saving me—bleh.”
“What? Saving you?”
Minerva froze in place.
Did he just say the Archduke saved him?
How dangerous had the situation been?
Sensing her unease, Aslan began chattering away, recounting everything that had happened in detail.
By the end, Minerva sighed heavily, pressing her fingers to her brow.
“Well… at least you’re safe. Haa…”
How was she supposed to scold her?
It wasn’t like Aslan ever listened when scolded.
She was just grateful that Mars and his wife hadn’t been the source of the danger.
As Minerva hung her head, Aslan pushed her face close and giggled cheerfully.
“Mama, I want to see Archduke Uncle again!”
Minerva had plenty she wanted to say, but against her daughter’s simple innocence, she could only surrender.
“Yes… I suppose there will be another chance.”
Her expression remained heavy.
She couldn’t possibly take Aslan with her to an official audience—but if the Archduke accepted her proposal, then like it or not, Aslan would see him again.
The day of the audience with the Archduke arrived before I knew it.
Now, seated in the reception room, I waited anxiously for him to arrive.
Cold sweat clung to my palms.
I rubbed them against my skirt over and over, steadying my breath.
Don’t panic. If he’s truly the Archduke, he won’t let this opportunity slip away.
I had prepared for three full days.
Recalling the original story, remembering my own experiences in the imperial palace—I had arranged what the Archduke would most desire.
This negotiation would succeed. I was certain.
At the appointed time, a knock sounded.
“His Grace the Archduke has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
The door opened slowly, and after five years, the Archduke finally appeared before me again.
At once, he bowed politely.
But something felt… off.
He’s different from the last time I saw him.
The indigo hair and the white mask covering his eyes remained the same.
But… was his height always like that? Even his aura felt different somehow.
“Please, have a seat, Your Grace.”
When I gestured toward the sofa, he inclined his head slightly and sat.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to uncover the source of this odd sense of wrongness.
But then, someone following behind him scattered my thoughts like dust.
“…Lord Mente?”
“I greet Your Highness.”
Id bowed more deeply, with more sincerity than the Archduke himself.
The problem was—he was standing right behind the Archduke, as if guarding him.
Why hadn’t he left?
When I fixed him with a questioning gaze, Id looked troubled and spoke carefully.
“His Grace suffers from an acquired condition. It seems I must serve as his voice. My apologies for not explaining beforehand, Your Highness.”
“And what sort of condition would that be?”
I asked with a mirthless laugh. What an excuse.
Id bit his lips for a long while before finally forcing out the words.
“Involuntary reclusive disorder… along with social phobia and panic disorder…”
He couldn’t even raise his head afterward.
So basically… he’s got every mental illness under the sun.
