Chapter 21
“Check.”
“Check.”
“Bet.”
Late at night, five men were gathered at the Potentia Palace, playing poker.
“Call.”
“You crazy bastards.”
“How much money are you even throwing in?” one man grumbled.
Among the younger nobles of the Stein faction, these were the boldest of the bold — men who feared nothing.
“I really can’t understand His Majesty,”
said Marquis Bill Magrot, clicking his tongue.
As a collateral relative of the royal family, he was distantly related to Johann, which made him one of the few who spoke to the Emperor casually — whether Johann liked it or not.
“Flora Rodion? Are you serious? You know what her personality is like.”
Bill had been the one who first introduced Flora to Johannes at her debutante ball.
He hadn’t expected her to become Empress someday.
Bill clicked his tongue again.
“To choose Flora Rodion over Rose Kenness—His Majesty really is a politician to the bone.”
“Why? Lady Rodion is beautiful enough,”
Count Theodore Kran said, shrugging as he dealt the cards.
“It’s not about her looks. That woman’s always been… off. She’s been obsessed with His Majesty since forever.”
Bill clicked his tongue again.
“Watch your mouth. That’s Her Imperial Highness, the Empress Consort,”
said Ern, who had been quietly listening.
But Bill only snorted.
“Empress Consort? She’s not even the Empress. She just whined her way into that position — she ought to be ashamed.”
“Bill,” Theodore warned, giving him a sharp look.
“His Majesty hasn’t said a word about it, so why are you all so uptight? We’ve been friends for twenty years. Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”
Bill looked toward the man who had wagered the most chips on the table.
Theodore and Ern exchanged nervous glances, watching Johann carefully.
“Bet, Bill.”
Johann’s answer wasn’t what any of them expected.
“…Pardon?”
“You can raise if you like.”
“Can you see my hand or something?”
Bill quickly covered his cards, startled. There was no way Johann could actually see them—but then again, being told to raise meant Johann probably believed he would win. And Johann had never once lost a game.
“Raise,” Bill said eagerly, pushing in more chips.
Before long, the pot had grown to an overwhelming amount.
“At this point, that’s enough to feed an entire province, Your Majesty. And you’re telling me to raise?”
Theodore threw up his hands and folded. Ern sighed and called — not because he thought he could win, but because he’d caught a silent signal from Johann. Whatever Johann had in mind, it wasn’t something one could defy.
“So, only one player left.”
Johann slowly inhaled his cigar, then exhaled smoke toward the man who had barely spoken since the game began.
“Samü.”
The man had changed a great deal in a short time.
“Call,”
Samü said quietly, his face shadowed.
The moment he spoke, everyone except Johann flinched.
“You’re calling that? Duke Gears, does your domain even have that much left in its treasury—”
“Bill.”
Ern glared at him sharply, silencing him. Bill huffed and shut his mouth, displeased.
Johann and Samü, however, hadn’t heard a word. Their eyes were fixed only on the cards.
“Show your hands,” Johann said.
One by one, the others revealed their cards.
Theodore and Ern had terrible hands. Bill’s hand was strong — good enough to win in any other game.
“Ah, damn it.”
But as soon as Samü’s cards were shown, Bill ground his teeth. Samü’s hand was even better.
At this rate, the victory was clearly his.
“Only Your Majesty’s hand remains,” Ern said quietly.
Instead of turning over his cards, Johann looked directly at Samü.
“Duke Gears.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Take this.”
Johann pulled a cigar from his case and handed it to him.
The others exchanged puzzled looks — Johann never gave away his own cigars.
Even a trivial thing like that, he kept to himself.
Samü hesitated, startled, but eventually accepted it.
“Ern. Light it.”
Ern snapped to attention and lit the cigar for him.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” Johann said lazily.
“Your petition has been rejected by the council.”
“…I see.”
Samü set down his cigar, his face full of despair.
That petition had been his last hope.
The Gears domain was crumbling.
Thanks to his predecessor’s disastrous mismanagement, the people were suffering.
All for money.
Because of money, he felt as though his hands and feet had been cut off.
He had never felt such helplessness before.
He smiled bitterly, unable to hide his humiliation.
“However—”
Johann’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“It seems you’ve won the game.”
“!”
Samü’s head snapped up. Johann was rubbing his cards against his cigar.
The cards were reduced to ash and soot, their numbers now unrecognizable.
The room fell utterly silent. No one dared breathe, let alone speak.
“Congratulations. You’ve won some money,” Johann said, grinning.
“….”
“Hah—! Your Majesty! You told me to raise, and look how that turned out, ha!”
Bill jumped in, trying to lighten the mood.
“Guess even Your Majesty can be wrong sometimes!”
“Right, right! If I’d stayed in, who knows what might’ve happened, hahaha,” Theodore added nervously, forcing a laugh.
Only Samü and Ern couldn’t bring themselves to smile.
“With that much money, you can’t fix everything — but you can fix something,”
Johannes said softly.
And Samü understood instantly.
This money wasn’t a prize.
It was charity.
A bribe disguised as kindness.
“So now, it’s time for you to return to your lands and rebuild,”
Johann continued.
That was his dismissal order.
He tossed the stack of money toward Samü’s hands, as if giving alms to a beggar.
“A game where everyone wins.”
A game where everyone wins?
Samü clenched his teeth.
No — only you won.
You took everything from me.
Everyone knew the truth: that the Gears domain’s funding had been deliberately cut off — by you.
And this money wasn’t meant to help me.
It was meant to silence me.
To buy peace with your foreign in-laws in that frozen northern country.
He swallowed the surge of fury that threatened to burst from his chest.
“…Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He swallowed again, because that was the only choice left to him.
“Attend the breakfast tomorrow.”
“!”
Even Ern’s eyes widened at that.
“You were close with the Empress once. You should at least say goodbye before you leave, shouldn’t you?”
Samü thought bitterly,
Who was it that ever called those green eyes noble?
There’s no color in the world more vile than that one.
He trembled at the sight of those eyes — the same green as his own.
How pathetic and shameful it was to have lost his woman to the man who shared them.
Anel.
He silently whispered the name of the woman he could never have.
