BE 39

Chapter 39

Ten days ago — the day during an outdoor class when Adel, frightened by the animals, grabbed Khan’s hand and ran away.

That very night, the Crown Prince and the Duke met in private.

Crown Prince Kasmahan let out a slow breath.

“I only stopped by because I heard a fiancée had been chosen.”

Kasmahan thought of Adel.

He had been curious about her for a long time — or, more accurately, about the “prophesied child.”

From early childhood, all members of the imperial family were drilled endlessly about the importance of divine beasts.
But even more important than those sacred beings was the child of prophecy.

“I never thought she’d appear during my time as Crown Prince.”

For hundreds of years, through dozens of emperors, not a single sign of the prophesied child had appeared.

“That she’s an eight-year-old orphan girl is unexpected, though.”

He still remembered how shocked he was when he first heard the noble’s report.

“There’s a girl in the Panaso Orphanage who can hear the words of spirits.”

The noble had brought with him a recording crystal as proof.

The Imperial Court was thrown into chaos.

The child in the crystal was undeniably the prophesied one.
When they placed the crystal on the sacred altar, it glowed red — a sign of authenticity.

That meant the girl in the image was real.

Adel.

The prophesied child was an exceedingly noble being.

It was only natural that the house chosen to adopt her was the Ducal House of Alkybiades.

If she was fated to become the future empress, then her adoptive family had to be one of the empire’s highest-ranking noble houses.

Of course, from the Duke’s point of view, it must have felt like lightning from a clear sky.

After all, there were other great houses — the “Three Pillars” of nobility — not just Alkybiades.

[“Why me of all people? Do I have to tattoo on my forehead that I’m unmarried for them to get it?”]
[“You’ve no intention of marrying anyone except Beasirta anyway. I merely think I’ve found the most suitable father.”]

The Emperor and the Duke were old friends.

When the Emperor mentioned Beasirta’s name, the Duke’s expression soured.

The Emperor continued, his tone rational and cold.

[“All other high nobles are married and have children already. And what if someone like Lord Hayden gets jealous of suddenly having a sister? The precious ‘child of prophecy’ must not be hurt in any way.”]

Kasmahan’s father — the Emperor, often called the Tyrant — spoke calmly.

Everyone knew that much of the emperor’s reputation for cruelty was thanks to the Duke’s influence.

[“You said yourself you’ll never marry — meaning you’ll adopt an heir. If you’re planning to adopt a male successor later, what’s wrong with adopting a girl first?”]
[“And whose fault is it that I’m still unmarried…?”]

The Duke had ground his teeth, but the Emperor hadn’t so much as blinked.

Their relationship was one of strategic alliance:

The Duke of Alkybiades was freed from the tedious obligations of imperial service,
and in return, the Empire was governed with the Duke’s strength and influence.

Thus, Adel’s father became Duke Alkybiades.

[“One month, that’s all. I’ll make sure the price is paid in full.”]
[“As always, you will.”]

The Duke had agreed through clenched teeth.

No matter how strained relations between the ducal house and the crown were,
even he wanted this endless war to stop.

The tragic incident in which the Duke lost Beasirta would never have happened, had there been no war.

“The Duke’s desserts are famous.”

Kasmahan thought to himself as he plucked a cherry from a cake in the Duke’s office and popped it into his mouth.

From the Crown Prince’s perspective, the Duke’s lips moved soundlessly.

— “Fck.”*

He didn’t speak the curse aloud — only mouthed it with a crooked smirk.

“You truly take after His Majesty — impatience and all. The bloodline doesn’t lie.”
“…And what’s wrong with my temperament, exactly?”
“I hear the official introduction of your new daughter is scheduled for ten days from now.”

The Duke, who had spent most of his life on battlefields, occasionally lapsed into vulgarity.
There was simply no better tool to convey raw emotion.

Kasmahan moistened his dry lips.

He had been appointed Crown Prince at the age of eight —
the very same age Adel was now.

“Is he angry?”

The succession issue had to be settled quickly, especially during wartime.

Though only twelve, Kasmahan had undergone the Empire’s infamous elite education for heirs.
He was a prodigy — mature and perceptive beyond his years.

He already knew that the House of Alkybiades wielded more power than the royal family itself.

“…I apologize for visiting your daughter without permission.”

The Crown Prince bowed his head politely.

“However, I intend to keep visiting her quietly. She seemed lonely — like someone with no friends.”
“…”
“She’s still only eight, after all.”

The Duke had already heard a version of this explanation.

[“She was crying, so I comforted her. It was the young lady herself who begged me to stay and play. I merely obliged for a while.”]

When Adel had gone missing during class, the Duke had nearly torn the castle apart searching for her.

Then the Crown Prince appeared, claiming he knew her whereabouts.

[“If you go to the guardian tree, you’ll find her there. I told her that if she waited patiently, she’d see you soon.”]

The Duke had rushed there at once.

He’d found Adel fast asleep against the tree trunk.

The small child had looked up at him and called him “Daddy.”

Then she’d thrown herself into his arms.

[“I can’t stand children.”]

That was something the Duke used to say often.

One of the reasons he had postponed his marriage with Beasirta — the woman he’d loved so deeply —
was because he didn’t want children.

It wasn’t only that he feared his “divine curse” might be passed down —
he simply disliked children in general.

They cried, whined, demanded attention, and made trouble.

But Adel…

Somehow, she didn’t bother him the same way.

At first, he had thought lightly of killing her.

Yet he couldn’t help treating her kindly.

He worried about her tripping, getting hurt — about everything.

And when he thought she was gone… he’d blamed himself.

“She could’ve just gone back. Why’d she wait for me?”

The Duke looked at the Crown Prince as he spoke —
a polite way of saying get out.

“There’s something I wish to ask.”

The Crown Prince glanced briefly at the cake before speaking.

He liked sweets, though he rarely got to indulge; his attendants made a fuss whenever he tried.

Kasmahan raised his gaze.

“About the young lady… She believed she would be abandoned again.
She was trembling in fear, thinking she’d be sent back to the orphanage in a month.
Did you truly not know?”
“…”
“Or did you simply ignore it?”

The Crown Prince had not forgotten the image of Adel crying — twice.

The sacred “child of prophecy,” trembling with fear of being discarded again.

She, who was destined to become not just an empress, but a legendary figure —
a woman remembered for centuries.

There was no jealousy in him.

How could there be?
Jealousy requires equality of birth, a shared starting line — and there was none.

Even as the heir to the empire, he could never compare.

She was a being of destiny — a living part of the Empire’s divine foundation itself.

“You shouldn’t do that, my lord Duke. Your resentment toward the crown and your feelings for that child should not be confused.”
“I kept silent because I care for her.”
“…”
“What would you have me say? That in a month she’ll lose her name and title?
That the family she just learned to love isn’t hers to keep?”

For the first time, the Duke’s true feelings surfaced.

He hadn’t realized how much he cared until that moment.

He was worried for her.

He’d thought it was merely duty — to care for her until she was delivered to the palace —
but somewhere along the line, that had changed.

“Divine beasts or not — that child is too young to bear such a burden.”
“My lord Duke, didn’t you wish to get this over with quickly when you first accepted the adoption?”
“…”

The Duke felt a strong urge for a cigarette.

“Watch your words. Cross that line again and even being Crown Prince won’t save you.
And that child — she’s only eight, as you said.”
“…I dislike this too.”

The Crown Prince’s voice dropped quietly.

“Whether I want it or not, I’m destined to marry her.
I’m nothing but a tool.
Just to make her empress, my father will abdicate and name me emperor — even though he’s perfectly healthy.”

Kasmahan’s tone was bitter.

“I hate it, truly.
Does this even make sense?
Since the founding of the empire, such a thing has never happened.
I should’ve inherited the throne in my fifties —
but because of that girl, I’ll be forced to ascend in my teens.”

Indeed — Adel’s very existence would rewrite imperial law itself.

“…Don’t speak as though you’re the only one suffering, my lord Duke.
You threatened His Majesty just days ago, saying you couldn’t bear even a month —
yet now you dote on the girl as if she were your own blood.
If anyone deserves to resent her fate, it’s me.
But this is the weight we all must carry.”

The Duke spoke softly.

“Kasmahan.”

Then he smiled — beautifully, dangerously.

His red lips curved into a sharp grin, teeth flashing.

“If you dislike the marriage, don’t do it.
They say Adel must become royalty to receive divine protection —
but marriage isn’t the only way to join the royal bloodline.”
“…Are you implying treason, my lord?”
“Adel is my daughter.
Her future will be hers to decide.
If she wishes to see you as a friend, I’ll turn a blind eye — but that’s all.”

The Duke stood, towering over the Crown Prince.

In most empires, such a scene would be unthinkable —
but this was the Haspelt Empire.

The Crown Prince sat quietly, hands folded, maintaining his composure.

“Until the formal introduction ceremony, I want her to simply enjoy having a family.
That is how I show her affection.”
“…”
“When ignorance is bliss, it’s best left untouched. Don’t interfere.”

Kasmahan looked up at him.

He understood — the Duke was only trying to protect Adel in his own way.

He had raised his voice more than once, but in the end, it was the royal family who had to yield.

The Crown Prince rose, bowed deeply, and said: