CHAPTER 75……………………..
Count Sergio was a man who had never once in his life held back.
Whether it was something he wanted to do or something he wanted to say, he never kept it bottled inside.
That very man now sitting in front of his young son-in-law, pretending to make small talk, looked terribly uneasy.
“Hmm… The reason I called you here, Commander, is…”
“Please, speak comfortably.”
When Killian, sitting upright, lifted his eyes, the Count took up his teacup as if his throat had gone dry.
One would expect to see some sign of looseness the morning after a wedding, but no—there wasn’t the slightest crack to be found.
He had known his son-in-law was exceptional, but meeting him face to face like this drove the fact home even more.
To think a man of his age would feel subdued in front of his son-in-law.
The Count felt both proud and disheartened, and in the end, instead of continuing, he slid a sheet of paper across the table.
“What is this…?”
“News from the capital. It seems His Eminence the Archbishop has returned, and since then, His Majesty the Emperor’s illness has grown severe again. Famous physicians are coming and going, but there appears to be no improvement. They say it would be wise to prepare ourselves.”
“…I see.”
Even as he listened, even as he carefully read the letter himself, Killian remained silent.
His face betrayed no emotion. Watching him, the Count didn’t feel chilled by his composure—only weighed down by it.
Well, that’s understandable.
He didn’t know the details, but in his position he inevitably heard whispers.
It was, in a way, a familiar story.
A man who fell in love with a poor girl, and a family that opposed the union—such tales were common in both fairy tales and real life.
The only difference was that, unlike fairy tales, reality rarely ended happily.
Even a minor noble marriage came with hundreds of entangled interests to weigh.
All the more so for the imperial family that ruled the continent.
They could hardly take a penniless noble daughter as empress, and yet casting her aside was just as untenable.
When a child was born, the mother, unable to endure the frigid contempt of the imperial palace, soon passed away. The child, named Crown Prince, inherited a fate as tragic as his mother’s.
Abandoned in a detached palace, no one cared to know of him.
Later, rumors even spread that he had followed his mother into death from the very start—but the Emperor took no action.
He neither sought out the Crown Prince nor elevated the legitimate prince born of his new empress as heir.
Time passed with no pursuit of truth, no sorting of fact from rumor.
But once His Majesty passed, things would change. The ruler of the Empire would change. That wasn’t something that could be hidden simply because one man wished it so.
“They say the Second Prince is managing affairs of state well, but he has no desire for the throne. Though of course, you would know more about him than I.”
“…”
“Whenever His Majesty regains consciousness, he says only one thing: that he wishes to see the Crown Prince’s face, at least once.”
“No.”
Though Killian had always been polite before the Count, on this matter he cut him off at once.
So firm that not a sliver of room remained. The Count pressed no further.
“Well, I suspected as much when you chose to remain at St. Fidelio.”
“My apologies.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s only—if my Adele finds out… she’s particularly sensitive to being deceived.”
“I don’t intend to deceive her.”
“Then…?”
The Count raised an eyebrow. Killian fell silent, not unwilling to speak, but seeming at a loss for how to phrase it. He gripped his teacup.
“…It isn’t a memory worth sharing with anyone.”
“Commander.”
“I don’t fear her resenting me.”
“It sounds as though what you truly fear is something else entirely.”
The Count decided to let the matter rest.
What he knew was only the tip of the iceberg anyway.
As for the Crown Prince, there were rumors so outlandish he could scarcely repeat them aloud.
Digging would solve nothing, and he had no wish for his daughter to be dragged into something she could never endure.
“If that’s all, I should return. My wife will be waiting…”
“Ah, yes, about that.”
The Count hastily stopped him.
This wasn’t petty meddling. For the sake of his daughter, this was the most important matter of all.
“Ahem… I don’t know how to put this.”
“Please, speak.”
You will anyway.
Having come to understand his father-in-law’s ways well enough, Killian tilted his body and sat back down.
Those clear blue eyes carried a weight the world-worn Count could hardly bear, all the more considering the words he was about to speak.
“Ahem. Well, you see, Adele is at a delicate time…”
“…”
“She hasn’t stepped out of her room even once this morning, not until noon.”
The Count thought he’d rather discuss the Emperor than this. To him, who had never once beaten around the bush, the task was agony.
Why do I have to be the one saying this?
Self-loathing struck, but he was the only elder in the family.
He knew well enough what young blood was like at that age—he had lived it himself.
But he couldn’t simply ignore it. Not when the precious heir of House Sergio might already be growing inside Adele’s belly. At least, that was what he believed.
“Of course, I’m a man too. I can understand your feelings. In fact, I was even more vigorous in my day.”
“…Were you.”
“I’m saying, well… ahem, anyway.”
Why did it feel like he was being scolded instead?
The Count almost reached for a decanter but stopped himself. He had to preserve his dignity before his upright son-in-law.
“….”
Killian covered his mouth with his teacup. Perfect though he was, he sometimes betrayed impatience—in that, he resembled Adele enough that observing him never grew dull.
“So what you mean to say, Father, is…”
“There’s a saying. In the early stages, one ought to be careful.”
“…The early stages.”
“That’s what people say. No matter your feelings, the more precious the child, the more cautious you must be.”
Even in his fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, he looked so much like his daughter.
Killian shut his eyes tightly before reopening them. He saw once again the image of Adele clasping his hands last night, promising they would try together.
“I understand exactly what you mean, Father.”
“I knew you’d be quick on the uptake! The child would be precious to both houses!”
“Then all the more reason I must try my utmost.”
“…What?”
“I didn’t realize you already had such deep concern for a child not yet even conceived. I too long for an heir, but for Adele’s sake I thought it best not to rush.”
“…”
“Still, if it is your wish, it would hardly be proper for me to ignore it.”
And with that, he rose.
The Count could only stare, stunned.
Did he just say…
It was unfortunate for his father-in-law, but Killian had no intention of retreating.
“W-wait. That day, you said you’d take responsibility for Adele.”
“I don’t recall ever saying she was with child.”
Indeed, he hadn’t. He was guiltless.
Strategy wasn’t only for battlefields with swords.
If things had been rushed here by a misunderstanding, then from now on the opposite approach would serve him better.
On only the second day of marriage, Killian was already becoming more like Adele. He even took his father-in-law’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake.
“Don’t worry, Father.”
“That is…”
“On the honor of St. Fidelio, I’ll waste not a single moment and do my utmost.”
Killian stepped into the hall, his pace quicker than usual. A man who had drawn his sword had no time to hesitate.
He hadn’t exactly received agreement, but the Count had been too dazed to reply anyway.
“….”
So they really are alike.
He thought again of Adele’s expression that morning, when she’d realized he had tricked her.
Killian, who had scarcely smiled until now, stopped and let the faintest smile slip.
“She looks delighted enough to die. Perhaps I should grant her wish sooner than later.”
“Brother-in-law.”
“Who told you to call me that?”
Rounding the corner, Caden bared his teeth with a growl.
No matter how well Caden concealed his presence, Killian had sensed him approaching. He didn’t bother hiding his amusement.
“I doubt you have leave to call me that.”
“Shut it!”
“If titles require permission, then you should also seek mine before approaching my wife.”
Killian smiled easily, meeting Caden’s glare.
The magic restraints coiled around his neck were stronger than before, but his composure was unchanged.
Clang.
The mana stone thrummed with lethal force, enough to bite into flesh. Killian tilted his head slightly.
“Perhaps I should ask Father to intervene. These are meant for the highest-class beasts, after all.”
“You think this is something to laugh at?”
“My wife certainly would not. You seem to treat your sister as a child.”
“You—!”
Each time Killian uttered my wife, Caden’s eyes burned redder.
Even if he slashed with both hands right now, it wouldn’t ease the fire in his chest.
But neither of them wanted the consequences of that.
“I promised Father I’d see him, so I’ll take my leave. If you also came to see him, I suggest you show more respect. He’s quite worn these days.”
“How long do you think that composure of yours will last?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Killian stopped at his words.
Normally, a venomous provocation wouldn’t faze him. But Caden’s dark, rumbling tone echoed with weight, too pointed to ignore.
“The House of Setian.”
“…”
“They earned their viscountcy through valor in the Battle of Clian, but by the grandson’s time had fallen so far they’re effectively extinct. No estate, no servants—hardly anyone even remembers them.”
“…So you’ve investigated my family.”
And what of it?
Unshaken, Killian looked down his nose at his brother-in-law, daring him to continue.
Caden’s eyes narrowed.
“Orphaned young, and the last grandson disappears into St. Fidelio—the bloodline all but ended there.”
“…And is that a problem?”
“No. That’s the problem.”
Caden’s hand gripped the restraint at his throat as his gaze darkened.
He hadn’t uncovered more than that, but he knew well enough it wasn’t the end.
Call it an instinct, the sense of a predator.
“Don’t you find it a little too perfect? For a whole family to vanish without a trace, and for there to be nothing beyond that? Even a house that rose and fell in just a month leaves more scraps than that. But yours—spotless. Too spotless. As if someone had prepared it that way.”
“I didn’t think my family history would interest you.”
“Not me. My sister.”
As if he were done, Caden tilted his head askew, turning away. That sly smile of his mingled with his crimson eyes.
“…So isn’t it all the better for you?”
