Chapter 52
Kylen rubbed his stiff neck and walked toward Dylan’s desk.
“Still have a lot to look at?”
“Ah! It’s already this late.”
Surprised by Kylen’s voice, Dylan checked the clock and quickly stood up.
“Did you stay because of me?”
“Of course not.”
Kylen lightly tapped Dylan’s back and walked toward the trolley with the teapot.
“Tea?”
“Huh? I–I’ll do it! Ah!”
Dylan rushed around the desk but hit his foot on the table leg and crouched down in pain.
Kylen clicked his tongue and brewed warm, late-night tea, pouring it into two cups.
He placed one on Dylan’s desk and asked if he was okay, seeing Dylan’s teary eyes.
“I should’ve made it for you…”
“It’s fine. I can make my own tea.”
Kylen took a sip and pointed with his chin at Aiden’s research papers scattered across the desk.
“How is it?”
“The more I read, the more amazed I get. I don’t understand all the technical parts, but… it’s incredible.”
Dylan spoke with pure admiration.
Kylen agreed. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Horses were inefficient in Winterford’s cold.
Horses needed more rest, escort knights suffered in the freezing weather, and injuries were common.
Maintaining horses cost a lot, since feed had to be brought in and stables heated.
If Aiden’s Carforward could truly be commercialized…
Kylen sighed without realizing. Dylan lowered his cup and examined Kylen’s expression.
“Is something bothering you…?”
He didn’t finish the question.
Kylen always had something to worry about.
Crown Prince Ferdinand unexpectedly appeared at the slave market.
They were monitoring him, but Winterford was too far from the capital. Blind spots had formed.
Winterford was in chaos. Too many problems.
And the workload here was heavier than in the capital.
“This research must go forward. For Winterford—and for the Empire’s future.”
“Yes… but the path is steep.”
Dylan frowned and pushed up his slipping glasses.
“For now, I’ll try to gather enough iron in secret—just enough that the Platters won’t notice—and send it to Volos. That part seems possible.”
Kylen nodded.
“It’s late. You should rest. Since you came to Winterford, you haven’t had any real rest.”
Kylen smiled faintly at Dylan’s concern.
“That applies to you as well.”
“Am I the same as you, my lord?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Kylen!”
Kylen smiled at Dylan’s worried tone and returned to his desk.
Seeing Dylan’s sharp gaze, Kylen realized he should stop working.
“All right, all right. I’ll go back to the bedroom now. You should stop and rest too.”
Kylen placed the empty cup on the trolley and began organizing his desk.
“Oh, and I’ll need to visit the capital soon.”
“The capital?”
“Yes. I have to check something myself.”
As he organized the papers, Kylen’s expression changed sharply—his green eyes turning as sharp as a blade.
“You’re going to meet Viola Crudup?”
“Yes.”
“…Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Kylen nodded and headed toward the door—then paused, turning back.
“Dylan, go home soon. And don’t sneak into the kitchen at dawn again.”
He smiled dangerously and left the office.
“T-that was only once…”
Dylan’s face turned red as he tried to defend himself, but Kylen was already gone.
Silence filled the office. The howling Winterford wind echoed faintly.
Dylan sighed loudly.
He returned to his chair and looked over Aiden’s papers—then leaned back deeply.
“Maybe I should go home early tonight.”
Right after Kylen told him to rest, Dylan suddenly felt hungry.
If he stayed longer, he might end up sneaking into the kitchen like back at the capital townhouse.
“Right! I’m going home early today.”
He organized what needed to be done by morning. Then he stacked the documents he would read tomorrow.
His eyes fell on the teacup.
Half the tea Kylen made remained.
Dylan drank it in big gulps. Not a single drop was wasted.
Feeling satisfied, he stared at the empty cup.
Then he remembered his first meeting with Kylen.
It was the year the disgraced prince—whose mother, the empress, had died—returned to the capital after earning great military merit on the frontier.
That was when Dylan met him.
Kylen had come to the Academy to visit his old teacher.
Dylan Englefield, the second son of Viscount Englefield, had always ranked first in the Academy.
He was smart but bad at flattering others. That made him unpopular.
A viscount’s second son had little power.
Other students mocked him openly, insulted his family’s poverty, or ridiculed his small build.
He couldn’t fight back.
His parents hated that he outperformed his older brother, so they told him to stay quiet and avoid trouble.
If he could study, he could endure the insults.
The worst bully was Kevin Findley, the eldest son of Count Findley.
Kevin was in a terrible mood that day. Then he saw Dylan, who never reacted to the bullying.
That day, Dylan was beaten badly without reason.
Blood dripped from his torn lips onto the sand.
For the first time, Dylan asked:
“What… ugh… why are you doing this to me…?”
His whole body hurt. Even breathing hurt.
But he wanted to know. He had to ask.
“Why? No reason. I’m just angry, and you’re in my way.”
For the first time, Dylan felt true rage.
Not because he was a viscount’s second son.
Not because he couldn’t flatter others.
Not because he was small.
But because there was no reason at all.
“Aaaargh!”
Dylan screamed and charged at Kevin.
He wanted to punch that smooth face with all his strength.
But he had no chance. Kevin was the biggest boy in their year.
Kevin kicked him hard. Pain shot through Dylan’s body as he fell headfirst to the ground.
His face scraped across the dirt.
But he barely felt it. The pain in his chest made it impossible to breathe.
As he lay there, he saw Kevin’s polished shoes.
“No matter what you do, you can’t win. Know why?”
Kevin crouched, grabbed Dylan’s hair, and lifted his head.
“You’re a viscount’s second son. I’m a count’s heir. No matter how much you study, at best, you’ll be my assistant. Understand?”
Dylan’s vision blurred. Fury burned in him, but he couldn’t speak.
Then—
“Agh!”
Kevin suddenly screamed and rolled across the ground.
It happened instantly.
The students watching began whispering.
“Sorry. Something hit my foot. Oh—turns out it was a person.”
It was a voice Dylan had never heard.
He forced his swollen eyes open.
Kevin sprang up, screaming, “Who the hell—!”
But when he saw the man standing there, his face turned white.
“I greet the Empire’s Little Light.”
It was the Empire’s Second Prince—
Kylen Livriden.
