Episode 18
Khalid closed his mouth, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. Getting scolded out of nowhere wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.
Especially not when you’d only just fallen asleep at dawn—and been forced out of bed after barely a wink of rest.
“Could we get to the point, Father? Let’s not drag up things from ten years ago.”
“…Fine, then let’s skip the preamble. I hear Renata has taken ill. And if you ask me, you’re probably to blame.”
“Why is it my fault—oh, wait. Don’t tell me. She caught a cold, didn’t she? Knew it.”
That idiot.
Khalid clicked his tongue quietly. He’d suspected it the moment they ran into each other at the salon.
Renata had been wearing a dress so thin it left her shoulders bare, and by the time he arrived, she was already soaked from spilled tea.
Yet no one—no one—had thought to give her a coat. Including him.
He’d been too furious at the ridiculous state she was in.
“…Still, I made sure she got cleaned up and into dry clothes. I did what I could.”
“And what of it? I’m sure you did it while throwing one of your usual tantrums. No wonder the girl’s sick.”
“…It’s not like that. Why are you blaming me for Renata being ill?”
He said that, but part of him did feel guilty.
They’d argued outside Madame Sinaba’s palace—she wanted to ride her own carriage, he insisted she take his.
She’d had his coat around her shoulders at the time, but she must have still been freezing.
And even in the Crown Prince’s palace…
Izar’s lilac garden, maintained with preservation magic, stayed in full bloom even into early winter. But it was still outdoors—chilly, with icy breezes drifting through now and then.
“I’ve already heard from Lady Tenea. Renata said she won’t go through with the marriage, is that true?”
“Oh, that…”
When did that come up?
Khalid’s pale blue eyes snapped into sharp focus.
He turned his head toward the grand doors of the audience hall—Lady Tenea stood there, watching silently.
No wonder she’d been fully dressed and made-up when he was still groggy and buried under blankets.
And when he’d finally gotten dressed and come out after being summoned, she’d already vanished from the prince’s palace.
He’d assumed she was off tending to other duties—but she’d come here ahead of him, it seemed.
And told everything.
“…Why are you looking at me, Your Highness? I don’t know anything about that,” she said, feigning innocence with an insufferably sweet smile.
She shrugged, playing dumb.
If not you, then who? It was obviously her.
Khalid narrowed his eyes at Lady Tenea before turning his gaze forward again.
“If you’ve got a mouth, then use it. Who do you think you are, sabotaging a marriage with the daughter of House Carneluti?” the Emperor demanded.
“…”
Khalid did have a mouth—but even if he’d had two, he wouldn’t have known what to say.
He knew full well what Renata had told him—that the Empire needed this marriage.
He knew his own stubbornness wasn’t helping anyone, and that he and Renata needed to be wed as soon as possible for everyone’s sake.
He knew all that.
But knowing it didn’t mean he could act on it.
Whenever he looked at Renata, the words never came out right.
Since they were kids, she had always made him uncomfortable.
The Renata in his memories always seemed… a little out of place, like she never fully belonged anywhere. Always glancing around, uncertain and lost.
In fact, more often than not—almost always—he found his eyes drifting toward her.
But her eyes… had never once turned toward him.
“Why couldn’t you just ask for help?”
Was it really that hard to say just that one thing to him? Or had it never even crossed her mind?
“What are you doing here, Renata?”
“Oh… nothing. Just waiting for Izar.”
And then, just like that—her whole face would light up the moment Izar arrived, like nothing else in the world mattered.
Disgusting.
Honestly, it made him sick to watch.
They had been like two puzzle pieces from the start. Perfect for each other.
And now they expected him to marry her?
No way. That was just… inhuman.
There had never been any space for him between Izar and Renata.
He had interacted with her from time to time, sure—but that was it.
And even those interactions usually ended in pointless bickering.
Whenever Khalid approached Renata—tried to close that lonely distance she lived with—she always looked disappointed that he wasn’t Izar.
So naturally, he couldn’t help but lash out.
“…Why do you keep waging pointless wars? Why do you treat your children like bargaining chips?”
The past still lingering in his mind, Khalid let out a quiet breath and asked.
If it had been Izar and Renata, that would’ve been one thing. They truly loved each other.
But him? He could never be that for her.
He knew, better than anyone, that most noble marriages were purely political.
He’d had it drilled into him his whole life.
But knowing something didn’t mean you had to accept it.
He caught himself—his words had come out bitter again—and bit down on his lip.
Now came the Emperor’s thunder.
“You insolent brat! Khalid van Veldemar!”
“…Yes, Father.”
“Why are you so bent on acting like a fool? Are we supposed to sit idly by while those barbarian scum from the frontier try to seize the great Empire of Veldemar?”
“…”
“And it’s not like this kind of match hasn’t happened before! Why are you being so sensitive about it?”
The Emperor’s deep voice echoed through the audience chamber like a bell tolling doom.
Scowling, he continued:
“Your grandmother married your grandfather, the former Emperor, even though he was fifteen years younger—because his predecessor was too ill to rule. And she was a widowed Empress at the time! And you—what? Renata was never Izar’s wife!”
“Not officially, but she was practically—”
“Silence and listen! You’re twenty-two! If you’ve got time to whine about how you don’t want to get married, then use that time to get yourself to House Carneluti. Right now. Go visit her!”
Yikes.
That shout could’ve burst his eardrums. Was he using some kind of magical megaphone?
Khalid rubbed at his ears, which were still ringing.
Then he paused, processing what the Emperor had just said.
“…Excuse me? Why would I go there? I’ve been seeing Renata practically every day lately.”
“And so what? In this country, my word is law. If you don’t like it, go be Emperor yourself.”
“…How childish.”
Says the man who has no intention of ever stepping down.
Khalid ran a hand through his messy blond hair in frustration.
Should’ve known. My only mistake was being born the son of the Emperor.
He muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.
“Fine. I’ll obey the orders of His Most Glorious Majesty and get it over with.”
“Wait.”
“…What now?”
Khalid had already turned to go, but Icalis II stopped him in his tracks.
He didn’t bother hiding his irritation.
The Emperor didn’t like his brat of a son’s attitude, but he also didn’t want to drag the conversation out and hear more of his mouth.
So he got to the point.
“Who knows where you’ll run off to on the way? That’s why I’ve already summoned Kashian. He’ll be escorting you.”
“…Excuse me, Your Majesty?”
“Mm-hm. Kashian should be arriving at the palace about now. Wait for him. And fix that damn tone while you’re at it!”
What, do you think I’m a child or something?
Khalid scowled in open defiance, true to his reputation as a terrible son.
Then, the Emperor’s voice—suddenly grave—followed after him.
“Don’t even think about coming back to the palace until you’ve made things right with Renata. Right now, your worth is nothing more and nothing less than her betrothed.”
Khalid no longer wanted to see the Emperor’s face.
Of course. You’re always like this. Even when I nearly died from that assassination attempt, you acted the same way.
He knew better than anyone that Icalis II always prioritized the Empire over everything else.
But still—he couldn’t just sit there and listen to his father reduce him to nothing more than a pawn in a political marriage.
Without another word, he turned and left the audience chamber.
His face was twisted with annoyance as he stepped out of the Imperial Palace.
