Chapter 16
The number of children the king had sired was countless, and the hall was teeming with his offspring. Cloaked figures with black hair and dark capes glared at him, eyes gleaming with curiosity toward the secrets of his divine power.
“It was horrifying.”
Luan raised just the corner of his lips in a faint smile as he recalled. His own hair was just as black as theirs. He had once wondered, in a moment of foolishness, if people with black hearts all had black hair.
That was when he saw her—standing at the end of the line was a short girl. She wore the same black cape as the others, but her bright silver hair made her stand out awkwardly.
Ah, his princess. Her eyes were swollen again; she must’ve been crying. Her round eyes, full of anxiety and concern, looked as though they might start tearing up again at any moment. Young Luan had stood there, dumbstruck.
“Princess, your tears are too precious to be shed.”
And then, what had happened?
After returning from the banquet, battered and bruised again, the princess had grabbed him and apologized. He once wondered why this little dark mage, who must’ve witnessed so much, was only ever tender with him. But those questions always dissolved with just a few of her tears.
Even if she was only pretending—he didn’t care. This small girl who cried for him… she would never know just how precious she looked in those moments.
“…The princess once said she wanted me to be happy.”
“What?”
Hikel had been ranting about how he should’ve cut off every last head of the Herais royal family, but he paused at those words. Luan, who had been staring off into the distance, propped up his chin.
“I never dared to ask her why. I was afraid she wouldn’t answer. Even if she had said it out of pity back then… I wanted it to be real.”
“I see…”
Hikel didn’t quite understand, but he nodded anyway. Luan hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it. The words just slipped out as he was lost in thought, wondering what might bring the princess joy.
He tapped his long fingers on the desk, lost in memory. A fragment of the past surfaced again.
Back when the princess had held him and healed his wounds, she had said with conviction:
— Luan, I believe that one day, you’ll be in a palace even grander than this one, attending a magnificent ball with wonderful people.
He had never once dreamed of such a thing. He’d always thought dying would be just as fine.
But when she said it, it somehow felt like it was his own dream. What had he replied again? He had promised her he would make it so. Then she had smiled brightly and said she wanted to see it.
What were her exact words? “Luan, I want to see you surrounded by good people.”
Luan smiled faintly. Such innocent words. To want to see him among good people? He categorized people into two types—useful and useless. Except for the princess.
Luan then turned to look at Hikel Ormond, the bear-like man with crimson eyes who was quietly watching him.
In some ways, his survival was pure chance. If not for Hikel’s father, Orlanzo Ormond, he might never have escaped the Herais Kingdom. That the imperial prince had been trapped in a den of dark mages was considered a disgrace. Outraged, Orlanzo had gone as far as to secure support to orchestrate Luan’s escape.
Because of that, the once-trusted right-hand family, the Ormonds, fell from favor and were exiled to the northern frontier. Orlanzo had been demoted from the commander of the capital knights to a border garrison leader.
Luan followed him there. The official reason was: “I owe my life to your father. I will defend the Empire’s borders in eternal gratitude and loyalty.”
His father and the retainers naturally took the words at face value—interpreting it as Luan’s way of bowing out of the succession war.
His father had loved that groveling act. That’s when he truly decided to raise Luan as a prized hunting dog.
Since surviving so dramatically at fifteen, Luan, using the Ormond family as his stepping stone, had fled Herais and roamed the many battlefields poked at by ambitious kingdoms trying to test the Empire.
Meanwhile, his beloved father likely hoped the bastard son would just die off naturally—but Luan simply refused to die.
Hmm.
Finishing the recollection, Luan let a smooth smile curl at his lips. His serpent-like eyes softened into a sweet, crinkled smile. It was the kind of smile that made hearts flutter. Hikel, caught off guard by the Emperor’s sudden grin, flinched.
“Uh, Y-Your Majesty? Did I do something wrong…?”
“Hikel, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about the princess… The fact that we reunited like this is a miracle in itself. If not for your family’s help, I…”
“Oh! Your Majesty, please! You would have become Emperor even without our help! You are truly blessed by the goddess!”
Hikel was moved. Luan chuckled softly, amused by the man’s pure-hearted praise.
Hikel Ormond was a good man.
“Clean on the inside. Lacking ulterior motives. A very useful tool.”
A knight who pursued only strength, he revered Luan, who embodied overwhelming power. When Luan’s divine power awakened, Hikel was awestruck and pledged unwavering loyalty. Before that, his attitude had been… slightly different.
Luan still remembered—how a young Hikel had cried, asking why they had to be demoted just to save the youngest prince. And what had Orlanzo said then? That Luan Killian Seabolt had the makings of an emperor.
And Hikel had believed those words—believed so strongly that when Luan’s powers manifested, he praised his father’s foresight.
But Luan only chuckled at Hikel’s innocence. And at Orlanzo’s.
Orlanzo had saved him for a simple reason—because he had loved Luan’s mother. Wanting to save the child left behind by his first love, he had risked everything, even his family’s destruction.
“No, perhaps love takes many forms.”
Luan’s eyes narrowed. Unlike his earlier smile, this one was calculating. But Hikel, pure as ever and devoted to the powerful man before him, couldn’t understand the nuance in that gaze.
So he just smiled back warmly.
Then Luan said with a small grin:
“Still… I should do something that would make the princess happy.”
“Oh! What kind of gift will you prepare?”
“She said she wanted to see me, in a grand palace, holding a splendid ball with wonderful people.”
“That’s wonderful! What a beautiful idea.”
“And if we’re talking about wonderful people… there’s no one like our princess.”
“Ohh—will you invite her to the ball?”
“I’d love to, but I doubt that’s what she wants…”
Luan fell into thought. Soon, he made up his mind and spoke again slowly.
“I hope her anxiety eases a little. She still worries about my health… Maybe that’s why she became a healer. I appreciate her tending to my wounds, but I never wished for her to choose that profession…”
“That is unfortunate. If only she had accepted Your Majesty’s confession. How wonderful it would’ve been for her to heal your pain as your lover.”
Hikel did his best to console the Emperor. But Luan gently shook his head.
“I don’t wish for that much. Just… if I could be by her side, as her husband… how great would that be…”
“…”
“That’s all I want, really.”
Hikel fell silent. He couldn’t refute the Emperor’s words. Yet he also couldn’t bring himself to say “Isn’t that a bit too fast?” to a man so deeply in love. So he simply nodded, rooting for the Emperor’s one-sided love.
And so, between Hikel nodding with all his heart and the Emperor pondering how to keep his childhood promise, a strange silence fell. Then, having decided what might please his princess, Luan picked up a report and got back to work. He spoke seriously to Hikel.
“We must invite the princess to the ball. She said she wanted to see me again as a healer… so we should invite her in that capacity, so it doesn’t feel burdensome.”
Then, inwardly, Luan thought:
“Though there’s no one more wonderful at that ball than her.”
IS this good or not?