Chapter 56

“…”

Tessarion snatched the fluttering note out of the air and frowned as he reread it. Verieta, looking touched beyond words, ran into his arms sobbing.

“You son of a—! Now who’s crossing the line?”

Her cane flared with magic and she pressed its fiery tip under Tessarion’s chin.

Tessarion looked straight over at Roy, who had stopped mid–push-up and was staring awkwardly at the scene.

“…”

Uh… right. Where was I in the count?

❖ ❖ ❖

Rumors spread fast—and exaggerated even faster.

“Verieta and Tessarion are actually in love.”
“Our hero is finally getting married—to a cursed cripple, no less.”
“Did the Duke fall for the Emperor’s dowry?”
“Would he really marry the adopted daughter of the man who murdered his parents?”
“If the Emperor eliminates the northern heir, won’t the North be absorbed by the South?”

That evening, the northern noble elders stormed Tessarion’s estate. Despite their hunched backs and silver hair, they were lively and loud—ranting for five straight hours:

“Duke, please reconsider this political marriage!”
“I’d rather die than face the late Duke in the afterlife if you do this!”

The sitting room finally went silent around midnight. My body ached with soreness as I tidied the tea table.

Tessarion, who had sat silently through all the scolding with his head down, finally spoke:

“So… are you happy now?”

I froze, my hand pausing over a teacup. There was no one else here. He was definitely talking to me.

“You got what you wanted—everything’s a mess.”

I looked down at the empty teacup and repeated his question in my head.

Was I… satisfied?

Since the story was finally following the original path, I should’ve felt relieved. But I didn’t. Instead, it felt like someone had poked a sleeping beast.

Why?

Ah… because this is the original storyline.

Which meant I was headed for the original ending—my death at Tessarion’s hands.

“…No. I’m not happy.”

I answered honestly. Tessarion raised one eyebrow.

“Why not? You wanted me to marry Verieta.”

He stared at my tight-lipped face for a while, then pulled out a slim cigarette case and a gold-plated smoking pipe. He lit a cigarette with a flick of flame.

Then, without a word, he walked to the liquor cabinet—every bottle inside was a rare, priceless vintage—and grabbed the nearest one. He uncorked it and stared at the amber liquid swirling inside.

“Tell me, genius servant—what do I say to the elders?”
“Every time I go to war, they manage my estate and postpone retirement.”

“The Emperor’s envoy will arrive tomorrow. He’ll expect me to obey the Imperial order, crush any opposition, and move forward with the marriage. So—what should I say?”

Tessarion watched the golden alcohol as it swirled in the bottle.

“Should I just take two or three wives?”
“The Emperor would never name a northern woman as Duchess over his own daughter. What if I make Verieta the legal wife and get an heir through someone else? That would ruin the family line.”

He let out a bitter laugh and glared at me—then took a long drink straight from the bottle.

“Sigh…”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“So tell me, Roy Dover—how is this not a political trap? How is this not a shackle?”

“Keep going. Tell me how ‘love’ is worth sacrificing the lives of every citizen in Claremont.”

It felt like the air was disappearing from the room. My chest tightened with fear, but I forced myself to speak.

“Duke…”

Tessarion gripped the table so hard that it cracked under his hand. I clenched my jaw to stop myself from trembling.

“Please don’t fear what hasn’t happened yet.”

“What?”

“The Emperor and the northern nobles are clashing. Why should you be responsible for resolving that? You already have the strength to find your own answer.”

“You’ve never wavered in battle. I believe you will live happily with the one you truly—ugh!”

Tessarion suddenly grabbed me by the neck and slammed me onto the table.

“Ha! So I should love my enemy with a big heart?”
“Act like nothing happened? Pretend like no one died?”
“What am I, some kind of all-knowing god to forgive everything?”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“It must be easy for you to pretend nothing’s wrong. That’s why you kiss your master’s lips one night and then flirt with Heliot and Verieta the next!”

“I—I never…”

Tessarion grabbed my chin and twisted it left and right. My hand reached into my pocket, tightly gripping the sleep magic spell I kept ready just in case.

If he tried to kiss me again, or worse—I’d knock him out cold.

Or maybe I should just use it on myself and pass out first. My body was already sore beyond belief.

Tessarion leaned in, breathing hard.

“…It’s you. It’s because of you.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault for wanting Your Grace to be happy. I’m so very, deeply sorry.”

I gently patted the hand gripping my jaw and forced a smile. Slowly, he loosened his hold.

“It’s late, Duke. On terrible, awful days like this, the best thing to do is sleep. Eat well, rest well—and only then can you face the nobles, the Emperor, or Princess Verieta. Don’t worry too much. Everything will work out.”

Tessarion frowned, and I took the bottle from his hand and placed it back on the shelf.

While his back was turned, I slipped the sleep magic into my mouth for safekeeping—just in case.

“What’s the point of having subordinates if you can’t rely on them?”
“All you have to do is give orders. I’ll find a way.”

If you don’t like the Princess, just tell me your type already. Don’t sulk like this.

Trying to lighten the mood, I smiled playfully. Tessarion rubbed his forehead and sighed. His dark, stormy energy seeped out with the smoke of his cigarette.

“Why is your brain always filled with sunshine and daisies?”
“You’re not stupid, so who gave you that idea? Did some damn goddess give you a prophecy or something?”