Chapter 35
The situation was steadily tilting in Ivyn’s favor.
On the chessboard, Ivyn’s pieces advanced relentlessly, pressuring the Emperor’s pieces and executing her strategy.
With agile moves, a bishop attacked the Emperor’s knight, and a rook and queen worked in tandem to corner the Emperor’s pieces into a tight spot.
“Even a pawn, which seems like nothing and appears so insignificant on the board, can create a checkmate depending on how it’s used.”
Was I… offended because he compared me to a pawn and belittled me?
Seeing Ivyn, who didn’t even blink as she spoke clearly to the Emperor, he lowered his head with a small smile.
Afraid of losing?
No.
Because of that woman’s face, so intensely focused on beating him.
Her lips pressed together, her fine brow furrowed in concentration, her round eyes narrowed with focus—he could hardly contain himself.
Rosiniol watched Ivyn, concentrated on the chess game, and licked his drying lower lip with his tongue.
He wanted to maintain his imperial dignity and be proper, but that feeling was hard to grasp.
Somehow, it was… fun.
A lot of fun, actually.
“So, should I apologize, then?”
“No… I was just speaking in general.”
When Ivyn answered sulkily, the Emperor’s lips curved up again in a small pout.
“How cute.”
“…Excuse me?”
At Rosiniol’s sudden remark, Ivyn flinched and looked forward in surprise.
What did he just say?
“Ah, I mean the chess pieces. They’re about half the size of the ones used in the Imperial Palace.”
A mischievous laughter tinged Rosiniol’s voice.
Since the Emperor’s red eyes were directed at the chessboard, Ivyn just tilted her head once in confusion before refocusing on the game.
How much time passed like that?
*Tap.*
Ivyn slowly grasped her knight.
Where her blue eyes were fixed was Rosiniol’s king, trapped in a dead end.
For a moment, the entire banquet hall held its breath, watching Ivyn’s next move.
*Swish.*
She lifted the knight with a graceful motion…
*Thud!*
And placed it defiantly in front of Rosiniol’s king.
“Checkmate.”
I won.
*Squeal!*
Without realizing it, Ivyn let out a short shriek, jumped up from her seat, and ran over to the triplets who had been watching from the side.
“Wow! I won! Our squirrel beat the Emperor!”
“Is there anything you can’t do, huh? What on earth can’t our Binny do?”
“My goodness, my little one. Well done. Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake.”
Rosiniol watched Ivyn hugging her brothers, wiping his hands with a handkerchief handed by an attendant.
Instead of the bitterness of a loser who had lost his king, a feeling of leisurely satisfaction, as if he were the victor, overflowed within him.
“So, what is it you want from me? Miss Kynzellro.”
Hearing the Emperor’s low voice, Ivyn, who had been savoring the joy of victory with her brothers, snapped back to attention, returned to her seat, and sat down.
*Ahem, ahem.*
After clearing her throat unnecessarily, she rummaged through her belongings and handed the Emperor a letter she had prepared as an extra.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever had the chance to read the letters I sent before, but this is regarding this ‘Special Relief Period’ event.”
—
*To His Majesty the Emperor Rosiniol, the Sun of the Hwig Empire, whom I respect,*
*(…omitted…)*
*…If Your Majesty were to personally visit the orphanage during this time and convey warm encouragement and kind words to the children… (omitted)… I am confident it would be a great source of strength for the Imperial citizens suffering through hardship… (omitted).*
*Your Majesty’s loyal servant,*
*Ivyn Kynzellro*
—
“For this reason, I sincerely hope Your Majesty the Emperor will visit the orphanage at least once.”
Upon Ivyn’s words, the eyes of the nobles present widened in unison.
The Barna Orphanage?
Sending the Emperor to the lowest, filthiest place in the Empire?
Emperor Rosiniol was famously known for his usual fastidiousness.
There were several unique lifestyle habits of his that the head butler and maids in the Imperial Palace whispered about. The most peculiar among them was his pathological aversion to contact with others.
When receiving items from others, he always wore gloves or used a handkerchief, so preparing extra gloves was almost a necessity for the courtiers.
It was partly due to this quirk of his that rumors circulated quietly, like *’Known as a lecher, but in truth, Emperor Rosiniol is a virgin!’*
Objects that touched his body even slightly had to maintain the utmost cleanliness—a characteristic closer to an eccentricity than a mere habit.
He would even toss away expensive gloves without hesitation after patting the shoulder of a courtier who had finished a report.
A luxurious brand of rudeness born from mixing a fundamentally rotten personality with mysophobia, perhaps?
And to ask this Rosiniol, of all people, to visit not just anywhere but an orphanage teeming with rats and bugs…
This was nothing short of madness.
Just as everyone expected the Emperor’s furious refusal to follow next, the Emperor, who had been silently reading the letter, suddenly asked Ivyn,
“All day long?”
“Excuse me?”
“The orphanage volunteer work is a full-day event, as I understand.”
“Uh… yes, that’s correct.”
“So, you’re saying I have to stay there all day too.”
“Am… I the one to decide that?”
Meeting her questioning gaze, Rosiniol narrowed his sharply slanted eyes and asked her back.
“Should I decide, then? The one who lost the game?”
She hadn’t thought that far. What should she say?
At the Emperor’s unexpected question, Ivyn quickly racked her brain.
*’Hmm… The Saintess will be there all day until the evening event anyway…’*
The longer Rosiniol stayed, the more opportunities there would be for him and the Saintess to clash.
Of course, the Emperor was a busy man with state affairs… he *should* be.
But wasn’t this Emperor *Rosiniol*?
The prodigal son of the age with absolutely no interest in politics or state affairs.
Once her thoughts reached this point, her earlier slight hesitation seemed to clear up neatly.
“Yes, please stay for the whole day.”
At Ivyn’s answer, which seemed given after brief consideration, the Emperor let out a low laugh, the corners of his lips curving softly upward.
It was a reaction as if this was the very answer he had hoped for from the beginning.
“……”
On the other hand, Ivyn wore a completely uncomprehending expression.
He has to stay stuck in that dirty, cold place from morning till evening… what’s there to be so happy about?
*’A weirdo is a weirdo, whatever.’*
Ivyn awkwardly forced a smile onto her lips and smiled along with Rosiniol.
*’But, according to the original story, [that incident] will happen during the evening event… what should I do?’*
Is it okay for the Emperor to be there at that time?
*’He’ll probably be inside the banquet hall anyway…’*
Thinking that there shouldn’t be any significant casualties, Ivyn soon put her mind at ease.
It would be a big commotion, but it would end well.
That is, if everything just flowed according to the original story.
* * *
And so time passed, and the ‘Special Relief Period’ began at last.
The long-awaited day of orphanage volunteer work.
Ivyn was assigned to the food distribution area.
With a warm smile plastered on her face, she diligently placed sausages onto the plates of the long line of children.
Faced with the rare sight of meat, the orphanage children, looking like little angels…
“Please give me a little more!”
“Hey, dummy! You already got yours! The teacher said three per person!”
…started fighting.
“*You’re* the dummy! Can’t you even count? This is four, not three!”
“Oh, really? Sorry… no wait, then you already got more than your share! Cheater!”
“What?! You…!”
“Kids, you shouldn’t fight!”
Meanwhile, the other volunteers at the orphanage were busy whispering as they watched Ivyn.
“The Necromancer family… sent supplies to an orphanage operated by the Sacred Diocese…?”
“Just supplies? I heard they even sent people for volunteer work. That youngest daughter and the triplets.”
“Aren’t the Kynzellro family and the Sacred Diocese on famously bad terms?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Isn’t it weird?”
But that wasn’t the only surprising thing.
In the afternoon, an unprecedented event occurred: Emperor Rosiniol himself made a royal visit to the orphanage.
The Emperor’s carriage arriving in the Old Town, where the lowest people in the Empire lived!
At first, people thought the news of ‘the Emperor’s participation in volunteer work’ was just a baseless rumor.
What? Volunteer work?
Emperor Rosiniol, of all people?
It would be more believable to say a stray dog stopped eating trash!
However, people soon had to face the ‘astonishing’ fact that the rumor was true when they began to see the Emperor’s flags from afar.
“Good heavens… is this… for real…?”
The orphanage children and Old Town citizens stared wide-eyed at the never-before-seen spectacle.
The Emperor’s personal carriage, seemingly self-luminous, and the six pure white horses.
Following them, over a dozen elite Royal Guards and nearly two hundred soldiers.
*Neigh!*
As the four-horse carriage slowly came to a stop in front of the orphanage’s main gate, people watched, holding their breath.
What on earth did the Emperor, known as the prodigal son of the age, even look like?
As everyone focused, curious.
*Click.*
Finally, the carriage door opened.
*Swoosh.*
The moment the Emperor slowly emerged from the carriage, a gold necklace glittered luxuriously on his cyan tunic under the sunlight.
“Wow……”
“Whoa……”
A chorus of admiration erupted from the onlookers the moment they saw Rosiniol.
It was because of his appearance, more dazzling than the heavy-looking gold necklace.
‘He’s handsome.’
‘What? He *is* handsome.’
‘Damn it… he was born with the looks too. Infuriating!’
However, there was one thing they didn’t know.
*’Don’t make it flashy at all. Keep it informal, informal.’*
This splendid procession was what the Emperor considered ‘keeping it simple.’
Stepping lightly on the red carpet laid out, the Emperor entered, received greetings from the orphanage officials and the Sacred Diocese volunteer team, swept his gaze briefly and impassively over the children in their ragged states, and went to sit in the prepared seat of honor in the courtyard.
The first words Rosiniol uttered to the site supervisor, who was bowing to him, were as follows:
“So, where is Ivyn Kynzellro?”
