Chapter 152: Where One Belongs (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 152: Where One Belongs (8)
He disliked strong scents.
They reminded him of Renieri, triggering an immediate aversion. It had been that way for a very long time—so long that he could no longer recall how many years had passed.
The suffocating way she had covered everything around her in her own scent made him shudder, instilling in him a hatred for anything with an excessive fragrance. Franz never bothered to distinguish whether this was true loathing or merely a defense mechanism to mask the opposite emotion. He simply disliked it.
Whether his little brother had deduced the reason or had simply observed him with stubborn persistence, the brat had somehow figured it out. And, of course, Franz had simply let it be.
Then today, Hina, who was normally as quiet as Franz himself, had asked him an unusual question. After a long hesitation, he had given her an answer.
Yes. I like strawberries.
That was what he had told her.
He had said he liked strawberries, not that he was utterly obsessed with them.
“By any chance… is there a strawberry farm in the palace?”
Demirea, who had been sitting with a blank expression, finally spoke up near the end of the meal. It was at the exact moment strawberry ice cream inevitably appeared as the final dessert.
At her words, Franz’s hand froze mid-air for a split second before resuming its motion—a detail perhaps only Hina noticed. Consequently, Hina’s head drooped lower and lower.
If Calian had known the story behind this, he would have undoubtedly made a massive fuss. Fortunately, he was oblivious to the reason for the bizarre menu.
Do you like strawberries, brother?
While diligently eating the food—which would surely leave his mouth smelling of strawberries for days—he had been forced to swallow an unfamiliar memory that had suddenly surfaced as if thrown at him.
It was a memory from a very long time ago, one the current Calian should never touch.
“…Strawberries are good.”
Because of this, Calian reacted a beat late to Demirea’s words. Only after a brief delay did he register her comment and raise his head. Instead of agreeing that the menu was absurd, Calian smiled faintly and said, “Come to think of it, Hina likes strawberry ice cream the most.”
Shifting the topic to Hina, he told Yan to make sure she got some ice cream as well. With that, he effectively shut down any further comments about the bizarre dinner. Since Calian, the host, had no complaints, who would dare say anything?
A moment later, Calian spoke again.
“Brother.”
Knowing he was the cause of this mess, Franz, who had been finishing his meal as diligently as possible, looked at Calian. Taking that as a response, Calian continued.
“By any chance, when did you tell His Majesty you would bring in Count Aprin’s knights?”
Calian had been wrestling with a memory as difficult to stomach as the scent of strawberries. He had hesitated over it, unable to say much during the meal, and was only bringing it up now.
Franz briefly watched the pink bubbles in his carbonated water slowly settle before replying.
“Before mid-June.”
Calian nodded once without another word. Then he looked at Demirea.
“Please prepare to receive the knights by then, Demirea. The first batch will probably be around two hundred.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
It was not a small number, but Demirea replied with an unbothered expression.
“What’s our cover story? Even for Siegfried, a sudden increase of two hundred knights is bound to attract attention.”
“I’ll say that the knights of my maternal family have returned.”
Until recently, Serie—Suleiman’s wife—her brother, and his household had stayed at the Siegfried mansion. Suleiman had been too worried to leave Serie alone to guard the spacious estate. Then, late last year, the couple had a child and returned to their own territory.
Therefore, Demirea thought it would be most seamless to say those knights had decided to return. If it were rumored that two hundred knights of the Siegfried Duchy had come to the capital under Suleiman’s command, the ever-restless Marquis Evan Brissen would surely start getting antsy again.
“Right. I’ll cover the expenses, so just let me know the cost. I’m not very good at that sort of accounting.”
“Understood.”
Having said that much, Calian took a sip of the pink soda and organized his thoughts. Then he looked at Yan.
“Yan. I’m sorry, but could you give us some space?”
The dining room servants, including the chef, had already left after serving dessert. Calian was now asking Franz’s servant Relic, the escort knights, Hina, and Yan himself to leave the room.
Yan bowed his head without a word and led the others out. Watching them go, Calian turned his head to look at Franz again.
Now it was time to talk about Evan Brissen.
Of course, that was a topic Franz shouldn’t be privy to, so Calian’s gaze also carried a silent request for him to excuse himself.
“Right.”
Rising silently, Franz replied before Calian could even speak. Whatever the intention, a dismissal was a dismissal. He had cut Calian off before the younger prince could utter the apology that would surely have started with, “I’m sorry, but…”
“Yes.”
Calian, who had shown consideration for the prince’s position by waiting until the servants and knights were gone, substituted his apology with that short reply. Franz, understanding this perfectly, let one corner of his mouth curl up slightly.
Soon, Franz also stepped outside. In the dining room where only Calian, Demirea, and Arsen remained, Calian spoke, addressing Arsen first.
“Sir Hertz, I would like you to go and meet Margrave Brissen on my behalf. As you know, I am currently grounded.”
Calian wore the expression of an ordinary fifteen-year-old boy who had been given a typical punishment for causing some typical mischief.
“Yes, Your Highness. What message should I deliver?”
“Don’t say I sent you. Act as if you’re about to change your mind. Ask if the Margrave still intends to come to the capital. It would be even better if you could check whether he is still in contact with my brother Randel.”
“So I am to sound him out by pretending to betray Your Highness, side with Prince Franz or Prince Randel, and join forces with Margrave Brissen?”
“Exactly.”
“Yes. Understood.”
Arsen replied without hesitation, as if he had received a truly ordinary request.
“Sir Seiren is planning to construct a teleportation magic circle toward the Margrave’s territory anyway, so you can tell the palace you’re away on related business.”
Having finished his instructions for Arsen, Calian turned his gaze to Demirea.
“And Demirea, could you look into potential candidates for the new Margrave? People who don’t side with my brothers or me. I believe I need to make a recommendation to His Majesty.”
He needed a new Margrave who would remain completely neutral. Someone to fill Gray’s shoes when he came to the capital.
While he had his doubts about Lemain’s personnel evaluations, his primary concern was that if Lemain looked into it himself, the information might reach the ears of Evan, who was always hovering around the King. That was why he wanted to borrow Demirea’s eyes.
Demirea watched the bubbles in her carbonated water pop and disappear, just as Franz had done, before replying.
“Is this something the Duke can know?”
She was asking whether she could seek advice from Suleiman or if she should handle it on her own. Calian shook his head and smiled faintly.
“Yan left, didn’t he?”
The message was clear: if it had to be kept secret even from Yan, then Suleiman couldn’t know either.
Searching for candidates for the Margrave was not a difficult task. Therefore, Demirea simply nodded in agreement.
By this point, both Demirea and Arsen had guessed what Calian was planning. Demirea kept her mouth shut, pretending to know nothing, as she had no intention of directly involving herself in Calian’s fight for the throne. Instead, Arsen spoke with a worried expression.
“Isn’t it too early? Your Highness’s power base isn’t large yet. I think you could move after Valkan is established.”
Purging Marquis Evan Brissen. Or assassinating him.
It was unclear which path he would take, but it was obvious Calian was preparing for the aftermath of Evan’s disappearance. If Evan were removed, his supporters would be thrown into chaos. It was hard to predict whether they would remain loyal to Brissen or defect to Calian or Randel.
“Furthermore, didn’t you say you would expand Valkan by next February? Can’t you start then?”
“Even if Valkan’s magic corps is established, that is military power, not political influence.”
If something happened, they could fight directly for Calian, as Arsen said. However, Valkan itself was not part of the noble social structure. As Calian said, it was military power, not political influence—though it could certainly give the nobles a reason to side with him.
“I will move at the right time so that a supporting force will emerge in due course. It won’t take long. For now, Vice-Commander Hertz, please confirm Margrave Brissen’s intentions.”
That was all Calian said.
How he planned to build his faction, how he would remove Evan, and how he intended to clean up the aftermath—all of it remained tightly locked away in his mind.
“Yes. I will do so.”
Fortunately, no one here wished to pry into Calian’s innermost thoughts, so Arsen readily agreed.
Thus, Calian finished his dinner without further explanation. The scent of strawberries, which he had forced himself to eat while feigning enjoyment, still lingered in his mouth.
*
—Look at me.
Suddenly.
Out of nowhere.
—Don’t look away. Look at me properly. Don’t ignore the fact that I am dying.
Something quietly buried deep in his memory.
The scene of that day came back to him.
—Yes. Look at me like that. Now you should understand. You, of all people.
To Yan, that was…
—What’s wrong? If I die, isn’t that good for you?
It was a silent dagger forged by pale, small, thin fingers.
*
The words telling him to look, not to turn away, to look properly.
Of all times, they had to surface now, while he was looking at Calian’s face.
It must have been because of the memory he had briefly recalled while talking to Demirea. That memory, which he had kept locked away, swept through his mind like an inescapable wind.
Yan, stepping out of the dining room, stopped just outside the door.
“Go on ahead, Hina.”
He spoke with his eyes fixed on the floor. To see her reply, he would have had to look at her hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He caught a glimpse of Hina turning and walking away. She must have signed that she understood.
“Phew.”
Yan let out a breath and shook his head. Just then, he heard the dining room door open once more.
The person emerging had to be Franz. As Yan turned his head, a low voice spoke.
“You.”
Since even the guards had been dismissed, the one opening the door had to be him.
Ah.
Why him? Why now?
The thought prompted a reply that was far from polite.
“What is it?”
Franz let out a dry chuckle. He hadn’t even addressed Yan as ‘Siegfried’ this time, yet Yan had responded so rudely.
“…My brother’s servant doesn’t seem to know his place.”
Franz deliberately emphasized the word ‘servant’.
Of course, Yan hadn’t shown a particularly warm attitude toward Franz recently, but it had never been this bad. Since Yan’s mind was clearly a mess, Franz was helping him snap out of it in his own way.
“Ah.”
Only then did Yan realize what he’d done, and his face fell. For the Third Prince’s servant to reply “What is it?” to the Second Prince… it was a blunder big enough to have him kicked out of the palace immediately.
“I was just…”
“Forget it.”
Franz cut him off.
Naturally, that meant no apology was necessary. And naturally…
“What do you mean?”
“I said forget the apology. We’ll call it even.”
For a brief moment, even in this situation, Yan pitied Relic. If Calian had spoken to him like that, Yan would have packed his bags and fled the palace before he could be thrown out.
What on earth does that mean? It’s impossible to understand.
The thought was written plainly on Yan’s face. Since Yan’s thoughts were always so easy to read, the patient—if annoyed—Franz spoke once more.
“The knife.”
His words were brief, but fortunately, Yan understood this time.
Calian had once mentioned that he would make Franz apologize for throwing a knife at him. Franz was clearly offering to trade that past incident for Yan’s current blunder.
Yan nodded slightly.
“Thank you.”
Since Franz was offering to bury an incident Yan could barely remember along with his current mistake, he had no choice but to be grateful.
Franz, who had been staring at Yan, paused as he was about to walk past him. Yan’s recent blunder wasn’t the only thing written on his face.
“…My brother originally disliked them.”
Franz was unusually talkative today.
Still mindful of his mistake, Yan put his complicated thoughts aside for a moment and looked at Franz.
It was clear Yan didn’t understand. So, Franz spoke again.
“No matter how much someone likes something, anyone would be sick of it if they were served that much. And he originally disliked them anyway.”
Franz had not missed the way Yan had hesitated while watching Calian’s expression in the dining room. After all, wasn’t Yan the only one who could distinguish whether Calian’s smile was born of anger or joy?
It wasn’t hard for Franz to guess what Yan must have thought, or what was troubling him enough to make him commit such an uncharacteristic mistake. It was also far too easy for the clever Franz to foresee where those thoughts would lead if Yan was left to his own devices.
Yan shook his head. “No. His Highness definitely liked them. Today, suddenly…”
“I said he originally disliked them,” Franz cut him off.
Arguing with Calian’s servant over strawberries was both tedious and annoying, but he continued anyway.
“He was forcing himself to pretend he liked them. That’s what he did. Before you came to the palace.”
…Just to strike up a conversation with me.
Calian was not good at lying.
But that was only the current Calian.
The old Calian was different.
To Yan’s eyes, it wouldn’t have been obvious whether he was forcing it or not.
“Besides, doesn’t everyone change? So don’t make such a fuss over missing a single one of my brother’s tastes.”
Franz said this to stop Yan from letting a single strawberry plant seeds of doubt—to ensure he wouldn’t overthink it if something similar happened again.
Franz, who had changed more than anyone, was the one saying this.
Yan nodded quietly, then asked, “But… why are you telling me this?”
Why was he interfering like this? It was so uncharacteristic.
At his question, Franz slowly closed and opened his eyes.
Not all truths must be revealed.
Franz knew that some truths had to be buried forever. Even if it was something that would eventually come to light someday, he knew that now was not the time.
“My brother has given up everything. He needs at least one person left to lean on.”
Franz also knew that, in the past and now, that was the one thing that had never changed for Calian.
So Yan should just be Yan.
Just as he always was.
That was the hope behind his words.