Chapter 29
The next evening, Crown Prince Maximilian's office was filled with Victoria, Arthur, and me, all summoned at his call.
Propping his chin on his hand, Maximilian alternated glances between Arthur and Victoria, who stood on either side of him glaring daggers at each other as if they wanted to kill one another.
He shot a quick look at me, awkwardly sandwiched between the two, and opened his mouth.
"So, let me get this straight. The reason you two trashed the underground of the imperial palace yesterday—brawling like idiots—was something as trivial as whether this guy's body should get muscled up or not? Is that what I'm understanding correctly? Good grief."
"Brother, trivial? Ian is a natural talent! With consistent training alongside me, he can absolutely reach my level!"
"Shut your trap, you muscle-headed moron! You think I'm gonna let the continent's most delicate pretty boy turn into a musclebound freak like you?! I conquered the Sterling Kingdom! He's my hostage, so I get to do whatever I want with him!"
"What kind of bullshit is that, Sis? Ian's a free being who can judge and act for himself! And he chose to work out on his own. Right, Ian?"
"As if! Look in a mirror, Ian. Doesn't it break your heart???"
As the two beasts started growling at each other again, I quietly backed away.
It was the crown prince who stepped in to stop the fight from erupting once more.
Bang! Bang! Bang!!
Maximilian slammed the thickest stack of documents he was holding down onto the mahogany desk without mercy. With a dull thud, he glared, unleashing a massive pressure that crushed the air in the room.
His martial prowess might fall short, but the chilling aura of a ruler he exuded was eerily just like the Emperor's.
"Both of you, shut up and sit down. Now."
"......"
"You think I called you here to watch you fight when I'm swamped? I summoned you to reach an agreement on how you've undermined imperial discipline and to readjust your relationship with Ian to appropriate bounds."
"Agreement? Brother, I have zero intention of compromising with that tasteless meathead."
"Tasteless? You swing a sword all day and bulk up your whole body, but tell others not to build muscle? That's such a coward's double standard!"
"Shut it!"
Weary, the crown prince pressed his eyelids and let out a deep sigh.
"I've come up with a forced adjustment plan that's perfectly reasonable. Just listen and obey."
"...Let's hear it."
"Good. From now on, Arthur, limit your training sessions with Ian to exactly twice a week. And one of those days must be cardio instead of muscle work."
"What?! No way, Brother! Twice a week is nowhere near enough! If he loses muscle mass, you gonna take responsibility?!"
"Victoria, you stay out of Ian's workouts entirely. Fair, right?"
"...So you can't stop him from working out at all, Brother?"
Both scowled, clearly dissatisfied.
Arthur was pissed about fewer sessions, while Victoria seemed unhappy that I was still building muscle at all.
Ignoring them, Maximilian pushed up his glasses with a cool smile.
"If you can't agree to this."
"......"
"Starting tomorrow, I'll lock Ian Sterling in this office every single day and make him process paperwork until he withers away. From sunrise to moonset, just gripping that pen. No muscle-building—just work till he's skin and bones, unable to lift anything heavier than a quill."
"...!!!"
"You know what they call the Crown Prince's office, right? Ever heard how many bureaucrats got carted out from overwork?"
Their faces drained of color. They knew the rumors well: a place where even overworked ghosts were put to labor, so infamous that spirits avoided it.
Not that ghosts would haunt a place lit day and night anyway.
Imagining me as a gaunt mummy buried in papers, they both recoiled in horror, shaking their heads.
I shuddered at the nightmare future too.
"...Understood, Brother. I'll accept."
"Sigh... Fine. We'll follow your adjustment, Brother."
"Good. Now shake on it in front of me."
In the end, they grudgingly clasped hands with sour faces, declaring a truce.
As Victoria left the office, she gazed at me fondly and murmured,
"Just hang in there a little longer, Ian. I'll definitely rescue you from that brutish beast. Bear with it."
Maximilian stared at her retreating figure in bewilderment, like she'd spouted some tragic heroine line.
"...Then I'll head out too, Brother."
Arthur shuffled toward the door, shoulders slumped.
Watching him go, Maximilian let out a small chuckle.
"Ian Sterling, you've got some bizarre talents. Seducing my ruthless siblings—man or woman alike. First time I've seen those blockheads obsess over anyone like this."
"Pardon? Your Highness, I wouldn't say... "
"Anyway, go train with Arthur today. You missed yesterday, so I'll make an exception."
At that, Arthur—who'd been slinking out—dashed back in excitedly.
"Whoa! Brother!! You're the best!!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Let's go! The usual gym's still under repair, but there are private ones all over the capital. We'll hit one now—leg day, Ian!!"
Arthur bounced around gleefully, swinging massive fists through the air.
The problem? The crown prince's office was way too cramped for his antics, and his beefy arm smashed straight into the meticulously stacked tower of documents Maximilian had just arranged by approval order.
Flutterflutter—!!! Crashhhh!!!
Like a flock of huge birds taking flight, hundreds of parchment sheets and vital imperial documents scattered mercilessly through the office air, dumping pathetically onto the floor.
"......"
A suffocating silence blanketed the room in an instant.
A single floating sheet drifted down like a feather, landing lightly on Maximilian's gold-rimmed glasses.
"Hoo."
The crown prince didn't twitch.
Slowly, with deliberate calm, he brushed the paper off his glasses and closed his eyes.
Grind—
In the quiet room, the eerie sound of Maximilian grinding his teeth so hard his jaw might shatter echoed chillingly.
When he finally opened his eyes, his bloodshot purple irises blazed with murderous intent.
"Uh... B-Brother. M-Mistake. My bad. I'll p-pick 'em all up. Just gotta sort 'em by order, right? Yeah?... "
Arthur, who'd been all pumped moments ago, paled and sweated bullets, backing away.
After a long grind of teeth without even breathing, Maximilian growled like a beast, biting out,
"Today's workout with Ian Sterling... is running only."
"B-Brother...!"
"Nothing else. No weights. Just sweat it out on two legs. If I hear even a whisper you went to a gym or lifted one barbell..."
"...!"
"There won't be a single training hall left in the palace—no, the entire capital. I'll burn them all myself. Got it?"
Arthur's ecstatic face crumpled like a condemned prisoner, head drooping.
"...Let's run before sunset, Ian."
"Yes, Your Highness."
As Arthur and I crept toward the door, the crown prince's icy voice lashed out.
"Walk out on tiptoes. Anyone who leaves footprints on the papers? I won't forgive 'em."
"Y-Yes...!"
Once his meathead little brother and that southern bumpkin prince the idiot was obsessed with were gone, the crown prince slumped deep into his work chair and sighed heavily.
He'd spent an hour sorting papers yesterday; today's spill was double that.
"...Arthur, you—!"
Unable to contain his rage, he shot to his feet—
Bang!
"Ow!"
—and kneed the desk hard, yelping in pain.
Tearing around the office in tears, he came to his senses to find footprints all over the scattered documents and shed a single tear—
"...Fuck. Just hold it in. Hold it in a bit, and Ian comes—I can make that guy do the work... Make him do it...!"
He kicked off his shoes and began picking up the papers one by one.