Social Ball, Day Two (1)
Meanwhile, in the afternoon just before the social ball was set to begin—in the Emperor's office.
In that heart of the Empire, the Emperor and Crown Prince Maximilian sat facing each other on the plush sofas of the reception area, skimming through reports on the first day's proceedings.
"So, the first day of the social ball passed without incident?"
The Emperor asked indifferently without lifting his eyes from the documents, and Crown Prince Maximilian let out a chuckle, nodding.
"Yes, Father. I expected it to be a headache, but thanks to an unexpected turn, it went off without a hitch—smooth as silk."
"Unexpected turn. You mean the one I'm thinking of?"
"Yes, that barbaric drinking duel between Prince Ian and Count Gross."
Maximilian lifted his teacup with evident amusement, continuing cheerfully.
"We had a list of people to keep an eye on, but most of them got completely distracted by that rare spectacle. With a great noble and a hostage chugging poison liquor like their lives depended on it right in the middle of the hall, no one had time for backroom gossip or schemes—they were all glued to the show. And the idiots dumb enough to wander off and try something? They never showed up in the first place. Made the intelligence bureau's job a breeze."
The Emperor recalled the absurd details of that duel, as relayed to him by Count Gross from the stables, and a faint smile crossed his lips.
"That Ian fellow has a peculiar knack. Even when he doesn't intend to, he keeps shaking things up in ways that end up benefiting the Empire. Even his impulsive antics turn out to our advantage. Quite the lucky bastard, isn't he?"
At the Crown Prince's praise-tinged assessment, the Emperor set his papers down on the table, his gaze sharpening.
"Is it really just luck and spur-of-the-moment folly?"
"Pardon? You mean there was some other intent?"
"Think about it. Count Gross is a powerhouse in the Imperial cavalry and a longtime loyalist to the throne. To create an opening to bond with that proud great noble, maybe he deliberately scratched his pride to escalate things, then steered it into that drinking duel that left neither side humiliated. A calculated masterstroke. That kid's the type who could pull off groundwork like that."
"Didn't You order Count Gross to approach him, Father?"
"True, but my intent was just to probe lightly. Yet after Gross gets blackout drunk with the boy once, all he does is sing his praises nonstop—no real intel. If that was part of the plan, how terrifying would he be?"
Maximilian pondered, stroking his chin at the Emperor's sharp analysis.
Considering Ian Sterling's sharp mind, it was a plausible theory.
But the Crown Prince soon shook his head lightly.
"I shared a private drink with him once before, Father... and I see it differently."
"Differently?"
"Yes. For political intrigue, maybe—but that duel yesterday? No intricate schemes there. The kid just loves his booze. A man's pride got tweaked, he snapped in the heat of the moment, eyes rolled back. Nothing more calculated than that."
"Hah, is that so? Still young and green, then. A relief."
The Emperor let out an intrigued chuckle at his son's confident reply.
"By the way, Father, mind if I share a funny story about Prince Ian?"
"Go on."
"Before the ball started, to drill some discipline into him, I summoned him to my chambers and had Princess Himiko of Yeoldo Kingdom serve drinks naked. Made a point of showing him, warning that if he lost his value and proved useless, he'd end up in her pathetic state."
Princess Himiko of Yeoldo Kingdom.
The last noble bloodline of a fallen island nation, now a pitiful plaything serving bare-skinned in the Crown Prince's chambers.
"And that cheeky brat sees the scene and asks me, cool as ice: 'So if I turn useless, do I end up serving naked like that too?' Nearly left me speechless—total disaster averted."
Maximilian shook his head in disbelief, and the Emperor, who had been listening quietly, suddenly burst into booming laughter, clutching his belly.
"Kuhahaha!! What a bold, reckless punk! Joking like that to the Crown Prince of a great empire? Hahaha!"
The Emperor wiped tears from his eyes, then propped his chin, a strange smile forming.
"But having a naked boy wait on you... that's my little secret hobby. How'd he know to say that?"
"...Ugh."
The Crown Prince's brow furrowed in open disgust.
He set down his teacup with evident revulsion.
"I truly cannot fathom Your Majesty's peculiar tastes, Father. No matter how you slice it, it's still a boy."
"Son, live to my age, sit in this seat, and you'll come to understand naturally."
The Emperor gazed out at the lavish garden, chuckling.
"After bedding thousands of the Empire's finest beauties until you're sick of it, the lines blur. Suddenly, those downy, defiant cute boys start looking like dainty little bitches in bed. Even the ones dead-set on being men give up eventually, turning into mewling females—and it's adorable."
"Th-that... um..."
"Best part? They never get knocked up spouting nonsense about carrying the Emperor's bloodline. The girls who do? Sell 'em to the brothels and be done."
"...So, does Prince Ian fit that taste of yours, Father?"
At Maximilian's uneasy question, the Emperor scoffed dismissively, waving it off.
"No. Different category. Not my type."
"Not your type?"
"I like my toys dumb and fragile—easy to break and make cry. But Ian? Too sharp, too witty to waste on base physical thrills. He gives me higher games: shaking the board, reading moves. A shame to bed him."
"Well, he's a useful official anyway."
"Exactly. Use a fine steed for war, eat the nags. Waste either, and they're worthless."
"Noted. So, has Your Majesty lost all interest in women now?"
"As if. That's not it. 'Feminine' and 'actual female' taste different."
The Emperor stroked his goatee lazily.
"Among the new hostages, if I spot some airhead beauty, I'll have her brought to my bed for a spin. Conquests are done for now, so nothing fresh on the horizon."
"Oh? Then once you're done, send her my way."
Maximilian joked casually, and the Emperor clicked his tongue, eyeing his son.
"You and your taste for sloppy seconds. Even sent back Princess Himiko after I used her—my gift to you."
"Just my preference."
"So that's why you're ignoring your fresh Crown Princess? Not even a finger laid?"
At the mention of the Crown Princess, annoyance flickered across Maximilian's face.
"Head to toe, we clash. Stiff, boring—not my thing at all."
"Still, you're Crown Prince. Need an heir. Force it if you must—one kid at least."
"...Yes. If it gets urgent, I'll try."
"You're twenty-seven now. I had you at nineteen."
"...I'll make the effort."
"Good. Put some real work in. When you're not busy whoring around."