Soon, We Shall Meet Again at the Imperial Palace
Octavian von Roseria watched the scene from afar.
In the midst of the assembled officials, the man knelt to receive the Emperor's praise.
And the thunderous applause pouring down upon him.
“……”
The longer he watched, the deeper his nails dug into his palms.
It was not amusing in the slightest.
Only days ago, he had been crushed by that very man and forced to flee the banquet hall in humiliation. That shame had yet to fade.
Yet now, before the eyes of all, that lowly warrior was being celebrated as a hero once more.
He could not endure it.
‘…A mere wretch with no noble blood.’
Octavian ground his teeth and swallowed his rage.
What did that man even possess?
Just a bit of skill with a sword.
A face slightly more handsome than most. And some wealth he had stumbled upon by chance.
That was all.
Yes, nothing more.
A mere warrior who lacked family, lineage, or the right of legitimate succession—none of it.
‘…What use is mere martial prowess?’
He tried to console himself with that thought.
He possessed the blood of the true heir.
The irreplaceable qualification of being the rightful successor to a thousand-year empire.
His very birth set him apart from such a lowly swordsman.
…And yet, why was it?
Whenever he looked at that man, a corner of his chest ached with a cold, bitter pain.
Something the man had that he did not.
That overwhelming martial strength that dominated everyone around him.
That power no one could approach.
And that thunderous, heartfelt applause.
No matter how much he clung to his bloodline, he had never once received such cheers.
“…Hmph.”
Octavian forced out a scoff, but the vivid jealousy in his eyes could not be hidden.
‘…Just you wait, Lowenheim. And… Victoria.’
He would never forget the humiliation of that day.
The moment that man and the lowly wench who shielded him had trampled him before everyone.
‘…Laugh all you want for now.’
Octavian’s lips twisted into a sinister smile.
‘I will watch closely to see how long that laughter lasts.’
Thus, while one man stood bewildered beneath a glory he found burdensome, another man yearned for it with a parched throat.
At the northernmost edge of the empire.
The Northern Grand Duchy, where snow covered the land for half the year.
In the middle of that vast white snowfield stood a woman.
Silver hair flowing down to her waist, white as snow.
Ice-blue eyes gleaming brightly through the swirling flakes.
Shoulders draped in white fur, and in her hand hung a greatsword.
Her name was Celine von Frostheim.
Daughter of the Northern Grand Duke and, until recently, Commander of the Imperial Knights.
She now held a pigeon that had just arrived, perched on the back of her hand, and unfolded the message tied to its small leg.
“……”
As she read, Celine’s eyes narrowed.
“…Pfft.”
A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“…So you finally caused trouble again, didn’t you?”
The message was simple.
News from the Imperial Palace.
A new Commander of the Imperial Knights had been appointed.
And that new Commander was none other than…
“Kyle Lowenheim… as Commander.”
Celine quietly repeated the name.
…Was it not absurd?
That position had originally been hers.
While she had been away in the north, the one who filled the vacancy was, of all people, that man.
In other words, she had been pushed aside by him.
Demoted from Commander to mere Deputy Commander?
If her father heard, he might grind his teeth in fury.
Yet.
“…Good. Truly, this is good.”
There was no trace of resentment on Celine’s face. Only a bright, genuine smile, as if it were her own good fortune.
She knew him well.
She knew exactly what kind of man Kyle Lowenheim was.
A man who quietly honed his sword even when no one acknowledged him.
A man who always grumbled, yet was the first to throw himself into danger.
…She trusted that upright and warm sword more than anyone.
Anyway, his appointment as Commander was no fluke. It was simply him finally receiving what he deserved.
“…He single-handedly wiped out a pack of border beasts?”
Celine shook her head, yet her smile only deepened.
“You never change… reckless as ever, and just as kind.”
…Suddenly, longing washed over her.
Those days long ago…
When they crossed swords together.
The days they sweated in the same training yard and shared bread at the same table.
Even the clumsy way he muttered with that blunt face while applying medicine to her wounds.
…She missed him.
That blunt, upright, somewhat clumsy man.
She missed him terribly.
“…Are you doing well, Kyle?”
Celine gazed at the distant southern sky. A faint longing flickered in her eyes before fading.
Soon after, she gently stroked the pigeon on her hand and spoke softly.
“Hurry back. And tell him this.”
The pigeon tilted its head.
“That I sincerely congratulate him on becoming Commander. That an old comrade from the north sends her regards… tell him that.”
…And a beat later.
Celine hesitated for a moment, then added one more line.
“And… tell him not to get hurt… please.”
A moment later, the pigeon cooed softly and spread its wings. It soared over the white snowfield and soon became a tiny speck vanishing into the southern sky.
Celine remained standing there long after the bird had disappeared from sight.
──Soon.
Amid the swirling snow, Celine murmured quietly.
“…Soon, let us meet again at the Imperial Palace, Kyle.”
Her voice carried the joy of reuniting with an old comrade, along with a tenderness she could not fully reveal.
Right after.
Buried beneath the falling snow, one final whisper followed, heard by no one.
“This time… I will definitely…”
…Only she knew what that vow was for.
The drifting snow slowly erased her footprints.
…After receiving the appointment as Commander, I returned to my quarters and collapsed onto the bed.
“…Haa.”
Staring at the ceiling, I let out a deep sigh.
…What on earth was happening?
Ever since the day I fell into this world, I had done nothing but scheme to escape the Imperial Palace.
I ran and ran, yet the result was a promotion from Deputy Commander to Commander.
Far from escaping, I had been buried even deeper in the heart of the palace.
“…What kind of wealth and glory am I even chasing?”
My modest dream of opening a small restaurant in the countryside and simmering soup all day.
Was that really such a greedy wish?
How had things come to this?
…No matter how much I thought about it, I found no answer.
In times like this, there was nothing better than cooking.
Nothing cleared a cluttered mind quite like standing before a stove and wielding a knife.
Even in my previous life, whenever my thoughts grew tangled, I would shut myself in the kitchen.
I got up, dusted myself off, and headed toward the brazier in the corner of my quarters.
I intended to simmer a bowl of soup to ease this stifling feeling.
“…Alright, what should I make?”
The moment I opened the pantry to take out the ingredients.
“…Huh?”
…It was empty.
The ingredients I had carefully stocked just days ago—rice, vegetables, eggs—had all vanished without a trace.
“…What is this? Did a thief break in?”
I tilted my head.
There was no way a thief could enter the Imperial Palace, let alone my own quarters.
Then where had all those perfectly fine ingredients gone—
“──Ah.”
Only then did a certain face come to mind.
…Victoria.
Right. Not long ago, she had cooked porridge here while I was unconscious.
That yellowish bowl of egg porridge.
…She must have used up all the ingredients at that time.
“…Hah.”
I let out a hollow laugh.
A thief, my foot.
The culprit was the very person who had nursed me with such care.
It was ambiguous whether I should be angry or grateful.
“…Well, nothing to be done.”
Without ingredients, there was no choice. I would have to go to the market.
…Come to think of it, this was rather convenient.
It gave me a perfect excuse to leave this suffocating palace, even if only for a short while.
A breath of market air would surely clear this stifled feeling.
It was a bit ridiculous for the Commander himself to go shopping in person, but I paid it no mind.
I dismissed all the cumbersome escorts, changed into commoner’s clothes, and slipped out through the back gate of the palace.
However.
Not long after leaving the palace, I was seized by a strange feeling.
…It felt as if someone was following me.
Right then.
Caw.
“…?”
I looked up and saw a black crow circling above my head.
…A crow?
I frowned.
There was no reason to pay attention to a mere crow, yet its movements felt oddly unsettling.
When I walked, the crow followed.
When I stopped, it perched on a nearby roof and stared down at me.
Caw! Caw!
“…What is that thing?”
Those black eyes followed me persistently, as if watching my every move.
‘…Don’t tell me it’s actually following me?’
Nah, that couldn’t be.
I shook my head.
It was nonsense.
What crow would tail a person?
It was probably just some crazy crow whose nest happened to be nearby.
Our paths simply coincided by chance.
Caaaaaw──!
“…Ugh, noisy thing.”
I waved my hand to shoo it away, but the crow merely fluttered up briefly before trailing me again from a distance.
…It must be my imagination.
I decided to ignore the crow. If I started paying attention, there would be no end to it. After all, what could a mere creature do?
Thus, I quickened my steps toward the market, deliberately turning a blind eye to the suspicious crow circling above my head.