Does Giselle Drink Well?

Right after the office door closed and Enoch and the audit team withdrew, Cael gestured out the window with a lazy flick of his hand.

"Hey, good work everyone. Now drag those carts and get lost."

He was about to leave himself when Giselle caught his arm.

"Wait."

Cael turned his head with obvious annoyance. "What now?"

Giselle pointed toward the carts visible through the window. "What exactly are those?"

The brazen flood of gold, silver, and treasures that had arrived under the name of dividends. Seeing her rigid expression, Cael gave an indifferent shrug.

"That? No idea."

"You don't know?"

"I only told them to bring the raw goods. Those country bumpkins have zero sense, so they piled it up like a damn mountain."

Cael dug at his ear as he went on. "And just so there's no misunderstanding, everything in those carts belongs to them. I already took my share separately."

"What do you..."

"If they want to donate their portion to the North for you, what am I supposed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to do? I'm not some evil boss, you know."

Giselle's words caught in her throat. Was he truly saying he would hand over that enormous sum to her as relief funds for the Grand Duchess's castle?

Why?

She understood him using it as a shield to deflect Enoch's suspicions earlier. But now that the matter was settled, any ordinary wastrel would have taken it back to line his own pockets. Yet here he was, offering that money to the Grand Duchy with no strings attached?

"Anyway, we're done here, right?"

Cael yawned so hard his mouth looked ready to split, then casually brushed her hand away. "I'm heading out. Been bickering since dawn and I'm dead tired. Time for another nap."

"...Wait."

Giselle grabbed his sleeve again. She needed to ask. She had to know his true intentions—what he hoped to gain by helping the North, why he was pressing such a massive sum into her hands. But the words refused to leave her lips. Now that she had stopped him, her mind had gone completely blank.

Cael raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"..."

The silence stretched until Giselle finally let out a small sigh and released his sleeve. "...Never mind. You may go."

"Ugh, what a buzzkill."

Cael clicked his tongue, turned on his heel, and left the office without a backward glance. Giselle stood biting her lip, her expression complicated as she looked back and forth between the mountain of treasure outside the window and the door Cael had vanished through.

At the same time, in the corridors of the Grand Duchess's castle, Caleb walked beside Enoch on the way to the audit team's temporary quarters. The deputy was practically vibrating with frustration.

"Your Highness! We cannot allow it to end like this! There is clear circumstantial evidence of embezzlement!"

Enoch kept walking without pause. "Circumstantial evidence is all we have. There is no physical proof that they depleted the castle's vault, nor any record of damage. It was all in the ledgers, and you confirmed it with your own eyes."

"But the Grand Duchess could have manipulated the records! If we just find any excuse to ransack the castle right now—"

Enoch stopped abruptly. He turned slowly, looking down at Caleb. The younger man flinched and fell silent under that gaze.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"..."

"We are the ones who uphold and audit the laws of the Empire. We are not street thugs who persecute the innocent with fabricated logic."

Enoch was a man of strict principles. Though he despised Cael, suppressing someone without evidence went against everything he believed.

"If you have nothing more to add, go rest. Sleep well."

With that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠short dismissal, Enoch continued down the corridor with his usual rigid posture. Left alone, Caleb stared at his superior's retreating back and clenched his fists in agitation.

Enoch might cling to principles, but Caleb's true master did not.

Just two pats. A single short phrase. Yet Caleb still could not forget the skin-crawling pressure he had felt in that moment—like the terror of a sharp blade gently stroking the back of his neck.

If I fail to meet Prince Arzen's expectations... I am finished.

Even Enoch, leader of the Imperial Audit Team, was nothing more than a piece moving across Arzen's meticulously crafted chessboard.

If His Highness Enoch refuses to act, I will have to create the justification myself.

Caleb thought of the four northern nobles he had seen earlier. No matter how you looked at them, it was obvious they had been acting out of sheer terror. If he pressed them, surely some exploitable weakness concerning the prince and the grand duchess would surface.

Caleb glanced around furtively and quickened his steps toward the nobles' quarters.

That evening, Cael strolled down the corridor humming, two bottles of premium wine dangling from one hand.

"No matter how I look at it, leaving that brother of mine alone is going to be a real pain."

Enoch's rigid sense of justice was admirable, but his complete lack of flexibility meant he would undoubtedly spend his entire stay poking into every corner of the castle and making Giselle's life exhausting.

I'll get him so drunk he won't wake up until tomorrow afternoon.

Cael reached the guest room where Enoch was staying and kicked the door open without a hint of courtesy.

"Bro! I'm here!"

Enoch, who had been reviewing documents, jerked his head up in alarm.

"What is a wretch like you doing here? Get out at once."

"Aw, come on. Didn't I clearly say I'd come by tonight to crack open some expensive wine?"

Cael ignored the look of pure disgust on Enoch's face and plopped down across the table with a sly grin. Enoch's hand drifted toward his sword hilt as if ready to summon the guards, but Cael had already popped the cork with practiced ease and was pouring deep red wine into two glasses.

"Your long-lost half-brother comes in person to pour you drinks and you're just going to kick me out? Let's have one glass. Come on."

Cael slid a glass forward with a shameless smile.

"Haa..."

Enoch let out a long sigh and reluctantly accepted the glass. "One drink. Then get out."

"That's my brother! Take away the flexibility and there's nothing left."

And so an incredibly awkward, bizarre drinking session between the half-brothers began.

Cael rattled on as usual—nonsense about the North, nonsense about entertainment—while Enoch sipped his wine with a deeply fed-up frown. Then, without warning, Enoch set his glass down and asked sharply.

"What is your real purpose?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"If you have not colluded with the Grand Duchess, how is an incompetent fool like you able to control such vast sums and command the northern nobles? I asked what your purpose is."

Under Enoch's unwavering stare, Cael's grin faded slightly. He swirled the wine in his glass.

"Purpose? Nothing special. I just have to work hard at whatever His Majesty the Emperor ordered me to do."

"His Majesty's order?"

"Yeah. He told me to head north and stir up as much chaos as I wanted. The taverns in the capital were getting boring anyway, so relying on His Majesty's name while shaking down those northern bumpkins is pretty entertaining, don't you think?"

Cael tossed back the rest of his wine and added, "Whether the Emperor ordered it or not, I'm just going to keep living selfishly however I please."

It was an utterly brazen answer. Yet Enoch stared into Cael's eyes for a long moment before murmuring softly.

"...You've changed."

"?? Me?"

When Cael looked genuinely puzzled, Enoch gave a small nod.

"Yes. Only a little, but still."

The Cael he remembered from the imperial palace had been nothing more than a beast drowning in pleasure with no thought for tomorrow. But the man before him now, though he still acted like trash on the surface, carried a strange sense of composure and purpose beneath it all.

Cael chuckled and refilled his empty glass. "Well, people do change as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they get older, don't they? Speaking of which, you've changed a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lot too, brother."

"Have I?"

"In the past, you'd refuse to even speak to me if I came near, saying I was filthy. Now here you are, sharing a table and drinking with me."

Enoch offered no reply to the joke and simply looked away. "Think whatever you like."

The pointless conversation dragged on. Thirty minutes later the first bottle was completely empty. Three-quarters of it had been drained by Cael alone.

Then—

Thump.

"...Huh?"

When Cael looked up, Enoch had collapsed face-first onto the table. His normally pale face was flushed tomato-red, and the only sound was the steady rhythm of his snoring.

"Sigh."

Cael rested his chin in his hand and clicked his tongue. "This brother of mine has always been and still is a total lightweight."

Still, the goal had been achieved. Suffering from a hangover until late tomorrow, he wouldn't be snooping around the castle.

"Up you go."

Cael hoisted the limp Enoch and dumped him unceremoniously onto the bed.

"Sleep well, brother."

Once he left the room, Cael walked down the corridor massaging his stiff neck.

I drank almost that entire bottle, yet I don't feel drunk at all.

This body really did have monstrous alcohol tolerance. No matter how much he drank, there was never any sign of intoxication.

"...I wonder if Giselle can hold her liquor?"

Suddenly the memory of Giselle offering him a drink a few days earlier floated into his mind. He had read the original novel for hundreds of chapters, yet it had contained nothing but descriptions of the North's barren battlefields. There had never been a single scene of her drinking.

Maybe she's even better at it than I am?

Cael let out a soft, meaningless laugh and continued his slow walk through the quiet nighttime corridors of the Grand Duchess's castle.