The Crown Prince's Summons
"What's that? You're telling me there's a cup with jewels on it?"
"Yeah, sapphires."
"Oho, is that so?"
Eli flashed a smug grin and squared his shoulders, clearly enjoying the unexpected support.
"Liar."
"Maybe I'll bring it next semester, then."
"…You're serious?"
Quinn gave a small nod. She was not the type to lie even as a joke. If they asked her to bring it, she would actually bring it.
"That's just mind-boggling."
"Same."
As if they'd rehearsed it, Aidan and Lubinsky shook their heads in perfect unison.
"Um, sorry to interrupt, but… shouldn't we go get Elaine and Schuske? Bring them out here, I mean."
It had been nagging at Bayul for a while now. Aside from a brief sighting at breakfast, the two hadn't set foot out of their room since yesterday—as if they were punishing themselves, of their own accord.
"Let's leave them be for now. I think they're too embarrassed to face you just yet."
"Consider it them reflecting on what they did. They got off without the professors even finding out, so they owe you at least that much."
"Still, coming all this way and then…"
"You could have been seriously hurt."
No—hurt. Past tense.
"A little time for self-reflection will do them both good."
The moment Eli said it, Aidan and Logan's eyes all snapped to Bayul's once-broken finger.
"He's right, Bayul. If it gets too stifling, they can always take a walk on their own or something. I understand how you feel, but let's wait a little longer. We've still got a few days left before we head back, don't we? They'll come apologize before then. You can hash it out at that point."
"Yeah…"
It wasn't that Bayul wasn't angry. He'd been hurt unfairly, all because he'd tried to break up a fight. It had healed cleanly by now, but Quinn had felt that same pain too.
Still, it was already in the past, and the apology seemed sincere enough. It just felt a little unfair, Bayul thought—they'd come all the way to the imperial palace as part of the delegation, yet those two alone weren't getting to enjoy any of it.
"Who's that person? Why does he keep staring at us?"
Just as Bayul was lost in thought over his two friends, Lubinsky leaned in and asked in a near-whisper.
"Lanasa, is my voice still too loud?"
"No, you're fine."
"Really? Then why is he glancing over here?"
"It's not just him. Everyone's looking."
"Huh?"
At Aidan's words, Lubinsky swept her gaze around in every direction.
"He's right. What's going on?"
"They're curious, obviously."
"Curious? Oh…!"
She'd been so distracted by the opulent interior that she'd momentarily forgotten where—and with whom—she was sitting.
"It's because of you, Bayul, isn't it? You said this was your first time at the palace?"
The only son of Duke Randert—the empire's great hero, its living legend. Bayul, who had never once been shown to the public, had appeared in Vergara for the very first time.
The rumor had spread like wildfire: the Emperor himself had extended a personal invitation to celebrate Crown Prince Lindemann's birthday. The Emperor was about to enter his third marriage and had summoned the son of Duke Randert for the prince's sake—what was the true meaning behind it?
Bayul's arrival was remarkable enough on its own, but the nobles were just as curious about the Emperor's motives.
"Making your society debut at the imperial palace, of all places. Bayul, you really are something else."
Lubinsky meant nothing by it. Despite his colossal background, Bayul was usually so modest—never once acting superior—that it was easy to forget, the way she just had. Come to think of it, it really was fortunate that someone like Bayul was the Duke's son. If a character like Jared had been the one, even the Duke himself might have ended up despised.
"Don't let it get to you, Bayul. Of course people are going to stare at first. But it'll thin out as time goes on. Everyone who comes to an event like this has their own agenda anyway. And you're not alone, remember? We're right here with you, so there's nothing to be scared of!"
Worried by how pale Bayul had gone, Aidan gave his shoulder a gentle pat.
'If you can't avoid it, isn't accepting it and enjoying yourself the finer way to live?'
Those had been his uncle's words just yesterday.
Right. Enjoy it.
No—try to enjoy it.
If I cower, it isn't just me who's disgraced—it's my father. He deserved to be respected, and Bayul could not allow him to be treated any other way.
"Yeah. If I can't avoid it, I might as well enjoy it."
"Huh? What was that?"
"As long as I'm my father's son, I'm going to be the center of attention everywhere I go, whatever I do. Probably for the rest of my life."
"And so you'll enjoy it, since you can't avoid it?"
"I'll try. I don't imagine it'll be easy."
"Heh. Now that's admirable."
He had been privately worried that Bayul might wilt under all those staring eyes, and Eli couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"In that case, I suppose I'll have to make a special effort for your sake."
"Make an effort at what, exactly?"
"Look at me. If this is what I look like when I barely try, imagine me when I've actually gotten ready. Everyone will be too busy staring at me to spare you so much as a glance."
"…So what you're saying is, you plan to distract the crowd with your beauty."
"Correct! And that means things get a little easier for you, doesn't it, Bayul?"
Anyone overhearing would ask whether that was arrogance or just hot air—but the one saying it was none other than Eli. A face so absurdly beautiful that a single glance burned itself into memory forever. His mere entrance would set the whole ballroom ablaze, without question.
In truth, that was already happening. Men and women, young and old alike—more than a few faces wore the dazed expression of someone drunk on Eli's beauty.
"Wow, I can't argue with that—it's too true to deny!"
Lubinsky nodded so vigorously it looked violent.
"Rai, when I first saw you, I swear I nearly stopped breathing. They could bring the goddess of beauty herself down here and she'd still be playing second fiddle to you. Looking at you just shreds my sense of reality, you know?"
"It's been a long time since I've received such a direct compliment."
He'd heard the words countless times before, but they never failed to lift his spirits. When Eli broke into a dazzling smile, Lubinsky's mouth fell open in pure awe. Today was truly a feast for the eyes.
"Pardon the interruption, my lord—but would you be Young Master Bayul?"
That was when an unfamiliar voice cut in. A middle-aged man with a magnificently trimmed mustache had approached at Bayul's side. Bayul didn't recognize him, but every element of his bearing and speech was impeccably courteous and weighty.
"…I am. May I ask who's calling?"
Could Father be looking for me again? I don't recognize this face, though.
Even as such a complacent thought drifted through his head, the man delivered something entirely unexpected.
"I am Gardner, in the service of His Highness Crown Prince Lindemann. His Highness wishes to meet with you, Young Master, and I have come to escort you."
"…Who invited me, did you say?"
He had heard it clearly, unmistakably. But he needed to hear it confirmed.
"His Highness Crown Prince Lindemann."
"What business could he possibly have with—"
Shock made his inner thoughts spill right out of his mouth. The man took a respectful step back.
"You will come to understand that once you arrive. If you need time to prepare, I shall wait for you outside."
"W-wait, just a moment!"
Bayul hastily called after him as he turned to leave.
"Am I to go alone?"
"Yes. I was instructed to escort the Young Master Bayul and no one else."
He had only just resolved not to be afraid anymore, and here the fear came flooding back. An unexpected private audience with the Crown Prince, of all things. His uncle had gone over the points of etiquette with him just yesterday, but a face-to-face meeting with royalty was still beyond what Bayul felt ready for.
'What do I say, and how do I say it? What if he brings up something I know nothing about?'
His mind went utterly white. The moment he was left alone, his confidence plummeted.
'Hm?'
But when Bayul arrived at the Crown Prince's chambers, he was no longer alone. Someone had arrived before him. And the instant he laid eyes on that someone, Bayul found himself thinking he would almost have preferred to be alone after all.
"Long time no see."
An arrogant voice, thick with nasal drawl.
Jared.
"You look like you've seen a ghost. What's got you so startled?"
Unlike Bayul, Jared had clearly known in advance that he was coming. The boy flashed his signature oily smile and jerked his chin toward a seat.
"Come in and sit down. Wouldn't want to strain those frail little legs of yours."
"Why are you here?"
Bayul asked coldly and went to sit across from him.
"Are you stupid? I was invited, obviously. Why else would I be here?"
"That's not what I asked. I asked how someone under suspension from school is strolling around the imperial palace. You weren't even chosen for the delegation."
"Delegation? Ha, are you trying to be funny?"
Jared tilted his head back, as if the very idea was beneath him.
"You think the heir to House Hector would bother joining some trivial delegation? I've told you over and over, haven't I? I play in a different league entirely."
There it was again—his endless prattling about league and rank. Bayul already knew exactly what was coming next.
"You see, whether there's a delegation or not, I'm always invited to occasions like this. For most people, visiting the imperial palace is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For me, it's about as special as visiting the family villa. Does that clear things up for you?"
No. It didn't.
Jared was a student who had done wrong and been punished by the Academy. The fact that he was here purely because of his father's political weight was simply wrong.
The boy deserved to be reflecting on his actions, not playing around at the palace. No matter how powerful his family was, Bayul found it hard to stomach.
"My, my—get suspended once and suddenly people look down on me. Have you forgotten I've never been held back a single year? People like me are destined to come out on top no matter what we do. That's simply the way of the world."
"The way of the world?"
"That's right. It means you and I were both born lucky in the parent department. What's there for us to fear? Anything we set our minds on, we can have. This is privilege—the birthright of the chosen few. Rules exist to keep the have-nots in line; they were never meant for me to follow. Got it?"
Bayul had always known the boy was shameless, but hearing it flaunted so openly made his skin crawl all the more. It was almost astonishing that such words came from the mouth of a boy barely sixteen.
"You're right. The world does have its own way of working."
Bayul echoed Jared's words back at him, word for word.
"That's why people say what goes around comes around."
"What kind of nonsense is that all of a sudden?"
"Who knows. I don't fully understand it myself yet."
Father didn't explain the details to me, after all.
"Tsk, tsk. What a blockhead no wonder you'll do just fine groveling in front of the Crown Prince."
"Is that supposed to be concern for me?"
"Apparently that's how it came out."
Jared leaned back against the sofa and struck an imperious pose.
"How disappointed do you think the Crown Prince will be when he actually meets you? Once he learns the son of Duke Randert is such a weak little invalid, he'll be too flabbergasted for words. That's what worries me, honestly."
"My poor health is already common knowledge, so if that's all you're worried about, you can save yourself the trouble."
"Hm. You've changed a little, haven't you?"
"Being frail isn't a crime."
Besides, it wasn't as if he'd truly been weak at all.
Bayul swallowed the rest. He had always hated how frail he seemed next to his father. But not anymore. He hadn't been sick—he had merely been seeing spirits.
If one day he became a Spirit User and did his part to help the world, he might never match his father's renown—but at the very least, he would bring it no shame. That, too, was one more reason Bayul trained so hard.
"When I first met you, you were this clumsy little wallflower. Look at you now. I suppose the fish-stink and the runt have been coaching you?"
"Don't talk about my friends like that. It's unpleasant to listen to."
"What else would I call the fish-stink but fish-stink? Hmm, how about this—hey, Fish? Does that work for you?"
"Hey there, friend! You got here before me, huh?"
Jared was still sneering at his leisure when yet another guest appeared, waving a hand in greeting.