Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: The Whale's Shadow
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“Ha! What, are you going whale hunting or something? Did a monster whale show up somewhere?”
Even though he’d mentioned the information guild’s top brass, the crown prince just scowled instead of showing any interest in the Whale or whatever it was. Count Rundle exercised his patience once more and explained.
“The Whale is code for a certain person or organization.”
“A person or organization?”
“Yes. We don’t know who yet, but this Whale—believed to be a specific individual or group—might be in August Domain right now. And by some coincidence, Duke Lloyd happens to be interested in that very place.”
“That’s… a bit suspicious, isn’t it?”
“It’s not just a bit—it’s very suspicious.”
“Hmm. Alright, I get it. But is that all? Should I take an interest in this Whale too? What’s in it for me?”
Suppressing a sigh that lingered in his mouth, Count Rundle replied.
“The fact that Duke Lloyd is interested means Your Highness should be too. He doesn’t fixate on just anyone or anything. So, using the Whale could influence him—for better or worse, don’t you think?”
“Oh?”
A way to affect his irritating nephew lately?
That arrogant punk who just smiled smugly no matter what he said?
“That piques my interest. So, what’s your plan, Uncle? What do you want to do?”
“We need to investigate first. Find out what the Whale is. And why Duke Lloyd is interested. And if possible, recruit them.”
“Recruit? Why not just eliminate them?”
As befitting someone who might one day rule the kingdom, Philon saw taking a life as no big deal.
But Count Rundle was actually pleased by that attitude.
It was far more fitting for a monarch than keeping multiple concubines and chasing other women at every opportunity.
“Your Highness, the fact that I obtained information on the Whale means others might have too. We can’t just eliminate them recklessly.”
“Others? Who? Who dares to get information that even you, Lord Rundle, struggled to obtain…? Wait, no way?”
For the first time, a massive emotion crossed Philon’s face—until now, he’d been utterly shameless, even about killing.
“H-His Majesty the King…?”
It was fear.
The one person in the world Philon truly feared was his grandfather, the king of Obla Kingdom.
“Yes. We should assume he knows with ninety percent certainty.”
“I-I see. Then we’ll just watch for now. C-Carefully.”
It was a wildly different reaction from how he treated Count Rundle—his mother’s older brother and one of Obla’s top nobles—but the count didn’t mind.
He was just relieved this worthless thunderhead of a nephew still feared something.
Besides, even Count Rundle feared the king, who was over eighty.
The best course was to stay quiet and never provoke him until the end.
“So, that’s it for this Whale guy? Nothing else?”
“Yes. Ah… though there is one odd bit of news.”
“Odd news? What’s that?”
Stroking his goatee thoughtfully for a moment, Count Rundle continued.
“It seems a man presumed to be a distant branch of the royal family has been stirring things up in the northeast. He’s using the name Sailun. Jang Sailun, or something.”
“Sailun? There are tons of side branches with that surname.”
“As Your Highness says, there are far too many distant royals bearing the Sailun name. And with a given name like Jang, it’s impossible to pinpoint who.”
“It’s definitely royal family?”
“Two administrators confirmed the royal crest.”
“So it’s probably real. But what makes it odd, exactly?”
“Well… as you know, most side branches with the Sailun name are pretty average, right?”
Here, “average” meant from the perspective of the royal family or great nobles like Count Rundle—it still implied mid-tier nobility.
“They get by comfortably enough. So?”
“They say this Jang Sailun has enormous wealth. Not tens of thousands, but hundreds of thousands of diens, and he’s been throwing it around.”
“What!”
This time, even Philon was genuinely shocked.
His grandfather was the king, and as crown prince, he had no small fortune himself—but even to him, millions of diens was a massive sum.
“He’s throwing around hundreds of thousands of diens? So his total wealth must be even greater?”
“That’s why it’s odd. To my knowledge, no side branch with the Sailun name is that rich.”
“Hmm. Definitely strange.”
Stroking his chin, Crown Prince Philon fell deep in thought.
Soon, a certain emotion began to flicker in his eyes.
Greed.
“This Jang Sailun. The administrators confirmed the crest, but it’s not definitively proven he’s royal family, right?”
“That’s… correct.”
“Then we need to check him out. He might be some insolent fraud impersonating the royals.”
“Hmm.”
From those words alone, Count Rundle knew what his nephew wanted.
And he agreed with Philon’s thinking.
Because he’d orchestrated the current situation himself.
“Then I’ll look into Jang Sailun’s movements too. As Your Highness says, he might be impersonating the royal family.”
“I think so. And it’s probably not just recent—he’s likely been at it for a year or two. Maybe even built his fortune through fraud.”
“Indeed, well said.”
For the first time since they were alone, Count Rundle smiled.
With Duke Lloyd challenging the succession, the more interests and money to sway nobles, the better.
And if it was dirty money from crimes that they could dispose of at will…
No, even if not, it didn’t matter.
Once his will aligned with the crown prince’s, they could make it so.
“Then we’ll keep a close eye on the Whale, and assemble a team ready to deal with Jang Sailun anytime.”
“You’re the only one I can count on, Uncle. Haha!”
As Philon’s term of address shifted, Count Rundle laughed too.
* * *
Baron Lyle August, lord of August Domain, had a dream.
It was of his wedding day in his youth.
In the dream, he kissed the cheek of his shyly smiling bride—the woman who’d captivated him at first sight and grown even dearer over their life together.
Her cheek flushed red; she was the granddaughter of legendary hero Duke Sion. The fragrant scent of her body and her warm heat made young Lyle August’s heart pound.
His beautiful wife was wonderful, but knowing her family’s power had his back only heightened his excitement.
As he fought the urge to nibble her flushed earlobe and pulled his face from her cheek—
Baron August locked eyes with someone.
“……!”
He felt his hair stand on end.
Far off, a man stared at him, hiding his lower face with a fan typically used by noble ladies.
Tall, impeccably dressed, yet somehow ignored by those around him.
But Baron August couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man—from that gaze.
It felt like an invisible force was transmitting to him.
A warning, perhaps—or encouragement.
But the warning dominated.
His unconsciously trembling hand proved it.
Just as his legs weakened, the man turned away.
“Baron! Are you alright?”
His startled bride supported him as he insisted he was fine and hurriedly looked up.
But the man who’d stared with mountain-like pressure was gone.
‘Who was that?’
“Who…?”
Murmuring the thought from his dream, Baron August awoke.
Sunlight filtered through slightly parted curtains—it seemed he’d woken from a nap.
Now aware of his condition and the disease gnawing at his body and soul for years, the baron sighed and reached for the bedside.
To pull the cord for a maid.
“Thirsty?”
Then an unfamiliar voice offered a glass of water.
Dazed in his bedroom, Baron August took the trembling glass without noting the informal speech.
After a few sips, he finally looked up at the one who’d handed it.
“Who… are you?”
The same words as before.
But moments later, Baron August’s eyes widened, and he muttered unwittingly.
“Am I… still dreaming? My wedding…?”
“Wedding?”
The man gazing calmly down at Lyle August—Sion—frowned slightly at the baffling words.
But soon Sion nodded.
“Ah, right. You saw me briefly at your wedding to Roana.”
Pulling a chair near the bed, Sion sat comfortably.
“Was that the dream, Lyle?”
“Y-You…”
Sion looked like a grandson, even calling him by name informally, yet Baron August just trembled with wide eyes.
These days, his mind returned only two or three times a day, for mere dozens of minutes.
So the baron was certain.
The man before him was the same one from his wedding decades ago—the one who’d given him an unforgettable experience that lingered even now, awaiting death.
“Come to think of it, you don’t know who I am, do you? No surprise— even Roana didn’t.”
Offering a wry smile to the incredulously trembling Baron August, Sion continued calmly.
“As you see, I’m the one who warned you at your wedding to Roana. Also the one who sent a separate million diens as a gift from the bride’s side acquaintance.”
“……!!!”
Another memory flashed, and Baron August’s eyes bulged.
Excluding the bride’s family, Duke Sion’s house, it was the largest sum from any guest—and unforgettable.
No, even from close kin, casually giving such a fortune as a wedding gift was rare.
“A granddaughter’s wedding— as her grandfather, that’s the least I could do.”
“Huh…!”
Baron August’s jaw dropped as he gasped roughly.
Ah, now he understood.
Why that gaze had fixed on him then.
Why it held both warning and encouragement.
Why he rotted away under dementia’s curse, awaiting death, while that man stood here unchanged after decades.
“D-Duke… Sion?”
“First time meeting formally. Pleased, son-in-law.”
After fifty years, Sion gazed tearfully at his aged, diseased grandson-in-law facing life’s end.
(To be continued in the next chapter)