The Button That Should Have Stayed Hidden
“Why not? You’re both unmarried adults. It’s not like you’d actually be dating. You’d just be pretending.”
Though it would probably turn real eventually.
And if Ed makes that kind of face, our poor Ivetta will feel so awkward.
I stepped forward as Ivetta’s overly protective representative and faced off against Everett.
We stared each other down with stubborn eyes, neither willing to back off. It was practically a staring contest.
The first to look away was Everett.
After we started “dating,” this was almost the first time he’d shown me an angry expression. But soon his face crumpled into something heartbreaking, and he turned his head away.
As if meeting my eyes any longer was too painful.
“Anyway, it’s not happening.”
Yet even with that deflated voice, Everett stubbornly insisted on opposing the “contract relationship.”
“What does Ed have to do with this? It’s between the two people involved. His Majesty might even agree to it.”
I refused to yield and pushed back.
“He won’t!”
Everett, who had been staring into the corner of the carriage, finally turned his gaze back to me.
His golden eyes—now revealed after he’d released the transformation magic tool—were glistening with moisture.
As if I had said something incredibly cruel.
Everett’s lips moved several times, as though he wanted to argue. He kept biting them, swallowing down whatever he wanted to say.
Did I really say something wrong?
Because of Everett’s excessive reaction, my own mood was gradually sinking as well.
I knew Everett held fierce loyalty toward the Emperor. But he was still just a subject.
The Emperor’s love life is something the Emperor should handle himself.
If I opened my mouth again now, I was likely to say something sharp enough to regret later. So I chose silence too.
Everett simply stared straight ahead with an expression that could have been either anger or sorrow.
A heavy silence filled the carriage.
Just before the quiet grew unbearably awkward, Kylus stepped in.
“Sir Everett Rohas has no direct connection to this matter.”
Kylus deliberately emphasized Everett’s full name.
When even Kylus scolded him for overreacting, Everett looked even more crushed.
But it didn’t seem like Kylus had intervened just to reprimand him.
Once Everett’s momentum had died down, it was my turn.
“And Lina, His Majesty will almost certainly not permit this contract relationship plan.”
At the confident declaration from someone so close to the Emperor, I flinched—even though I knew from the original story that the Emperor had been the one to first suggest a contract relationship.
“But there’s no better option than this. No matter how long you’ve been His Majesty’s friend, you can’t possibly know everything in his heart. If we at least bring it up to him…”
Still, since Kylus’s interpretation of the Emperor’s character was clearly far more accurate than mine, my voice gradually lost confidence.
The Emperor I know is the one from a few months in the future.
Kylus gently finished my trailing sentence.
“You’re right that I cannot claim to know everything in His Majesty’s heart.”
Kylus’s gaze briefly drifted past Everett and out the carriage window before returning.
“But on this one matter, I can say it with certainty. He absolutely will not do it.”
Kylus—who usually slithered around like an eel, always leaving himself an escape route—used the word “absolutely” to firmly reject the idea.
“Really? You’re that sure?”
I couldn’t help asking for a reason, almost as if demanding an explanation.
The time gap between the original story and now was only about four or five months.
Why was it possible then, but not now?
People don’t change that easily.
Especially when it comes to values or tastes—there usually has to be some major trigger for them to shift in such a short time.
There had been no special changes in the Emperor’s circumstances.
“Well…”
Kylus scratched his chin as if troubled, glanced past Everett toward the window once more, then answered with a complicated expression.
“His Majesty is quite the romantic at heart. His goal is a love marriage.”
“His Majesty? A romantic?”
“Yes.”
For a moment I wondered if I had misunderstood the meaning of the word “romantic.”
“Oh… well, I suppose that’s possible.”
When I thought about the Emperor after he met Ivetta, the label didn’t seem entirely out of place.
Then what was the original story about?
Had the Emperor’s views on romance undergone a massive shift in those four or five months?
Don’t tell me he fell in love with Ivetta at first sight during the New Year’s Festival?
I recalled the early parts of the original novel.
A panorama of scenes where the Emperor had piled up karmic debt with his own mouth flashed before my eyes.
But since it’s a novel from Ivetta’s perspective, it’s not impossible.
If that were the case, then there was no reason for me to be arguing so strongly right now.
Once Ivetta and the Emperor met, everything would resolve naturally.
Let’s put this on hold for now.
Everett and Kylus both let out sighs of relief when they noticed I had given up on the “contract relationship” plan.
“Let’s think of another method,” Kylus said, driving the point home.
To keep the Saintess Ivetta inside the imperial palace, we had to create some kind of justification—even if it was forced.
There is one other idea that comes to mind.
I remembered the item I had picked up right before leaving the temple.
But this one will need Ivetta’s permission.
Just then, Ivetta—who had finally collected herself—climbed back into the carriage.
With her aboard, the carriage set off straight for the imperial palace.
Inside, not a single word was spoken. The silence was absolute.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed that we had already arrived at the palace.
As Ivetta moved to step down from the carriage, I caught her hand and stopped her.
“Just a moment, Ivetta.”
At my words, she sat back down.
“There’s something I need to tell you privately.”
After Kylus and Everett got out of the carriage to give us space, I sat facing Ivetta.
Where should I even begin?
My heart felt heavy because I knew this wasn’t going to be good news for her.
But it’s better that she knows in advance.
Steel myself, I carefully opened my mouth.
“Ivetta, could you look at this for me?”
I handed her the button I had taken from the temple right before we left.
The gilded button engraved with a badger crest was ornately crafted, but time had worn away its shine.
“What is this?”
Ivetta lifted the button to examine it more closely.
“It’s a button engraved with the crest of the now-destroyed Robertus family.”
This button had been on the clothes Ivetta was wearing the day she was abandoned.
Her mother must have sewn it in, hoping that one day her daughter would grow up and want to find her family.
Because of this button, the priests had realized Ivetta was the illegitimate child of the Robertus family. However, the priest in charge had only kept the button as a precaution and had practically forgotten about the whole matter.
The late Marquis Robertus’s debauchery was such common knowledge that even if she carried noble blood, the fact that she was an illegitimate child offered little benefit.
Now that I think about the stories of Ivetta’s childhood, it’s possible the priest buried the information hoping she would awaken as a high-ranking cleric.
The priest in charge only remembered the button again when Ivetta was about ten years old.
When no signs of awakening appeared, he had tried to use the information that she was the illegitimate daughter of the Robertus family—albeit belatedly.
At that time, Marquis Robertus still enjoyed great power as the previous Emperor’s closest confidant.
The priest in charge reported to the Grand Temple that the temple under his supervision housed the illegitimate child of the Robertus Marquisate.
The High Priest, who had wanted to curry favor with the Robertus family, showed mild interest.
But shortly afterward, the Emperor succeeded in his coup, and the entire Robertus family was wiped out.
The priest’s dream of advancing to the capital was crushed once again.
This was why the High Priest knew the secret of Ivetta’s birth—the biggest source of frustration in the original story.
The High Priest must still know that Ivetta is the illegitimate child of the Robertus family.
Because that was already fixed history.
There was no guarantee the temple wouldn’t use this card against her in some underhanded way.
“I found it while searching the temple before.”
It was the excuse I had prepared in advance when I took the button.
“I thought about it a lot, but I decided it would be better for you to know…”
Ivetta’s shoulders shrank as she sensed that what I was about to say was no ordinary matter.
I looked straight into her blue eyes.
“I suspect that you are the illegitimate daughter of the late Marquis Robertus.”
Ivetta’s face turned deathly pale at the unexpected revelation.
She would suddenly gain a family she had never known her entire life, but at least this way she was learning about it far more gently than if the temple had exposed it.
I steeled my heart.