46.
Many feared him, but Ri-Na’s feelings were peculiar. It wasn’t merely a vague, instinctive awe of the Emperor’s authority. It was something far more specific, a knot of unease that coiled tightly in her chest.
‘Why?’
His identity wasn’t the issue. Edwin’s heart hammered with anxiety, sensing a shift in the air. He had a bad feeling about this—a premonition that he had already stepped over a line.
I carefully avoided Everett’s eyes, which looked troubled for reasons I couldn’t discern.
‘No, I only meant to give him a warning.’
I was terrified that a disaster might occur before I could join the Blue Falcon and secure the information I needed. My intention had been to frame my words so that if nothing happened, they would pass for nonsense, yet if tragedy struck, he would grasp my meaning.
Just then, while strolling through the clear air, I recalled a detail I had missed in my exhaustion, and I could no longer hold my tongue.
‘The adjutant was already dispirited after a blunder earlier that day. Then, while vulnerable, he drank the alcohol offered by a henchman of the Duke Camelot, and that led to his ruin.’
‘He doesn’t have a habit of using alcohol as an escape, does he?’
When I asked, probing carefully, his answer was by the book. If only his response hadn’t come so quickly to the words I’d added as a safeguard, I might have been reassured.
‘Did you memorize your interview answers?’
I glared at the sky, avoiding Everett’s gaze.
‘Even if you have help to navigate difficult tasks, you will eventually find your way. Mistakes that ruin one’s career… well, they say everyone makes them.’
Do you know there’s a staggering 33.3% chance that when you face an incident you can’t endure because you were too lenient, you will retreat into alcohol and be forced to resign?
Everett was far too nonchalant. So unlike me, who was nursing a quiet, persistent anxiety at the very core of my heart. Because of his indifference, my warning gradually took on a sharper, more distinct shape. In the end, I found myself delivering such a specific hint that I wondered if I had pushed too far.
And yet, Everett just laughed it off.
If he hadn’t been standing right in front of me, I would have beaten my chest in frustration. My insides felt stifled, like trying to swallow dry, sweet potatoes without a drop of water.
‘The hardships of someone who knows the future, truly.’
I wondered if I should have a beer on the way home.
‘No. Buy it and drink it in private. Don’t start talking nonsense.’
“They say His Majesty has been quite irritable lately; what will you do if he doesn’t tolerate mistakes?”
The words escaped me before I could stop them. Everett’s eyes were shining as if he had heard something fascinating, and his reaction was maddening. Still, the blockage in my throat refused to clear.
When I mentioned his direct superior, Everett tilted his head.
“Do you dislike the Emperor?”
He asked with extreme caution.
“The Emperor?”
‘What was I just talking about?’
I wondered if I had said something severe enough to be charged with lese-majeste, causing me to glance over my shoulder.
‘It’s not technically a crime, but did I sound too stern?’
Ever since the sword incident and the adjutant’s punishment came to mind, the Emperor had become a person of intense interest—and danger—to me. Because I was frustrated by Everett’s refusal to heed my warnings, I feared my attitude had seemed unforgivably disrespectful.
That was the burden of being an acquaintance on one side.
‘But officially, the Emperor and I have no connection.’
There was no reason for my likes or dislikes to be so polarized that I would dare show such disrespect. I offered a smile, a practiced social mask. Hoping to ease the tension, I asked back playfully.
“Rather than dislike, isn’t it hard to truly like your boss?”
Since few office workers actually like their superiors, I intended to pass it off as a joke.
However, that was a mistake. At my levity, Everett’s expression darkened.
“Why do you dislike him?”
Everett asked with inexplicably sad eyes.
As if I had just confessed that I disliked *him*. His golden eyes were strangely misty, making him look profoundly forlorn. Anyone watching would have assumed I had rejected Everett with the cruelest of words.
“I didn’t say I disliked him, though…”
I hurried to deny it. The Emperor was a dangerous figure, but in terms of personal sentiment, he wasn’t exactly on my ‘dislike’ list. He was simply a target of caution, someone I wanted to keep at arm’s length.
‘More than that, if you ask why…’
I was flustered by his honestly unexpected reaction. Perhaps due to the association with the question, the events of the original story—the atrocities the Emperor was scheduled to commit over the next six months—passed through my mind like a grisly panorama.
‘Well, Everett, you wouldn’t like him either if you knew what was coming.’
You wiped out a quarter of the aristocratic register upon your accession, and another quarter is slated to be purged in the six months before the heroine appears.
‘And there’s a 33.3% chance that Everett might be included in that second quarter.’
That was why I couldn’t bring myself to like the Emperor. While I kept these reasons locked away, Everett grew increasingly dejected. He looked like a man deeply wounded that I had failed to profess my devotion to the Emperor.
‘Are knights really that loyal?’
Is it that kind of heart, where they consider their lord’s honor an extension of their own? I reflected on my lack of tact.
A silence, thick and humid as the air of the rainy season, descended between us. As we walked through the Summer Rose Garden, I tried to start a conversation several times. Each time, Everett forced a smile, lifting the corners of his mouth while his eyes remained clouded with sorrow. He answered my questions, but he seemed unable to focus on a single word.
I eventually gave up.
‘Next time, I’ll compose a panegyric or something.’
Or I could memorize a book like 『101 Ways to Respect Your Boss』 by heart. Not a single one of the full-blown roses caught my eye. Watching Everett, who trudged along beside me, I simply walked toward the end of the path.
It was a walk that ended in a crushing awkwardness. When my house came into view, I exhaled like someone who had just finished a season of hard labor.
“It’s late. I’ll see you home.”
Everett escorted me to my door with those same misty eyes. I had hoped to walk the final stretch alone, but Everett was already leading the way. Even then, he remained silent, lost in deep, troubled thought.
‘I never realized the house was that far from the Imperial Palace.’
For the first time since I’d met Everett, I was relieved to be home. As I opened my front door, I swore that I would never bring up the ‘E’ of the Emperor in front of him ever again.
*･☪D✶༄ ‧₊˚a⋰˚☆m✶༄ ‧₊˚
After dropping Ri-Na off, Edwin, having no energy left to return to the Imperial Palace, headed for Kyle’s café.
“Welcome.”
Hearing the clear ringing of the bell, Kyle turned, wearing his customary bright, wrinkle-free smile. Thanks to the coffee—which was still mediocre but significantly better than before—his business was growing.
But as soon as Kyle confirmed the identity of the customer, his smile vanished.
Edwin walked into the café listlessly, not even sparing a glance for his friend. Kyle sighed, watching his lord act with the gloom of a man carrying a thunderstorm over his head.
“Could you excuse me for a moment?”
Leaving the café to Emily, Kyle approached Edwin.
“Shall we go inside?”
It was more efficient than casting a privacy spell, which was difficult to maintain with the increasing crowd. Edwin, perhaps desperate to pour out his feelings, followed Kyle without a word.
They entered the guild’s reception room, where only a set of sparse furniture lined the dark gray walls. As soon as the door clicked shut, Edwin collapsed onto the sofa.
Kyle looked at him, his brow furrowed. “Did a large-scale disaster occur somewhere?”
Edwin looked as if he were mourning a ghost.
‘I’ll bet this café that it’s related to Miss Diaz.’
Kyle wanted to tell him to stop the wistful staring, as it was frankly unsettling. However, his thoughts were cut short when Edwin finally spoke, venting as if a curse had been lifted.
“Miss Diaz said she dislikes me.”
Edwin stared at the floor, his face a portrait of utter frustration.