NOVPUB* * *
The Imperial Audience Chamber.
The Emperor was a beautiful young woman, twenty-four years old this year.
Her vivid red hair and eyes the color of sunset burned brightly.
She had ascended to the throne at the age of fourteen and had now sat upon it for ten years.
Despite her youth, the authority she exuded was formidable.
However, she had yet to fully cast off the power of the Empress Dowager, who had served as regent during her early reign.
She was working hard to build her own faction, but the Empress Dowager’s power had been tied to the Temple for decades.
“So...”
The Emperor looked at Julian with wistful eyes and spoke.
“So you really don’t remember me at all.”
“Uh... That’s right, Your Majesty.”
Julian hadn’t yet mastered proper etiquette.
And now he was having a private audience with the Emperor. His mouth was dry.
‘Why is the Emperor so... young? Huh?’
Julian felt sweat gather in his palms, his leg shaking without him realizing it.
His right leg was wrapped in thick bandages, so when it trembled, even the table trembled with it.
‘And... what’s with that wistful expression?’
The Emperor gazed at Julian and sighed.
‘I had a bad feeling the moment she told only me to stay behind! Ugh, this is so awkward! Why did Gramps leave me here alone? I miss the brat!’
Nervously, Julian took a sip of tea—“Ah, hot! Shit!”—he shouted before he could stop himself.
The Emperor sighed again, her eyes trembling.
Then, in a desperate voice, she asked,
“Do you really not remember the little sister you cherished so much? Even after spending a few days with her, is there really no flicker of memory? No vague sense of recognition?”
“Nope, even living with her hasn’t brought back a single memory.”
Julian answered quickly, politely, and clearly.
The Emperor’s expression crumbled with disappointment.
Completely unaware of this change, Julian cautiously reached for his fifth macaron and asked,
“Then... Your Majesty, do you happen to know our little brat?”
“You used to brag about her all the time. The only thing you truly cared about was that little sister of yours.”
A flicker of melancholy passed through the Emperor’s golden eyes again.
“You even asked me to arrange her marriage. I suppose that’s why she’s engaged to the Duke of Dyfenril now.”
“Cough, cough! Cough! What?! M-Marriage?! Marriage?! An arranged marriage?! For the brat?! Cough, coughcoughcough!”
Julian spat out the macaron he was eating, eyes wide.
The Emperor sighed again, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“You told me you wanted to find a good match for Rosie-Rosie.”
“She’s twelve!”
“You said we needed to select a hundred promising candidates now and °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° observe them over the next ten years.”
“What kind of lunatic...”
“I thought the same thing, honestly.”
Now fully adjusted to Julian’s mental age of seventeen, the Emperor slowly nodded.
“Don’t you remember? I recommended the second son of House Lavendal.”
“Who the hell is that brat?”
“Rey Lavendal. He’s my cousin on my mother’s side—five generations removed. He’s one year older than Rosie-Rosie.”
Julian’s mouth fell open. The Emperor, amused by his expression, continued speaking.
“He’s a polite and exemplary young man. So graceful and gentle, even as a second son, the entire social circle calls him ‘the Young Lord of Water.’”
“The hell kind of nickname is that... Pardon me, I’m sorry.”
Julian’s mind immediately flashed to Zahid, who just yesterday had been shouting like a madman.
A small, violent little bonfire of a boy—dangerous but warm.
Water and fire...
Julian grimaced instinctively at the odd metaphor that sprang to mind.
“Ahem. Well. It’s fine. Even though Rey is the second son, if the Spirit of Water chooses him, he’ll become Lavendal’s heir.”
“Mmm.”
“And he’s been called a political prodigy since childhood, so I thought he wouldn’t be a bad match for Rosie-Rosie—someone still untouched by the world.”
“Sure.”
Julian muttered as he picked up the macaron he’d spat out and popped it back in his mouth.
“He’s still just a thirteen-year-old brat. I was top of the class in my village academy at that age. You never know what puberty will do.”
“...Well, that’s true.”
The Emperor frowned and pushed her own untouched macarons toward Julian.
Julian grinned and accepted them, gulping down the now-cold tea.
“...You used to never touch tea food like this...”
“Oh really? What the hell was he living for? I heard he didn’t even sleep in or eat midnight snacks.”
“Hmm.”
The Emperor blinked slowly and answered.
“Well... I think he lived for the thrill of climbing to the top, quietly obsessed with money and power.”
“Oh. Money and power.”
Julian’s green eyes sparkled as he stuffed two macarons into his mouth at once.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
“That’s right...”
“Julian?”
“This whole ordeal made me realize something.”
Julian swallowed hard and spoke thoughtfully.
“If you just space out like a fool, you get screwed... Ah, what did I just say? I’m sorry. Your Majesty, I’ve committed a grave offense. Please punish me harshly.”
“No need for that, Julian. It’s not that serious...”
“Your Majesty just feels... oddly... really oddly easy to talk to. I deeply apologize.”
“Oddly easy to talk to? Oddly? Me?”
The Emperor smiled brightly, eyes wide.
“Swear at me! Go ahead! It’s fine!”
“...Excuse me?”
“We were actually pretty close! That’s why it feels that way. Being comfortable is good! You’re under imperial decree now!”
“Well, then... I’ll take you up on that.”
Julian nodded vigorously, energized.
“Anyway, all I did in this situation was bring shame to my house, cry, and knit. That Dyfenril brat even saved Grandfather’s life... I couldn’t do anything for the brat.”
“Knitting... Julian knits...”
“So I’ve decided to start trying.”
“Trying? Knitting?”
“No.”
Julian grinned.
“I’m going to climb to the top.”
“...Huh?”
“Just like he used to.”
For a brief moment, the Emperor flinched—it felt like she was seeing the old Julian again.
“I’ve been told I was ridiculously strong before, right? So I’ll get strong again, Your Majesty. Even if the physician—Peter—says it won’t be like before, I’ll try as hard as I can.”
Julian ran a hand through his hair, eyes drifting into thought.
“Only then can I take revenge on those who hurt my brat... and protect her from everything that’s coming.”
* * *
The next day, in Caliban’s vast and lavish office.
As expected of the Noart Count Family, which ran many enterprises, countless people came and went from Caliban’s office each day.
“Uh, excuse me... Is this...”
Visitors entering the office began to look confused.
“Did I come to the wrong place? Is this a nursery or something?”
“No, sir. This is indeed the Count’s office.”
One side of the office was filled with toys and letter-practice books meant to delight children.
And I was nestled right in the middle of it all, practicing my handwriting.
The butler, noticing the guests’ glances toward me, calmly explained,
“These days, the Count is learning a few things from his youngest granddaughter. Please don’t mind her—carry on with your business.”
With that, the guests awkwardly nodded and moved to the reception area, where they began discussing various business matters with Grandfather, who was sitting in his usual haughty posture.
The first guests were two men, a viscount and a baron, I think.
They were politely recommending investment opportunities and other boring things.
I didn’t understand a word of it, so I just munched on the snacks set out nearby and listened absentmindedly.
And while Grandfather and the men were deep in discussion—
“Well, if that’s how the Count feels, we’ll respect your decision.”
“Hopefully we can work together next time. It would be even better if you reconsider.”
Even as they were rejected, the two men remained polite.
But as soon as they turned away from Grandfather, they began whispering in a completely different tone.
[Just smile and walk out. This trap failed, but he’ll be in for a major loss soon anyway.]
[Think about the mithril deposits in Katia territory. That’ll make you smile. That old man will be pounding the ground in regret soon enough.]
My eyes snapped open.
That language... Ancient Tongue?
