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Chapter 25
Prince Louis I was still sitting at the dining table. The large clock on the wall now pointed almost to lunchtime.
“…Your Highness. Do you truly intend to remain seated like this?”
Sir Norton, the royal head butler, asked.
But Louis only nodded.
Having already asked the same question four times that morning and received the same answer each time, Norton was beginning to lose his mind.
Sir Hector Valtres, the chamberlain, had never betrayed his trust before. This was the first time.
“If Sir Norton is tired on his knees and back, you may sit as well.”
It was a considerate suggestion, but also a declaration that he would not leave until Second Princess Etrange arrived.
In the end, Sir Norton surrendered.
“…Someone, come here.”
A small maid hurried over like a sparrow.
“Do you need something…?”
“Bring me a small, light chair. I cannot stand any longer.”
He had served the royal family since King Arnold Yanpots was young. At his age, it was already surprising he was not constantly in pain.
Unfortunately, his wish would not be granted.
“Excuse me…”
A servant rushed in with news of Anastasia’s arrival.
A royal butler could not simply sit comfortably while the prince and his guest were dining.
“Oh my goodness.”
Still, it was not the worst outcome. It was better than sitting here all day until the king and queen summoned the prince for dinner.
“Your Highness.”
“She has arrived?”
“…It appears so.”
Louis straightened his posture at last and smiled faintly.
“I already knew, but Anastasia must take quite a long time to get ready.”
“That does not seem to be the reason…”
“Can’t I make a joke and have someone laugh at it?”
It was a playful remark with a smile. Sir Norton returned the chair to the maid and replied calmly.
“I would laugh if it were funny, Your Highness.”
“You have very high standards for humor, Norton.”
“I am unaware of that.”
While they exchanged light banter, Anastasia finally arrived.
Louis had already been able to estimate her arrival from the moment he was notified. He had heard it—the distinct heavy footsteps.
The footsteps that always followed a Saden knight.
The door opened. Anastasia entered wearing a pale green dress, elegant in its simplicity.
“…You’re late, Anastasia.”
She responded with a polite curtsey.
Louis looked awkward until Artorius took her hand and escorted her to her seat.
And even after that.
“You may go now, Artorius.”
Artorius knelt on one knee and offered his hand.
Anastasia had to suppress her surprise.
Even as a monstrous being now, his soul was fundamentally noble. Had the Yanpots coup never happened, his bloodline might have sat above hers.
‘On one knee…’
Even kneeling, his head was still higher than hers.
She placed her hand on his without hesitation.
But Artorius did not kiss her hand. He simply bowed once more and left.
“So, why were you late?”
A maid brought a tray of pre-dinner wine. Anastasia grabbed a glass, drank, and finally answered.
“I overslept.”
Sir Norton fell silent. Louis blinked.
A heavy silence filled the room.
“You… overslept?”
“Yes.”
A direct heir to the throne’s breakfast invitation, ignored without apology, explained away with “I overslept”—
Sir Norton recalled a certain incident from King Arnold’s youth. A nobleman’s son who once arrived late to a royal invitation had suffered a humiliation so severe he was never seen near the palace again.
But today was different.
Louis actually seemed pleased.
“You and I haven’t eaten together in a long time.”
“Maybe not as long as you think.”
“…For example?”
The kitchen staff carved the roast turkey and placed it on her plate.
“Like visiting the Etrange estate to find me yourself.”
Louis fell silent.
Only the sound of Anastasia chewing filled the dining room.
He finally realized her casual attitude was not affection.
“…I’m sorry.”
No reply.
Only swallowing.
“Let’s drop the old topics here.”
But even then, he could not make her stop.
“…Alright.”
Louis looked away first this time.
Anastasia leaned back comfortably.
“So, Louis. What do you want from me?”
“Want?”
“You didn’t call me here after ten years just for no reason, did you?”
Louis hesitated.
“…I just thought it would be good to properly treat the last remaining court mage.”
It was obvious.
She had seen this kind of hesitation before.
“Do you want to burn the head off a noble you dislike, Louis?”
“Of course not!”
But before she could continue teasing him—
A servant rushed in, pale-faced, and spoke to Sir Norton.
Someone else had arrived.
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one invited, Louis.”
Louis looked genuinely confused.
“That can’t be…”
Then the door opened again.
A woman in vivid red stepped inside.
Lady Summers.
Bright auburn hair. Deep brown eyes like polished chocolate.
Anastasia acknowledged her beauty immediately.
Tall. Elegant. Undeniably striking.
“Were you also invited to breakfast?”
Anastasia asked casually.
But Lady Summers did not flinch.
“No, Second Princess Etrange.”
Her gaze was steady, confident, unwavering.
“Though I assume you’ve already realized it… it’s well past noon.”
Anastasia frowned slightly.
“I was invited to lunch. So I believe it’s time you vacated your seat.”
Her jealousy was obvious. Anastasia noticed it immediately.
After all, the goal was the throne.
A quiet court mage would never be enough to shift the board.
It was time to shake things up.
“…Since I’m already seated, would it be alright if I joined lunch as well, Louis? Since the meal isn’t finished anyway.”
Lady Summers’ jealous gaze shifted from Anastasia to Louis.
