FMLDM 81

Chapter 81

Tangled Frontlines of Affection

He said he wasn’t a shabby person. Said he needed 50 Martons, but then turned around and claimed he’d only come for 1 Marton. What was that supposed to mean?

For an entire week I mulled over it deeply. Strange to say, but whether it was unfortunate or fortunate, that heavy contemplation at least let me forget my grief for a little while.

When he finally showed up after a week, it was obvious he’d put in a lot of effort. The tailored suit overflowing with sophistication, the well-groomed hair, even the glowing skin—before, he already had that aura of a handsome magician, but now he looked like a young noble who had just stepped out of a comic book, riding toward me on a white horse.

He loitered around the shop, looking like the type who would stand out even at the center of a grand banquet hall. Naturally, everyone’s attention turned toward him. He seemed to enjoy being the focus, his friendliness only drawing more eyes his way.

Every time our gazes met, he would mime pulling something from his jacket and then blow me a heart. His exaggerated presence naturally caught not only my attention but also the eyes of my customers.

“Goodness, is that your husband?”
“Is it even possible for a husband to be that handsome?”
“Your wife must be so lucky.”

All day long, I had to listen to people talking about him. Only after finishing the changer work for my last appointment did he finally come inside.

As before, he tossed out some silly jokes, but it was clear he was nervous. Back then, I hadn’t noticed because I’d been on guard, but today I realized—he was actually really tall. Tall enough to cast a shadow over my head.

Unlike our last meeting, he didn’t directly press me for an answer this time. Instead, I found myself with more questions.

“What’s your name?”
“Mer…lin. Merlin.”
“Merlin?”

His name sounded a bit like the Tower Lord’s, and I wondered if all magicians used such names. But that wasn’t the important part.

“Let’s eat.”
“…Pardon?”

Agreeing to meet him three times wasn’t really that difficult. As payment for setting up a barrier, it was basically a free favor.

The only problem was that Macaron still lingered in my heart. But since I hadn’t deceived anyone, there was no reason to feel guilty. He said he was fine with it, after all.

Maybe it was selfish, but I also needed another excuse—something like a breathing hole where I could, even just briefly, forget about Macaron and the children. Work alone wasn’t enough to fill that void anymore. I found myself, again and again, suddenly reminded of them. Each time, the rising wave of longing ate away at me.

He wasn’t asking me to date him right away. Wasn’t it okay to at least make a new friend? In the end, I decided to accept a little help from this man.

“I’ll accept your proposal.”
“I’ll make sure this becomes the best choice you’ve ever made in your life.”
“I’ll be counting on you.”
“Now then, shall we go on a date?”

Ah… something felt like it had gone very wrong.
“Not a date, but…”

But his sly grin shut my mouth.
“Yes. Let’s go eat.”

Meanwhile, in the capital, things were unsettled after Liner’s disappearance. The ones who felt the most fear were, of course, his closest allies. Most of them resigned on their own, abandoning everything.

It was an act born of their belief that, unlike former emperors, Macaron might at least spare their lives. His merciful approach prevented them from banding together and turning aggressive; instead, they scattered apart.

Indeed, Macaron never pursued them further. For once, the succession that had always been sealed in blood became an exception. His centralized imperial policies, carefully balanced and stabilizing the throne, earned wide praise—everywhere except in Rippler.

Rippler alone harbored dissatisfaction but couldn’t even voice it, smothered under heavy silence. Seeing the chance, Clemente moved just as Macaron intended. He busily convened the elder council, exaggerating and embellishing what Macaron had told him.

The elders, hearing his account, grew grave. Particularly the elders who supported the Kaint line—long looked down upon since Evelyn became head—were eager not to waste such an opportunity.

“Doesn’t this mean that Her Excellency Evelyn’s personal matters are spreading poison over all of Rippler?”

Others, who supported Evelyn, tried instead to pin the blame on Macaron.

“How could His Majesty hand down such cruel judgment?”
“I thought he was a man who distinguished between public and private matters…”
“Isn’t this simply to keep Rippler in check?”

But in Rippler’s worsening crisis, Evelyn had very few elders willing to defend her. People usually prefer to believe in hope over despair, and in the lesser evil rather than the worst. If this was about crushing Rippler as a whole, there was no solution. But if it was only personal feelings, then the simple fix was to change the family head.

Most elders preferred to believe the latter. Surrounded by such dominant opinion, Evelyn was cornered. Clemente, reading the mood better than anyone, seized the moment.

“In fact, not long ago, I personally had an audience with His Majesty.”

Knowing how Rippler’s position had weakened, nobles swallowed nervously, waiting for Clemente’s next words.

“His Majesty made it clear—the reason he is pressing Rippler is because of Lady Evelyn’s failings.”

He exaggerated further what he’d heard that day.

“Though I cannot say for sure, my guess is Lady Evelyn committed a grave mistake in the war.”
“To have spent resources yet lost His Majesty’s trust—how could such a thing happen?”

Whispers that Evelyn was incompetent as head, long muttered beneath the surface, now surged out. The murmur fell silent only when Evelyn herself entered the hall.

The space grew instantly quiet. Evelyn clenched her fists. Clemente was the first to speak.

“His Majesty has named you, my lady, as the reason for rejecting Rippler.”
“…And why should I believe your word?”
“Then you should seek an audience with His Majesty yourself. Why my petition is granted and yours is not, I cannot say.”

Clemente knew better than anyone how irreparably twisted Evelyn’s relationship with Macaron had become. His words, though roundabout, were near to mockery.

But to the elders, ignorant of the truth, Evelyn’s silence looked like irresponsibility. They fired their words at her without restraint.

“The family head’s role is weighty. Surely you understand how crucial the imperial connection is.”
“Without the Empire’s favor, not even Rippler could withstand what comes.”
“If you cannot bear this responsibility, shouldn’t you step down for Rippler’s sake?”

Evelyn forced a calm mask over her face, though beneath the table her clenched fists trembled.

Macaron named me?

Her mind instantly leapt to her own mistakes. Yet in providing military support, she had done nothing wrong. Macaron had not treated her warmly, but neither had he seemed aware of anything.

Could it be he noticed that Calypse left because of me? But how would he know that…?
Did that sly fox Calypse tell him something?

She had only known that Calypse left. But knowing how cunning that woman was, it was entirely possible she had left behind hints for Macaron to interpret.

Grinding her teeth, Evelyn lifted her head. She blamed no one but her own carelessness. Her face smoothed back into calm.

“Don’t worry.”
“How can we not worry, seeing Rippler’s state?”

The elders were no longer listening. Evelyn, who had grown up under their eyes, knew their nature too well. Mere mending of ties with the imperial family would not suffice. She needed a stronger card.

“If I become Empress, then not even His Majesty could treat Rippler lightly.”

As she expected, silence blanketed the chamber. Her shocking words shifted the atmosphere in her favor, drawing murmurs.

But Clemente, who had worked too hard for this chance, would not let go so easily.

“His Majesty not only lacks affection for you—he harbors hostility. How could you ever become Empress?”

He was blunt, but not wrong. None dared refute him. The elders only watched the clash in tense silence. Evelyn nearly struck him, but held it back, feigning serenity with a faint smile.

“Give me one year.”

A rat trapped in a jar must do the impossible to survive.

“Within that time, I will ascend as Empress.”

Clemente smirked.
“We are asking for methods, not vows.”

Evelyn met his gaze, her eyes cold as blades.

“The Crown Princess who did not suit His Majesty is no longer in the palace. His Majesty must choose a new Empress.”

But Clemente was not one to flinch.
“There are countless noble ladies eager to take that position.”

His insolence made Evelyn bite her lip until blood welled. But cornered as she was, she could not give in to emotion—she needed a rebuttal.

“Do you truly fear that I, head of Rippler, would yield the Empress’s seat to some little noble miss?”
“…”
“The fate of Rippler hangs in the balance.”

Evelyn slammed the table with her fist.

“For Rippler’s future, surely you can wait a year, Lord Clemente.”

Most elders seemed inclined to agree with her. Clemente ground his teeth, but Evelyn curved her lips in triumph.

“Let us decide this by vote, according to council principles.”

The vote was held. As expected, she was granted one year.

Evelyn firmly believed that becoming Empress was entirely within her grasp.

You will have no choice but to choose me, Your Majesty.

An arrogant smile spread across her face.