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chapter 33
“Chase, how do I look? Do I look presentable?”
Claude stood in front of the full-length mirror, checking his reflection over and over.
He normally didn’t fuss over his appearance this much, but his anxiety kept his feet glued to the floor in front of the mirror.
“You look perfect, Your Highness. Very neat and courteous, but not flashy—just right.”
Knowing how nervous Claude was, Chase exaggerated his praise more than usual.
Claude forced a smile, but his unease didn’t go away easily.
He had dressed carefully in a white blouse, beige silk trousers, and a navy jacket to appear as clean and composed as possible.
The only thing different from usual was his hair. Instead of sweeping back his silver hair to expose his forehead—as he usually did at important moments—he let it fall forward, partly covering his eyes.
Claude believed that to read someone’s thoughts, one had to look into their eyes. And he didn’t want his own anxiety to be exposed.
“You’ll… be fine, Your Highness,” Chase whispered from behind him, knowing the meaning of that gesture, trying to encourage him. Even raising his voice seemed too dangerous; he was just as tense.
“If you’re ready, Your Highness, I’ll escort you—”
“No, I’ll go alone.”
“Pardon? At least allow me to accompany you to the greenhouse.”
“I want to go by myself.”
“…Understood. Please be careful.”
Claude left the palace with heavy steps, heading toward the artificial greenhouse. The imperial greenhouse was behind the Emperor’s palace, quite far from Claude’s own western residence.
Though it would’ve been natural to go with Chase, Claude didn’t want to show anyone his unease.
“Good day, Your Highness.”
“Yes, good day.”
Servants passing by bowed to Claude, and he returned their greetings with a smile as usual. But inside, it was a different story.
Only Claude himself could feel the weight inside him—his steps were heavy, and his gaze kept dropping to the floor.
“Don’t shrink back.”
He finally stopped, took a deep breath, and steadied himself.
“The moment I’ve been preparing for has come. I have to seize it.”
The more he urged himself on, the stiffer his face grew. Managing his expression while fighting his anxiety was suffocating—until suddenly, Iba’s voice popped into his head.
“I’ll give you room and board cheap. Just come with me.”
“Pfft.”
An unexpected laugh escaped him, and the tension melted away instantly.
Just the memory of Iba’s voice was enough to unravel his anxiety.
“If I miss this chance, I’ll just have to make the young lady take responsibility for me.”
Thinking of the cheerful Iba naturally brought another voice to mind.
“I cannot say.”
Remembering Rai’s defiant gaze, Claude finally returned to his usual self.
He straightened his shoulders and back, lifted his chin confidently, and smiled leisurely—the way he always did when confidence flowed naturally from him.
“No… I should bind the young lady to my side.”
Muttering to himself, he arrived at the greenhouse.
He ran his hand through his hair, sweeping it back and revealing his forehead and eyes clearly.
“Greetings, Your Highness Claude.”
The guard at the greenhouse entrance bowed.
“Is he inside?”
“Yes, please go in.”
It had been a while since he last came here. He strolled inside, glancing leisurely at the greener, taller plants.
“You’re here.”
In the sunniest spot at the center of the greenhouse, a middle-aged man reclined in a wooden rocking chair, reading a book.
“I greet His Imperial Majesty, the Sun of Begen Agei.”
It was his father, Emperor Advan Begen Elihu.
“It’s been a while.”
Advan didn’t even look up, flipping a page as he acknowledged him.
Even so, Claude bowed deeply and respectfully.
Advan’s silver hair—the symbol of the imperial family—and his sharp blue eyes radiated authority. Though in his fifties, his discipline made his gaze alone overwhelming.
“Sit.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Claude sat on a wooden chair a little apart from him.
“Fene’s delegation sent a letter of thanks and gifts, saying they enjoyed the reception. You did well.”
Advan spoke while still looking at his book.
“It was only thanks to Your Majesty’s trust in me. I am grateful.”
“Brigitte, the delegation leader, actively expressed a desire for friendship. I think we may soon discuss trade.”
“Truly? If it’s our first trade with the Fene Empire, then surely winter herbs—”
At the mention of herbs, Advan finally lifted his gaze. Their eyes met, and Claude flinched, quickly apologizing.
“My apologies. I spoke out of turn before Your Majesty made a decision.”
“No, continue.”
Advan even closed his book, focusing on him. That encouraging gesture made Claude realize—this was his chance.
His voice grew steadier.
“I’ve heard that herbs from Fene, grown in harsh, cold climates, are exceptionally potent. If it were me, I would trade herbs first.”
“Then what should we trade in return to gain profit?”
“Our textiles, Your Majesty.”
“Textiles?”
Claude didn’t look away.
“In colder regions, they use more fabric for thick clothing and shoes. Our kingdom produces textiles cheaply and easily, so it would bring us profit.”
“Hmm.”
“I believe it’s an advantageous exchange.”
Claude finished clearly, waiting for Advan’s judgment. For once, he felt confident in how firmly he’d spoken.
“Kyle said glass. What do you think?”
Kyle was the First Prince, Claude’s older brother, and the favored heir. Without hesitation, Claude replied calmly.
“Even if transported safely by ship, glass breaks too easily. It’s not suitable even as a gift.”
“And if packaging reduced that risk?”
“Individual packaging requires too much labor and cost. Even if it arrived safely and brought profit, the preparation time would limit the quantity.”
Claude finished firmly. For a moment, his composure faltered—because Advan smiled at him as though proud.
Startled, Claude blinked, but when he looked again, Advan’s face was back to its usual blank expression. Perhaps he had imagined it.
“Claude.”
At the Emperor’s gentle call, Claude straightened.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You played a very large part in this success.”
It was the first direct praise he had ever heard from his father. His lips almost curled up uncontrollably, and he struggled to hold them down.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I hear everything about your efforts to support the palace while staying in the west wing.”
What Claude wanted most was for Advan to acknowledge him. He had always wished his father would recognize his worth, even from afar.
And now he realized Advan had known it all along. Childhood memories of striving for his father’s attention flashed before his eyes.
Claude felt his composure break, his chest tightening.
“I will give you another chance to prove your worth. Remain patient, as you have been.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I will wait.”
If such words of praise awaited him, he could wait forever.
“During the recent Imperial Assembly, Lady Blanche was mentioned.”
“Yes, I heard.”
“My aide Flah suggested she could be trusted with another imperial event. What do you think?”
At once, Claude thought of Iba, secretly planning her midnight escape. He almost laughed, his calm slipping again.
“She is also a friend of my aide Chase, whom I brought here with some difficulty. I’m not sure she would take on another task.”
“I see.”
“But if it is for Your Majesty, she would fulfill it with greater responsibility than anyone.”
Advan watched Claude carefully, noting the subtle warmth in his expression at the mention of Iba.
“I’ll take note of that.”
“Your Majesty, Your Highness Claude—” Flah, the Emperor’s long-serving aide of thirty years, entered the greenhouse. “It is nearly time for your dinner with Princess Julian.”
“Is it? Then it’s time to see my little one.”
At Julian’s name, Advan’s face broke into a smile. Claude, however, felt a pang.
He had to strive so hard to earn even a single word of praise, while Julian made the Emperor smile simply by existing. For a fleeting moment, Claude wished he had been born a princess instead.
When Advan rose, Claude immediately followed.
“Let us go see my little one.”
The Imperial Palace dining hall—at long last, the entire imperial family was gathered.
The Emperor, Empress, and consorts. The married princes with their wives. Claude. All together, waiting for Julian.
They chatted pleasantly, exchanging greetings. But each thought the same: without Julian, they would never all gather like this.
The warmth in their voices was but a façade.
Finally, a servant’s voice rang out:
“Her Highness Princess Julian arrives.”
She entered, dressed extravagantly for a mere dinner.
“I greet His Imperial Majesty!”
She wore a sky-blue dress studded with jewels, her half-up hair adorned with dangling ornaments that dazzled the eyes.
Her heels were higher than usual, making her wobble slightly, like a child dressed in clothes that didn’t fit.
Claude felt a strange déjà vu at the sight.
Then he realized: her outfit resembled the dress Iba had worn at their meal a few days ago.
Suddenly, Julian seemed utterly unfamiliar. Though she shared his silver hair and blue eyes, though she was his one and only younger sister—she felt like a stranger.
“Come closer, Juli.”
“Welcome, Julian. Sit here.”
Everyone but him greeted her naturally, warmly.
That, too, struck Claude as odd.
Confused, he simply gazed at Julian. She only smiled brightly in return.
