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Chapter 12
The ducal mansion was not far from the Imperial Palace to begin with.
The palace itself was nothing short of magnificent. Outside, there were vast gardens and several palatial buildings of grand scale.
The palaces were made of white marble, and their domed roofs were ruby red.
The roads for carriages were wide and well-maintained, and the Imperial Knights who guarded the palace moved in perfect order, while the servants conducted themselves with utmost decorum.
Inside was even more impressive.
Doors, pillars, and ceilings were engraved with meticulous carvings and decorations, and the spiral staircases gave the illusion of being in a labyrinth.
The ceiling depicted the founding myth of the empire.
Several statues of armored knights were lined up, and one of them gave the illusion of being alive, even though it was certainly hollow inside.
Lecalyn guided my slightly dazed self toward the grand conference hall on the third floor.
I wanted to get lost in the surrounding scenery along the way, but the setting was so flawlessly realized that there was no time to compare it to my imagination.
Creak—
Because we had arrived early, there were only a few people in the hall. But to my memorized eye, they were familiar faces.
“Long time no see, Duke. Or should I say… now Royal Mage?”
A man spoke the moment Lecalyn entered.
He was dressed in a red cravat, blue vest, and green coat—a horrendous fashion sense for a middle-aged man. He was the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Duke Lutigus, a representative of the capital’s nobility.
Rather than a minister, he looked more like a knight commander—strong and solidly built.
Despite his appearance, he was probably a mage. People often mistook him for a warrior.
Although strands of white hair appeared here and there, his unique cheerful charisma overshadowed it. Lecalyn pinched his brow in response and said:
“Long time no see.”
“Haha, don’t make that unhappy face. Fashion is a matter of taste.”
Respecting taste is one thing, but his was clearly extreme.
“And calling me ‘Royal Mage’? That’s rude. What about Sir Cires—why are you addressing me like this?”
“Oh, so proper as always, have your ears gone deaf already? Haven’t you heard that your chronic illness has worsened?”
Even when mocked for being unaware of current affairs, Lecalyn remained perfectly composed.
“That’s not a reason to retire.”
“Those who know understand. You’ll step down soon. Then wouldn’t you become the next Royal Mage?”
Only Archmages could become Royal Mages. Including Sir Cires, there were only two Archmages in the empire.
“No. I am satisfied with my current position.”
“Isn’t being a Royal Mage more honorable than being an advisor?”
Too much power concentrated in one person was dangerous. If he became Royal Mage, the advisory position would naturally go to someone else.
The Royal Mage also had no obligation to attend regular council meetings. On the surface, it seemed like a lighter workload, but the Royal Mage had many public duties.
Seeing how he was pressing the matter, I wondered—did the Minister of Foreign Affairs want to exclude Lecalyn from meetings or simply annoy him? Or both? I speculated unnecessarily at his quarrelsome attitude.
The minister seemed about to say more, but Lecalyn cut him off with a sharp tone:
“Let’s discuss that during the meeting.”
“Ah, very well.”
With that, the conversation ended for the time being, and Lecalyn turned to greet the next people: an elderly, stern Marchioness of Justice and a middle-aged Count of Finance.
‘Duke, Marquis, Count, in order.’
The seating arrangement resembled a domino layout. Lecalyn passed the three ministers and sat in his own seat.
As the meeting time approached, more people streamed into the hall. Lecalyn and the ministers stopped their conversation and composed themselves.
Looking at the packed hall, I understood why Lecalyn had me memorize the names of the capital’s nobles.
Nowadays, commoners participated more in politics, but the capital nobility had mostly come from the provinces, leaving their lands behind to devote themselves fully to politics.
Therefore, they almost always attended regular meetings and occupied the same seats.
Soon, the Chancellor entered—he was the last to arrive. The three great dukes of the empire were now in the conference hall.
It was as if the saying “work as much as you hold in your hands” applied here, yet the lineup was luxurious.
He entered through a small door behind the emperor’s seat, not the grand open gates.
In his hand was a crystal orb the size of a grown man’s head.
As he fiddled with it, a crackling sound emerged, and a face appeared.
“Greetings, everyone.”
Standing behind Lecalyn, I could see the face clearly and paused my breath.
He was the infamous Blood Emperor, notorious for seizing the throne through purges and atrocities, and a Sword Master famed for unparalleled skill.
Violes Le Din Hagaia.
The main character of the original story.
Even a brief glance at his face in the crystal orb revealed a strikingly handsome man. The top-quality magical crystal made his image perfectly transparent.
His wine-colored eyes shone with sharpened intelligence, like a fine aged liquor.
What caught my attention most were his eyebrows—a primal red, as if reflecting the color of blood flowing through human veins.
“Shall we begin the meeting?”
His gloved hand, resting on his chin, somehow gave off the scent of iron.
The aura of a finely honed sword fell over the hall, silencing it.
The narrative in the original story matched my impression.
“Then the first agenda item…”
There was a reason the emperor himself did not appear in the hall.
He was on leave at a secondary palace in the Hraen region.
The Hraen area was known for the Merden Forest, and he was surely surrounded by gentle sunlight, lush greenery, and beautiful spring trees.
Although some would consider it negligent to be away from the capital during a busy spring, I knew it was connected to the emperor’s childhood trauma.
As someone responsible for the empire, he might deserve criticism, but trauma is human, and there was nothing anyone could say.
Honestly, in a strictly hierarchical society, no one could really complain. Who would argue that the emperor was resting at a secondary palace?
This was part of why I was carrying out the Love Cupid Project.
In the original story, he fell for Kalian immediately, and now, with Kalian not meeting him, I intended to connect him with Lecalyn instead.
Fortunately, the crystal orb allowed the meeting to proceed safely. Documents were teleported in for approval, and the process went smoothly.
During the meeting, I quickly jotted down information in my personal notebook, combining what I had memorized with what I observed in the hall.
Lecalyn glanced at my notebook, giving a faint expression that suggested approval. My actions had been correct.
He subtly introduced me to the nobles as he greeted them in the order I had noted, giving me an opportunity to form connections. I thanked him and exchanged greetings, repeating the process during short breaks.
In my previous life, even a “black company” had a society pushing for class abolition. I only had to focus on work and relationships with awful superiors and coworkers.
Here, the class system was strict, making navigating social relationships more difficult.
Still, I survived using my absorbed memories and a flexible face. Connections were never bad, no matter how few.
“Last agenda item.”
The meeting was nearing its end.
I expected heated debates among the elites, but the agenda items passed surprisingly quickly.
Whether it was because agreements had been prearranged, or everyone simply wanted to leave, no one could tell.
“Royal Mage, Sir Cires sent me the documents directly. Please approve them.”
“What documents?”
“Sick leave. His chronic illness flared up again. Two weeks of rest should suffice.”
Lecalyn looked satisfied at the emperor’s response, while the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ expression stiffened.
Retirement aside, things hadn’t gone as the minister had expected.
“During Sir Cires’ sick leave, increase palace security. That should conclude the meeting.”
The emperor’s face faded from the crystal orb, becoming hazy.
His voice was imperial and commanding, yet dignified, able to dominate while guiding those around him.
I watched the orb until it completely dimmed, noticing the lingering deep red of the emperor’s eyes like an afterimage.
It was magnetic, like a black hole pulling people in.
Once the meeting ended, the hall quickly emptied. We were among the last to leave, along with the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Before leaving, the minister spoke to Lecalyn:
“Shame. You could have gained even greater honor.”
“You already have more than enough.”
I recalled all of Lecalyn’s current titles and positions: Duke of Montenium, one of only two Archmages, advisor to the council, close friend of the emperor… truly overwhelming.
The minister gave a sour smile:
“I wish you’d share some of that.”
I added a note about him in my notebook—he seemed to harbor strange hostility toward Lecalyn.
As we left the palace, the sun was setting. I reviewed plans regarding the emperor’s return.
He would be back from Hraen in about a month and a half.
In the original story, many unfair situations occurred. That month might bring them closer, but it wasn’t enough to make them lovers.
After all, the emperor flirted with the friend’s love interest immediately.
‘Anyway, now it’s me.’
I would protect both Lecalyn’s love and friendship.
As I turned my head toward the window, I noticed something collapsed on the street.
It looked like a small lump, but approaching the carriage, I could see it clearly.
A rabbit—a small, chocolate-colored lop-eared rabbit.
The rabbit was curled up, wounded. People passed by without noticing. Anger welled up inside me. No one would show it kindness?
“Duke, could you stop the carriage for a moment?”
“What—”
“Just for a moment! Please!”
“…Very well.”
As soon as the carriage stopped, I opened the door and hurried to the rabbit, carefully lifting it.
“No one has any compassion. How can they just ignore this?”
[That’s how society works.]
After returning to the carriage with the rabbit, Lecalyn gave me a curious look.
“Advisor, what is that in your hands?”
“Can’t you see? It’s a rabbit.”
“A rabbit? I see nothing at all.”
The carriage moved, and my heart sank. The flapping of Riventa’s wings filled my ears.
Nothing at all?
The sensation was vivid—how could he not see it?
“This… it can’t be.”
I stretched my arm to bring it closer to Lecalyn, but his puzzled expression only deepened.
[It’s Shuivan, the Earth Spirit. Not just a rabbit. It has repeatedly made contracts like me.]
Of course. No wonder no one paid attention. If a cute rabbit were collapsed on the street, surely someone would glance at it.
I alternated awkwardly between looking at Shuivan and Lecalyn. Lecalyn, however, seemed to have a hint of understanding.
“I saw the advisor last night. On the balcony, clearing their head. Speaking into the void.”
“Gah.”
“Then a bird appeared with a chain of light, and vanished again. My guess is it relates to the rabbit the advisor mentioned.”
Riventa and I rolled our eyes. Should we claim I was talking to a ghost, or call myself a spirit caster?
We soon made a decision: spirit caster sounded better than ghost-seeing advisor. I exhaled and began:
“Well… the truth is—”
