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Chapter : 14
“I heard that on graduation day, they leave behind a commemorative portrait. It’s because graduating from the academy is so difficult.”
But even that final attempt at bragging lost its strength the moment the Duke spoke.
“Now that you mention it… there should be one stored at home.”
“Dad, you have a painting?”
“The art department kept begging me to let them draw me. I had no choice but to accept.”
“I wanna see it! A popular person’s painting!”
Elisha’s eyes sparkled, and the Duke awkwardly smiled, then ordered a servant to bring the painting.
The moment the servant returned, Elisha stuck herself right in front of it.
In the portrait, the Duke—wearing graduation robes—had an elderly man’s arm around his shoulders. The two stood side by side, smiling warmly, looking unusually close.
“Who is this uncle next to Dad?”
“That is my teacher. He has now retired, but when I was a student, he taught me many things.”
Only a few seconds passed before Orbian recognized the old man’s identity—and was utterly shocked.
‘No way… Count Serkel?’
He was the academy’s most renowned professor in military studies.
When he taught, students swarmed to his lectures like clouds trying to get a seat.
But he was famously stern, never smiled, and held both himself and his students to harsh standards—earning him the nickname “Iron Professor.”
Yet beside the Duke, he looked like a gentle grandfather.
‘…Th-this can’t be real!’
The Duke didn’t seem like the type to lie about something like this. So that relationship must be real.
Still unable to believe it, Orbian stared blankly at the painting.
Meanwhile, Elisha kept alternating her gaze between the painting and the Duke, exclaiming in admiration.
“Shiny shiny, so sparkly!”
“That’s the graduation robe only the top student is allowed to wear. Does it suit me?”
“Yes! Dad is the best!”
The Duke laughed happily.
Glenn, meanwhile, turned to the servant and demanded:
“Where’s my portrait? Bring mine as well!”
“I’m afraid… I believe yours was disposed of, sir.”
“Why?!”
Because you told us to.
The servant muttered silently.
Glenn didn’t notice the disrespect, but perhaps remembering something unpleasant, he clutched his forehead and groaned.
“Then my graduation cap! Bring that instead!”
“That was also discarded, sir.”
“Aaaagh!”
After screaming for a while, Glenn straightened himself.
“What about the academy? Isn’t there any clothing left?”
“It is not graduation season, so… likely not…”
“Then the tailor shop! They must accept custom orders! Spare no expense—make it the most extravagant, most eye-catching outfit possible!”
“Yes, sir!”
The servant left with a determined expression, as if embarking on a sacred mission. There was a faint aura of fanatic urgency about him.
‘This place is insane…’
He just wanted to go home. When could he leave?
Viscount Galteng clenched his fists tightly, resisting the urge to collapse onto the table.
Then—poke.
A finger jabbed his side.
It was Glenn.
“Any other stories?”
“Pardon?”
“About the academy. It’s been a while since I’ve heard such nostalgic… memories.”
Glenn’s eyes burned with a desperate desire to be praised by his granddaughter.
The Viscount suppressed the urge to scream and lowered his head.
‘There are none, you devil!’
A silent scream echoed deep within him.
The plan to inflate the Viscount’s ego had been going well.
‘That’s what I thought…’
“I once wore that graduation cap proudly!”
“So what? That hat must’ve turned to dust by now. That’s time for you—it takes away your hair and gives you belly fat instead.”
“You little—”
The problem was that the Duke and the old man had joined in, completely derailing his bragging.
“Then Grandpa, do you have a belly now?”
“I do not!”
With attention split between the two of them, the Viscount couldn’t find a moment to boast.
The plan had technically failed—but strangely, I wasn’t disappointed.
Because I had learned something new about him.
‘He’s someone who fills his low self-esteem with a need for validation.’
The key evidence was how he kept asking Claude things like, “What do you think, Your Highness?”
Unable to insert himself into the Duke and Glenn’s conversation, he kept poking Claude to confirm his superiority.
‘Then let’s poke him from another angle.’
I only reacted to the Duke and Glenn’s words, while subtly nudging Claude—his only lifeline.
“Your Highness also thinks Dad is the best in the world, right?”
“What nonsense!”
The Viscount immediately reacted, terrified of losing his place in the rankings inside Claude’s mind.
“Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”
But Claude didn’t take the bait.
“Viscount, restrain yourself. We are here to ask for assistance.”
The Viscount grumbled, but shut his mouth under Glenn’s gaze.
I had thought he might have more patience than expected—but that restraint seemed to break the moment he was cut off from the Duke’s household atmosphere.
That evening.
From Mary, who guided the guests to their rooms, we heard something interesting.
“The Viscount said, ‘Based on my observations! Those people have no intention of aligning with us! So let us leave at once!’”
What a reckless man.
Did he not think about how his words might come back to bite him later?
‘Though it probably means he was badly offended.’
In any case, the Viscount’s outburst worked in our favor.
“Then the Viscount said that, and His Highness?”
“Did he agree?”
“No.”
Mary smiled.
“His Highness said, ‘The Duke did not answer. Is it not worth waiting?’”
“Th-that means…?”
“He plans to stay a few more days! Isn’t that great?”
Mary clapped her hands sincerely, delighted. I forced an awkward smile and nodded.
But the moment she left, I bit my lower lip.
‘Of course. Claude wouldn’t leave so easily.’
His situation was, without exaggeration, disastrous.
His mother, the Empress, was dead. His maternal grandfather—who should have been his support—had retreated to his estate, drowning in grief.
He had no real faction backing him, nor any outstanding abilities yet. It would be eight more years before he awakened his fire ability.
Meanwhile, the Empress faction was growing stronger by the day, supported by the Second Prince.
To them, Claude was nothing but an obstacle to their chosen successor. That was why his life was under constant threat.
He had come here as a last attempt to grab any lifeline he could.
Thinking of that, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for an eight-year-old child…
But what could I do? I had my own life to protect.
Claude was the protagonist of this world. He would eventually survive and become its victor.
But I was different. My life—and many others, including the Duke’s—depended on how this situation turned out.
‘I have to protect it.’
And I can.
…At least, for now.
I walked past Claude.
Even as I muttered that it couldn’t be helped, a tight heaviness settled in my chest.
