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Chapter 66
“I don’t know either. I’ve been investigating for a long time, but I’ve never gained much from it.”
“Who is the collaborator?”
The Crown Prince, as Wishid had observed, was the type of man who set plans for everything, always preparing a Plan B and even a Plan C.
There was no way he hadn’t planted someone inside the 2nd Knight Order, to which the Second Prince belonged.
“That person doesn’t trust the Duke yet. They told me not to reveal their identity, but…”
“Just knowing that they exist is enough.”
Wishid pulled a coin from his pocket, placed it in front of the old woman, and turned toward the basket of flowers.
“By the way, did the Duke’s lover return to the mansion, or did she go with you on the subjugation?”
Wishid’s hand froze in midair.
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Oh, no particular reason. It’s just that subjugations are overflowing with danger, and since even your younger brother is going along, wouldn’t it be safer for her to stay in my palace until you return…”
“You mean the palace where every meal is carefully prepared and laced with poison?”
“…It seems I made a mistake. May fortune be with you, Duke.”
Unbothered by the murderous intent lingering in the air around him, Wishid reached into the basket—not for the most beautifully blooming flower, but for the most vivid, lively one—and picked it.
Without another glance, he left the alley.
Quite some time had passed; by then, the magic circle had been completed.
Wishid opened the door of the supply wagon.
His eyes met Luna’s, perched on top of the black panther. He extended the flower in his hand toward her.
Caught off guard, Luna accepted the flower with a tilted head.
Wishid caught a glimpse of the necklace around her neck and gave a faint smile.
“Just because. We’ll be leaving soon.”
When they teleported near the Holy Land, the priest the Emperor had mentioned was already waiting.
Because the time was so short and information had been so tightly concealed, Caiman hadn’t been able to find out anything about this priest.
Neither Wishid, nor I, nor Caiman could have predicted this person’s identity.
“Greetings. I am Mikhail.”
Another sub–male lead had made his entrance.
Nestled in Wishid’s arms, I blinked slowly. Mikhail was like the Crown Prince—an insignificant sub–male lead.
But Mikhail betrayed his own faith, secretly helping Swan, and then vanished without a trace. His help was great enough that Swan wanted to express her gratitude, but Mikhail never appeared before her again.
That’s why comment sections were always arguing about who the true sub–male lead was.
The appeal of taboo siblings who weren’t real siblings vs. the appeal of a devout priest abandoning his faith—both deliciously sinful.
Of course, I was the kind of wavering reader who rooted for the Crown Prince when he appeared, and for the Holy Knight when he appeared. Male–lead–only bias, but fickle like reeds in the wind.
Wow, he really does look like a paladin.
If the word “steadfast” were a person, it would probably look exactly like Mikhail.
Not quite at Wishid’s level, but a different kind of handsome altogether.
As the Emperor had said, Mikhail was a priest, but no less impressive than a Holy Knight.
Wait, isn’t it a little much for such a big character to be showing up here?
“…Well, well. If I’d known the next Pope candidate was coming, I would have hurried earlier.”
The Second Prince, stunned, quickly rushed over to shake Mikhail’s hand.
Mikhail looked at the hand, then bowed his head lightly.
“Before the Lord, all men are equal. I have no reason to receive better treatment merely because I am a candidate for the papacy.”
The Second Prince let out an awkward laugh that anyone could see through, patting Mikhail on the shoulder.
“Well then, during the subjugation, you should stay with me. Luckily, my camp has more than enough tents.”
“I also have a tent. I’ll be fine.”
Mikhail firmly brushed aside the prince’s hand and stepped back.
“What is the plan?”
“…”
The Second Prince, knowing nothing of the plan, dropped his hand awkwardly and slunk back to his men.
Instead, Caiman spoke up.
“We’ll rest today and begin tomorrow. Candidate Mikhail, you should also rest.”
Mikhail nodded and went to his spot, quickly erecting a tent.
I realized instantly—
Here, no one would be indulging the Second Prince’s whims.
“Damn them all.”
As soon as he stepped into his tent, the Second Prince cursed, stomping the ground furiously.
One of his retainers quickly picked up the cloak he had thrown aside.
“Your Highness, there are many ears around. Please be mindful of your words.”
“Ha! And what if they hear? They think they can challenge me just because they’ve been given some Holy Land subjugation rights? And that pompous candidate bastard—how dare he act so insolent? I’m a prince! The next Emperor!”
The Second Prince didn’t spare a thought for the Crown Prince.
He was utterly convinced that, despite the First Prince holding the title, he himself would be Emperor.
If this were his own palace, it wouldn’t matter, but here there were many eyes and ears. His retainer floundered, trying to calm him down.
“I understand, Your Highness. But here, the wisest choice is to avoid stirring up trouble.”
“If I were the Crown Prince, I wouldn’t have to tiptoe around fools like that. Why did Father give him the title instead of me, making me suffer these indignities?”
“Your Highness, it may all be His Majesty’s test.”
“A test?”
Still fuming, the prince turned at that.
His retainer, who had survived at his side for years, knew exactly how to soothe him.
“Yes, a Crown Prince qualification test. Of course, Your Highness excels in every way, but His Majesty is the Emperor. No matter how much he cherishes you, he would still need to test you.”
“That’s right… come to think of it, Father has been asking me a lot of questions lately.”
“All of that was part of the test, Your Highness.”
“Then if I achieve results in this subjugation…”
“It will be you who dethrones the First Prince and becomes Crown Prince.”
The Second Prince’s face, previously twisted with irritation, brightened.
“Father must want me to outshine the Duke here and achieve results!”
With eager eyes, he turned to his retainer.
“Bring him here at once.”
The subject was unstated, but the retainer bowed deeply and left the tent.
Moments later, the person who entered was not the retainer, but a knight in a hooded robe.
“You summoned me?”
“Ah, you’re here. Advisor.”
The Second Prince’s eyes scanned the figure up and down.
Every time he heard that voice, he felt an uncanny familiarity and was tempted to rip the hood off to check the face beneath.
He did not trust the Advisor.
To be precise, he disliked him, because of how the Duke of Persia and the Empress were willing to risk everything—even their lives—based on his words alone.
Even when joining the Holy Land subjugation, the Second Prince had only brought him along because of the Empress’s tearful insistence.
Still, whether he liked it or not, the Advisor’s words were often useful. So, lowering his voice, the Second Prince asked:
“What should I do next?”
“Take a deep breath and hold it. Then exhale slowly, imagining that you’re releasing all the impurities in your body.”
I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and held my breath for a moment.
Then slowly exhaled.
Please, please, please…
Praying desperately, I opened my eyes.
But what I saw wasn’t human fingers—
—it was the tiny, jelly–like paw pads of a chinchilla.
