RAL 22

A pleasant Saturday afternoon, with warm sunlight and gentle weather.

A spring breeze carrying the scent of flowers drifted softly through the air, and the chirping of birds could be heard—a truly peaceful moment.

But the Crown Prince’s Palace, where Dvaltin resided, was as always completely indifferent to spring, remaining eerily quiet and desolate on its own.

“……”

Inside the vast office stacked high with books, Dvaltin sat at a large table, fully absorbed in reviewing the mountain of documents piled before him.

The documents varied greatly. Some required approval that seemed excessive even for a crown prince, while others were matters that shouldn’t have needed to reach his level at all.

…The reason Dvaltin willingly took on such hardship was simple.

“Even if you were to sit on the imperial throne tomorrow morning, there must not be the slightest instability. Whether before the highest or the lowest, you must always be perfect. Prove your abilities to everyone.”

He had heard those words from Hella when he was seven years old.

At that time, despite his high status, he was still just a child who had only just begun to enjoy playing outside.

If he had had a normal mother like the other princes, Dvaltin might have grown up enjoying such small, simple pleasures.

But unfortunately, his life never allowed him even that.

“You must always be exceptional.”

While the other princes were only just beginning to hold wooden swords, Dvaltin was already learning to wield real blades, shedding blood in the process.

“Stay ahead so that no one dares to surpass you—or me. If you are my son, that is only natural!”

While they enjoyed their lives and grew at their own pace, he alone had to rush into becoming an adult.

Dvaltin had to lack nothing in every aspect, and he had to be excellent at all times to survive.

No—only then could he be considered a person of value.

And that dreadful habit had continued even now, long after he had reached adulthood.

“…Ha.”

Only after a long time had passed did Dvaltin finish reviewing the final document and let out a short sigh.

What time was it? The last time he had checked the clock was already half a day ago—early dawn.

Looking somewhat fatigued, Dvaltin lifted his head and glanced at the luxurious clock on the table.

“…Asha must have left by now.”

Just last night, Dvaltin had received an urgent message.

“I was invited by Young Master Rio of the Denheldin Ducal House to a party at his residence.”

It was from Celestine Winsel.

“While it’s nice to visit you every day and keep you company, I believe going outside for some fresh air like this can also be quite beneficial. I’ve already sent word to the Imperial Princess Palace. If Your Highness permits it, I would like to attend together with Princess Asha.”

To say he wasn’t taken aback by the sudden mention of a party would have been a complete lie.

Though he hesitated briefly, Dvaltin ultimately granted Celestine’s request.

“Then that means Lady Celestine will be accompanying her, correct?”

Asha had come to see him immediately after receiving the message.

“I want to go too.”

She spoke cautiously.

“She suggested it for my sake, didn’t she? So… I’d like to go.”

It was no exaggeration to say it was the first time he had ever seen Asha so firm about wanting something.

Unlike usual, she seemed slightly excited, clutching Celestine’s letter tightly in her hands—as if it were the most precious jewel in the world.

So Dvaltin told her:

“I’ll inform my attendants about your outfit and accessories, so go ahead and attend.”

“…If you can make new friends through this opportunity, that wouldn’t be so bad either.”

If Asha’s suffocating life in the palace could improve even a little, his worries for her would lessen.

Besides, Asha had her own life. Dvaltin wanted her world, currently painted in dull colors, to shine with something more vibrant.

Because she was his most precious family.

Because she was his beloved younger sister.

“I am worried… but she’ll manage.”

Yes. She would.

Dvaltin murmured to himself as he lowered Celestine’s letter onto the table—

“Your Highness! It’s Whisner!”

At the sudden voice, Dvaltin paused and looked up.

“Enter.”

No sooner had he spoken than Whisner hurried in, his expression unusually stiff.

It was rare for Whisner, who always wore a smile, to look like that.

A bad feeling crept in.

“The matter you were worried about has happened.”

“…What?”

“It seems Her Majesty the Empress has begun investigating Lady Celestine.”

“….”

“The Winsel Count’s family as well. It appears she has been tracking both Lady Celestine and Count Winsel’s movements over the past few days.”

Damn it.

Dvaltin bit his lip lightly.

“I’ve just returned from Lete, the establishment run by the Count. You remember, Your Highness? You instructed us to station people around that area.”

The day Yeriel had angrily imprisoned Celestine and her father over George’s death—

After rescuing them, that had been the first thing Dvaltin did.

“One of the knights disguised as a merchant reported seeing someone—whom he had encountered several times at the imperial palace—continuing to investigate there.”

“…So she even knows that George went to Lete with Celestine Winsel on my birthday.”

“Yes.”

Whisner answered, his face slightly pale.

“Though Your Highness handled the matter thoroughly that day, it seems Her Majesty still found something suspicious.”

There was no way Hella could have overlooked the fact that Dvaltin had freed Celestine and her father from prison.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that every single event in the imperial palace—no matter how small—reached her ears.

So Dvaltin had acted preemptively.

“Greg Winsel commands more influence than I initially thought. If his house were unjustly entangled in this matter and suffered consequences, it would certainly lead to undesirable outcomes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable argument, one that anyone would find sound. In truth, although Greg only held the title of count, his family was one of the most influential in Yeshua.

“And Celestine Winsel is his only daughter, whom he treasures deeply. If anything were to happen to her, he would also…”

“You mean the young lady who became Princess Asha’s companion?”

“…Yes, that is correct.”

“Then why did you place her beside Princess Asha?”

“At the debutante, Princess Asha happened to meet Celestine Winsel.”

“And?”

“As Your Majesty has always said, I intend to distance myself from Princess Asha. She offers me no benefit.”

“……”

“So I placed Celestine Winsel, someone she was already acquainted with, by her side. A final courtesy. There is no other reason.”

Hella gave no reply.

She merely stared at her son with burning red eyes.

From the beginning, she had disliked Dvaltin being close to Asha. A neglected princess who was of no use could offer him nothing.

He had done as she wanted, and claimed it was to prevent Yeshua’s nobility from fracturing over George’s death.

It was, by all means, an excellent justification—especially one devised in just half a day.

But the problem was that his opponent was Hella.

“…What shall we do?”

Whisner asked, looking at the silent Dvaltin.

Dvaltin’s hand, resting on his firm thigh, clenched into a tight fist.

…He could pretend not to know.

After all, he had rescued Celestine and done everything he could afterward.

And Hella hadn’t made a move yet. Perhaps it was just an investigation, nothing more.

“I was only worried about Your Highness.”

However…

“Please remember this—there may come a day when someone appears who shows you kindness, worries for you, and struggles to help you… all without asking for anything in return.”

For some reason, Celestine’s words from that day suddenly echoed in his ears.

“Y-Your Highness!”

As Dvaltin abruptly rose from his seat, Whisner flinched in surprise.

“Prepare the horses.”

“…Pardon?”

“We’re going to the Denheldin Ducal House. Immediately.”