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chapter 17
Dantes’s masseter twitched violently. He had clenched his molars tight. The anger rising from deep in his core refused to be contained. Barely suppressing his emotions, he continued speaking.
“Who gave you permission to call Roberto Brida ‘hyung’? Did he allow that?”
“Yes!”
“What?”
“Roberto-hyung said the title ‘sir’ doesn’t suit him. Because he’s a prisoner. But when I called him hyung, he didn’t tell me not to. He doesn’t usually say whether he likes or dislikes something.”
Hearing the boy speak as though he knew something, Dantes was dumbfounded. Monterno didn’t know a damn thing about Roberto Brida—that, Dantes was sure of.
And yet this boy dared to act as if he could teach Dantes about Roberto. The feeling was indescribably irritating.
What bothered him most was that Monterno seemed fond of Roberto, calling him with such a familiar title as “hyung.” No matter that Roberto was now a prisoner—in truth, he should have stood as Dantes’s aide, one of the highest-ranking knights in Delion. He was not some back-alley thug for a seventeen-year-old to trail after, calling “big brother.”
Dantes resented the ease with which Monterno treated Roberto. If Roberto were not a prisoner, someone like Monterno wouldn’t even dare speak to him.
What went on in this boy’s head? Why approach Roberto, whom others feared so deeply? With what hidden agenda? The frustration made Dantes want to summon Gunter right then and have him hammer discipline into Monterno—so harshly that the boy would never again utter Roberto’s name.
But the situation didn’t allow it. Roberto was the Empire’s infamous criminal, convicted of insulting the Imperial House—a scandal that had shaken all of Delion. And the one who had shaped that public sentiment was none other than Dantes himself.
He forced himself to control his emotions. Monterno was only seventeen. Of course Roberto would seem fascinating to them. But this could not continue. It had to be cut off.
“You do this knowing he is Delion’s criminal? Do you not realize that even harboring such feelings, let alone voicing them before me, is itself an insult to the Imperial House?”
“But Roberto-hyung’s charges are flimsy! Isn’t he just a trainee knight who disappeared before his promotion? Calling that ‘insulting the throne’—I always thought it was too severe.”
“Too severe?”
Dantes did not raise his voice, but his frown darkened. Monterno thought this expression was far more frightening than if he had shouted or smashed something.
“What do you think you know? You know nothing. And you never will.”
“…”
“So keep your mouth shut. Don’t show interest. This is not a matter for children like you.”
Dantes suppressed his fury in silence. He was trying not to use harsh words on a boy, but his grip was too strong—crack!—the desk beneath his hand split.
Cesario quickly pulled Monterno toward the door. Monterno realized once again just how chilling an adult’s restrained anger could be.
Dantes stripped his words of emotion, trying to speak only rationally. The boy was still a child, after all.
“Roberto Brida is still a criminal awaiting judgment. A passing small fry like you gains nothing by being involved. For your family’s sake, restrain yourself.”
“Your Majesty. Monterno Aventurine is but a child. Your words are too…”
“Silence, Cesario. I am not finished.”
“…”
“I am not your father, nor your friend. If you’ve forgotten who I am, remember well. And remember that you are a noble of Delion, bound to obey me.”
Though they were far from the capital, this was still Delion’s soil. Beyond his irritation, Dantes genuinely wanted Monterno to grow into a worthy lord of his house.
“Your Majesty, what you say is true, but will this boy even understand right now? Let it go.”
“Marco is right. He’s too frightened already,” Cesario added. A lecture only worked when the listener was in a state to absorb it.
But Dantes knew half-hearted lessons never stuck. He wanted to leave a firm warning.
“I will not take you with me. Whether you go to the capital or not is for you and Baron Aventurine to decide. But at the very least, you must answer for defending a traitor who insulted the throne in front of your liege.”
“What? You’ll punish my father?”
“No. Why should your father suffer for your crime?”
“Th-that’s a relief then…”
“A relief? Even when I speak of punishment? Now I see just how lightly you take your emperor.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Marco. Once our luggage is ready, we depart immediately. Monterno Aventurine will remain under his house’s custody—imprisoned—until we reach the capital and enter the Imperial Palace.”
“What? You really won’t take me? But I’m a magician!”
Monterno raised his voice in disbelief. Dantes tilted his head and replied.
“And what of it?”
“…What?”
“There’s nothing new about this. Delion will not collapse for lack of a single magician. Whether your magic is real or a sham, I care nothing.”
“…”
Dantes’s last words came cool and flat.
“I simply don’t like you. At all.”
Monterno’s eyes went wide at the blunt dismissal. He had thought Dantes would at least see him as useful. But Dantes was not one to tolerate risks—better to discard than attempt to polish.
As Monterno stammered, unable to defend himself, Cesario shoved him out toward the door.
“Wait, I still have something to—”
“His Majesty has no interest in hearing it.”
“You really won’t take me with you?”
Monterno was shaken by a decision so far from his expectations. He had imagined he might not be taken, but assumed he could always follow anyway. Yet imprisonment? Cesario looked at the boy’s resentful face and said firmly:
“You are still a child. Be grateful your house will not suffer for your insolence. Today you spoke and acted so arrogantly that His Majesty would be within rights to strike off your head without anyone daring to protest.”
“…”
“And you, Baron—behind the pillar—you understand my meaning?”
At those words, Baron Aventurine stepped out, pale-faced. The chamber’s poor soundproofing meant he had likely overheard everything. Dantes had surely spoken loud enough for him to hear.
“L-Lord Wood, we only—”
“No excuses. I know the Aventurine family aided in transporting this criminal. But you forget—”
“…”
“No one of your house may look upon His Majesty the Emperor’s face. You may not converse, nor make requests. That alone would justify taking all your lives. Such is the law of the throne.”
Cesario’s tone was grave. Monterno’s behavior would have been unthinkable in the capital. Only because Dantes had abandoned rigid court etiquette outside the palace had such impropriety been tolerated at all.
But Cesario Wood, eldest son of a family famed for strict decorum, could not overlook it. The Baron’s face turned ashen. Swept up by the young emperor’s informal manner, he had forgotten himself. Remembering his actions, his jaw trembled.
“I-I have committed a capital offense, Lord Wood. Please, allow me the chance to apologize directly—”
“No. I mean the opposite. Do not show yourselves until we are gone. And keep your son contained. If we see Monterno Aventurine anywhere along our road—”
“…”
“I will take his life with my own hand.”
Cesario’s long, narrow eyes flashed coldly. The very air seemed to chill with his words. Slamming the door, he left them behind. Even after he was gone, the corridor remained icy.
Rosellina had no idea what was happening above. The underground prison was silent. She did not trouble herself with Monterno Aventurine’s fate. That was now Dantes and his companions’ matter.
Once, she might have been thrilled to take part in shaping Delion’s future, to share in such grave national decisions.
But not anymore.
After meeting the Four Musketeers again face-to-face, Rosellina had come to see her own place clearly. She felt the distance keenly. It wasn’t that they treated her differently—time had simply placed them in separate worlds.
Now, she thought only of how to leave them with the least pain.
First, they must never learn she was a woman.
Second, they must lose nothing because of her.
When we reach the capital, I must slip away. If I cannot, then I must die somehow—leaving nothing behind.
For now, she could still face Dantes. But the closer they drew to the capital, the further apart they would be. He belonged at the very top, while she was buried beneath, in the deepest shadows.
In Senreita, Delion’s capital, freedom would vanish. Rules would grow only stricter. Perhaps it was only thanks to her friends that she had once managed to survive in that abandoned house on the edge of the city.
She would return there. And then, naturally, Roberto would exist once more, to accept the past’s punishment and die.
In that place, Dantes would not be able to come see Roberto, even if he wished to. He must not, for any reason. It was the fragile beginning of his reign—he could not risk it.
Marco, Cesario, Gunter—you must support him well. Make him give me up. Don’t let Dantes be wounded any further.
Rosellina swallowed those words unspoken.
At that moment, something rolled across the floor—clink, clink, clink. Metal balls bounced, and smoke began to spread.
A smoke bomb?
Rosellina shot to her feet, shoved her fingers into her mouth, and blew a sharp whistle.
It was the danger signal she had used long ago.
