TFR 21

chapter 21

After a short sleep, Dantes headed down to the underground prison.
Marco, whose arm was still unwell, volunteered to escort him while grumbling at his side.

“Really? You couldn’t hold back even a little and just had to rush, rush.”

“I told you to be ready.”

“I would, but Gunter already finished everything, so I’ve got nothing to do. Besides, with your arm like that, if Cesario finds out I let you go to the underground prison alone, can you imagine how much I’ll get nagged?”

“You don’t even care when he nags.”

“Of course I don’t care. But it’s still annoying!”

Marco quickly got over his irritation, as he always did. He never held grudges, and his nature was simple. That was one of the things Dantes valued most about him.

He didn’t try too hard to stop Dantes from going to Roberto. Cesario would have been absolutely against it, but Marco realized quickly that it was useless. Better to let Dantes face him and do whatever he wanted in front of everyone’s eyes.

“Isn’t there any way we can get Roberto treated by a doctor without anyone knowing?”

“There is. The problem is Roberto refuses.”

“Why is he like this? He doesn’t listen to a single thing I say. Does he even understand that I’m the Emperor?”

Dantes shouted in frustration. He couldn’t tell if Roberto was doing this out of guilt toward him, or simply out of disregard.

To refuse medical treatment because it might put the Emperor in a difficult position for breaking Imperial law? Dantes couldn’t understand. Roberto had already trampled all over his heart and run away for six years.

Compared to that wound, the attacks from the old nobles were nothing.

‘Where did he learn how to set my insides on fire like this?’

At this point, it almost felt absurd. When they reached the entrance of the Aventurin family’s underground prison, Marco stopped.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

“You’re not coming in?”

“Someone has to watch for Cesario. I told Gunter to handle it, but do you think he can lie convincingly? Cesario will sniff it out instantly and come here. If both of us are inside, we’ll just get twice the nagging.”

Marco nodded, thinking through Cesario’s behavior. Dantes looked at him with pity. Cesario would already disapprove of Marco coming this far. He was the kind of man who always said what had to be said—nagging wasn’t going to stop.

They thought they knew each other better than anyone else, but at times like this, they seemed to know each other the least.

It had always been that way since they were children. They were so different, it was a wonder they’d even become close. It wasn’t as if they had lied or calculated their way into friendship either—it had just happened.

‘That’s why I chose them.’

Dantes remembered when he’d entered the knight cadets hiding his identity as Crown Prince. Cesario, Gunter, Marco, and Roberto—they stood out from the rest.

Most of the teenage boys there just formed cliques to gain advantage. They boasted about noble bloodlines, or schemed, or bullied the weak. It led to ridiculous incidents and scandals.

Only those four stayed indifferent. And the brightest among them was Roberto—the small boy who had passed the cadet test with high scores despite having no background. Quiet, timid-seeming, but the moment he picked up a sword, his eyes shone and his skills outstripped everyone’s.

Roberto. Roberto Brida.

Dantes found even saying his name exhausting.

“Phew.”

“What, don’t tell me you’re going to cling to my leg and beg me to go in with you now?”

“No.”

“Then hurry up. If you come back before Cesario shows up, it’ll be the perfect crime.”

Urged by Marco, Dantes stepped forward, then stopped. His mind went blank. After coming this far, it felt ridiculous to hesitate, but he and Roberto were still on such awkward terms.

When he faltered, Marco looked at him in disbelief.

“What are you doing? Dantes, you look like a beast desperate to take a dump. Just go in already.”

“Wait, stop, let me think for a second.”

“Think? If you were going to think, you shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Go on!”

Marco shoved him from behind, and Dantes let himself be pushed. His head filled with flimsy excuses to justify this.

‘I’m here for the prisoner’s human rights. I need him alive. I’m just doing my duty as a merciful ruler.’

Straightening his posture, he hardened his expression and walked inside slowly.

Rosellina had already woken from the commotion outside, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She had been feverish all night and had no strength left.

The medicine she had received had barely managed to stop the bleeding and patch her up, but her condition was worse than expected. The blood loss made her dizzy, and without painkillers the night had been torture. Her clothes soaked and dried with sweat again and again, leaving her shivering.

Dantes, not knowing her exact state, deliberately turned his gaze to the wall, composing himself. He knew he wouldn’t be able to manage his expression otherwise. In front of nobles and ministers, lying came as easily as breathing—but not before Roberto.

And whenever he looked at Roberto’s quiet face, impatience and anger boiled up. He’d surely lose his composure again.

He already had Roberto bound and injured—he didn’t want to earn more hatred. Just imagining that Roberto might hate him drove his mood to rock bottom.

It was getting harder and harder to control himself. To cover it, he lowered his voice, speaking like a stern Emperor.

“I hear you refused a doctor? Don’t give me the excuse that it’s for my sake. The very idea that you’re thinking of me is a deception.”

The words slipped out harsher than he intended. And when no reply came, he worried even more.

What consumed him now wasn’t dignity or authority. It was simply the desperate wish to get Roberto treated—and the desperate wish not to be hated.

But he couldn’t just turn and correct himself either. He waited, barely holding on to calm. Yet no reply came.

“Are you not even going to answer me, Roberto?”

He raised his voice, but still silence. Anxiety quickly gnawed at him. He felt like a boy of eight again, not eighteen or twenty-four.

He hated how foolish he became in Roberto’s presence. But in the end, he broke.

“Rober… Roberto!”

Seeing Rosellina, he rushed to the bars and shook the lock furiously. Her face was a wreck—pale to the point of looking ghostly, her bangs wet with sweat. Anyone could see she was sick and suffering.

“Damn it, Marco! Open the door! Break this damn lock!”

“What’s going on?”

Marco came running at Dantes’ shout.

“Roberto’s sick! He’s dying!”

At Dantes’ frantic voice, Rosellina managed to open her eyes. As Marco hurriedly unlocked the door, Dantes rushed in and held her shoulder against the wall.

“Are you okay? If you’re this sick, you should’ve said something. Marco! Get a doctor, quickly!”

“Shit. What the hell happened? Just hold on!”

Marco sprinted away. Rosellina clung to her fading consciousness and grabbed Dantes’ hand.

It had been so long since their skin had touched. But Dantes felt no joy—only panic, feeling how battered and ragged her hands were.

“You idiot, did you endure all this until you were like this? The doctor will be here soon.”

She shook her head weakly. The headache spread, but she ignored it. Through fevered lips came a hoarse whisper.

“Monterno.”

“What?”

“Instead of a doctor… call Monterno Aventurin. Your Majesty.”

Dantes frowned in shock at the unexpected name. Why that boy? Why call for some upstart she barely knew, in a moment like this?

“Him? Why? He’s just an unproven mage. You need a doctor!”

“No doctors.”

Rosellina squeezed his hand. A doctor would try to remove her clothes to find and treat her wounds. That meant taking off the rigid corset she wore—and her secret would be exposed.

She knew the truth would come out eventually. But if she could delay it, she would. If she could, she’d keep Dantes from knowing forever.

Her firm voice made Dantes furrow his brows deeply. But before he could answer, Gunter’s voice came crashing down the stairs.

“Dantes! Cesario’s back! They found Terzes’ hideout!”

“Just great.”

One disaster after another. Dantes released Rosellina and stood up. She, burning with fever, kept mumbling only Monterno’s name.

“Has that Monterno brat returned too?”

At his words, Rosellina seemed relieved and closed her heavy eyelids again. The fragile consciousness she’d been holding on to finally slipped away.