Chapter 123

Ian, who rarely lost his composure, found himself at a complete loss for words.

Twins? If they were even of different genders, or at least fraternal twins, it might have been easier to process. But these two princes looked so identical, like mirror images of each other, that even from a distance, it was uncanny.

“Surprising, isn’t it? Rumor has it that even their mother, Lady Delaina, sometimes gets them mixed up. But their personalities are so different that it’s not much of a problem. Honestly, I can tell them apart at a glance.”

“And their names?”

Ian kept digging through his memories, trying to recall if there had been an emperor with twin sons a hundred years ago. It was hard to remember. Usually, the emperor’s siblings were sidelined in history, often erased from records after losing power struggles.

“The Fourth Prince is Arsen. The Fifth Prince goes by Jin.”

Romandro muttered this, and Ian frowned. Usually, twins’ names share some harmony, but here, the Fourth Prince’s name sounded noble and regal, while the Fifth’s was more common, something a commoner might have.

“You’re curious, huh? But this isn’t the best place to talk about it…”

“Let’s step outside for a moment.”

This wasn’t something to be overheard. One of these two was bound to become emperor, so there was no reason to hesitate.

Ian gave a subtle nod, and Romandro, sensing the cue, quietly stepped back. Beric did the same.

“Excuse us.”

They exited through the grand arched doorway into the opposite corridor. Unlike the grand banquet hall, this area was filled with relatively young, indulgent nobles uninterested in the emperor’s New Year’s speech. A few glanced at Ian, but only briefly. They were more focused on teasing each other and enjoying their leisure.

“Oh, look, they’re about to kiss.”

“Beric, enough nonsense. Come here. Romandro, I have a rather irreverent question: Is the current emperor really the 13th?”

According to Ian’s memory, yes. He clearly recalled the inscription beneath the portrait: “Verosion, 13th Emperor.” But Romandro looked uneasy, glancing around before answering.

“Be careful with your words. That matter was only recently settled. The current emperor is the 14th.”

Ian sighed softly. He immediately understood what Romandro meant. Observing history from a distant future and living through it were worlds apart.

“The previous emperor, who died as a traitor, was posthumously legitimized. So, until last year, he was considered the 13th, but now the count has shifted to the 14th.”

When power changes hands, rewriting history to legitimize one’s rule is common. Especially in collateral branches, where political standing depends on being recognized as the rightful heir. You can’t change the bloodline, but you can alter the narrative.

“What does that even mean? Did they find some secret parent or something?”

Beric scratched his head in confusion. The emperor hadn’t died and been reborn—how could the numbering go from 13th to 14th? Ian rubbed his forehead, muttering an explanation.

“History’s meaning depends on who tells it. It’s about stripping or restoring legitimacy to predecessors. The current emperor is the 14th, but until last year, he was the 13th. Who knows what might happen next year?”

Either way, Ian realized, when you’re in the thick of history’s storm, you can’t predict its depth. You have to rely on reading faces and actions.

“When I received my lordship at the border, I heard the emperor’s name but didn’t understand. I guess the same will happen with the next generation…”

“But why are the twin princes’ names so different?”

Ian tried to organize his tangled thoughts and asked again. Arsen and Jin—there had to be a clue in the stark contrast between those names.

“When the twins were born, a prophecy was made.”

“A prophecy? Officially?”

“Yes. The details are in the records. It happened ten years ago and caused quite a stir.”

So the princes were ten years old. Ian nodded, silently urging Romandro to continue. Lowering his voice, Romandro whispered through clenched teeth.

“The younger child’s birth will bring great misfortune to the elder.”

Ian’s eyes widened. Like any prophecy, it was open to interpretation, but to him, it felt like a significant marker. Romandro twisted his beard and let out an awkward snort.

“That’s why, as babies, they couldn’t even share a bedroom. People feared a future power struggle, but with Marib and Gale already grown and holding their ground, that worry is lessened. Anyway, they gave them ordinary names to keep the devil’s mischief at bay.”

There was a superstition that blending in with common names could ward off evil. Either way, if either Marib or Gale became the next emperor, Arsen and Jin were doomed to live as if dead.

“But prophecies aren’t always right, are they? After watching them for ten years, it seems pretty off.”

“Is that so?”

“Prince Jin has been raised to care for Prince Arsen with utmost devotion. He respects and cherishes him. Sometimes, it even feels like their roles are reversed.”

As a result, the elder Arsen was bright and lively, always smiling, while the younger Jin was calm, composed, and dignified. Though their faces were identical, the entire royal court had no trouble telling them apart.

“I see.”

Ian turned, thinking he should meet the two princes soon. The music from the royal orchestra inside was growing louder. The emperor’s speech and the title conferment ceremony had ended, leaving a brief lull.

“Shall we go in? We can discuss the details back at the estate.”

“Details? Isn’t what we’ve talked about enough detail?”

Romandro scratched his chin, curious, but Ian just shook his head and led the way. Beric followed, chuckling.

Tap tap tap!

“Ian, but—”

“My lord.”

“Oh, my lord, what about dinner?”

“It’s still too early. The dinner party won’t start until after the magic verification ceremony.”

Beric’s shocked expression said it all. He regretted not eating more earlier, having been told to keep it light for the uniform’s fit.

Sliding back into the banquet hall, Ian noticed the atmosphere had shifted. The emperor and princes had gone upstairs to watch the remaining events. The music was livelier, and the spirits busier than ever.

“Ian Hielo, Viscount.”

A voice called from behind. Turning, Ian saw a man in the Ministry of Magic’s uniform bowing politely. He seemed to be a civil servant organizing the event.

“I’d like to brief you again on the upcoming magic verification ceremony. Please follow me. Minister Wesley will speak directly.”

Wesley—the head of the Ministry of Magic and Gale’s lover. Ian knew all the current misdeeds revolved around her. He gave Beric a look to follow.

“Alright, lead the way.”

“Yes, this way.”

They went behind the stage, and Ian immediately recognized the woman called Wesley. Her black hair was tied back, her skin pale almost to the point of translucence, and her lips were a striking red, like fresh blood. Most notably, she wore the cape reserved for ministers.

“Good day, Minister Wesley.”

She turned from overseeing the ceremony and, upon seeing Ian, twisted her lips into a strange smile. Beautiful, yes, but the aura of intimidation was overwhelming. Perhaps Ian felt it more keenly because he knew her true nature.

“Oh! And who might you be? A lowborn noble from the borderlands, Ian Hielo, Viscount?”

Wesley clapped her hands loudly. The surrounding magicians glanced over, barely hiding their snickers. Beric frowned in irritation but, catching Ian’s eye, looked away patiently.

“Pleasure to meet you, Minister Wesley. If you don’t mind, may I ask your family name?”

Feigning casualness, Ian extended his hand with a smile. It was a jab at the fact that most magicians were commoners. No matter how high her position, Wesley likely had no noble surname to claim.

Her lips stiffened, and the laughter around them died instantly.

“Ian Hielo, Viscount. I am the Minister, holding a position akin to a court countess.”

Not an actual noble title, but one with comparable honor and authority. Ian grinned slyly, pulling his hand back.

“Ah, my apologies. I was ignorant and assumed I hadn’t heard your family name.”

The implication was clear: why beat around the bush about having no surname? Ian met the magicians’ blatant hostility head-on. He had no reason to bow or back down.

“It would be quite the spectacle to see you puffed up like this, only to fall into slavery.”

“Oh, thank you for your concern. Minister, you’re more compassionate than the rumors suggest.”

There was no worry about falling into hardship for failing to pay the 10,000 nips tribute. On the contrary, it meant his status was now free—something to be grateful for.

That meant joining the Magic Department was essentially Ian’s choice.

“Setting aside Marib’s orders and all the side projects like building the annex,” Wesley said sharply, looking down at Ian with narrowed eyes. He really disliked how this little kid was acting all high and mighty just because he’d been granted a noble title.

“Ian, soon you’ll undergo the mana verification ceremony. If it’s confirmed that you have mana flowing within you, the Magic Department will send an official invitation for you to join by tomorrow.”

“Oh, it’s an honor, Minister.”

“That’s a rather dull and formal greeting. Do you have a preferred department?”

Wesley’s lips twisted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Ian could tell he was scheming something. Instead of answering, Ian stayed silent, carefully reading the atmosphere among Wesley and the other mages nearby.

‘They’re definitely up to something. Could it be what I’m thinking?’

“Of course, what would a country bumpkin who just arrived know? You’ll need someone beside you to whisper the right answer.”

He was referring to Marib—making it clear he knew Marib was planting Ian as a spy.

“But the Magic Department values ability and results above all else. We don’t tolerate freeloaders who just sit around wasting resources. I don’t know how strong your mana is, but you’ll be assigned to a department that suits your level.”

Ian couldn’t help but smile faintly. Just as he’d expected when he first entered the New Year’s gathering—placing a bet on the light of the oracle so there’d be no reaction.

“Oh? Is that so?”

Ian replied with feigned nonchalance, but Beric, standing beside him, caught the hint of amusement in his voice.