Episode 164
Screeeech.

Ian’s expression as he emerged from the reception room was strange. The steward who guided him kept glancing nervously at the firmly closed door. Before Ian arrived, Marib’s furious screams had been echoing nonstop.

But now, why was it so quiet?

That silence was unsettling in its own way.

“Are you alright, Lord Ian?”

“About what?”

“…Nothing.”

The steward carefully examined Ian’s cheeks, hair, and clothes. Everything was as neat and orderly as when he had entered. Considering the thought of the steward servants being carried out like lifeless corpses, this was a relief. Still, as Minister of Magic, it seemed His Highness had kept his wits about him.

“Um, Lord Ian, if I may be so bold, may I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

As the steward opened the carriage door and spoke, Ian nodded lightly. His calm tone was striking—as if Marib’s rage in the palace had nothing to do with him.

The steward quickly snapped back to attention and bowed.

“It’s just that I wanted to ask about the condition of the steward servants inside. The doctor is on standby, but if His Highness is present, they can’t be treated. Has His Highness seemed tired or sleepy at all?”

Ian stared at the steward silently. The question was bold, indeed. After all, it was the steward’s role to resolve issues between the lord and the servants. But recalling those who had been trembling and cowering, Ian spoke gently.

“They didn’t seem seriously injured. And isn’t it about sunset now? Since His Highness works late, it’s probably not yet time for him to retire.”

“His Highness’s sleep schedule is irregular, so he takes naps whenever he can. Thank you for your concern.”

Despite the polite words, the steward’s hand closing the carriage door was hurried, as if urging Ian to leave quickly. Ian frowned as he watched her return to the palace.

‘Irregular sleep schedule. Yes, Marib handles so many affairs that it’s rumored his office lights never go out.’

Could this be how he came into contact with sleep-inducing hallucinogens? Perhaps, struggling with sleep, he sought a solution and got involved with a certain guild. Or maybe he already had ties there and obtained it through them.

“Where to, Minister?”

“To the Ministry of Magic.”

“Understood.”

Ian chuckled softly as he looked out at the darkening sky. Marib, whose pride had been cracked, had played a very interesting move. The attempt to kill Gale was just a part of it, but since Ian had been the one to orchestrate it, the situation had become entertaining.

‘This is truly something to be grateful for.’

Right now, Marib and Gale were sharpening their knives, each eyeing the other’s neck. But since a single strike could cost everything, they were both watching for the slightest opening, waiting for the right moment.

Waiting for an opportunity—another way of saying they lacked justification, or in other words, the absence of a signal flare. If only one of them could create a reason to strike…

‘One will die. The other will be gravely wounded and fall. Then, when the time is right, the survivor’s throat can be cut, making things easier.’

Gale was burdened with the curse’s reality and suspicion of treason, while Marib faced charges of regicide. Ian tapped his knee in time with the rattling wheels.

“I’m changing the destination.”

“Excuse me? Where to?”

“To Lord Gale’s palace.”

Ian ordered the driver to turn the carriage around. He was pleased with the plan that had come to him—it would be better to inform Gale before Marib could expose the regicide accusation. Fortunately, the carriage didn’t have to go far.

Screeeech!

‘A carriage from the Hyman family.’

Melania seemed to be with Gale at the palace. As Ian stepped down, the guards saluted crisply.

“Minister Ian Hielo, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Good to see you again.”

“I’ll inform His Highness immediately.”

Before, they’d added some noble titles, but now they simply reported and let him in without question.

Knock knock.

“Lord Gale, Minister Ian is here.”

“Oh, come in!”

The smell of alcohol hit Ian as soon as the door opened—Gale must have been holding a toast. Melania sat half-asleep, puffing on a cigarette handed to her by Gale. Quite the scene. The elder brother’s side was a mess, smashing things, and the younger was just as wild.

“Minister Ian Hielo! What brings you here?”

“I have urgent news. If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”

“No, no. It’s fine. Come, sit.”

The way he patted the sofa was full of cheer. Instead of sitting, Ian looked at Melania and bowed lightly.

“Miss Melania, you seem flushed.”

A polite way of saying, “Get some fresh air,” or in other words, “Please leave us.” She smiled gently, her eyebrows softening. Though a lowborn bastard, her manner of speech was no different from any noble family.

“Oh, some fresh air would be good. Excuse me for a moment.”

Melania gladly stepped aside, and Ian sat facing Gale. Gale’s fingers flicked the cigarette ash roughly. Ian noticed his gaze shift the moment Melania left.

“What’s the matter?”

His voice, which had sounded drunk moments ago, was now clear. The smoke was of excellent quality. Gale seemed to be struggling in his own way to keep up with Melania.

“I just came from seeing Lord Marib.”

“You always go back and forth between us brothers.”

“I don’t want to, but you keep calling me.”

Ian’s cheeky reply drew a low chuckle from Gale. He stubbed out the cigarette and asked,

“So, what did he say? My brother Marib? No matter how much he tries to act noble and uphold the dignity of a prince, he can’t hide his temper. Didn’t he turn the palace upside down?”

Having observed him closely all his life, Gale seemed to have a good sense of his brother’s character. Ian remained silent, confirming the question, then got to the point.

“…He ordered me to kill you.”

“Haha. That’s a welcome thing to hear.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m cursed with a fate tied to Bariel’s survival, and I’m the emperor’s favored son. For Marib to want me dead, it only proves how cornered he is.”

The attitude Marib’s faction showed at the assembly must have been decisive. They had revealed their disunity in front of Gale, which must have been a shock and a crisis for Marib.

“Exactly. It’s proof. And for you, Lord Gale, it’s a golden opportunity.”

Gale seemed to catch on to what Ian was implying. Smiling slightly, he opened a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of documents—the evidence Ian had promised to deliver regarding Marib’s regicide charges.

“Justification. I like that word. In the palace, it’s above the law. Even my father’s orders lose power without it.”

Ian took the documents with a polite hand. They were heavier than expected. He had thought it would be just about the drug sources or suppliers, but this was more substantial.

“Are you satisfied?”

“It means the emperor’s shadow is deep. It’s regrettable.”

“Hahaha! You really should have been born in the palace.”

Ian carefully set the documents beside the sofa and looked Gale straight in the eye. Gale was smiling knowingly, as if he understood exactly what Ian was thinking.

“Lord Marib asked me to prove the truth, so I will, soon enough.”

“It would be an honor if you did it yourself.”

“You seemed to want the side effects of magic, but that’s a burden even for me. Luckily, I have a few slaves with me.”

An assassination attempt using slaves. And that would be the signal flare to start an all-out war. The blades aimed at each other’s necks would fly.

‘If I intervene directly with magic, it could give them a reason to find a weakness later. No matter the outcome.’

Marib would have proven his truth through the assassination attempt, and Gale would be given the chance by being informed. Whoever wins is uncertain, but either way, Ian would have an excuse to slip away.

“If I fall, Marib gains trust just by the attempt. If Marib falls, I’ve passed on the information, showing I’m not tied to his faction.”

“Interpretations vary.”

“Fine. I have no reason to refuse. Especially since you hold the reins of the curse, I have no real choice.”

With a single word from Ian, he could shatter one of Gale’s shields. In a battle filled with lethal intent, a shield’s value is life itself.

“I will announce the lifting of the curse according to Lord Gale’s wishes. But please use these documents only as a last resort. They were hard to obtain, and it would be troublesome if they became useless.”

Despite helping with the truth serum matter under Marib’s suspicion, Ian gains nothing if Marib exposes the regicide charges. What good is widely known information?

“If you intended to use it as a signal flare, don’t. Use me as the excuse instead. That will benefit us both.”

There was no way to refuse. To say no would mean making an enemy of Ian. Gale took a sip from the remaining drink and lifted his neck, offering it.

“Then I have one favor to ask.”

“Command me.”

“Set the assassination date for after the full moon.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s Lady Melania’s birthday. There’s a dinner with the Hyman family that night.”

Though he spoke casually, Ian understood. The magical stone armor ordered by the Hyman family would be completed by then. Nodding, Ian rose from his seat.

“If you’re making requests, I have one as well.”

“Speak.”

“Return the slave I sent you unharmed.”

“Hahaha! You expect me to spare the life of someone who tried to kill the prince?”

“Forgive my boldness, but I dislike taking losses.”

He meant that he wouldn’t lose anything regardless of who lived or died in their conflict. And indeed, Ian didn’t care who survived. As long as one of the twin princes succeeded the throne according to history and fate, that was enough—even if it was some time in the future.

“I don’t like losing out either.”

“If Your Highness suffers a loss, that’s a matter to take up with His Highness Marib, not me. What, do you expect me to wait idly for the full moon to rise?”

If not, it would be Gale who’d be in trouble. In the past, Ian might have cut out such insolence with his tongue. Gale shrugged, reminded once again of his precarious position.

“Fine. I’ll leave the door wide open and wait.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave.”

“Ian.”

Gale called out as Ian was about to leave, pouring himself a full cup and making a request.

“Take it easy.”

“…Of course, I’ll just tell them to make an attempt.”

“No. You.”

His words carried a heavy meaning. Was he asking Ian to help him personally? Ian bowed his head slightly and stepped out of the bedroom. The scent of alcohol seemed to cling to his clothes in that brief moment.

Swish.

‘Now, I need to go back and select a suitable slave.’

“Ian.”

“Lady Melania.”

“Are you finished with your business?”

“Yes. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

Just as Ian tried to pass by her, Melania grabbed his arm with a rough grip. The strength coming from her slender arm was surprisingly fierce. Bathed in the backlight of the pouring moonlight, her expression was hidden.

“Ian, I have something to say.”