Episode 314

“Your Majesty—”

Ian’s voice trailed off. From the faint sounds outside, it seemed Romandro was trying to approach Timothy.

“Don’t you think so?”

There was an undertone of disbelief—how could Vargas dare question the steadfastness of the emperor, the dignity of the great nation? Ian’s expression was a strange mix of a smile and displeasure, and the atmosphere grew cold.

Damon tilted his head slightly, signaling not to provoke him.

“I believe His Majesty is indeed resolute. But with the kings of the three nations all gathered at the palace, and not even a shadow of His Majesty present, I spoke out of concern.”

“Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary worries only breed anxiety. I must ask you to restrain yourself.”

The words were polite but carried an unmistakable rudeness. No matter that Ian was Bariel’s minister—Damon was a king. Who was he to lecture him on restraint? Damon clenched his jaw, swallowing his anger along with a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva.

A sharp gaze from Ian studied Damon carefully. The king’s violet eyes burned with spirit. Rumor had it he had suddenly disembarked from his carriage and caused a scene during the journey, but no one knew why.

There were only two possibilities: either he was drunk, or it had something to do with a secret.

If it was a secret of King Damon’s, what else could it be besides what Ian already knew? Something related to his reincarnation. There was a strong suspicion that Damon had seen the gypsy.

If that was true, Ian’s workload just increased. The old woman was roaming freely inside the palace, evading the palace’s pursuit. This wasn’t just about tracking a strange being—it was a matter that directly affected the trustworthiness of the elite investigation team.

“In any case, I apologize if I misunderstood. It seems I won’t be able to meet your expectations.”

“Are you not the one supporting the Crown Prince?”

“Of course. If you’re curious, ask him yourself. Find out what truly supports His Highness.”

Ian coughed lightly and turned away. His health was poor, and if this was a trivial visit, he was clearly signaling for them to end it.

“Hmm.”

To start the game, both sides had to reveal their cards, but who showed first could change everything. Ian was prepared to commit a breach of etiquette rather than surrender control of the conversation.

Damon leaned back with an indifferent gaze.

‘Look at this.’

The rise of a lowborn bastard to imperial minister was no accident. Now that he thought about it, everything—from greeting him seated to his casual attire—had been calculated moves.

Ian raised a bell with a smile.

“Shall I have the carriage brought around?”

He was throwing down the first topic. Like a thirsty man digging a well, or a desperate one stepping forward—he was inviting Damon to lower his guard. The smile said: think carefully about who would lose if this conversation ended here.

Damon pressed his temple lightly with his fingertips and closed his eyes. Then, as if making a decision, he spoke in a thin, heavy voice, like a sigh.

“According to the palace investigation, the gypsy crossed into another country. Yet here she is, openly in the capital.”

So Damon had indeed met the gypsy.

Ian set down the bell and lifted his chin, silently urging Damon to continue. The sofa and desk created a difference in their eye levels.

“Those who acted for Vargas were elite, weren’t they? I find this deeply regrettable.”

The gypsy held Ian’s secret—the secret that transcended time and bore the royal aura. Damon had already revealed everything of himself; he could no longer probe what lay within her.

‘Still, just in case, when the author returns—’

As Ian whispered this to himself, he realized Damon must have done the same. The author now knew his secret had been exposed.

With that realization, Damon’s actions took on a deeper meaning.

“Well, since the matter has been resolved, I thank you.”

“Not at all. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

It was certain Damon had met the gypsy. Had he captured her? Ian hadn’t received any reports of unusual activity with the carriage. Was she being held outside the palace rather than brought inside?

A flood of questions swirled in Ian’s mind.

Snap.

Damon snapped his fingers, drawing Ian’s gaze back to him, as if demanding his full attention.

“I wouldn’t call it a reward, but I will tell you why the palace failed to capture the gypsy.”

Damon pulled a small dagger from his robe, its blade sticky with blood.

“She is as light as the wind, impossible to catch like water. So the only way is to cut her down the moment she falls into your grasp. The missing leg is the result of the long hardships she has endured.”

The moment you face her, she inflicts pain so you cannot escape.

Ian frowned, staring at Damon.

“Perhaps because I waited too long, I lost control. I made a mistake. I could feel life slipping away at the tip of the blade. She will likely die within days.”

“…Is that so.”

Ian clearly remembered the moment he met the gypsy. She showed no fear of death—in fact, she seemed to welcome it.

“You want to cut open my belly as well, don’t you? But remember why I’m still alive.”

If he cut open his belly, the secret festering inside would spill into the world, creating a river of chaos. Those who had dealt with him would be swept away by that flood, facing unknown dangers.

Damon surely knew this, and since no special reports had come in, it was reasonable to assume he dismissed the claim as false…

‘But it’s unwise to ignore the possibility entirely.’

Currently, the gypsy held no secret of Damon’s. So even if he cut her open, what would it matter to him?

More importantly, Vargas harbored intentions to threaten Bariel. Having had his secret stolen, he must have guessed that a secret of equal weight had been taken in return.

Nothing carried more weight than the royal family’s secrets. In other words, cutting open the gypsy might have been done under the assumption that it would reveal the royal family’s weaknesses.

‘The problem is, I’m not the only one who traded secrets with the gypsy. His Highness Jin also gave her one. If we react now, it’s an admission of the royal family’s involvement. If we ignore it, we might get through for now, but we carry a ticking time bomb.’

Damon’s thrown dagger was like that.

You could dodge it, or catch it and stop it.

The former might be fine if you’re lucky, but if not, Jin behind you is in danger. The latter means sacrificing a hand, but Jin is definitely protected.

“To me…”

Ian tapped the desk lightly with his left hand.

Yes. What harm was there in giving up this one thing? When weighing risks, choosing the lighter one was wise.

“Will you show me the gypsy?”

“For what purpose?”

Damon smiled, and Ian smiled back. Though their thoughts differed, their goal was the same: to uncover the hidden truth.

‘Who in the royal family took my secret?’

‘Is the gypsy truly dying?’

Ian, it’s your turn now. Damon’s black hair slid down as he nodded. Ian raised one hand to parry the dagger.

“I have something I received from the gypsy. I intend to return it.”

He made sure Damon’s gaze dropped to his feet.

“So she won’t go to the royal family.”

Damon’s expression twisted strangely, a satisfied look as if he had finally found what he was looking for.

He rose and stepped closer to Ian, leaning on the desk and peering into his absinthe-colored eyes as if reading his soul. Whispering, as if revealing a truth.

“Even the stars in the night sky fall after a single death, let alone two. It’s only natural that the weight becomes unbearable.”

Foolish king, playing the world’s protagonist alone. I wonder what expression you’d wear if you knew there was someone else bearing the same burden. Ian’s smile twisted into a bitter grin, but Damon muttered on, unfazed.

“Indeed, such rumors do not arise by chance.”

Ian paused, puzzled, then realized Damon was mistaken about his secret. The rumor from Haiman Garo about Ian’s birthright—that he was of royal blood.

‘Not entirely wrong, but convenient. Probably Alenara leaked it to Eriphoni, and Eriphoni to Damon.’

“In truth, you were more likely than the prince. What secrets could that child possibly hold?”

“King Damon, though we are bound by a meaningful connection, your words are quite disrespectful. I ask you to restrain yourself. His Highness Jin is Bariel, and you are Vargas.”

Ian’s firm rebuke left Damon looking puzzled.

Ian was royal blood. And he knew the future.

It made sense for them to be allied. The true power inheriting royal blood stepping back like this meant there was surely a hidden problem.

“Sir Ian, our relationship could be far more significant than you think. Setting aside legitimacy, what could be more certain than foreign power to place a new bloodline on the throne?”

Cut Bariel down. Then Vargas could grow, and Ian could flourish.

Ian chuckled softly and shook his head at Damon’s proposal.

“I know how you searched for the gypsy. In your previous life, your fate, along with Vargas’s, was truly harsh.”

It had been so before, and it was so again.

Only the players had changed; the bloodshed among family remained the same.

“So you dream of a different future. A prosperous era, fertile lands, and a thriving nation.”

Damon slowly rose to his feet and stepped back. He could tell Ian’s attitude wasn’t friendly. Despite the secret bond that tied them together, Damon couldn’t understand why Ian was acting this way.

This was a golden opportunity—joining forces with him!

“But, do you know this?” Ian said, his voice calm but sharp.

The table behind Damon shifted slightly, a vase wobbling precariously. Ian gave a rueful smile, delivering what felt like a curse disguised as a declaration.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know. I sought out a gypsy to find out.”

“…What are you trying to say?”

“The gypsy told me that King Damon is destined to walk the same path as in his past life.”

A chill ran through Damon. He clenched his teeth hard. Nonsense! So much had already changed—and more would change yet.

“More precisely, it’s Vargas’s fate that’s set. So even if King Damon knows the future, it doesn’t hold much appeal for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Whether it’s nonsense or not, you can ask the gypsy yourself. She’s dying soon, so you’d better hurry.”

Ian nodded toward the door. Damon shot him a fierce glare. How dare he speak so boldly, as if he knew everything? Damon had done everything to forge a new future for Vargas.

Just as there can’t be two suns in the sky, if Vargas claims glory, Bariel’s will naturally fade away. Ian wasn’t one to stand idly by and watch that happen, but Damon, like someone trying to fit together a puzzle, hadn’t fully grasped the situation.

“Interesting. What do you think will happen when the crown prince learns your true identity?”

“That can’t be proven. And as you said, ‘we’ are bound by a secret connection.”

If his secret leaked, Damon wouldn’t be safe either. After all, Ian was the one who had sown discord between Damon’s mother and father, leading to their deaths. Plus, there were countless illegitimate heirs back home. If this came to light, the throne would be in jeopardy.

With the nobles already suspicious after the jewel collateral incident, Damon grabbed the vase at his fingertips and hurled it at Ian.

Crash!

The glass shattered into countless pieces on the desk. Ian rose slowly, smiling.

“Your Highness, are you unharmed?”

“……”

“If you were to get hurt, it would put me in a difficult position.”

“Is that so? I like that. If bleeding is what it takes to make you like this.”

Ian stepped past the shards and sat down opposite Damon.

Now, there was only one thing Damon wanted to know.

Whether Jin, standing behind Ian, was unharmed—in other words—

“I need to see with my own eyes if the gypsy is truly dying. I’ll have the Vargas envoy investigated, so I ask for your cooperation.”