Bartholomew pulled his hand away from him and glanced at Franz. He was shaking his fist above his head and smiling encouragingly. Standing next to them were Judith, who was clapping her hands, and Cheraan, who had a sad expression on her face.
“You asked me if I was prepared to protect you.”
"Yes. Now that he has become the Crown Prince, there will be a lot more eyes watching him. As the snow increases, the danger also increases.”
The last words were spoken so low that only Bartholomew could hear them. It was the same when he met Neos before, but he thought he was a very attentive person compared to his blunt face. Bartholomew said.
“Thank you for the advice, Sir Bibiyu.”
“I am not ‘Sir.’ I am the Count’s second son.”
It meant that there was no title to inherit. Bartholomew, giggling and laughing, nodded his head.
“Then should I say you are Captain Bibiyu?”
“If you join the 2nd Knights, I will have to call you that even if you don’t like it.”
After giving a brief greeting, Neos went up to the fighting table again, probably thinking of receiving more challengers. While the people were cheering, Neos suddenly turned around and called out to Bartholomew.
“Why are you doing that?”
Bartholomew turned his head and was in an awkward posture as he put on the clothes he had taken off. Neos asked.
“Is the imperial Prince staying with you in the palace?”
“Yes, but...”
“How are you feeling?”
“How are you feeling? What on earth are you talking about?”
Neos looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't open his mouth. Just as Bartholomew was getting frustrated and tried to urge him, Neos spoke.
“It’s fine as long as nothing special happens. Forget it."
“No, what is it? Speak properly...”
However, the conversation did not last much longer. This was because a new challenger soon appeared. While the people who had bet money were cheering and whistling loudly, Bartholomew received a small badge given to losers as consolation and returned to where the group was waiting.
“What have you been talking about for so long? It was someone you knew, right?”
As soon as he arrived, Franz asked urgently. “Ah,” Bartholomew gave a vague answer, then suddenly stretched out his hand, which was holding a small badge, towards Cheraan.
“It’s a gift.”
Cheraan, who had been blinking at the suddenly outstretched fist, spread both hands with a puzzled expression. A small badge, a little larger than an adult's thumbnail at most, fell into the concave palm. It was made of inexpensive tin that was beaten flat and a laurel flower pattern was engraved on it.
Cheraan, who was looking at the badge in her palm with a puzzled expression, hummed and snorted. She then picked up the badge with her fingertips and waved it before the eyes of Bartholomew.
“This is a souvenir given to those who lost.”
Bartholomew glanced at Judith and Franz with a puzzled face. His face was red. The moment Franz suppressed his laughter and turned his head to her, Cheraan spoke.
“It’s been a long time since I gave it to you, so I’ll just look at it this time.”
“Aren’t you going to watch it next time?”
“Why use a man who loses twice?”
Bartholomew rubbed the back of his head with an embarrassed expression as he was asked again as if he was saying that. Even as she said so, Cheraan kept the ugly-looking badge neatly stored away. The corners of her smiling mouth were dyed as if they had been stamped with a rouge.
***
The door to the most luxurious salon in Serene Palace was always open as if to show off the scenery inside.
Since it was a palace for a Princess and her husband, the owner of the place should have been Flavia. But since she came to live in the Serene Palace, Flavia had never set foot in the salon.
Krald had almost given it to his mistress, Libencia, and it was completely hers. Since Krald's status was still a Prince, there were countless rumors about Libencia, who had not received a proper title or status as a mistress, occupying the salon of the Prince's consort. However, Krald and Libencia were shameless people who did not care about such things.
In addition, since Flavia, the person in question, could not say a word of displeasure even after encountering Libencia, one could often hear whispers that it would not be long before Libencia would take over the Princess and his husband's bedroom.
“Your Highness, when are you going to give me a bedroom instead of a salon?”
Krald and Libencia were sitting together on a long sofa. It was broad daylight, but neither of them was dressed properly, and the table was a mess, with scattered glasses, spilled alcohol, dried marks, and broken cookies.
Wine stains remained here and there on the twill carpet, which had a splendidly embroidered pattern of pomegranate flowers in full bloom, and cream that oozed out from between the pies was spilling here and there. However, the two people were so drunk that they didn't even notice the messy room.
In particular, Krald was even more insane. He threw away the empty glass and broke it, then roughly pulled Libencia's waist.
“If you want the bedroom, you can go in now.”
“You too. No matter what, I still have a conscience. How do I get into the bedroom when Her Highness is there?”
"Conscience?"
Suddenly, Krald started giggling and laughing. It was a voice that sounded so mean that it was hard to believe that he was 20 years old and in the prime of his youth. He raised his shabby face like an old drunkard and grabbed Libencia's chin with his fingertips.
"Ah!"
“Did you have a conscience? I found out for the first time today. I’ve seen enough to look back and forth, but where on earth was it?”
His hands roughly traced various parts of Libencia's body. However, rather than resisting, Libencia tilted her white neck and laughed. The moment Krald, baring his teeth like an animal, bit at her neck and shoulders, a knock was heard outside the salon.
"Go away."
Krald said without even raising his head. This was the moment when Libencia, who laughed louder as if in response, placed her head on the armrest of the sofa and pulled up the shirt he was wearing.
"Oh!"
A look of embarrassment appeared on Libencia's face. She pushed away Krald's shoulder and quickly stood up, straightening her disheveled robe before Krald raised his head.
“Oh, damn… What?"
“It’s been a while, Your Highness.”
Krald, who was frowning aimlessly like a gangster suffering from a hangover, slowly stood up. Meanwhile, Libencia picked up her dropped clothes and ran away to a separate room behind her. Krald, who swept up his messy hair, looked at the uninvited guest with an annoyed expression.
“Why did my uncle come here?”
The man who fearlessly entered the salon, pushing away the maid who was trying to stop him, was Duke Laetian.
He was the half-brother of Queen Gilsis and was the one who inherited the entire duchy of Laetian when she became Queen.
Even in the face of Krald's nervous reaction, he did not show much fear. When Krald started to get angry, even Queen Gilsis was unable to stop him, but the Duke remained calm.
“I went to see the Queen Mother, but she said she had been lying down since morning and wouldn’t get up.”
“Are you saying that? Wouldn’t it be weirder if Mother felt like waking up right now?”
The Duke's eyes moved back and forth, scanning the messy interior. Krald watched him roll his eyes out of the corner of his eye and frowned. There was no resemblance in the appearance of Queen Gilsis and Duke Laetian, who generally had a cool-headed feel but cool facial features.
The weird pale and soft-looking skin, the eyes slit to the left and right, and the elongated nose and thin mouth reminded him of something like a slippery and grotesque water snake. When looking directly at an eyeball with a small pupil, even a person like Krald would get goosebumps due to an unpleasant feeling that was difficult to explain.
Duke Laetian kicked the liquor bottle that was rolling on the carpet with a sad look on his face. A few drops of sticky alcohol, about to dry, slide down the long spout.
His gaze immediately turned towards the door where Libencia entered and hid, then slowly moved back to Krald. The reason why he was lying around like this in broad daylight was obvious. The Duke stretched out his legs in an arrogant manner and said mockingly.
“You suddenly mentioned the Crown Prince in such a situation... Did Your Highness become senile while I was away in the capital?”
Then, a sharp reaction immediately came out from Krald.
“What do I know about senility or what? Even if I don't, I get irritated just thinking about it. I don’t need you, so just go.”
“So, have you been drinking to this point?”
“Are you asking because you don’t know?”
Krald's voice rose nervously. Duke Laetian gently stroked the head of the walnut cane that was leaning next to his sofa with his palm.
"What... From what I heard, it wasn’t entirely disappointing news for you either.”
Krald laughed loudly.
"What? I’m sure my uncle doesn’t want to talk about the Grand Duke either, right?”
The Duke's eyes narrowed even further. The next moment, his small mouth stretched surprisingly long from side to side. Then he began to laugh and laugh, wondering what was so fun.
“If you don’t like the position of Archduke, I will have to take it.”
“If you have that talent, it’s none of my business whether you take it or not, or what my uncle does, so just do it yourself.”
“Of course I have talent, but... What will you do if I take away your only position as archduke?”
Krald's patience finally ran out when he made it sound like he was drunk on a subject who hadn't even had a sip of alcohol. He kicked the messed up table menacingly and glared at the Duke with sharp eyes. The sparkling eyes had a strange luster reminiscent of the shell of an insect.
“If you’re going to say something like that, get out now! Are you doing this because you want to see someone explode and die? They are so strong that they will upset me even if they don’t even bother my uncle!”
“Why are you so angry so quickly? Your Highness, let me give you one piece of advice.”
“I told you to get out!”
“You have to listen to what people say until the end. Especially... In the royal palace. And especially the words of someone who may be of help to you.”
A trembling breath escaped from between Krald's pursed lips.
This was one of the reasons why he hated Duke Laetian. Meeting his face made him feel uncomfortable, but as he was swayed by his twisted words, he couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a trap.
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