“Hic...!”
The startled servant shook his skinny wrist.
Grax glared at the terrified servant’s face, then slowly turned his eyes to the comb he was holding.
The comb was shaking along with the servant.
Grax, who noticed a strand of hair entangled in the silver bristles, got up suddenly and pushed the servant back.
He fell down without even being able to scream.
Grax raised his heavy, once nimble and strong, right leg and kicked the skinny servant’s back without mercy.
There was a series of thud, thud sounds.
The servant screamed, and the officials looked at the King, who was dancing with a blush on his face, trying their best to hide their discomfort.
“You! You damned son of a bitch! You’re no better than a dog! Get up! Get up!”
The attendant, who had been kicked all over his body, hurriedly tried to get up but stumbled and slipped.
Then Grax grabbed the attendant by the collar and lifted him up, then thrust the comb in front of his eyes.
The bristles almost pierced the attendant’s eyes.
Then Grax opened his small mouth wide and screamed, spitting out spittle.
“If you have eyes, look! Huh? Look! You useless bastard! What did I expect from you? Why are you here when you can’t even eat and comb my hair! You son of a bitch! Look! Look! Look with your own eyes!”
“Your Majesty, ugh... Your Majesty, forgive me, forgive me...”
The attendant’s face turned blue. But Grax only tightened his grip on his collar the more he did so. He was almost about to strangle him.
“What are you going to do! This precious hair! How dare you pull out the King’s hair! How dare you! Even if I cut off your head, it won’t be enough! Ugh!”
The officials turned away from the riotous King, even though they knew that the servant’s snorting was gradually becoming dangerously quiet.
At a time like this, it would have been better to douse in oil and jump into the fire rather than mess with him.
When the servant’s hand, whose face had turned black, finally fell limp, the emerald door opened wide.
The officials looked back in surprise, and Grax turned his head, wondering who would dare to kill the second person who had offended him.
Fortunately, however, the people who opened the door and came in were people that the bald tyrant Grax could not abuse.
The officials were startled by the sight of an old woman with her face covered by a black veil and a young man escorting her, stepping aside and bowing their heads.
“What a shameless act this is.”
As the old woman scolded him in a stern voice, Grax let go of the servant’s collar that he had been holding.
The man, who had barely lost consciousness but had survived, crouched down and coughed violently.
“Oh, my goodness. What are you doing here?”
Grax stuttered and glanced around.
“And you brought Damon with you.”
The woman in the veil was Queen Helen of Kensilom, and the young man who had come in with her was the only son of Grax, Prince Damon Searchwell.
However, Grax’s expression was distorted as if he was looking at an enemy rather than his only mother and son.
He seemed to be trying to force a smile, but that only made it more eerie.
“Cough! ...Ugh, cough! Cough!”
The servant, who had been crouching down and seemingly dead, finally let out a violent cough.
Helen cast a sympathetic gaze through the veil and turned her head slightly toward her grandson.
“Take him and have him treated.”
“Understood, Grandma.”
Damon said, looking around at the officials standing like fools.
“What are you doing? Why don’t you call a servant to carry him? The Queen Mother gave the order, and you’ve all turned to stone?”
The lowest of the officials hurriedly brought in a strong servant.
As the fallen man was carried away on his back, Grax, still holding a comb in his hand, brushed his teeth. A strand of hair was still caught in the comb.
Helen said,
“Everyone, back off. Damon, you too, stay out.”
Damon looked at his grandmother with concern, then at his father with a contemptuous look.
Grax’s bulging forehead turned red.
The people left. Helen stood still, looking at Grax.
The veil blocked their view, but Grax could clearly imagine the look in Helen’s eyes as she looked at him.
“How can a King who rules a country behave so shamefully?”
“The servant pulled out my hair.”
Grax held up the comb in protest as if it were the only thing that could explain his madness.
Helen let out a faint sigh.
“Your father and your grandfather both started losing their hair early. What can you do? You were born with that kind of bloodline.”
“That’s why it’s so outrageous! How dare you, how dare you, servants...”
“You can’t sew a single button without the servants’ careful attention, and yet you talk too much.”
Grax gripped the comb tighter. He could feel the teeth pressing against his soft skin.
“So you’re saying I should just let those who treat me rudely do something to me?”
Helen answered, lowering her chin slightly and looking at Grax.
“Yes. You should cultivate that kind of tolerance. At your age, you can’t even embrace a single person. You are such a petty brat.”
“Why did you come all the way here? Instead of quietly taking care of the birds in the Queen Mother’s Palace?”
“Did you give me the time to quietly take care of the birds?”
Grax’s attitude toward the Queen Mother was extremely rude, but Helen was no less fierce.
Her eyes, looking at Grax, contained nothing but cold contempt.
Grax said,
“The days of Your Majesty the Queen Mother interfering in state affairs are over. As you just said, how old am I?”
“When did I ever say I would interfere in state affairs? Even though you are not my child, as a mother, it is my responsibility and duty to educate my child no matter how old you are.”
Grax’s face turned pale.
He would probably lose five or six more strands of hair by tonight.
He would continue to do so as he pondered this conversation. Thinking about it made him feel like going crazy.
Grax’s obsession with hair was beyond the realm of a normal person.
Helen said,
“If you don’t want me to come, don’t make such a foolish fuss ever again. Do you understand? Don’t make your servants come running all the way to the Queen Mother’s Palace. Aren’t you ashamed to see your son?”
“He’s not my son!”
“If not your son?”
Helen’s voice, which had been calm all along, became angry for the first time. At that, Grax’s shoulders, which had been furious, hunched involuntarily.
It was an action that came out reflexively without time to think.
Helen looked at him through the veil, laughing.
“If Damon isn’t your son, then whose son is he?”
“What should I know? How should I know who that dirty woman slept with?”
“Livina was a virtuous Queen.”
“Don’t say that name in front of me!”
There was a crack! It was the sound of the comb that Grax had thrown hitting the mirror.
A crack appeared in the thin glass.
Perhaps one more blow would have destroyed them beyond repair. I wanted to do that. I wanted to do that!
Grax wished he could destroy everything that was an eyesore to him like that.
Helen, Damon, the thorns in his side, and that slick little brat of Betor. All of them! All of them!
Damon, hearing the noise, opened the door again and came in.
Grax shouted, his throat ripped open as if it was a good time.
“Where do you dare come in and out! Your little corner of the room!”
Damon sternly covered Helen and confronted his father head-on.
“I heard a loud noise and came to fetch Grandma.”
Grax’s face turned even redder.
Helen couldn’t hold back her anger, staring at him as he groaned, then carefully patted the back of her grandson’s hand.
“That’s enough. I’m fine, so let’s go. If I stay here too long, problems that didn’t exist before will probably arise.”
Helen, who was about to turn away, spoke again.
“Mark my words, Grax. I will not interfere in state affairs, but I still have authority as the Queen Mother. If your servants ever come to me for help again, I will no longer treat you as my son.”
You never treated me as a son, Grax glared at Helen with bloodshot eyes and shouted inwardly.
When have you ever treated me as a son? Not even once!
Helen walked out with a straight posture, escorted by Damon just as she had entered.
The officials who had passed the two and entered again were all taking ambiguous stances, trying to keep an eye on each other.
Grax, who was struggling with his fists clenched, let out a strange scream. Chairs were thrown and mirrors shattered.
“Trivi!”
Grax called the Foreign Minister’s name. It sounded almost like a ‘krivii’, like the roar of an animal.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Go ahead.”
“Prepare the envoys to the Empire immediately.”
The startled servant shook his skinny wrist.
Grax glared at the terrified servant’s face, then slowly turned his eyes to the comb he was holding.
The comb was shaking along with the servant.
Grax, who noticed a strand of hair entangled in the silver bristles, got up suddenly and pushed the servant back.
He fell down without even being able to scream.
Grax raised his heavy, once nimble and strong, right leg and kicked the skinny servant’s back without mercy.
There was a series of thud, thud sounds.
The servant screamed, and the officials looked at the King, who was dancing with a blush on his face, trying their best to hide their discomfort.
“You! You damned son of a bitch! You’re no better than a dog! Get up! Get up!”
The attendant, who had been kicked all over his body, hurriedly tried to get up but stumbled and slipped.
Then Grax grabbed the attendant by the collar and lifted him up, then thrust the comb in front of his eyes.
The bristles almost pierced the attendant’s eyes.
Then Grax opened his small mouth wide and screamed, spitting out spittle.
“If you have eyes, look! Huh? Look! You useless bastard! What did I expect from you? Why are you here when you can’t even eat and comb my hair! You son of a bitch! Look! Look! Look with your own eyes!”
“Your Majesty, ugh... Your Majesty, forgive me, forgive me...”
The attendant’s face turned blue. But Grax only tightened his grip on his collar the more he did so. He was almost about to strangle him.
“What are you going to do! This precious hair! How dare you pull out the King’s hair! How dare you! Even if I cut off your head, it won’t be enough! Ugh!”
The officials turned away from the riotous King, even though they knew that the servant’s snorting was gradually becoming dangerously quiet.
At a time like this, it would have been better to douse in oil and jump into the fire rather than mess with him.
When the servant’s hand, whose face had turned black, finally fell limp, the emerald door opened wide.
The officials looked back in surprise, and Grax turned his head, wondering who would dare to kill the second person who had offended him.
Fortunately, however, the people who opened the door and came in were people that the bald tyrant Grax could not abuse.
The officials were startled by the sight of an old woman with her face covered by a black veil and a young man escorting her, stepping aside and bowing their heads.
“What a shameless act this is.”
As the old woman scolded him in a stern voice, Grax let go of the servant’s collar that he had been holding.
The man, who had barely lost consciousness but had survived, crouched down and coughed violently.
“Oh, my goodness. What are you doing here?”
Grax stuttered and glanced around.
“And you brought Damon with you.”
The woman in the veil was Queen Helen of Kensilom, and the young man who had come in with her was the only son of Grax, Prince Damon Searchwell.
However, Grax’s expression was distorted as if he was looking at an enemy rather than his only mother and son.
He seemed to be trying to force a smile, but that only made it more eerie.
“Cough! ...Ugh, cough! Cough!”
The servant, who had been crouching down and seemingly dead, finally let out a violent cough.
Helen cast a sympathetic gaze through the veil and turned her head slightly toward her grandson.
“Take him and have him treated.”
“Understood, Grandma.”
Damon said, looking around at the officials standing like fools.
“What are you doing? Why don’t you call a servant to carry him? The Queen Mother gave the order, and you’ve all turned to stone?”
The lowest of the officials hurriedly brought in a strong servant.
As the fallen man was carried away on his back, Grax, still holding a comb in his hand, brushed his teeth. A strand of hair was still caught in the comb.
Helen said,
“Everyone, back off. Damon, you too, stay out.”
Damon looked at his grandmother with concern, then at his father with a contemptuous look.
Grax’s bulging forehead turned red.
The people left. Helen stood still, looking at Grax.
The veil blocked their view, but Grax could clearly imagine the look in Helen’s eyes as she looked at him.
“How can a King who rules a country behave so shamefully?”
“The servant pulled out my hair.”
Grax held up the comb in protest as if it were the only thing that could explain his madness.
Helen let out a faint sigh.
“Your father and your grandfather both started losing their hair early. What can you do? You were born with that kind of bloodline.”
“That’s why it’s so outrageous! How dare you, how dare you, servants...”
“You can’t sew a single button without the servants’ careful attention, and yet you talk too much.”
Grax gripped the comb tighter. He could feel the teeth pressing against his soft skin.
“So you’re saying I should just let those who treat me rudely do something to me?”
Helen answered, lowering her chin slightly and looking at Grax.
“Yes. You should cultivate that kind of tolerance. At your age, you can’t even embrace a single person. You are such a petty brat.”
“Why did you come all the way here? Instead of quietly taking care of the birds in the Queen Mother’s Palace?”
“Did you give me the time to quietly take care of the birds?”
Grax’s attitude toward the Queen Mother was extremely rude, but Helen was no less fierce.
Her eyes, looking at Grax, contained nothing but cold contempt.
Grax said,
“The days of Your Majesty the Queen Mother interfering in state affairs are over. As you just said, how old am I?”
“When did I ever say I would interfere in state affairs? Even though you are not my child, as a mother, it is my responsibility and duty to educate my child no matter how old you are.”
Grax’s face turned pale.
He would probably lose five or six more strands of hair by tonight.
He would continue to do so as he pondered this conversation. Thinking about it made him feel like going crazy.
Grax’s obsession with hair was beyond the realm of a normal person.
Helen said,
“If you don’t want me to come, don’t make such a foolish fuss ever again. Do you understand? Don’t make your servants come running all the way to the Queen Mother’s Palace. Aren’t you ashamed to see your son?”
“He’s not my son!”
“If not your son?”
Helen’s voice, which had been calm all along, became angry for the first time. At that, Grax’s shoulders, which had been furious, hunched involuntarily.
It was an action that came out reflexively without time to think.
Helen looked at him through the veil, laughing.
“If Damon isn’t your son, then whose son is he?”
“What should I know? How should I know who that dirty woman slept with?”
“Livina was a virtuous Queen.”
“Don’t say that name in front of me!”
There was a crack! It was the sound of the comb that Grax had thrown hitting the mirror.
A crack appeared in the thin glass.
Perhaps one more blow would have destroyed them beyond repair. I wanted to do that. I wanted to do that!
Grax wished he could destroy everything that was an eyesore to him like that.
Helen, Damon, the thorns in his side, and that slick little brat of Betor. All of them! All of them!
Damon, hearing the noise, opened the door again and came in.
Grax shouted, his throat ripped open as if it was a good time.
“Where do you dare come in and out! Your little corner of the room!”
Damon sternly covered Helen and confronted his father head-on.
“I heard a loud noise and came to fetch Grandma.”
Grax’s face turned even redder.
Helen couldn’t hold back her anger, staring at him as he groaned, then carefully patted the back of her grandson’s hand.
“That’s enough. I’m fine, so let’s go. If I stay here too long, problems that didn’t exist before will probably arise.”
Helen, who was about to turn away, spoke again.
“Mark my words, Grax. I will not interfere in state affairs, but I still have authority as the Queen Mother. If your servants ever come to me for help again, I will no longer treat you as my son.”
You never treated me as a son, Grax glared at Helen with bloodshot eyes and shouted inwardly.
When have you ever treated me as a son? Not even once!
Helen walked out with a straight posture, escorted by Damon just as she had entered.
The officials who had passed the two and entered again were all taking ambiguous stances, trying to keep an eye on each other.
Grax, who was struggling with his fists clenched, let out a strange scream. Chairs were thrown and mirrors shattered.
“Trivi!”
Grax called the Foreign Minister’s name. It sounded almost like a ‘krivii’, like the roar of an animal.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Go ahead.”
“Prepare the envoys to the Empire immediately.”
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