Chapter 145

“So, the pretty one lives with her mother in the West Palace? The duke’s being cheeky.”

Adrian chuckled in delight as he received Javel’s report.

He had some idea of what kind of man Duke Cledwyn of Maindulante was. Smart, icy, and not the type to show weakness—at least, that had been Adrian’s impression until now.

“With a face like that, I wondered if there was a reason he had no woman.”

That bold girl was indeed the duke’s weakness, just as Adrian had vaguely suspected. And it seemed the duke didn’t even bother hiding it.

‘Picked her as an advisor right after graduation, they dine together often, and the people here already treat them like they’re married.’

Camille would love to hear this. She was already having Nerys, the bearer of the Jeweled Eyes, investigated from every angle, pushing for her to be retrieved as quickly as possible. And now, they’d stumbled upon the duke’s weak point as a bonus.

‘If I give the order to kidnap her right now, my head’ll be the one to roll, huh?’

Technically a fringe royal, Adrian outranked common nobles but was still below someone like Cledwyn, whose authority was second only to the crown prince. Royalty were respected by convention, but Cledwyn didn’t strike Adrian as someone who cared for such things.

‘This is the guy who locked up his own grandfather without a trial.’

Most people would feel uneasy just thinking such thoughts, but Adrian just grinned. To him—someone who lived completely on impulse—Cledwyn Maindulante, nicknamed a monster, came off as a perfectly rational, predictable man.

“What about security?”

“It’s tight. There don’t seem to be many guards at a glance, but there’s constant surveillance. No opportunity to sneak in.”

“Yeah? Ha-ha-ha!”

Adrian’s eyes glinted ominously. So the last assassination attempt had cost them eight moons. The duke must be putting in serious effort.

“Did you figure out what the marquis is up to?”

“Yes. He seems intent on poisoning the duke. Based on how often he fiddles with his emerald ring, we suspect it contains the poison.”

“Oh, right. I’ve had my eye on that thing—it’s excessively large.”

Can’t have it, huh? Adrian muttered with disappointment, like he was talking about something he’d seen in a shop window. Javel quietly awaited further orders.

After a moment, Adrian’s expression turned cold.

“Assist the marquis. If he wants to walk into the lion’s den, it’d be rude not to help.”

Especially if there’s meat left on the bones after the beast finishes eating.

Ah, speaking of meat—Adrian suddenly remembered something.

“Don’t tell Her Highness about the book from the pretty one’s office just yet. I’ll report it myself later.”

He had safely copied and stored the blue-covered book Javel had stolen—an incriminating collection of documents showing the marquis’s hostility toward the Imperial Family. He truly did plan to report it to Camille. Just with a little self-serving twist first.

The idea of squeezing even more money out of the cowardly Viscount Tipion delighted him. Ignoring the look of thinly veiled contempt on Javel’s face, Adrian jerked his chin haughtily.

“Go on, then!”

* * *

Once Adrian got a feel for the place, he began roaming White Swan Castle as if it were his own. Not in a good way.

“Oh, you’re the one with the pretty daughter? Introduce me sometime.”

“This is what you call wine around here? It’s flavorless. I should bring you some real wine.”

“You there, clear this cup. What? You’re a steward, not a servant? So what?”

Half out of habit, half by nature, Adrian managed to offend everyone he spoke to. Offend them so thoroughly that they could hardly think about anything else for the rest of the day.

Soon, three out of every ten words uttered in the castle were complaints about Adrian. The tension, sharp and brittle like cracked glass, was palpable to Nerys.

“Advisor, when is he leaving?”

“Well, he didn’t say how long he’d stay…”

He perfectly embodied the definition of an unwanted guest.

“It’s the marquis’s fault, isn’t it? After everything he did to His Grace and to you, how dare he barge in like this again! How did he even escape? That lapdog of the Imperial Family!”

The young woman delivering paperwork suddenly lost her temper and began cursing. She was normally quiet and cautious.

‘Or maybe she is being cautious—that’s why she’s choosing to insult the marquis, not the prince.’

Nerys gave a wry smile.

“Be careful. If he bothers you, call a soldier to drag him off. Have him confined to his room.”

“That’s a bit extreme… He’s still royalty.”

“If we have to coddle a minor royal at the expense of our own people, then what is Maindulante even for? He’s addressed as a prince by convention only. He doesn’t hold any actual title. As the advisor granted authority over internal affairs, I don’t see why I shouldn’t speak up.”

She was right. Nobles only humored Adrian because they feared Camille’s retaliation—not out of any respect for Adrian himself.

He wasn’t a direct descendant of the emperor but a fifth cousin. Typically, royals that distant would take on titles through marriage or minor estates and stop being considered royalty. Adrian’s continued “royal” status simply meant he—and his parents—had been too lazy to do even that.

It was sheer luck that he had met Camille, who just so happened to need a pawn like him.

“Advisor…”

The stewardess looked at her with misty eyes. Unnerved by the intensity of the woman’s gaze, Nerys quickly skimmed her paperwork and handed it back.

“You may go. Tell the others too. If he retaliates, say you’re under my orders.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Unlike when she’d entered, looking glum, the woman left beaming. Nerys watched her retreating figure and drifted into thought.

‘Adrian likely doesn’t plan to stay long. The way he’s throwing his weight around suggests he’s trying to finish everything quickly.’

His excuse for being here was to mediate between the marquis and Cledwyn. But none of the three men showed any interest in that fiction.

Cledwyn behaved as if Adrian and the marquis didn’t even exist. The marquis remained locked in his room. Adrian strolled around like he was on vacation.

There was no point giving the enemy too much time. Glancing at the clock, Nerys stood.

“Time to see His Grace.”

They hadn’t arranged it, but she and Cledwyn usually took a walk around this hour. It had become a habit—one that felt oddly wrong to break.

Though her office wasn’t far from his, there was a shortcut: a secluded corridor near the training yard. Since she was slightly late, Nerys took that path.

Halfway through the silent, dim passage, Dora appeared and gestured silently. Be quiet.

It wasn’t just Adrian’s presence—ever since the assassination attempt, Dora had become even more sensitive to strange sounds. Nerys fell silent and stopped walking.

A moment later, Dora relaxed and bowed.

“Your Grace.”

From the shadows emerged Cledwyn, quiet as mist.

He had likely just finished sword training. The tight trousers hugged his lean legs, and the open collar of his shirt clung to his damp skin.

He raised a finger to his lips, signaling silence, and pulled Nerys into the nearby storage room. The door closed noiselessly behind them.

It was dark inside. Not pitch black, but dim enough that the outlines of crates and straw piles blurred into shadow.

Outside, they heard Dora’s calm voice, followed by an unfamiliar one.

“This is a storage room. May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“Oh, sorry. I got lost. Do you know the way to the dining hall?”

The sound of footsteps had been sudden—far too loud for someone who had been hiding. Nerys narrowed her eyes.

They hadn’t come to attack. More likely, one of Adrian’s spies was sneaking around trying to memorize the layout of the castle.

She turned to look at Cledwyn—only to realize how close his face was and flinched slightly.

–Why are we hiding?

She mouthed the words. Cledwyn smiled and mouthed back:

–No need to let them know we use this path.

They could’ve arrested the intruder, but he looked amused. Nerys nodded. That made sense.

Outside, Dora and the spy argued.

“I can’t leave a lost guest alone. Allow me to escort you.”

“No need. Please, don’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Their voices faded, becoming distant echoes. Nerys let out a long sigh.

“What?”

Cledwyn chuckled. Nerys glared at him.

“Why are you here? Don’t tell me you were chasing that spy alone?”

“No. I was heading this way since it’s your usual time to come. Then I saw that guy sneaking around. Felt nostalgic.”

“Don’t do that again. What if it was a trap?”

“Yayeon’s watching for any serious threats. It’s fine.”

He’d likely escape even if caught, but still—no need to take risks. Nerys gave him a bit more of a scolding, then reached for the door.

“Let’s go. We’ll miss our walk.”

“Shall we?”

And then—

Rustle.

In the silence, the tiny sound stabbed her ears like a blade. Nerys froze. The faint scuffle of something rustling through hay.

A rat.

Shuddering silently, she felt a firm hand close around her arm—and then he gently scooped her up.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah. I must’ve taken this path today just for this moment.”

Cledwyn whispered, grinning. Her face flushed red. As if he could read thoughts she never spoke, he added,

“I’ll bring in a couple of cats to keep in here.”

The castle kept cats to keep food stores safe, but it was hard to keep even the quietest corners completely clean. Though reluctant, Nerys didn’t protest.

“Thank you.”

“Are you really that afraid of rats?”

Nerys hesitated, then whispered:

“It’s not the rat I’m afraid of.”

“Then what?”

“What scares me is the powerlessness I feel when I see one.”

Sunlight filtered through the small window, casting gold over Cledwyn’s hair.

The storeroom was just as quiet now as when they entered. But what had once felt like oppressive silence now felt peaceful.

Nerys understood why.

It was the warmth of the one holding her.

Perhaps it was that comfort that made her speak such needless things.

Cledwyn looked like he wanted to ask something but didn’t. As if saying, ‘I’ll wait until you want to say it.’

She was grateful for that kindness. So, this was all she could manage to say:

“Just kidding. I’m fine.”

This time, the sunlight touched her face. Cledwyn looked at her for a long, long moment.

And until they reached the nearest busy corridor, he kept holding her—like he didn’t want to let go.

(T/N: My boy Cledwyn, what a gentleman you are.)