Got Me

Got me.

The moment he realized that cunning dog had gotten the better of him, Merwell shot up from his seat. He moved to escape, but Berlowen was faster—his hand shot out and seized Merwell’s wrist, forcing him back into the chair.

Despite wielding such crushing strength, the Grand Duke of Blanchard smiled a pristine smile, his delicate face dipping slightly. Long, jet-black hair cascaded over Merwell’s thigh, spilling across the fabric like silk.

“Why do you try to run?”

The Grand Duke’s voice was as gentle as a lullaby. Merwell, forced back into his seat with a thud, narrowed his eyes slightly.

It was a stark contrast to the man who, only moments ago, had been whining in pain and drenched in cold sweat. Now, he looked perfectly fine.

“Let go of me, Your Grace, Grand Duke Blanchard.”

To his own surprise, the words came out remarkably polite. Berlowen stared blankly at Merwell, his gaze piercing.

“I’ll let go if you promise not to run.”

“…Grand Duke Blanchard.”

“Ah…”

Bain wore an unfamiliar, thoughtful expression at Merwell’s consistently courteous attitude, though he pretended not to notice. Then, still on his knees, he slowly lowered his head, resting his forehead on Merwell’s thigh.

“My head hurts… like it’s splitting.”

“…”

Assuming the brat was up to some trick again, Merwell didn’t answer. Bain whispered softly.

“It’s true. The monsters keep…”

His fine hair dragged across the dusty warehouse floor. The deep redness around his eyes suggested his headache was not feigned.

His already wistful eyes took on a delicate charm, making him look pitiful enough to break one’s heart. Even though he was far larger and more robust than the average Imperial citizen, to Electro, Bain was the frailest person in the Empire.

With a grip strong enough to leave a bruise on Merwell’s wrist the next day, Bain slowly guided Merwell’s hand to rest on his own head.

“It hurts… Please pet me.”

He whispered in pain, eyes closed, looking utterly peaceful. He smiled contentedly, yet frowned again as if in agonizing pain.

“I couldn’t sleep. I keep having nightmares. Every time I let my guard down, I feel like I’ll kill everyone in this castle… The monster keeps… ah… it hurts…”

This bastard is putting on an act. Electro knew the real Berlowen—a man who didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over killing. He was just playing a pathetic game, glancing around and asking to be petted.

But his headache must have been real, because cold sweat began to bead on Bain’s forehead.

Merwell hesitated, his hand twitching. His white hand disappeared among the fine black hair, then reappeared, again and again.

In the end, Merwell did as Bain asked, moving his hand carefully. He says it hurts, so petting his head shouldn’t be a problem. Bain whispered in a satisfied tone.

“Keep going… keep going.”

Even when Merwell tried to stop, Bain murmured for him to continue.

“More, keep going.”

In the end, Merwell had no choice but to keep stroking the head resting on his lap until dawn broke, long after his patrol shift had passed.

Finishing his recollection, Merwell clicked his tongue.

It was such a perfect act, so how did that bastard figure it out?

No doubt he’s a genius—after all, I raised him since he was a babe in arms. The ruler of the Empire, the supreme Emperor himself personally trained him from childhood; it’s only natural he’d be quick-witted.

Merwell didn’t know exactly how much Bain had figured out, but he realized his attempt to hide his identity had officially failed. Still, Bain hadn’t taken any overt action, so for now, the best course was to pretend ignorance and wait for the right moment.

While he was sorting through his thoughts, Eddie, who had been silent, spoke up cautiously.

“But, really…”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure the Grand Duke doesn’t… like you… in that way?” Eddie blushed, looking a bit awkward.

According to Jex, Eddie was a pure-hearted romantic who believed even holding hands was fate, and he had already finished writing a grand novel in his head.

“You know… with romantic feelings…”

“Haha.”

Merwell burst into laughter and waved his hand, thinking that if he had a club or stick nearby, he’d have smacked Eddie right on the crown of his head.

“Stop talking nonsense and let’s get going. It’s already incredibly late.”

If Bain has noticed something, it means he has a rough idea that the current Merwell is Electro. But that makes even less sense, doesn’t it?

Muttering to himself, Merwell followed Eddie, who led the way, keeping his quiet chuckles to himself.

When Electro had first saved Bain, he was already over seventy years old. By the time that child became an adult, he had been on his deathbed, waiting for the end.

“Romantic feelings? That’s impossible.”

It was absolute nonsense.

“It’s not like Bain is a mad dog…”

Daniel Maximum, the administrative aide to the Grand Duke of Blanchard, was a nobleman of common birth. Having caught the eye of the current Emperor, Kalix Chaman, early on, he had made full use of his sharp mind to secure the position of the Emperor’s right hand.

Leaving aside the question of how a royal and a commoner could have been together since childhood, Emperor Kalix had always claimed Daniel was the most trustworthy person in the world. Now, deceived by His Majesty’s sweet words, Daniel was stuck in this absolute mess.

The middle-aged man, with a slender build and a nervous, irritable face, was currently writing reports and ledgers related to the territory, looking like he might explode at any moment. The territory was merely a small, village-sized plot of land, but he alone was in charge of supervising and managing the knights, the servants, and this damnably huge grand ducal castle—doing just enough to keep it running.

The accursed Grand Duke Berlowen Blanchard was a mad dog with absolutely no intention of acting rationally.

“…Damn it. What did I seek wealth and glory for…”

Daniel ran his hand roughly through his brown hair, dark shadows stretching from under his eyes down to his chin, and let out a deep sigh.

Just then, a communication orb placed in a corner of the office flickered. When he had gotten angry and thrown it in the past, a crack had appeared, and now a piece chipped off with a soft clack.

Daniel picked up the orb with a nervous hand, set it on the desk, and adjusted his glasses. He had been up for three days and nights calculating and organizing about three hundred units of supplies that had arrived just as the blizzard stopped, leaving his head spinning and his vision blurry.

– Hey, Denny.

“…What business do you have?”

A man’s face appeared faintly in the cracked orb, displaying blue hair and a fairly amiable smile. He was six years younger than Daniel, who was over forty—Emperor Kalix.

Kalix closely resembled the previous Emperor, Electro Chaman, who had recently passed away. Especially his golden eyes, a trait exclusive to the imperial family, were a deeper gold than most royals.

– Are you still angry?

“…I’m not angry. I’m just frustrated that I have to repeat this meaningless task forever.” Swallowing back a string of curses, Daniel frowned. This damn place made it hard to even smoke a cigarette. “The Grand Duke is the same as ever. Obsessed with black magic like a madman, sleeping all the time, and irritable.”

Rather than irritable, Berlowen was a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the slightest touch.

“…Come to think of it.”

– Come to think of it?

Daniel rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, looking exhausted, and muttered.

“…The Grand Duke gave an odd order. He designated a specific patrol area for a low-ranking knight and told me to send him there…”

Tap, tap.

Tapping the desk at a steady pace with his fingertips, Daniel watched Emperor Kalix Chaman, who was pressing his face close to the orb, looking highly intrigued.

He was damnably beautiful. As the direct descendant of Electro, once called the most beautiful person in the Empire, Kalix’s handsome face was nearly unmatched in the current court.

“So I ordered separate surveillance and heard an interesting report. The Grand Duke and that knight were hugging each other in a room with no one else.”

– …Hmm.

Daniel crossed his arms and waited for Kalix’s next words. Ever since his time as Crown Prince, Kalix had desperately wanted to bring Grand Duke Berlowen over to his side, but he had never even gotten a chance. Kalix had not been chosen by the Grand Duke.

– What is his name?

Knowing the question was coming, Daniel opened his mouth with a completely disinterested face.

“Merwell. Merwell Humanjack.”

– …A noble?

“A commoner and an orphan. Rumors are spreading among the knights. Perhaps because of that, he didn’t get along well with his colleagues… Ah, I heard he recently ate poisoned soup and was bedridden for weeks. Some say that drove him mad.”

– And the Grand Duke of Blanchard is with someone like that?

Daniel shrugged. Trapped in this damnably spacious aide’s office with too much work to handle and possessing no desire to run into the Grand Duke, he had no reason to leave.

Berlowen was a monster who, single-handedly, had charged into enemy lines and brutally slaughtered an entire legion. Even now, standing before the Grand Duke made Daniel’s hands and feet tremble.

Even if Daniel was a close childhood friend and chief aide to the current Emperor Kalix, the Grand Duke would kindly separate Daniel’s face from his body if he displeased him.

– …Interesting. The Grand Duke is interested in someone besides Emperor Electro?

Kalix was insanely jealous of his grandfather and predecessor, Electro. He desperately wanted Grand Duke Berlowen Blanchard to swear the same absolute loyalty to him as he had once sworn to Electro.

That was why Daniel Maximum was in this mess—following the half-mad Grand Duke as his aide and spy, spending over 300 days a year in a snowy mountain range with constant blizzards, cleaning up after him.

Sighing, Daniel took off his glasses and rubbed his shadowed eyes again.

“…Kalix.”

– …

“Maybe you’re the one who can’t escape the ghost of the previous Emperor. You’re the Emperor now.”

Last time, Kalix had actively obstructed Daniel’s attempts to return to the imperial palace, but now he was the one keeping his mouth shut. Daniel had known Kalix since childhood—ever since Kalix had hidden his royal status and appeared before him, or perhaps from the moment Daniel began calling him by his name without hesitation.

– Report everything about that man. Then, I’ll see you later, Denny.

Kalix, the epitome of slyness, rarely ended the communication first. Glaring at the orb that went dead with a click, Daniel ground his teeth.

Easier said than done!

He was currently handling all the affairs of the grand ducal territory. The damn Grand Duke was a dog that only wagged its tail at the deceased Emperor—or rather, a monster so ferocious that calling him a dog seemed like an insult.

“Merwell… Merwell Humanjack. I’ve heard that name somewhere before.”