The Bitter Taste of Sweet Suspicion

[If you change things too drastically, there might be a backlash. You have to adjust it moderately.]

<I know.>

Erkel was whining, clearly anxious. While it was true that meeting a lead as a child offered more openings than meeting them as an adult, this particular character was no pushover.

This wasn’t a fight of elegant nobles hiding daggers behind their tongues; this was a man who reigned like a king in a neighborhood where literal throat-slitting was the norm. I couldn’t precisely gauge the state of the Robenus back alleys, but a man who wasn’t satisfied with merely surviving that cutthroat world—a man who moved to swallow the entire Western region—couldn’t possibly be easy to handle.

[Don’t do anything just to pique his interest. Don’t get on his radar.]

<I get it already. If you’re this nervous, you’re going to make me nervous too.>

[ㅠㅠ]

I was going to meet an ambitious man of a completely different breed than the Crown Prince or Annette. My own stomach wasn’t exactly at ease. I reminded myself that if I played my cards wrong, I’d be hand-delivering my head into a tiger’s maw.

[Don’t be too disappointed if you can’t meet him. The Academy is relatively close to Robenus, so I’ll try to go there during my vacation too.]

<Is he the prickly type?>

[No. He might actually be the easiest to talk to. He’s good at catering to others. He identifies needs very quickly.]

Being sharp isn’t always a good thing—especially when they’re the one you have to deal with.

<Is it possible to give off the vibe of a ‘trustworthy ally’?>

Erkel didn’t reply for a moment. Only after a significant amount of time did he write back: [Sorry, I laughed a bit. What kind of plan are you making… ] He then drew a giant X.

[That guy doesn’t believe in things like ‘people.’]

I quietly discarded the plan: “Change hair and eye color, go undercover as an orphan in the back alleys, catch his eye, and act as a savior by helping him in a dangerous situation.”

“The Empire is vast. It’s an intentional practice to periodically dispatch knights for joint training and skill competition to keep them motivated. I heard they’re sending a knight order from Robenus to replace Leo’s unit.”

I had been wondering how to get permission for a trip to the far East, and the timing was uncanny. It was as if someone had scripted it.

In fact, seeing everything fall into place so perfectly brought more anxiety than joy. Still, I had to move for the sake of my goal.

When I opened my arms, Cale pulled me into his lap. I must have been quite heavy by now, yet even as a civil servant who seemed to have no time for the gym, he showed no sign of strain. Was it because he was still young?

In his arms, I intentionally kicked my feet and threw a tantrum, insisting that if Leo was going, I wanted to go too.

“What’s with the sudden trip? Is the approaching autumn making you sentimental?”

Elliot grumbled while sucking on his juice. Since there was more ice than liquid left, he didn’t get much in his mouth. He lifted the glass, muttered, “It’s mostly ice,” and then promptly snatched away my barely-touched juice when I offered it.

“Why did you drag me along? I had plans with Isabel in two days.”

“Even if I hadn’t asked, you would have followed me anyway because it looked fun.”

Finding no retort, Elliot just swirled his straw. Complaining while having packed his travel bags to the brim with excitement—what a hypocrite.

“Besides, even if you met Lady Rosebell, you’d just spend the whole time cursing your brother.”

“Do you know how rare it is to find someone who shares my sentiments and curses him with me? The other young ladies think the story of my brother and Alan is some romantic love story. Apparently, they even turned it into a novel with the names changed. It’s quite a hit in the East, and it’s started spreading to the capital. If my mother finds out, she might burn them all.”

“If Lady Rosebell finds out, she’ll probably try to kill the author.”

“With Izzy, that’s entirely possible.”

Elliot laughed heartily for the first time in a while. He looked more excited than I’d seen him recently. For him, sharpened by the stress of successor training, “Cursing Orion Dylan” had become an excellent stress-relief method. It was a relief that the first-class cabin was soundproof. Becoming friends with your brother’s ex-fiancée by trashing your brother together—it was a friendship hard to imagine.

As expected, Isabel Rosebell had gone ballistic after Orion Dylan’s unilateral declaration of breaking the engagement. To marry someone else? A man? A commoner? The price for bruising Rosebell’s pride was severe. Not only were the contracts between Dylan and Rosebell at risk, but so were matters involving Suenil. Among the three ducal houses, Suenil held the most overwhelming influence in the capital. If the Duke turned his back on Dylan, other families would surely follow suit.

Naturally, the perception of Orion Dylan shifted from “thoughtless young master” to “crazy bastard.” A crazy bastard indeed. Who just throws out a declaration like that? He should have taken responsibility, whether by getting married first and then divorcing or whatever.

The one who resolved this dire situation was Elliot.

Taking Orion Dylan from Alan Caylus, Elliot presented his brother to Rosebell. Seeing her ex-fiancé dragged in with bound hands and feet and a gag in his mouth, while her former prospective brother-in-law told her to do as she pleased with his life, Rosebell reportedly laughed so hard she forgot her dignity.

Rosebell graciously accepted Elliot’s “gift” and sent him out. Whatever words passed between Orion and Isabel after that remained unknown, but thanks to that, they reached a smooth agreement. Elliot even noted that, surprisingly, the relationship between Alan Caylus and Isabel Rosebell wasn’t all that bad.

“She’s an amazing person.”

“She’s capable of anything. She was too good to marry my brother.”

Elliot, having finished his second glass, ordered ice cream. The service on the train catering to nobles was top-tier. To suit the tastes of young lords who had booked an entire ten-person first-class cabin, the staff brought out everything from milk-rich flavors to sorbets with polite bows and gentle voices, inviting them to call whenever they needed more.

“What are you so angry about?”

Elliot, poking at his strawberry sorbet, finally brought up the main topic. I took a large spoonful of vanilla ice cream drenched in chocolate syrup.

“Do I look angry?”

“Extremely.”

“I think I look the same as usual.”

“Do you need a mirror?”

The fact that eating sweets didn’t improve my mood meant the problem was serious. I planted my spoon vertically into the ice cream as if stabbing a sword into the ground and rubbed my face. Inhale twice, long exhale. Inhale twice, long exhale. Consciously regulating my breathing calmed me slightly, but the irritation remained.

It was due to various reasons I couldn’t pin on a single person. For instance, the Second Prince who sought me out like a predator every time I entered the palace lately, the Crown Prince who kept sending gifts, and Cece, with whom I exchanged letters.

While organizing the keywords needed to meet Luke, it had suddenly dawned on me that Gredor’s diary was the item that connected Llewellyn and Cedric. Two people building affection through letters without seeing each other’s faces… naturally, a certain pen pal I’d had for years came to mind.

I had suspected Cece once before but had set it aside. I had decided to act more cautiously this time, but the reignited suspicion wouldn’t die out.

Cece hadn’t shown her face since we met at the Salon Banquet at age ten. That could mean she was a character with little weight in the original work, or perhaps… perhaps she had simply grown too large to fit into a dress anymore.

When I asked if she could come to the festival, and after several invitations since then, Cece had always brushed it off, made excuses about seeing the letter late, or simply refused. Eventually, I grew accustomed to maintaining the bond only through letters. To be honest, I had been too busy with my own situation to give her much thought. But if he had been pretending to be a girl to deceive me, it would explain everything.

When I told Erkel, he practically jumped. [Cedric is the Cece you’ve been looking for? My boy is cross-dressing?] But as someone stuck at the Academy, it was impossible for him to get useful information. There was no one I could trust. If Annette, the Empress, or the Crown Prince caught wind of it, they might think Erkel was plotting something. While at the Academy, Erkel had to maintain good grades and social standing to protect the Imperial honor, but he couldn’t stand out too much. And I couldn’t exactly go to Cedric Klein and ask, “Are you Cece?”

But my suspicion had long since turned into near-certainty. It felt like a cold wake-up call, like being pulled out of water. Given all the circumstances, it would be stupid to deny that Cece was Cedric Klein.

I was angry. Angry at Cedric Klein for lying to me all this time. And angry at myself for being so “cautious” yet ultimately blinding myself. Perhaps I hadn’t pried further into Cece’s identity because, on some level, I had expected this and wanted to deny it. I was foolish. I had sharpened my senses against my surroundings, yet fell for this.

Amidst all this, what annoyed me most was that I still hadn’t confirmed it and was delaying the final choice. Even while being certain, I didn’t want to drag the evidence out into the light.