As long as you are happy

Ryan couldn’t help turning his head to look.

Charlton—his mother’s old retainer, who had been serving their family since even before Ryan was born.

For decades, without pause. The only break he had ever taken, so they said, was a single week when he married.

Ryan could believe it. From as far back as he could remember—whether in the palace in his early years or later here at the estate—Charlton had never once left his side.

So diligent, so constant, that Ryan almost forgot to notice him at all.

And no, he hadn’t misspoken.

As a boy, whenever Ryan misbehaved, the old butler would scold him, teaching him exactly where he went wrong.

But after his mother passed, that stopped.

Fatt, his tutor, still corrected him, yes—but only in politics and stratagems, never in daily life.

It wasn’t that Ryan liked being scolded.

It was that, even as a child, he understood one truth: only those who truly cared for him would look at him with that pained, “hate-iron-for-not-being-steel” expression and call him out.

By the time he realized this, such people were already gone from his daily life.

He never blamed the old butler.

Because after his mother’s death, he stopped being a child.

No more crying. No more play. Even his smiles had twisted into something terrifying, almost grotesque.

He killed at ten, marched to war at twelve, commanded armies at fourteen.

In the entire Empire, only one man’s record could surpass his.

Anyone who saw him would feel fear.

He didn’t blame them for it.

He just found it boring.

And that boredom only deepened.

Charlton no longer dared to scold him.

Not even to refuse him.

Not even to contradict him.

He became like everyone else.

But now—this moment—before everyone’s eyes, the old butler actually dared to tell him he was wrong.

Ryan couldn’t have been more shocked.

“It was Your Highness who invited Miss Yaros,” Charlton said solemnly, without retreating from his gaze.

“The flattering words of a guest may indeed be exaggerated.

But even if Your Highness was displeased, open criticism was not the way.

That goes against the very principle of hospitality.”

Morick stepped forward too.

“Your Highness, I recall the intent was to test Miss Yaros’s character.

But in our plan, there was no such step as what just happened.”

He fidgeted nervously, eyes darting behind his gold-rimmed glasses, hands trembling as he struggled to phrase his words carefully.

“If Your Highness wishes to change the plan, I beg you to consult with me or the advisors beforehand.

After all, gaining the Blue Lion family’s support is of critical importance to our side.”

Nervous, but still refusing to back down.

Then came Heidi—the maid Ryan had once planted among the common staff to spy and intimidate, one of the few he half-trusted. She walked forward, bowed, and said:

“Your Highness, do you intend to take back your earlier praise of Miss Hajia?”

The words stunned even Charlton and Morick.

They had gone to such lengths to phrase everything formally, to avoid mentioning the golden-haired girl by name.

Yet Heidi, of all people, spoke of it directly—and with a hint of challenge.

Ryan was startled too.

Charlton and Morick—his left and right hands—had only managed to work up courage to advise him in roundabout ways.

Even if he stayed angry, he would not have truly punished them.

But Heidi? Her rank and position were far below theirs. Her relationship with Ryan couldn’t compare.

Yet she dared to speak this plainly? Who gave her the courage?

There was no doubt. The golden-haired girl.

It was she who had influenced them all.

Charlton. Morick. And now Heidi too.

From her, they had gained courage.

From her, they had learned to argue with reason, to speak with conviction.

“No,” Ryan said firmly.

He immediately understood Heidi’s true intent.

She was reminding him of the principle he had once cherished: clear rewards and punishments.

But Heidi did not smile. She pressed further:

“Then, Your Highness Ryan, may I ask you to continue trusting Miss Hajia?”

A trap, cleverly set.

He had praised the golden-haired girl in front of everyone, acknowledging how much she had helped him.

If he wasn’t going to retract those words, then by that same logic, he should trust her this time too.

If later it proved true, he should reward her, not punish her.

He should not be angry.

Even if he guessed wrong—no, there was no “even if.”

With Charlton and Morick’s reasoning laid down first, no matter what, the golden-haired girl could not be in the wrong.

No matter what, she had to be helping him.

(‘Looks like I really underestimated her.’)

Looking at the quick-witted, unflinching Heidi, Ryan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

And he remembered: it was that golden-haired girl who had first recommended promoting Heidi from infiltration duty to his personal maid.

Without her, none of this would have happened.

Charlton, Morick, Heidi—none of them would have dared to stand up to him like this.

Her presence had changed everything around him.

And the remarkable thing was, she never stole the spotlight. She didn’t act out of ambition or hunger for power.

Even if she left, the courage she gave them would remain.

They would still stand by him. They would still be his strength.

Just by being here, she made everything better. And it would only keep getting better.

(‘How pathetic I am.’)

Ryan mocked himself silently.

To think, he had once resolved in his heart to treat her like family.

And yet, at the crucial moment, he couldn’t even extend the simplest trust.

He let his temper strip away his reason.

He was immature. Weak. Utterly disappointing.

And so—

“Forgive me. I was wrong just now. I was too impulsive.”

Ryan’s face remained expressionless as he said it.

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt the sting of shame. That even now, he couldn’t let go of his pride.

But everyone else finally breathed in relief.

Well—almost everyone.

The maid who had knocked over the porcelain ornament still trembled in terror.

“It was I who frightened you. You did nothing wrong,” Ryan said, walking over.

With a flick of magic, he restored the broken ornament to its original form.

“Thank you for Your Highness’s mercy! I won’t fail again!”

The maid burst into grateful thanks—no doubt because few nobles would ever waste magic on a commoner’s mistake.

When Ryan looked back, he saw the others smiling.

Smiles of relief, of pride, of gratitude.

Smiles of pure gladness that things hadn’t gotten worse.

And for once—Ryan found he didn’t dislike any of them.

“…”

The hidden guard returned.

Through spellbound whispers only Ryan could hear, he gave his report.

Ryan dismissed the others from the dining hall.

Not long after, Flora entered.

“In a while, I will apologize to Miss Stela Yaros,” Ryan said before she could speak.

The golden-haired girl blinked in surprise—then broke into a bright smile.

Somehow, Ryan felt it was a smile meant just for him.

But even if it wasn’t—he realized he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

In fact, he almost felt… that as long as he could see Flora smile, no matter who it was for, or why—nothing else mattered.