The Duke’s Persistent Gaze

At the northernmost fortress atop a snow-capped peak, sunlight finally began to pierce through.

The knights of the grand ducal castle, who had been confined to the dark, cramped training grounds for basic conditioning, now gathered in small groups and circled the vast garden—or rather, a field closer to a sports ground. Although the wind still bit sharply, after about a dozen laps, everyone was sweating and gasping for breath.

Merwell had grown somewhat accustomed to this brutish routine. Still, thanks to his healthier, more youthful physique compared to his previous, aging body, he managed to avoid the disgrace of collapsing.

“Something going on today?”

Eddie, still full of energy as if he could run a few more laps, approached him.

The other knights were like puppies, happy that the blizzard had stopped so they could finally play outside.

Electro waved a hand dismissively, then suddenly looked up.

“Eddie, have you ever kept a dog?”

“I had one at my family estate.”

Eddie had half given up on trying to correct the twenty-two-year-old Merwell’s casual speech. During dinner the previous day, when he had suggested that Merwell call him ‘hyung’ (older brother) to show some respect, Merwell had smacked him right on the crown of his head with the spoon he was holding.

“You little brat with no manners. Did you just ask me to call you ‘hyung’?”

Eddie had seriously wondered if this guy had gone mad and was counting his age backward. Yeah, he must have gone crazy from drinking that poisoned soup, so I should cut him some slack. Still, he vowed that once Merwell came to his senses, he wouldn’t let this slide. For now, he merely raised both hands in mock surrender.

“If you died and learned your dog couldn’t forget you, what would you do?”

“What are you talking about? Why would I die?”

Eddie scolded him, warning him not to jinx it.

“Ah… tsk.”

Merwell clicked his tongue, his expression sour. He looked like he desperately needed a cigarette. Electro had always smoked habitually whenever he was troubled.

“Why? Did you have a dog too?”

Merwell let out a long sigh. A white puff of breath burst forth like cigarette smoke. Eddie realized anew that this crazy bastard actually had a very handsome face.

His eyes, steeped in melancholy, were as beautiful as stars set in the night sky. No, I shouldn’t think that. Even if his appearance is fine, his mind is crazier than anyone.

Eddie, who had nearly burst a blood vessel after his first conversation with the newly awakened Merwell, thought of his own grandfather. Seeing this guy made him miss the old man, who was probably sitting at home right now, puffing on a pipe.

“Hmm, I did keep one. Though not exactly a dog…”

Eddie sneered.

“What? Is that dog whimpering because it can’t forget you?”

He said it jokingly, but Merwell’s serious eyes slowly turned toward the mansion. There, he met the transparent blue eyes that had been watching him.

Grand Duke Berlowen Blanchard was standing at a window in the center of the castle, his long black hair loose and dressed in comfortable clothes, staring intently down at Merwell Humanjack. Following Merwell’s gaze, Eddie spotted the Grand Duke and gasped in surprise.

“Hah! Your Grace.”

“Hmm.”

“No, why is he… how long has he been watching?”

Despite his rugged, thuggish appearance, Eddie was actually quite timid and possessed a remarkably pure, devoted heart. Jex loved to tease him, saying Eddie was the kind of guy who believed he had to marry a girl just for holding her hand. In other words, Eddie held Grand Duke Berlowen in immense, fearful respect.

Eddie probably didn’t know—how could he, being an ordinary knight?—but Merwell had noticed the gaze following him ever since he stepped outside. For Electro, who had spent a lifetime learning to distinguish intent, hostility, and the hidden stares of others during his reign as Emperor, it was easy to spot a pursuing gaze.

Even as he circled the training field several times after leaving the mansion, Bain’s gaze clung to him—persistent, dark, as if it would devour him. It held curiosity, and perhaps a deep distrust. Merwell would have preferred if Bain had just come down and spoken to him, but instead, the silent, probing stare made him highly uncomfortable.

Last night, Merwell had debated whether to tell Bain that he was actually Electro Chaman, the supreme Emperor of the Empire, and his master. Unfortunately, no clear answer came. Reason told him to tell the truth to put an end to Bain’s tenacious, blind obsession and loyalty, but instinct screamed the exact opposite.

Don’t get caught.

Don’t let him discover you.

If he does, that is the end of Electro, the Emperor.

Someone seemed to whisper those warnings directly into his mind.

“Right, why would it be unable to forget?”

Leaving a vague answer as if responding to an unseen presence, Electro quietly turned his back on the castle. Then, he dragged away Eddie, who was sweating nervously under the Grand Duke’s heavy surveillance.

I’m going to be devoured.

Someone very dark seemed to laugh in his mind, as if the situation were utterly hilarious.

The gaze followed him everywhere.

While eating, while chatting idly with his comrades, or even just walking down the corridor—the gaze was always there.

It was packed with a volatile mix of emotions: distrust, a sliver of hope, and a silent, questioning “could it be?” It clung to Merwell for a long time, refusing to leave him be.

Meanwhile, the castle supplies finally arrived. Though it was a grand duchy in name only, small villages of domain residents had formed below the snowy mountains, and supplies were procured through them.

Of course, the villagers were generously compensated. Merwell thought that the Grand Duke did take excellent care of his people, examining the delivered supplies with fresh eyes.

“His Grace wouldn’t manage all these logistics himself, would he?”

Chelen laughed cheerfully at Merwell’s observation. She wiped her hands and distributed the goods, then secretly slipped a box of fifteen cigarettes into Merwell’s pocket. Seeing the cigarettes instantly reminded him of the incident in the underground storage.

“His Highness the Crown Prince sent an aide, and that person is handling the grand duchy’s administration.”

“The Crown Prince…”

“Ah. Now His Imperial Majesty, of course.”

“Oh…”

Emperor Electro, having lived a full life, had died only after surpassing a hundred years. As a result, his eldest son, weakened by old age, had stepped down from the crown prince position, and eventually, the second grandson, Kalix, had taken the throne.

Even before becoming the crown prince, Kalix had been an ambitious man, desperately wanting to bring Bain under his direct control.

“Daniel was placed here as a spy.”

The aide the new Emperor had assigned to spy on the grand duchy was named Daniel. Merwell recalled that name—he was a personal servant Kalix had cherished since childhood.

Back then, it was endearing to see his grandson’s little tantrums. Now, Electro recalled how Kalix would jump and run away every time he tried to inspect the boy’s progress.

Tsk, that ungrateful brat. Can’t a grandfather see his grandson’s little thing?

“Now he cries every day, begging to retire…” Chelen whispered, smiling a slightly malicious smile as she handed Merwell clean clothes and garments.

Daniel had probably never expected the Grand Duke to be so thoroughly uncooperative in administrative affairs.

Meanwhile, about two hundred more carriages arrived. All of them carried winter provisions, including servants and daily necessities for the Grand Duke. Especially since the next blizzard might be even worse, an additional fifty carriages were expected, so everyone would be busy organizing the storerooms for days.

The knights were also helping out. Eddie and Merwell, being among the few who could read and write, were swamped with inventory work.

“Eddie, you’re quite capable.”

You can read and write, and you’re good with a sword—impressive. Electro admired him. Eddie looked like the kind of guy who would chew on a pencil out of sheer ignorance, but he was full of surprises.

“…I am a son of a noble family, you know?”

Though it was a rapidly declining baron’s house, Eddie was indeed a nobleman’s son. While they talked, that familiar gaze locked onto Merwell again. He pretended not to notice and went back to work.

Ah, something’s about to happen, he thought.

“Y-Your Grace!”

The training ground fell into a hushed silence at the sudden appearance of Grand Duke Berlowen. The Grand Duke usually spent almost all of his time holed up in his private quarters whenever he returned to the castle.

To avoid disturbing his rest—especially since he had fallen into a deep, volatile despair after losing the Emperor he so adored—the servants moved as quietly as possible, and the knights walked on eggshells.

The Grand Duke, with his long black hair loose, wearing a simple white shirt and navy trousers, looked as if he were merely out for a light stroll. But the knights knew exactly how fearsome and ferocious his physical abilities were.

It was the first time since his return that the Grand Duke had personally stepped foot onto the training grounds.

His gaze locked onto a single man.

Berlowen looked flustered, even bewildered.

Looking at Bain, who was staring at him blankly, Merwell wondered what on earth was going through his head. Bain had been arranging these seemingly “chance” encounters all this time.

He simply orbited around Merwell, never truly leaving his side, as if monitoring his every breath.

It was so persistent that Eddie eventually asked with a pale, serious face, “Does His Grace know you’re crazy?” Merwell dismissed him with a curt order to go help organize the carriage supplies if he had nothing better to do.

Contrary to Merwell’s complicated, tense feelings, the other knights’ faces brightened. They were excited that their master had finally shaken off his depressive stupor. Electro, the very ghost they thought he had escaped, possessed an expression beyond description.

That face is definitely the one he makes when he’s fallen into some kind of trap…

Just as Berlowen had watched Electro his entire life, Electro had known Berlowen since infancy.

Though his face was smiling amiably, if it was twisted in a particular, odd way, it meant trouble. It was the exact face Bain wore whenever the nobles submitted petitions to keep him away from the Emperor—the silent, satisfied look of a beast about to make someone disappear without a sound.

The instructor limped and shouted twice as loudly as usual. The Grand Duke’s mere presence on the field made the younger knights’ morale soar, leaving only Electro feeling mentally exhausted.

Even after training ended, the Grand Duke’s peculiar stalking continued.

When Merwell passed through the hallway to bathe, or when he ate tasteless meals with his comrades, the Grand Duke didn’t approach him directly, but continued to orbit him like a silent specter.

By the third day of this, the knights, who had initially been thrilled by their master’s attention, had turned pale with anxiety. Eddie, who sat closest to Merwell, looked completely haggard. Jex had long since vacated his seat near Merwell. He was certainly sharp enough to avoid the splash zone.

“…I think I’m going to get severe indigestion,” Eddie muttered, his face deathly pale.

“The food’s already tasteless enough.”

Eddie’s biggest concern these days was how to secretly murder the castle cook. The combination of terrible food and the Grand Duke’s intense, unblinking gaze was wreaking absolute havoc on his stomach.

Merwell sighed as he saw Bain standing right at the entrance of the dining hall, staring at him blankly.

Not only Eddie, but the other knights looked pitifully pale. They were practically stuffing food down their throats while keeping an eye on the Grand Duke standing at the main door, his eyes locked onto Merwell.

Feeling infinitely sorry for them, Merwell eventually gulped down his tasteless soup, crammed a piece of bread into his mouth, and stood up.

During his time as Emperor, he had several top imperial chefs, but now as Merwell, he had to make do with whatever was served.

Merwell placed his tray on the kitchen counter and walked outside.

Tap, tap…

He could hear quiet footsteps behind him.

Sure enough, Grand Duke Berlowen was following him. Over these past three days of Bain’s uncharacteristic stalking, Merwell had been incredibly tense, wondering if the guy had finally figured out his identity.

But Bain still seemed highly uncertain. His eyes said, “You seem like my master, but you are not.” He was caught in a loop of hesitation.

Just as Merwell was debating whether to break the silence, Bain, who had been tracking his movements for three days, slowly closed the distance.

He looked like a hunting dog on the prowl, but in Merwell’s eyes, he still seemed elegant and beautiful. Yet, likely still suffering from chronic insomnia, his face was terribly pale.

Bain, drawing near while staring into Merwell’s eyes, reached inside his coat. He pulled out a small treat that glistened brightly in the sunlight. It wasn’t a hard candy, but a uniquely flavored fruit jelly that melted instantly on the tongue.

It was a rare and incredibly expensive delicacy that commoners could only dream of—and it was something Emperor Electro had eaten constantly. Electro, who had been secretly embarrassed by his sweet tooth, had only ever eaten them in front of Bain.

“This…”

Bain’s blue eyes probed him, searching for any sign of recognition.

He still wasn’t sure if the twenty-two-year-old knight before him was the Emperor.

He is my master, and yet he is not. But he feels exactly like him.

Bain’s blue eyes sparkled with a desperate, child-like intensity.

He stared into Merwell’s eyes, like a loyal hound eagerly awaiting praise from his master.