Editor 36

They didn’t even look alike down to their toes.

‘Damn, why does the story jump around like that!’

Suppressing his dizziness, Cleio barely managed to sit up. After bowing his head in gratitude to Isiel who had tended to him, he turned on 「Perception」 again.

He examined Arthur closely with a completely new feeling.

He thought he only needed to watch out for the 1st and 2nd princes, but even the protagonist, who was supposed to be righteous, had a dog-like twist.

“Say that again, Arthur Riognan.”

“I said I’m glad I don’t have to kill you. If a mage who will reach level eight for the first time since Zebedi Physis went to the side of those scoundrels, I would’ve had to nip it in the bud myself while I still could. Honestly, I hated the idea of pointing a sword at a friend.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you before I wasn’t going to side with those bastards?”

Still sitting on the floor, Arthur looked up at Cleio, wearing an innocent, boyish expression.

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d join someone as stiff-necked as Aslan either. The problem was Melchior. I was so tense worrying you might get caught up with him and switch over, my legs even cramped up.”

That Arthur had been on edge was, of course, understandable.

‘With two such “innate skills,” most people probably couldn’t resist.’

Even he himself, under the protection of the “Promise,” had barely managed to defend against the skill; other people would have been powerless against it.

‘But did he really consider killing a classmate he’d always treated kindly?’

While Cleio’s expression stiffened, Arthur, full of energy, continued speaking. He looked as if his face was lit up by the joy of finding a rare comrade.

“Even if the whole world pushed my words off as lies, you know the truth now. I can’t tell you how glad I am that Melchior’s tricks didn’t work on you.”

Arthur’s heartbeat as conveyed by 「Perception」 was steady. His words that he didn’t want to lose Cleio were genuine. He had simply confessed, without hiding it, that he could sacrifice personal affection for necessity.

‘…Maybe he grew up too rough, he’s not fully socialized.’

Cleio sighed and, instead of pressing Arthur further, just slumped back limply against his seat.

“Anyone who slanders Melchior or even hates him loses all their words the moment they face him. Even Queen Zuleika can’t speak harshly in front of him, you know? Now you can see why.”

“He really is something else. But if he’s that capable, why bother putting forth effort into one student mage?”

“I was sure Melchior would be interested in any mage who wasn’t a pacifist.”

“Interested…?”

“Melchior has everything, but he’s lacking in brute force. The Royal Capital Defense Knights nominally belong to his father, and Aslan has Duke Cruel’s knights and the southeastern garrison, but Melchior has no real power.”

“But he has his confidant, Taetherton Tristain, doesn’t he? What about his knight order?”

As the 「Memory」 scroll clicked into place, it caught a piece that didn’t match with Arthur’s words.

“You don’t seem it, but you’re really well-versed in these affairs? Most people in the capital don’t know much because the Tristain territory is the farthest north.”

“My father’s a merchant and a railroad company shareholder. Why wouldn’t I know?”

“You know one thing but not another. Even if the Duke of Theo Tristain is on his last legs, he’s still not dead, so Taetherton is still just a ‘young lord.’ He can’t issue orders to the knights.”

‘!!!’

In the last draft, it was Duke Taetherton who led the knights from the start, so he hadn’t realized there would be such a small but decisive change.

“…Even so, wouldn’t it be faster to win over knights from the Royal Capital Defense Knights rather than focusing on a mage who might never reach level eight?”

“All the common knights adore Melchior. But the captain, Piers Clagen, whose mother was a commoner, is lukewarm about Melchior. In front of Melchior, he’s all dazzled and servile, acting like he’d cut out his own liver for him, but if Melchior isn’t around, he talks differently. He doesn’t get how dangerous Melchior is….”

A different possibility popped into Cleio’s head. Maybe even “Insight Structure” or “Charm” would wear off more quickly on high-ether-level senior knights?

In the last draft, as ether levels rose, there was a swordsman who could overcome the opponent’s “innate skills.”

‘That’s this guy, Arthur Riognan.’

“So how could the common knights go against the captain’s wishes?”

“Is that why he tried to win over a student with no affiliation yet?”

“Not only that, Melchior always has weird interests in strange things. You seemed to be waving bait in front of him.”

That was true. Regardless of his actual identity, just being suspected of being a half-brother had, inadvertently, stirred Crown Prince Melchior’s curiosity.

“Imagine the kind of person who thinks anyone who isn’t charmed by him is strange. Does such a person even exist?”

“Hahaha, right. Every foreign ambassador posted to Albion, in no time, ends up as Melchior’s passionate fan. Most of the People’s Assembly, the business world, even the young nobles’ council—many support him….”

Cleio understood the rest of the sentence Arthur didn’t finish.

‘—Who knows what he’ll do in the future.’

He didn’t know the details, but even Arthur might unconsciously sense an impending catastrophe.

With his energy completely drained, Cleio collapsed with his head in his hands in the corner of his seat.

“…And in the middle of all this, I can’t believe you boldly asked me to take your side.”

“But it’s the path I have to take, so what else can I do!”

---

His hat was nowhere, his ribbon had disappeared somewhere, and the neat clothes he went out in had returned drenched in sweat—Dione gasped when she saw Cleio.

The governess, who asked nothing, quickly drew him a bath and put Cleio straight to bed.

He even skipped meals and slept as if he were ill.

He had found out an unexpected truth about the author, faced someone like Melchior, and Arthur had bombarded him with excessive information, so the mental overload was considerable.

He barely got out of bed, only to realize that the new term was the next day.

The last dinner table of the break was overwhelming.

Cleio, put off by the artery-blocking fatty meal, only touched a bit of soup and some orange-sauced duck breast.

Mrs. Kenton looked disappointed, but Cleio had a good reason for feeling full even with little food.

‘My land documents. I have to take them to school.’

After everything that happened, he was even more resolved about his land. No matter what mess the princes made, no matter how the war played out, land wouldn’t disappear.

Unlike when he came from school, he needed a huge suitcase to go back. It was to carry the safe.

He put the safe at the bottom of his bag, and in the empty space above he neatly packed wine from the cellar.

‘Give some to Behemoth, drink some myself.’

Whether Cleio was packing or not, Dione, not wanting to leave Behemoth’s side, clung to him, petting and sleeping with him noisily.

“My Moat, won’t you go with your big sister to her house?”

“Myeong, meong myeong, myeuung (This cat must now return to care for its domain).”

“What will I do missing you, Moaty!”

Dione only let go after even tying a new tie on Behemoth.

Then, glancing between the school uniform Mrs. Kenton had hung up and Cleio, she tilted her head.

“Huh, Cleio. Try on your school uniform. I don’t think it fits.”

“It’s only been half a year since I had it tailored.”

“You’re still growing, young master. No protests, just hurry.”

Before Dione could glare, Cleio just did as he was told.

But she had an uncanny eye—both sleeves and pants had become awkwardly short.

He’d been thinking his knees felt chilly on nights he collapsed from magical fatigue, and it looked like he had grown taller.

‘It’s been so long… I never even thought of growing pains.’

With all these princes, swordsmen, good-looking and well-built people around, he couldn’t help but feel a little miffed at the author for an NPC-like character design….

But if he thought about Gideon Asser, it was unlikely he’d bulk up, but at least he’d be tall, so that was a relief.

‘I was never good-looking, but at least I wasn’t short. I have to live in this body from now on—being short too would be just unfair.’

Dione called in a maid and quickly let out the hems. She resolved to get him a new uniform soon.

“Wasn’t the governess job supposed to end when the break was over?”

“I renewed the contract with your father. The Centrum trade guild still isn’t coming back. Besides, we’ll keep seeing each other; it’s better to have an excuse.”

“And you’ll keep taking Father’s governess salary too?”

“It’s foolish not to take what you can have.”

Dione smiled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. She was always admirable for her consistent approach to life.

“By the way, are you leaving behind all the gifts sent by His Highness the Crown Prince?”

At Cleio’s suddenly troubled face, his hand froze before the remaining wine bottle.

While Cleio slept like the dead, a thank-you gift for attending the birthday party arrived at the Asser house. The things sent personally by the crown prince weren’t the usual cakes or stationeries.

The large red box was, even now, radiating presence in one corner of Cleio’s bedroom.

“How could I possibly take something like that with me?”

“That’s true. What did you do at the party to get something you can’t even take out of the house?”

A fancy insignia was stamped on it, and inside the chest, with a handwritten card from the crown prince, was a splendid ceremonial robe and a matching sword.

On the sleeve’s insignia was the royal surname, every button pure gold, the brilliant blend of red and gold made the uniform unmistakable even from a hundred meters.

After checking the garment’s size and maintenance, Dione said it looked like a robe the crown prince wore as a child.

“Receiving the formal wear of a senior family member in House Riognan is to emphasize friendship and legitimacy….”

“I was wondering if the royal budget was so tight they were giving out hand-me-downs as gifts.”

“As if. Only a member of the royal family could ever wear this. You’d be committing lèse-majesté otherwise.”

“Then the ceremonial sword must be a problem too?”

“Of course. It just doesn’t have visible markings—”

Dione swiftly drew the sword with its decorative knot, then held the blade up to the gaslight. Reciting a short phrase engraved on the blade with tiny lips, she said,

“—‘He who knows the hymn’s power, enjoy everlasting authority’ it says here. It’s the Riognan royal coat of arms. With this so blatantly stamped, it can’t even be sold. It’s ceremonial for the prince’s official appearances.”

“Ugh….”

Cleio clung to the empty wine box, letting out a moan without realizing it.

“Isn’t it about time you told me? What in the world happened with His Highness the Crown Prince?”

Returning the sword to its scabbard and the chest, Dione sat down in front of Cleio.

Her eyes sparkled, clearly full of curiosity over a new story.

“It’s complicated to explain… but in short… Crown Prince Melchior suspects I might be Prince Philip’s illegitimate child. This gift was sent to test my or my father’s reaction.”

“Ahaha. What?! How did that happen? Anyone with eyes could see it. You and Baronet Gideon look exactly alike.”

“It’s not about looks….”

“How could His Highness see you as a sibling—seriously, what happened? Argh, I’m so curious I’ll die!”

Cleio found it hard to answer.

He couldn’t just blurt out, ‘That prince reads people’s minds, and later, you see…’ like a cult missionary.

“…I’ll tell you everything when the time comes, so please wait just a little longer.”

“That time, so-called!”

Now really annoyed, Dione grabbed Cleio’s collar and pulled his head in close.

“Hey, Cleio Asser. Let’s make one thing clear.”

“You could say that from a little farther away….”

“Shut up. The servants are in the hallway.”

He could even see Dione’s eyelashes fluttering, and it was a little too close for mental comfort.

Dione, putting all her strength into it, tied up Cleio who had fallen back awkwardly. Then she began to cast a circle on the spot.