1.4 Not Every Summon is Met With Cooperation

Hyeon didn’t lack an understanding of the psychology behind losing trust in people. If it were to become the perfect successor, or to take revenge on those who betrayed him, Hyeon was a man who could utilize even sympathy however he pleased.

However, now that life had lost its meaning, he didn’t want to create situations that felt like debts to others. No matter how hard Misha helped him, as long as Misha didn’t seek monetary compensation, there was nothing Hyeon could give back to him.

‘Asking me to read a book.’

He’s not a child. Hyeon knew it was an obvious excuse. Knowing that Hyeon wouldn’t entrust him with anything if his hands were empty, Misha had likely improvised a task that wouldn’t be too taxing for a sick man. To reject such transparent goodwill… Hyeon was far too bored. An expert he had wanted to call for a long time, provided he had an excuse, had walked right in on his own—and was helping him legally, no less. Was there any reason to refuse? Hyeon could not turn down Misha’s overly bright kindness.

As he watched Misha working diligently in the field for a long while, the familiar tinnitus eventually stopped. Soon, the sun would rise high overhead. Then, before long, the caretaker would bring his meals. After finishing a plain and unremarkable meal, Misha would be the first to knock on the door of Hyeon’s study. Hyeon didn’t dislike this sudden change. Though unfamiliar, it wasn’t a bad change. Perhaps to the point of being slightly frightening, it was the most fitting kind of daily routine for a sick man walking slow steps toward the end of his life.

“Your Highness, I have brought breakfast.”

Just as Hyeon expected, the caretaker soon entered with the breakfast tray, and Hyeon greeted him while dressed in simple indoor clothes he had put on himself.

“Leave it there.”

Trying not to be conscious of the caretaker who was reading his mood, Hyeon moved the breakfast tray—containing warm soup, soft bread, and butter and jam—to the nightstand beside the bed. The jam, in a jar with a lid, smelled fresh and fragrant, as if made from simmered fruits brought in from outside.

Including the frozen lake exile site, the territories remaining for [visit our site]Duke Read on Read BL NovelsTransis were utterly shabby and poor. However, because Duke Transis’s disgustingly picky appetite was famous enough to be known throughout the Empire, the meals were of a reasonably high standard.

No need for fancy clothes, jewelry, or new carpets; just spend the entire budget on food. It was a bizarre request, but thanks to the real Isaac having set the framework that way, Hyeon was able to eat high-quality meals.

After all, was there any need to drape expensive fabrics over a body that would gradually weaken? Clothes only needed to be not so shabby that they looked like an eyesore to others. Despite having never worn anything other than luxury brands since becoming an adopted child of a conglomerate family—on the grounds that he must look like the wealthiest household wherever he went—Hyeon actually preferred the current situation.

However, since he didn’t insist on the finer things in his diet either, Hyeon didn’t even know how to properly savor the various precious foods that came and went from the table, feeling they were somewhat wasteful. Though the ingredients weren’t used extravagantly, they were high-level dishes the caretaker had worked hard to create to suit the disgustingly picky Duke’s taste; for Hyeon, who didn’t particularly like sweets, this jam was practically useless.

‘Hmm…’

Since he wasn’t an adult yet, would he like it if he were given something sweet? Hyeon closed the lid of the jam jar and pushed it to one side of the nightstand. After finishing a light meal of soup and half a piece of bread, Hyeon went straight to the window and tapped on the glass twice.

At that, Misha, who had been diligently smoothing the furrows since morning, jumped in surprise and looked up at the second-floor window where Hyeon was, looking flustered as if he had been caught doing something bad.

Instead of calling Misha out loud, Hyeon silently gestured for him to come up. A moment later, Misha rushed into Hyeon’s bedroom, explaining himself without even removing the straws stuck to his hair.

“It’s not that I’ve been out working since morning…! I woke up at my usual time, but I wanted to breathe some morning air, so I came out to stretch, and then…”

Watching Misha, Hyeon stifled a laugh. What a transparent and strange fellow. If Hyeon had met such a person while he was still consumed by revenge, he would have exploited that gentle nature to the bone, making him spill the blood that should have stained his own hands.

But very fortunately, the current Hyeon was a toothless tiger and a beast with severed tendons, and there was no one he needed to pay back so fiercely. The real Isaac’s circumstances unauthorized copywere something he had brought upon [unauthorized copy]himself, so it wasn’t something Hyeon needed to consider.

Surely, back in his hometown, there must have been more than one or two people trying to take advantage of this boy’s soft heart. If you help someone, you should at least make it known and take a reward. Where is there a fool who passionately argues that he wasn’t helping? Hyeon pointed to the bread and jam he had neatly set aside.

“You’re at a growing age, aren’t you? I imagine you’d get hungry quickly on just the meals distributed to the servants. I haven’t touched these, so you may take them if you need them.”

When Hyeon offered the white bread—which was hard for commoners to obtain—and the well-simmered jam, Misha’s cheeks flushed red.

“Huh? I, I haven’t even done anything…!”

Hyeon had a smile on his face, but he didn’t back down an inch.

“That is why you must eat well, so you can do things that are helpful to me.”

Eventually, when Mikhail sat on the chair in front of the nightstand and devoured the bread as if making it disappear, Hyeon thought: This child really grew up in an environment far removed from the etiquette of noble houses. He couldn’t even doubt his identity.

And that night. Marcel, who had completed about half of the investigation in the basement, doubted his eyes as he saw the Prince becoming increasingly absurd.

“Your Highness, what on earth are you thinking about so deeply?”

At Marcel’s sudden appearance, Mikhail jumped in surprise and replied.

“Whoa, you scared me! Make some noise when you come in, Marcel!”

Any more than this? Marcel couldn’t bring himself to complain out loud, but he found it absurd. He wasn’t some brat caught secretly masturbating; wasn’t the act of clearing his throat and knocking twice before entering a signal, or was it some kind of stealth technique?

Marcel looked at the Prince with eyes full of suspicion and reached a conclusion. The Prince must be possessed. Perhaps the Duke had used some wicked magic tool to brainwash the young and innocent Prince. Marcel steeled himself and spoke.

“Your Highness, if I may dare to advise you, you are not in your right mind right now.”

Naturally, Mikhail immediately rebelled.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine! I haven’t been overworking myself lately and I’m sleeping well, so I’m healthy!”

Mikhail denied it vehemently, but in Marcel’s judgment, Mikhail was indeed out of his mind.

“A ‘perfectly fine’ person is currently playing trivial house in the mud with a high traitor of the Empire? Does serving as a lackey to your enemy suit your aptitude that much?”

Marcel spat out the insulting remark, thinking the Prince wouldn’t come to his senses unless he went this far, but he immediately regretted it. No matter how urgent the situation, such a rude remark toward royalty… Marcel wouldn’t have been able to say anything even if his status as a minor noble and his position as an investigator were completely stripped away for the crime of imperial insult.

‘But no matter how I look at it, this isn’t right.’

If His Majesty saw this situation, he would fully understand why he made such a remark. Marcel waited for the appropriate retribution with a pounding, nervous heart, but the response he received was a vacant one.

“…Does it look that way?”

What kind of answer is this? Marcel let out a stupid sound in horror.

“Pardon?”

Then Mikhail avoided his gaze, looking embarrassed.

“Does it look to you, Marcel, like I’m being helpful to that person?”

I’m going crazy. Not ‘the Duke,’ but ‘that person’? Realizing that the situation was far more serious than he had thought, Marcel immediately closed the door and stepped out into the hallway. When the investigator, who had gone into his room saying he would rest after finishing today’s investigation, suddenly walked out with a terrifying expression, the caretaker couple nodded silently, as if thinking the Duke’s schemes had finally been discovered.

What kind of bewitching trick had he played to make that innocent Prince spout such nonsense? Marcel felt a dryness in his throat, lamenting that he hadn’t been able to conduct a cross-examination with the Duke due to the lack of an interrogation warrant.

Marcel’s official reason for dispatch was a facility investigation for the smooth management of the frozen lake exile site. Even though he was a criminal, a noble could not be left in just any environment, so the plan was to check everything from the roof to the basement warehouse to verify the state of the facilities.

Until now, Marcel had thoroughly searched the Duke’s study, bedroom, basement, and unauthorized copyeven [stolen content]the empty rooms, but he had found nothing particularly suspicious.

‘Looking at his behavior, it’s just a cycle of reading books all day, going out to the field to tend to crops, and reading books again, so I haven’t noticed any signs of him doing anything particularly suspicious.’

Just when had he gained the Prince’s trust to such an extent? Hoping the Duke would reveal his ulterior motives, Marcel knocked on the study door with a deliberately rude attitude.

“Investigator Humphreys. I am entering.”

After a short knock, he burst in without giving the Duke time to prepare for a guest. The Duke, who had been looking down at a book while wearing glasses, quietly raised his head.

“What is it?”

What is it? Regardless, Marcel couldn’t stand the fact that the Prince, whom he cared for with his own kind of affection, was being toyed with by this traitor. Although nothing would change just because he couldn’t stand it without clear evidence, he believed he at least had the right to demand what the man had done to the Prince. As the one ordered to look after the Prince’s well-being.

“I have something I wish to ask about my squire.”

He deliberately referred to him as a squire to test whether the Duke knew the Prince’s identity, and the Duke let out a short exclamation.

“Ah.”

“Just how on earth…!”

Just as Marcel was about to press him, the sentence that came back, cutting him off, was unimaginable.

“Yes, he accompanied you as extra help to assist you, so it’s only natural that you would have complaints. Even if the child said it was fine, I should have checked with you separately. I apologize for not mentioning it beforehand.”

And in that moment, Marcel doubted his own ears.

“Pardon?”

When he asked back with another stupid sound, the Duke continued in a calm and dry tone, without the slightest agitation.

“I formally apologize for any inconvenience caused. I would like to offer compensation, but unfortunately, as you know, my circumstances are not affluent, so I can only offer a verbal apology.”

So, did I… just hear an apology from the Duke’s mouth? Marcel closed and opened his eyes, doubting his hearing.

“……?”

All Marcel saw was the Duke looking at him with a serene face. With a stunned expression, Marcel asked cautiously.

“Did you… just apologize to me?”

Only then did a cynical smile play on the Duke’s lips.

“If it is true that you and I are using the same imperial common language?”

“…My god.”

As Marcel looked dazed, as if possessed by something, the Duke pressed his fingertips against the area around his eyebrows as if tired and spoke.

“Tell him he doesn’t need to help with my work starting tomorrow. Do you have any other business?”

Marcel’s mind had become a blank sheet of paper, so he managed to shake his head and left the study with trudging steps.

‘It was true that the Duke has gone mad.’

The naive Prince might not know, but Marcel had experience facing the Duke in person years ago. The impression Marcel had felt upon seeing the Duke then was simple.

‘How can someone be this arrogant?’

Marcel had never seen such an arrogant person in his life. A man wrapped in cynicism and ruthlessness, [visit our site][unauthorized copy]who seemed to find Read on Read BL Novelsit entirely natural to reign above others. Everyone in the Imperial Palace had pointed fingers at him for his insolent attitude, as if he viewed even the Emperor as his inferior.

And that man had apologized to him, someone clearly lower in status? And over borrowing a squire? This was nonsensical.

Returning to his room, Marcel sank into thought, ignoring the Prince who was jumping around, asking what on earth he had said to the Duke. The Duke he had just spoken with overflowed with an unprecedented elegance. His demeanor was so fluidly dignified and calm that it was understandable why the Prince—who had likely only interacted deeply with barbaric mercenary company members or hunters—would be so wide-eyed with surprise.

Of course, there were plenty of people in the Imperial Palace who overflowed with elegance. However, whether they were friendly toward the Prince was a separate issue. Although the Prince was the offspring of a concubine and not an illegitimate child, he had grown up outside the palace and had not acquired the etiquette of the Imperial Family.

Furthermore, since his older brother, the son of the Empress, had long been established as the Crown Prince, no one bothered to put effort into interacting with the wild-horse-like Prince. The Prince himself hated being bound by rigid things like etiquette and rules, using subjugation orders as an excuse to wander outside the palace, so it was perhaps natural that he was far removed from such things.

Marcel fell into deep thought for a moment. Until now, he had thought the Duke was coaxing and manipulating the Prince with all sorts of tricks and shallow schemes. But what on earth was the Duke’s attitude just now?

‘Oh, that kid? Yeah, he’s yours, right? Take him back quickly, yeah.’ Marcel was even more confused by the attitude that was almost too cool. Then, could it be that the Duke is just recuperating without any particular thought, and the Prince is the only one who has become obsessed with a type of person he’s never seen before, following him around with eyes of admiration? He couldn’t believe it.

“Your Highness, I must verify this with my own two eyes. Please let me accompany you in ambush the next time the two of you meet.”

“Huh?”

“I must see for myself if that man is truly safe for Your Highness. Starting tomorrow!”

After persistently demanding it, he promised that if he could verify with his own eyes that no stolen contentstrange tricks were being played, he would not oppose visit our sitethe Prince associating [unauthorized copy]with the Duke. Having watched them, Marcel was sucked into an even more painful cycle.

“Your master seems worried about you. Is it alright for you to be out here like this?”

“Ah, yes! I’ve handled that matter well, so you really don’t have to worry! But that’s not what’s important right now! Have you seen this flowerpot? The sprout has already grown this much!”

“It was only the length of a fingernail yesterday, and it’s already grown that much?”

“Of course! The Duke personally adjusted the temperature and gave it fertilizer!”

Marcel, who had been unable to hide his shock even while tending the field together, nearly vomited his heart out when they moved to the study.

“The Marchioness of Madrilie gripped her fan tightly and took a deep breath. The man’s firm chest muscles, which could not be hidden even by his uniform… Wait a minute, this is…”

“Gasp, I-I’m sorry! I saw ‘garden’ in the title, so I thought it was the Marchioness’s gardening memoir or something like that!”

“…I’ll just have the caretaker dispose of this later.”

“Yes, I-I really didn’t know it was that kind of content when I asked… really…!”

Marcel wanted to faint while standing.

This was exactly… like a master benevolently pretending not to notice the insolent loyalty (=clueless romantic feelings) of a servant. It was horrifying enough that the Prince of the Empire was in such a state, but for the object of his affection to be the traitor who had tried to assassinate him… it was even more nonsensical.

This, this is not something to just watch. That night, imagining the worst-case scenario, Marcel asked Mikhail with a stiff expression.

“Your Highness, I am asking this out of a lingering concern. You are aware that the Duke is an Alpha, correct?”

To Marcel’s question, Mikhail answered innocently.

“I don’t think I’m such a child that I wouldn’t know that. You can tell just by the pheromones.”

At Mikhail’s bright expression, Marcel let out a sigh of relief and clutched his forehead.

“I’m glad you know. I was worried that perhaps Your Highness… toward the Duke…”

Mikhail, succeeding in predicting the sentence that would follow, flushed bright red and waved his hands frantically.

“W-what kind of strange things are you imagining! It’s absolutely not like that! It’s just, he’s such a dignified person that I respect him regardless of his background or status. Marcel, are you actually crazy?”

In that moment, seeing the Prince’s earlobes turn as red as visit our sitea ripe Osbrant cherry, stolen content[Read on Read BL Novels]Marcel became certain. This is truly fucked.