“What does that mean?”

The question contained pure curiosity. Idren gauged how much his interlocutor, whose face was hard to see even when facing them, might know.

It seemed the second prince of Egelbamoths had not told Ophelia that he served his half-brother like a servant.

Although he had no particular affection for the other party, Idren understood his psychology. He too had once had shameful, unsightly parts he didn’t want to reveal.

Precisely because they were friends, the second prince would not have wanted to expose his own flaws.

Moreover, Ophelia had the power to make those facing her want to appear impressive.

But what he knew, Ophelia also deserved to know. Idren chose to build trust with his wife rather than protect the face of a prince who was not even a friend, but close to a romantic rival.

“The second prince of Egelbamoths did not go down to Reden for his own business.”

“Then for what reason did he go all the way to Reden?”

“I don’t know for certain. But I hear his half-brother, Crown Prince Orien, uses him like a servant, so it was probably because of that.”

As you know, the royal families of the three countries tend to be harsh towards illegitimate children.

There was a strange bitterness in the man’s tone as he said this.

Realizing that he was speaking not only of Netepel but including himself as well, Ophelia bit her inner lip. She too knew what Idren was referring to.

While it was they themselves who had committed adultery, the Emperor of Egelbamoths and the King of Aglante placed all manner of sins on the children born of it.

From a young age, Ophelia could not understand this. It was the monarchs who had succumbed to a moment’s impulse and dropped their marriage vows to the ground.

Yet people ignored that fact just because they had power, and blamed children who had never chosen anything.

Swallowing thoughts that seemed a bit heavy to have in bed late at night, Ophelia murmured.

“…Netepel didn’t tell me such things.”

“They are somewhat embarrassing facts to reveal.”

“But I’m his friend…”

Ophelia, who had been murmuring, asked in a slightly raised voice.

“So you’re saying Netepel was too ashamed of that fact to contact me even after coming to Reden?”

It was a sharp question that came out as if her friendship was being doubted, but Idren calmly replied.

“I’m saying that may have been the case.”

“But even you know about it…”

“I didn’t know originally either. It was only known to acquaintances of the Runtalis imperial family and Crown Prince Orien.”

That answer wasn’t particularly pleasing either. Ophelia, who had slightly furrowed her brow, asked.

“Then who taught you?”

There was a face that reflexively came to mind upon hearing those words. Idren unknowingly frowned.

“My name is Rahelica Runtalis.”

At the first summit he attended after becoming king, the first princess of Egelbamoths had extended her hand to him and said that.

Her attitude was as if dealing with an equal, but there was an enigmatic smile on her lips. It was a smile that only one who remembered where their first meeting had taken place could make.

Idren too realized as soon as he saw the princess’s face.

The golden-haired princess, older than him, had once stroked the back of his hand at a banquet. It was when she was at her most vibrant, and he was about to be dragged off to the border, which was no different from a slaughterhouse.

Although he was now of a status that would no longer be trifled with by her, the unpleasantness of that time still remained, so Idren did not share a seat with Rahelica throughout the summit.

Rahelica too did not speak to him or act familiar. Idren soon realized that the princess maintained a certain distance not only from him but from everyone at the summit, but he did not pay much attention to it.

He encountered Rahelica again on the last day of the summit, in the banquet hall.

The younger generation children were all gathered in another hall, and in the banquet hall where only those who had come of age were gathered, Idren danced with Rahelica, holding her hand.

Even though he would have preferred to choose someone else if possible, there were so few people gathered – the already small number had become even smaller after he killed the three princes of Aglante – that there was no choice.

The princess who had once spoken to him of chastity did not say such things this time. She kept smiling throughout, and only said one thing just before they let go of each other’s hands.

“You have become a king, not a servant.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“In our family too, there was a child in exactly your situation, but that child lives as a servant.”

Just then the music changed, so they let go of hands.

That night, through the words of a somewhat drunk Crown Prince Orien, Idren learned that the person the princess had spoken of was Netepel Runtalis.

After briefly recalling facts he didn’t particularly want to tell Ophelia, Idren explained concisely.

“After becoming king, I attended a summit, and heard it there.”

“…I see.”

Ophelia realized anew the difference in their access to information.

She had not been able to go outside the palace, let alone attend summits, since coming of age unless Haslen came, while Idren could not only go wherever his feet could take him, but also likely had people to bring him news of places he did not go.

Ophelia, who had adjusted her posture to lie facing the ceiling, compared their differences for a moment. It was then that Idren spoke.

“May I ask just one question as well?”

“Go ahead.”

Then Idren hesitated for a moment. Unlike her, still lying facing her side, Ophelia waited for the man to continue speaking.

Just before she felt bored, he finally opened his mouth.

“About what happened with Lord Rohos in your previous life.”

The room was dark and she too was lying straight, so she couldn’t see the other’s face, but Ophelia realized that Idren was feeling apologetic as he brought that up. She could tell from the carefulness in his voice.

She felt strange at this unexpected consideration. It was a similar kind of peculiarity to what she had felt at Lord Rohos’s castle long ago.

Ophelia, who had not yet precisely defined what that emotion was, blinked while looking up at the ceiling. Idren continued speaking.

“Did the second prince of Egelbamoths know about that incident?”

The imperial palace in Larox, capital of the Egelbamoths Empire. A man with long golden hair tied back was walking down the corridor.

The man’s beauty was striking enough to make passersby turn their heads, and his red eyes revealed that he was of the noble Runtalis bloodline, but all the palace servants avoided him as they passed by.

The palace’s masters, Levenen II and Crown Prince Orien, greatly disliked him. The reason was that he was the main culprit who had shattered the peace of their family.

Though treated as if cursed from birth, the man – Netepel Runtalis – never once resented those around him. All the palace servants knew of his kind nature, but they had to be careful with their actions to avoid displeasing their masters.

Nevertheless, a few brave souls would occasionally approach him discreetly to greet him.

Though their movements were subtle to avoid notice, the man returned a gentle smile to all of them. It was a beautiful smile that might be seen in an ancient painting.

Finally reaching the second most lavish reception room in the palace, the man knocked on the door.

“Elder brother, I heard you called for me.”

Then a small bell sound was heard from inside the room. It was a bell to inform the servants that they could enter.

Though somewhat insulting for use between blood relatives, the knights guarding the reception room did not bat an eye, as if such things were common.

The man facing the door furrowed his brow slightly, but he too responded nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

“Then I shall enter.”

And the man opened the reception room door himself. The knights standing by the door did not lift a finger.

Inside the room was a man who looked strikingly similar to him, but with a slightly more angular face and short hair. It was Orien, the crown prince of Egelbamoths.

Orien, the first child of Levenen and his only wife Iris, was accustomed to looking down on people, having been named crown prince from birth.

Orien gestured to the illegitimate child before him. The man approached according to his gesture, head bowed.

“I have obtained what you requested.”

And the illegitimate son took out a box from within his clothes and held it out to him. The long rectangular box was wrapped in red satin.

At Orien’s chin gesture, he placed it on the windowsill. The late afternoon sunlight fell across the red satin embroidered with gold.

When the man returned to his place, Orien poured the tea he had been holding onto the most vulgar of those bearing the Runtalis name.

Tea dripped down the delicate features of a face befitting one with a prostitute’s blood mixed in. It was deep red tea steeped from flowers.

After briefly looking down at his half-brother’s wet face, Orien said:

“Next time, come a little earlier. Hasn’t the tea gotten cold?”

Though his words contained clear insult, the one who heard them replied without showing any displeasure. Yes, elder brother.

Frowning as if even that docile answer displeased him, Orien placed the teacup he had been holding right on top of the other’s head.

Made of thin glass to better show the color of the tea, the teacup fell straight to the floor and shattered.

After briefly looking down at the broken shards and the soiled man bowing his head before him, Orien said:

“My sister will be here soon, so stop dirtying the place and get out.”