His neatly combed hair was in perfect shape, and his uniform, with its razor-sharp creases, also looked tidy.

Indifferently staring at the perfect emperor reflected in the mirror, Ikar turned away.

“Your Majesty, do you have a moment?”

As Ikar was about to leave his office, Vane stood in his way.

“What is it?”

“I’ve heard that women prefer men with slight imperfections rather than those who are absolutely flawless.”

At Vane’s frivolous words, one of Ikar’s eyebrows twitched upward.

‘And what is your point?’

Ikar stared intently at Vane with such an expression.

“Leave it to me, Your Majesty!”

Confidently said Vane. Ikar simply stood there, wondering what he would do.

Vane began by unbuttoning Ikar’s uniform, which had been buttoned up to the neck.

Though Ikar looked on with apprehension, Vane nonchalantly unfastened the jacket.

But that wasn’t the end.

Vane reached for the button on Ikar’s shirt. Ikar promptly grabbed Vane’s wrist.

“Vane, what are you doing?”

“Your Majesty, don’t worry. This is a proven method.”

Grinning, Vane unbuttoned Ikar’s shirt.

The face was rather irritating, so Ikar shifted his gaze to his reflection in the mirror.

Veins bulged on Ikar’s forehead.

The mirror reflected not a perfectly groomed emperor but someone who appeared to have just rolled out of bed.

His frown deepened.

Seeing this, Vane seemed slightly flustered but quickly regained his confidence.

“Let me share a secret with you, Your Majesty. My brother also won over my sister-in-law in this manner.”

Vane’s brother, Duke Jeffrey Fisher’s love story, was fairly famous within the Bashuker Empire.

Anna, who had become Duchess Fisher, was the society’s flower from the moment she first appeared on the social scene.

She was not only beautiful but also a wonderful singer and composer.

No gentleman could deny her. She was pretty, intelligent, and artistically gifted.

Naturally, she was proud and aloof.

So much so that the number of young men who had asked her to dance at balls and had been refused was beyond counting.

And the man fortunate enough to win her heart was none other than Vane’s brother, Duke Jeffrey Fisher.

“…….”
Ikar walked down the hallway with a troubled expression.

He couldn’t understand why he had to go out of his way to impress Renev.

And what he found most incomprehensible was that he had accepted Vain’s opinion.

Wearing his uniform jacket and shirt disheveled like some viscount’s rascal, Ikar headed toward the reception room.

When Renev arrived in front of the reception room, he ran into Ikar who was just coming from this direction. Renev promptly saluted Ikar.

“Your Majesty.”

“Good, afternoon.”

Something about Ikar’s greeting felt awkward.

Renev lifted his eyes slightly to look at Ikar.

And he paused, a little surprised.

‘Huh?’

Naturally, Renev’s gaze stopped at Ikar’s long, thick neck and firm chest.

His clothing was considerably disheveled.

‘Did he come in a hurry from sword training?’

But that couldn’t be; Ikar’s skin was too soft.

If he had come right after training, he would have been sweating.

Having watched Patrick and the Siren knights train in the courtyard of Count Siren several times, he knew well.

Whether summer or winter, they would be dripping sweat.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ikar seemed to have noticed Renev’s puzzled gaze.

Renev glanced around the corridor. Thankfully, no one else was there except the Emperor’s knights.

With a difficult expression, Renev moistened his lips.

“Your Majesty, if it’s not too forward, may I adjust your clothing a little?”

“……?”

A question mark appeared on Ikar’s face, but he seemed to have no intention of refusing.

‘Did the pressure from his chest muscles tear a shirt button?’

He briefly thought so, but all the buttons were in place.

‘Then why?’

Renev went closer, pulled together the wide-open shirt tightly, and buttoned it.

Then he buttoned up all the other shirt buttons and meticulously fastened the jacket button up to the neck.

“All done. Now you look perfectly neat.”

The moment he looked up after confirming that both the uniform and shirt were properly fastened, Ikar’s Adam’s apple quivered between his long, thick neck.