TLDOWN 52

CHAPTER 52……………

Lloyd’s face suddenly flushed at the intruding voice.

“Who dares interrupt me?”

He turned confidently, ready to scold and humiliate the interloper—but froze on the spot.

“Viscount Lycaon.”

It was Mikhail. For the first time, a cold, menacing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Irene had never seen him make that expression. Startled, she glanced at him.

His blue eyes, streaked with anger and contempt, fixed on Lloyd.

“Did Your Highness really say that to my sister?”

“…Uh, that’s…”

Lloyd stammered, clearly unprepared for such a direct question.

Mikhail took a step closer.

“If I misunderstood, I apologize.”

But if not… be prepared.

The threat hung in the air. Reading its weight, Lloyd broke out in a cold sweat, eyes darting nervously. Then he caught Irene’s gaze, silently pleading: You handle this!

Of course, she had no intention of saving him, so she deliberately looked away.

“Your Highness?”

“Well… I probably just meant that if there was something to fix, I’d help. From goodwill.”

“What do you mean by ‘fix’?”

Lloyd’s mind went blank. He had no excuse and gaped helplessly.

Irene studied him briefly before meeting Mikhail’s furious gaze.

He’s already heard everything.

Mikhail’s earlier pretense of ignorance was simple: vengeance for the insult Irene had suffered.

“Irene,” he said, finally using her name.

“You explain it.”

He was placing full responsibility in her hands.

Her heart pounded.

Can I really invoke the Lycaon name?

It was the first time she’d been given a choice—and courage didn’t come easily.

Only then did Lloyd seem to realize the gravity of the situation, looking at her flustered.

“Not telling the truth here would be a disgrace to the Lycaon name.”

The words hit her like a blow. She slowly opened her mouth.

“He said he would fix my mind.”

“You!”

Lloyd paled.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

Irene briefly summarized the conversation for Mikhail.

Mikhail’s eyebrows twitched.

“Is everything my sister said true?”

“….”

Confirming or denying would be a problem. Lloyd, realizing he was cornered, couldn’t hide his panic.

Wasn’t she just some abandoned illegitimate child?

Earlier at the banquet, no one had approached her, proving the rumors. He had approached her, intending to take her as a concubine, drawn to her looks. But Viscount Lycaon treated her like the sister he cherished most.

“I don’t quite remember, though.”

In the end, Lloyd feigned ignorance.

Irene repeated firmly:

“He said he would fix my mind.”

“…Are you sane?!”

She stayed silent, hiding the tremor in her chest.

“What I heard was correct.”

“What? So he heard everything from the start?!”

Lloyd gaped, but Mikhail’s icy gaze made him shut his mouth.

“Apologize, Your Highness.”

“…Ha!”

Lloyd let out a forced laugh, clearly insulted.

“What did I even do to apologize for?”

Irene noted his audacity—but when she looked down, she saw his hand trembling.

“If you have no intention of apologizing, then we have no choice.”

Mikhail took Irene’s hand and led her into the hall.

After releasing it, he strode purposefully toward a certain direction. Following him with her eyes, Irene saw the Emperor and Duke of Lycaon conversing.

What is he planning?

Irene sensed that whatever trouble he caused, he would strike decisively.

“The Princess keeps hiding it, so I’d like to see that treasure for myself.”

Princess Bethel smiled gracefully, while Chloe, still sparring verbally with her, muttered:

That snake…

Chloe disliked Princess Bethel—not just disliked, but wanted nothing to do with her. The woman hid intentions behind a smile, a cunning nature Chloe couldn’t stand. Her obsession with beauty clashed with Chloe’s values.

“Irene lacks the composure to converse with a princess. So speak with me instead.”

Polite, but basically: Shut up, be content with me. Chloe was annoyed at the attention Bethel gave Irene but secretly proud.

Our Irene really is pretty.

Even Bethel, with her keen aesthetic sense, was charmed. Chloe felt pride in her own taste.

But Bethel’s next words froze her:

“What a shame. I was curious who would reject ‘that.’”

“….”

That. Chloe realized instantly and hid her expression behind her fan. A moment of agitation couldn’t show. But Bethel seemed to see through her reaction.

The knight recommendation letter.

How did she know? Chloe had heard of the Bethel family’s unmatched intelligence network, but she hadn’t expected this.

So creepy… not surprising, though.

Luckily, Chloe’s hidden expression was unseen, but Bethel had caught it. Chloe glared coldly.

“Oh my!”

Someone gasped, and the hall buzzed. Chloe and Bethel turned to where nobles were staring.

The Duke of Lycaon stood, conversing with the Empress.

“Will Lycaon side with the Empress…?”

Someone speculated cautiously.

“The atmosphere seems off.”

Indeed, the mood between the Empress and Duke Lycaon was icy.

Just before speaking to the Empress, Mikhail approached the Duke of Lycaon, who was conversing with the Emperor.

“Father, I have something to discuss briefly.”

“…Mikhail.”

The Duke stiffened. Interrupting the Emperor was a major breach of etiquette. If the Emperor were angered, punishment could include degrading the royal family itself.

Mikhail couldn’t have been unaware, yet he interrupted boldly.

“I apologize, Your Majesty.”

He bowed deeply. The Emperor, slightly surprised, chuckled and waved them off.

“The Viscount seems to have urgent business.”

“…Yes, just briefly.”

Mikhail’s honesty earned a brief nod from his father.

“I apologize, but I will return shortly.”

“I am fine with that.”

The Lycaon family was the only noble family entirely loyal to the Emperor. Punishing the heir for rudeness would be petty.

What on earth is going on?

Curious, the Emperor glanced at them briefly before returning to other matters.

The Duke followed Mikhail to the terrace.

“What’s the matter?”

“I saw the Second Prince and Irene in the garden.”

The Duke’s face turned cold. This wasn’t trivial.

“What were they talking about?”

Mikhail relayed everything he’d heard. A small crack appeared on the usually impassive Duke’s face.