LMJO 57

#57. Are You Telling Me to Become King?

Idren came around the time the sun was beginning to set in Agllante, where the days were short.

Ophelia met him in the study. The moment the man, who had come upon hearing she was there, saw her, he asked:

“You were reading a book?”

Ophelia didn’t bother to answer, as if he didn’t know what a study was for. Instead, Idren walked over and looked at the book with her.

“What book are you reading?”

And he answered his own question before she could speak: it was a history of Agllante.

“This one by this scholar isn’t interesting. The one by another scholar is easier to read and understand.”

“…Why are you making so much noise while I’m reading?”

Her irritation at being disturbed was clear in her voice. But Idren didn’t flinch and responded calmly:

“A person has entered, yet you’re only looking at your book—aren’t you a little upset about that?”

Ophelia snapped her book shut and looked up at him. Her expression was far too bright for someone who claimed to feel slighted.

On days like this, she might smile for no reason, but on other days she could sulk without cause. She asked the smiling man:

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I made time despite being busy.”

Then Idren draped his arm over her shoulder and said, “I know you have complaints, but don’t grumble. I’ve brought something for you.”

Ophelia, who herself often grumbled, tried to push his arm away, but he was quicker and placed a document in front of her.

“What is this?”

“Read it carefully.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows slightly and scanned the densely written words.

“…It’s the Galisa Governor’s Commission?”

“I thought it was time to hand it over, so I brought it.”

Idren then gestured to an attendant nearby. “You—go get a pen.”

Soon, the writing instrument was placed on the desk. Idren, smiling all the while, dipped it in ink himself before handing it to her.

“Sign it.”

Ophelia thought it strange that the man was more pleased than the recipient about her handing over her land, but she complied. After she signed the last page, Idren said:

“This time, I’ve revised the governor’s term to a minimum of ten years.”

“…So?”

“It means you will serve as Galisa Governor for at least ten years.”

Ophelia stared at him. He spoke as if nothing mattered if she died anyway. She thought he hadn’t seemed this foolish before.

Fine. If he likes it, that’s enough.

Watching the man repeatedly smile while holding the document, she shook her head slightly and returned to her book. Idren, careful not to smudge the ink, spoke again:

“Since you’ve signed the commission, how about going on an inspection tour?”

Startled by the suggestion, Ophelia paused. Thinking she might object, he quickly explained: “It’s just a short ride by carriage. Unlike before, this time it’s to make your presence known…”

Before his explanation could sound like an excuse, Ophelia interrupted.

“No need to explain. I’ll go.”

“Well decided.”

The man, whose expression brightened, hugged her shoulder a little tighter. Only then did Ophelia realize she hadn’t moved his hand away.

But it was already too late to push him off, so she let him do as he pleased.

A few days later, Idren suggested going out first thing in the morning. Following his warning that it was cold, Ophelia dressed warmly and climbed into a carriage without a top.

Sitting next to her, Idren immediately said as the carriage began to move: “The wind is strong. It will be cold.”

Ophelia, who had insisted she dress warmly, looked at the man who wore only a light ceremonial coat.

“You could have dressed warmer.”

“It’s not me…”

Idren surveyed her from head to toe, then spoke after a brief silence:

“I misspoke. You seem sufficiently warm.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes at him, thinking it absurd that he acted as if she were overdoing it when she had just followed instructions.

She intended to comment, but he looked elsewhere, pretending not to notice.

When the carriage had progressed a bit, Idren asked:

“What are your plans for this life?”

Though he left the subject vague, Ophelia immediately understood he meant Reden. Now that she had wealth she could freely use, he wanted to know her plans.

Watching the people lining the roads with colorful flags and the cavalry patrolling the carriage—Hazel among them—Ophelia replied:

“I plan to meet new people rather than those I knew in my previous life.”

“Why?”

“Most of them were introduced by Netepel.”

She recalled the conversation with Idren on the night the delegation arrived.

“You may not know, but the second prince of Egelbamott was acquainted with the former Lord of Rohos.”

Lying on the bed in the bedroom they now shared, looking at the ceiling, Idren spoke in a careful tone.

It was the first she had heard this, yet Ophelia instinctively defended her friend:

“People who only know each other by face exist everywhere.”

“…It seems you were closer than I thought.”

Idren reached out and touched her face. His firm fingertips brushed gently against her cheek.

As his rough fingers caressed her face, she thought that life must have been hard for him. Not merely because of his hands, but because Idren’s hands carried the matured feel of someone who had truly lived.

He continued, speaking slowly, in a manner that didn’t quite suit his hands:

“I don’t intend to criticize your friend. But if the former Lord of Rohos did what he did and took no action, you should keep that in mind.”

Idren’s words were correct.

Ophelia didn’t want to doubt Netepel, yet in her previous life he had never told her that he was acquainted with the former Lord of Rohos.

Instead, Netepel had plotted with her to kill him—a meticulous plan she could not have attempted with someone familiar.

She also remembered that Netepel had instructed her not to tell her husband about the former Lord of Rohos.

At the time, she had acted alone: abducting the lord’s servant, collaborating with the lord’s daughter, and preparing poison if everything failed.

Even if the final plan had failed, she would never have spoken to Idren.

Yet Idren’s attitude after learning the truth was different from what she knew.

Previously, Ophelia thought he would side with her friend, but Idren had dealt with the former Lord of Rohos while she was out. It was all done before any trouble arose.

Strangely, Netepel disapproved of Idren. Knowing Idren could handle it without issue left her bewildered.

Of course, Netepel’s lack of honesty didn’t mean the people he introduced were dangerous. Still, Ophelia decided it would be better to meet new people and build relationships.

Idren seemed to understand her reasoning and didn’t ask further.

“If you tell me exactly what kind of people you need, I will introduce them.”

“It’s not complicated. Just wealthy, moderately indulgent, and sociable is enough.”

She preferred people like that rather than those who were fussy and strict about every little thing.

Moreover, her goal was to destabilize an entire country’s foundation.

Though she could execute it without hesitation, Ophelia knew her plans would draw criticism from others.

So those who lived with fragile morals or beliefs couldn’t tolerate her.

Idren, staring quietly at her, asked:

“Do you plan to meddle in Reden’s economy again?”

Ophelia nodded at the man, who seemed to love his own country deeply.

She had no particular resentment toward Reden. But as long as Reden functioned normally, Mahanas would rule over it.

She wanted her brother to fail and die without even a coin in hand. To achieve this, no one who might favor him could remain.

Yet Idren seemed to hope she would make a more lenient choice. After a brief silence, he said:

“If you want to bring down the Mebasa royal family, you don’t have to do that. You could just stage a rebellion and imprison King Dares and Prince Mahanas.”

He added, “If force is needed, I will support you.”

Ophelia asked the man, fully aware of his meaning:

“Are you telling me to become King of Reden?”