DPTF 13

Chapter 13

High-ranking noble families like the Esper house each possessed a magical communication device connected to the Imperial Palace.

Although it allowed for rapid communication, it consumed an excessive amount of mana, so it was rarely used unless the matter was urgent.

So when the device suddenly began to glow, Dewey assumed it was an emergency message from the Imperial Palace. He immediately grabbed it and rushed to Karlos.

After dismissing the attendants and remaining alone in his office, Karlos touched the device. A blue orb lit up, revealing the face of a man who appeared to be in his early twenties.

—Are you well, Master?!

The man was none other than Jerdin Darol Lu Kaisa, Crown Prince of the Luman Empire.

Long ago, the current emperor, hoping his soft-hearted son would grow stronger, had entrusted him to Karlos. That period had lasted a full ten years.

Perhaps because of that, Jerdin was the only member of the imperial family who knew Karlos’s true nature yet neither feared nor avoided him.

If anything, he was overly familiar—clingy, even—which made him a constant annoyance to Karlos.

But this time, his call was welcome. Now that the Temple was making suspicious moves, there was something Jerdin absolutely needed to do.

“What is it?”

Karlos asked calmly, pretending ignorance. Jerdin immediately burst out:

—What do you mean what is it?! I heard you’ve been bewitched by a witch, so I contacted you out of concern!

“You’re quite late.”

It had already been four days since the Temple published the article.

Honestly, Karlos had expected Jerdin to contact him the very next day. There was no way he would stay quiet after seeing such news.

Yet the call only came now. Something was off.

—What? I contacted you as soon as I heard!

As expected. Karlos leaned back, resting his chin on his hand.

“So the rumor has finally spread in the capital?”

—Yes. More precisely, it started spreading last night, and my aide informed me this morning.

“It’s a rumor, not the article itself, correct?”

—There was an article too?

Jerdin looked surprised.

—Which temple published it?

“The Monsera Temple. In Kaman territory.”

—Kaman isn’t far from the capital. Why hasn’t the paper spread here?

“Someone must have blocked it.”

Perhaps the Pope. Or one of the archbishops.

Or maybe him. Or perhaps they had joined hands for their own purposes.

Too many enemies. Even narrowing down suspects was troublesome.

“I was planning to contact you anyway. This works out well.”

If Jerdin hadn’t called today, Karlos had intended to contact him himself.

“Come here within a week.”

—…What?

Jerdin looked stunned.

—You mean to the Esper territory? Within a week?

“Yes.”

—Even at top speed, it takes ten days from the capital!

“Then sleep less.”

In other words—no excuses.

—…You’re the only one who treats the Crown Prince like this.

“And you’re the only one who dares act so familiarly with me.”

—That’s because I’m not just anyone—I’m your beloved disciple.

Beloved, my foot.

Karlos was about to cut the connection when Jerdin hurriedly shouted:

—W-Wait! At least explain why!

Karlos smiled coldly.

“If you’re truly my beloved disciple, you should be able to figure it out yourself.”

For some reason, the word beloved sounded terrifying.

Before Jerdin could respond, Karlos cut the connection.

Then he asked the servant waiting outside:

“Where is she now?”

One matter was settled. Time to deal with the next.

After receiving the library key from Karlos, Irene spent most of her days reading in the library.

For Irene, who could now freely read the books she loved, it felt like a dream.

For Jesse, however, it was unbearably boring.

“I have something urgent to take care of, Miss! Don’t go anywhere!”

Unable to endure it any longer, Jesse made an excuse and slipped out.

Even after she left, Irene remained seated, deeply absorbed in her book—so much so that she didn’t even notice Karlos entering.

Karlos considered calling her, but seeing how focused she was, he decided not to interrupt and simply waited.

After some time, Irene rubbed her tired eyes and lifted her head.

“Oh—!”

She froze when she saw violet eyes staring at her. Startled, she jumped up, dropping her book with a loud thud.

“Master!”

Karlos raised an eyebrow.

“Why am I your master?”

Ah… was that wrong?

She had heard Dewey and Jesse call him that, so she had followed suit.

Then… should she call him Grand Duke? Or Lord?

As she hesitated awkwardly, Karlos spoke:

“Call me ‘Your Grace.’”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Only then did he straighten from where he had been leaning.

“Were you reading?”

His gaze fell on the book she picked up.

“What book?”

“Does God Exist? by Saphid Henmon.”

Saphid Henmon was a renowned philosopher from over a hundred years ago. His works were known for being highly complex.

Yet Irene had been reading one.

“Do you understand what you’re reading?”

He wasn’t mocking her—just genuinely curious. But Irene’s cheeks flushed.

“…Sorry.”

Realizing how it might sound, Karlos apologized.

“It’s alright. I don’t understand everything, but… I understand most of it.”

“I see.”

Silence followed.

Normally, Irene would fidget under such silence—but this time, it was Karlos who found it uncomfortable.

“The pigeons will be coming soon.”

Irene blinked.

“…Pigeons?”

“The priests sent by the Temple.”

“Oh.”

She nodded, thinking it was nothing unusual—until—

“They’re coming to see you. To determine whether you’re a witch.”

“—!”

Her face turned pale. Memories of Silas territory resurfaced, making her hands tremble.

“I—I’m not a witch.”

She clutched her skirt tightly.

“They’ll accuse me anyway… just like before… they’ll…”

“Calm down.”

Karlos stepped forward and held her shoulders.

“I know you’re not a witch.”

No one had ever believed her before.

But now—someone finally did.

Even if that person was the terrifying Grand Duke of Esper.

“They won’t be able to lay a finger on you.”

His voice was firm.

“I promise.”

And somehow… she believed him.

“That said, there’s something you need to do.”

Her eyes sharpened with resolve.

“Please tell me.”

Karlos smiled faintly.

“Good attitude. I was worried you might panic hearing this.”

What could it be?

“The Temple believes I’ve been bewitched by you.”

He continued:

“I’m going to make that rumor true.”

“…What?”

Her eyes widened.

“You mean… you’ll turn me into a witch?”

Karlos chuckled.

“That’s not the point.”

“Then…?”

“I’ll make it seem like I’ve fallen for you. Act as if it’s true.”

He explained:

“People are strangely obsessed with romance. If that spreads, the witch rumors will disappear.”

Ah—so that’s it.

Irene nodded.

“But it won’t work if it’s one-sided.”

Karlos added:

“You’ll have to act like you like me too.”

Her expression darkened again.

“You must really dislike me.”

“N-No! That’s not it!”

But Karlos didn’t believe her.

He already knew.

“Even if you do, act like you don’t when the pigeons arrive. That’s how you’ll clear your name.”

Irene lowered her gaze.

“…I really don’t dislike you.”

“Alright.”

Karlos gently ruffled her hair.

“Then I’ll look forward to your performance… of not disliking me.”