Chapter 6
Maylily
“We’ve arrived.”
The coach came to a stop as the coachman’s voice called out.
Today was the day of a gathering between young ladies from families closely acquainted with House Rubiche. Most of them were of similar age—around twenty-two.
I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate for someone at least ten years older than that group to join in, but officially, according to my papers, I was twenty-two in this world.
In this world, the marriageable age for women was considered between twenty and twenty-five. Noblewomen who pursued university education tended to marry a little later. In that sense, it really did resemble nineteenth-century Europe quite a bit.
Upon arriving at the residence of Count Obidos, we were guided by a servant toward a tea table set in the garden.
Most of the young noblewomen had already arrived, and, as was always the case, they were at a loss for words the moment they saw Chedorn. By now, I was used to that reaction.
Once everyone had gathered, the young lady of House Obidos, who was hosting the party, stood up to greet us.
“Thank you all for coming today.”
With that, polite greetings and small talk began to flow around the table. Then, in the midst of cheerful chatter, one of the ladies suddenly looked at me in surprise.
She remarked that it was astonishing how, despite having only recently become a noble of the Alpine Empire, I seemed to appreciate the taste of tea. Apparently, in this world, if you weren’t a noble of the Empire, you couldn’t even tell what good tea tasted like. Her face showed genuine wonder, not malice.
If only Chedorn hadn’t abruptly spilled his tea all over the floor—then brushed it off with a smile, saying he didn’t know much about tea etiquette because he didn’t even know what tea should taste like—perhaps we could’ve smoothed things over with a few light words.
A suffocating silence fell.
As the chilly tension thickened, I shot him a glare. Why on earth are you acting up now, when you’ve been quiet all day?
“Now listen—!”
I was about to scold him, but one look at his pitiful, puppy-like face made me swallow the words. That pathetic expression of his was infuriatingly effective.
“Y–Your Highness Reyno…ld, are you all right? If the tea isn’t to your taste, I can have another prepared right away!”
The Lady of Obidos trembled like a leaf as she spoke, stuttering so much it was almost painful to watch. She was clearly terrified of him.
Chedorn, however, didn’t seem the least bit interested in what she was saying. He just rested his chin on his hand and stared straight at me.
“Let’s go.”
He said it as if he’d been bored to death.
We just got here!
“I don’t see any point in staying to entertain such rude people. I’ll introduce you to someone better. Let’s go.”
I rubbed my temples. “Someone better? Who?”
“…Me?”
What kind of absurd nonsense was that? I sighed deeply, massaging my temples harder.
The noblewomen here didn’t particularly like me—they treated me like an outsider. So when Chedorn started following me around openly, their attitude had changed quite a bit. I couldn’t help wondering if that was his plan all along.
While I was lost in weary thoughts, Chedorn suddenly took both my hands gently and pressed his face to the back of them, looking heartbreakingly sad.
With his gleaming silver hair and golden eyes, the angelic man looked almost divine with that sorrowful expression.
“I’m sorry, Ena. But please, try to understand the torment of my heart—driven mad by how much I love you.”
He wore the face of a martyr bearing the sins of mankind.
How could I possibly reject someone looking like that without feeling like the villain?
So I just sat there, utterly drained, and watched his performance in silence.
To be fair, it was a beautiful sight.
Fine. Let’s see how far you take this act, I thought, propping my chin on my hand.
The reactions around us were spectacular—everyone stared at us as though witnessing something scandalous, glancing between him and me in utter disbelief.
That’s when it hit me—what kind of reputation Chedorn had.
Just a month ago, during the Imperial Guard entrance exam, he’d caused a bloodbath in front of everyone. To me, he was just an infuriating superior officer—but to them, he was a mad prince who killed people without blinking.
While I sat there, dumbfounded, Chedorn rose from his seat, walked around the table, and without warning, swept me up in his arms—like some damsel-in-distress princess carry.
Then, with a calm smile, he turned to the speechless noblewomen and said,
“I think I’ll be taking Ena with me now.”
The young ladies all turned bright red.
“P–Please, don’t mind us! Go ahead!”
“Yes, don’t worry about us! P–Please, enjoy your time together!”
Enjoy our time together?
I gave up resisting entirely and just closed my eyes in resignation, limp in his arms.
At this point, I wouldn’t even mind fainting for real.
✦✦✦
Students of the Imperial Academy of the Alpine Empire were generally between eighteen and twenty-two, coming mostly from noble or bourgeois families.
After graduating, they could take entrance exams to attend Alpine University—but most noblewomen gave up further study and got married instead.
I couldn’t help sighing at that. There were so many capable women among the nobility—it was such a waste.
“Has anyone here ever been to the magical city of Rudanna?”
At the economics professor’s question, I finally snapped out of my thoughts.
Several hands went up. Most students, except for a few, had visited Rudanna, located in the northern part of the Empire.
I leaned on my hand and glanced down at my open history textbook. There was an illustration of the mage-hero Obéder and the saint Bezain standing face to face in opposition—an iconic image representing the eternal balance and conflict between magic and divine power in this world.
“His Highness Prince Verdi has been dedicating himself to Rudanna’s urban development project. Thanks to him, Rudanna will grow even more prosperous and greatly contribute to the Alpine Empire’s progress.”
At the teacher’s remark, I tilted my head.
Chedorn—Prince Reynold—and Prince Verdi. To understand the imperial family, one had to understand the political faction war between those two.
The Empire had become divided largely because of the growing power of the magical city and the Church.
Prince Reynold valued maintaining balance between the two, while Prince Verdi sought to strengthen Rudanna’s magical influence. Naturally—his maternal family, the Ducal House of Stephan, had produced generations of powerful mages.
So, nepotism and political favoritism existed even in another world.
“I think Rudanna is already advanced enough,” I spoke up. “If they keep developing it further, what happens to the Church? Wouldn’t that upset the balance and tilt power too far toward Rudanna?”
The elderly professor clapped his hands together. “An excellent question.”
Several noble girls nearby glanced my way, mildly surprised.
“To counterbalance the magical city’s expansion, the Holy See of Ianarche has recently begun a major missionary campaign. They’re sending numerous priests eastward to build new temples and expand religious influence.”
“So both the Rudanna project and the Church’s missions are being funded by imperial taxes?” I asked.
The professor raised a brow. “Why do you say that as if it’s wasteful, Lady Rubiche?”
“Because it is. The Eldon Continent has always seen tension between magic and divine power—and the Alpine Empire is no exception. Right now, Rudanna and the Ianarche Holy See are locked in a power struggle.”
Indeed, Rudanna was the largest magical city on the continent, while Ianarche—the center of faith in the Absolute God—was headquartered in the Empire as well.
That meant their conflict was effectively a continental-scale power struggle.
I shrugged lightly. “Both Rudanna and the Church are valuable investments, but only after the regime stabilizes. Not before.”
The professor watched me intently, clearly intrigued.
“If the Empire pursues both projects now, the rivalry won’t stop there. It could easily escalate into public unrest. The Empire’s citizens are already dissatisfied with the crown.”
The professor stroked his beard, half amused, half doubtful. “A bit of a leap, isn’t it? Revolt? Even if so, what power do the commoners have?”
“Is it really a leap? You think the people are powerless?” I asked calmly. “Every Emperor of the Alpine Empire has gone to great lengths to secure popular support—why would they bother if the people had no power?”
I took a deep breath before continuing.
“Without the people, there is no nation. It’s only been eighty years since the Empire ended its war with the Kingdom of Neidon.”
The professor gave me a thoughtful look. “Then, Lady Rubiche, what would you propose instead?”
“Neither faction will back down,” I said. “If one side gains too much influence, the balance collapses. So both policies will inevitably move forward—but the key is how they’re managed and justified to the people.”
He seemed unconvinced.
“First, the government must focus on national stability and local development—and that requires funding.”
In truth, I wasn’t too worried. If Chedorn was the Crown Prince of this Empire, he’d handle it. Maybe I was overestimating him, but the Cha Do-hyuk I knew had been a brilliant man.
“However,” I continued, “given the postwar strain and the double spending on both projects, the treasury will soon run dry. The crown will likely need to issue national bonds just to maintain public confidence.”
I shrugged again. “So, really, it’d be best not to pursue either project right now. But that won’t happen, will it?”
Prince Verdi would never back down. He was ambitious and dead set on seizing the throne, no matter what it took.
The professor smiled, evidently impressed. “Very astute. You’ve grasped the Empire’s political and economic situation with remarkable precision—for a foreigner.”
That word foreigner pricked me a little, but it was true. I was the only one in this room of a different race.
“His Highness Crown Prince Reynold is actually working on a plan quite similar to what you described,” the professor added.
Of course he is.
If I could think of it, then Chedorn—far smarter than me—certainly could.
“The plan involves turning the private Rochester Bank into a central bank, and issuing ‘perpetual national debt’ under its management.”
I rested my chin on my hand again, listening.
It was a solid policy with many advantages—but its greatest flaw was that every debt would ultimately be guaranteed by the people’s taxes.
Was there any alternative?
I thought about it for a moment, but only gave myself a headache.
Well, I’m sure Chedorn has it figured out. He’s an elite among elites.
And with that, I decided to clear the whole matter from my mind.
