Scandalous Wedding Chapter 1.2 - Prologue

“These days, I’m swamped with raising the kid, you know. He’s a boy, so he’s a handful. Even with three nursemaids, it’s no joke.”

Esael sighed that if you took your eyes off him for a second, he’d be running off somewhere far away or vanishing with a poke, leaving Aira and the nursemaids playing hide-and-seek every day in that huge mansion. Asha nodded as if he roughly understood the situation.

“He’s three now, right?”

“Yeah. You’d be shocked if you saw him. He’s grown a ton. Oh, right—you’ve never met him, have you?”

“That’s right, isn’t it? I heard about his birth when I was in Elba…”

That was exactly three years ago in the spring, so he’d just passed his third birthday.

“Now that I think about it, it’s been that long already. After I moved to the capital defense force, you broke off our engagement and married him right away…”

His engagement to Aira had been part of Kiel’s “Make Asha Jester an Imperial” plan, but Aira and Esael’s marriage was the fruit of passionate love. Surprisingly, Kiel was a romantic at heart and gladly approved his sister’s marriage to Esael, whom she’d fallen for while Asha was being demoted.

In fact, after his engagement to Aira ended, there’d been cautious, unofficial talks from the imperial family of the neighboring Mason Empire about sending Aira as their crown princess, but Kiel rejected it outright. He said it wouldn’t be courteous to send his sister, who already had a lover, to be a crown princess.

Right after that, Kiel’s popularity among the commoners soared sky-high. They praised him as a cool brother who gave up an international marriage for his sister’s happiness, and a bold emperor.

Of course, those who knew his eccentric personality suspected he had some ulterior motive and stayed on high alert. But since only a handful of nobles knew the emperor was a loose cannon, the oblivious commoners adored him.

Thanks to that, Asha ended up rumored as the ultimate unlucky guy—kicked out of the capital and having his fiancée stolen by his friend. But it worked out well for Aira and Esael. Truth be told, he and Aira had never been close.

He was tight with Kiel, but he’d barely met her a few times and had little connection with her.

To him, she was just Kiel’s little sister; to her, he was her brother’s friend’s younger sibling—nothing more, nothing less. If you wanted to stretch it, they were twelfth cousins… but twelfth cousins are basically strangers.

So it was a good thing. For Aira and for Esael.

Noble marriages often had political motives, but if possible, it was better to marry someone you loved.

“Maybe I should try dating once I get back to the capital…”

Thinking about Esael and Aira sparked a sudden urge to try romance himself, and he mumbled it aloud. Esael clapped his hands as if impressed.

“Wow, getting demoted was worth it! The guy who used to only worry about what to eat to make people say he ate well is now thinking about romance. Good call. With the Chester Marquis family’s status, pretty much any household would accept you—so definitely start with dating.”

“Yeah, I should. His Majesty’s probably getting married soon too, so I can’t be the only one left single.”

He didn’t have some obsessive need to live like everyone else, but seeing those around him building families made him start thinking it might be time for him to marry too.

As a noble, he was well past the prime marrying age—beyond even late bachelorhood—but if he looked hard enough, there’d surely be a lady around his age.

Once he got back, Nob would reunite with his wife and kid, and his other friends all had families too. They’d focus on their households rather than hanging out with him, so it was time to seriously consider marriage.

“Now that I think about it, everyone really is married, huh?”

“Except me,” Asha said, ticking off his friends’ names one by one, and Esael nodded, setting his book aside.

“Yeah. Usually, people get engaged at fifteen or sixteen and marry between eighteen and twenty. You got engaged at sixteen too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Our peers are all married now—some even have three kids. Oh, haven’t all your siblings married too?”

“Right. I’m the only one left.”

Aside from his great-uncle, the high priest, even among his cousins and siblings of the same generation, the youngest had married earlier this year, leaving Asha as the only unmarried member of the Chester Marquis family.

“Now that you mention it… the imperial family’s all married too, except for His Majesty, right?”

Esael brought up the imperial family with a hint of suspicion, and Asha tilted his head.

“Well, in the direct line, it’s just Kiel and Princess Aira.”

The family was notoriously short on heirs, and the late emperor had been so devoted to his empress that he had no other lovers or illegitimate children, leaving only two direct descendants. Since Aira had married first, Kiel was the only one left in the direct imperial line.

“No, I mean including the extended family too. Like, all the sixth and eighth cousins called imperials—they’re all taken too, right?”

“Uh… weren’t there those two little ones? Jenny and Elaine, I think?”

“Both got married earlier this year.”

Recalling the tiny kids who barely reached his waist the last time he saw them, Asha jolted in shock and asked Esael.

“What? Aren’t they sixteen now? They’re already married? Those kids?”

Frisdeil Empire law allowed marriage for both men and women at sixteen or older. But that was really just for desperate families on the brink of dying out with precious few heirs—hardly anyone actually married that young.

Nobles often got engaged young to strengthen family ties, but marrying right at that age was rare. So Asha was genuinely stunned.

And Esael was just as shocked by the odd situation.

“…That’s, like, really early, right?”

“Not just ‘really’—it’s flat-out early.”

“Right… Now that I think about it, pretty much everyone in the major marquis, duke, and imperial families is married. Only little kids are left…”

“What about Duke Paddington?”

When Asha mentioned Kiel’s uncle, the perennial bachelor Duke Paddington, Esael shook his head.

“He declared himself a bachelor ages ago.”

More accurately, it wasn’t so much a declaration as something forced on him, but either way, it was crystal clear Duke Paddington wouldn’t marry.

No, more precisely, he couldn’t. So he should be excluded, Esael said, mentally striking him from the list of unmarried imperials. Asha paused, then mentioned another woman’s name.

“What about Lady Alicia?”

At that name, Esael flinched reflexively, as if he’d heard something he shouldn’t have. When Asha looked at him curiously, wondering why, Esael quickly brushed it off.

“…Lady Alicia’s an exception too.”

“Why?”

“She’s got circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“Just… an exception.”

“Because she’s marrying His Majesty?”

Only then did Esael recall that those two had been linked in marriage talks. It’d been so long he’d forgotten.

But now…

“…No, she can’t marry him. You’ve got to count Lady Alicia out too. So… there’s really no one?”

Saying it aloud, he realized there truly was no one.

There were no unmarried nobles left in the capital—almost to a ridiculous degree.

Feeling a strange, half-understood unease, Esael sank into thought, and Asha mirrored him, staring back seriously.

Esael beckoned him closer with a hand gesture, as if sensing an issue.

Following the signal, Asha leaned forward, and Esael did the same, starting to whisper like they were plotting treason.

“Okay, let’s think this through.”

“Think what?”

“So, from a very realistic, honestly materialistic perspective, the families worthy of marrying into the Chester Marquis family are the imperials, marquises, and dukes, right? Maybe stretching it to earls at the broadest. But right now, all the eligible ladies from decent families are either married or engaged.”

“Wow, it got like that while I was gone?”

He’d gotten quite a few marriage offers four years ago—had some early marriage craze swept through high society in that time? Asha marveled, and Esael nodded.

“Yeah, that’s how it is.”

“Weird.”

“Weird’s not the problem right now. The point is, there’s currently no one suitable for you to marry—that’s the issue.”

“Wouldn’t it be fine if I didn’t care about family status?”

If he didn’t mind rank, surely there’d be at least one woman in the empire around his age open to marriage, he suggested. Esael faltered, stumbling over his words.

“…Well, that’s true, but…”

Of course, from Esael’s standpoint—dreaming of a merit-based society over rank—that made sense. But would the Chester Marquis family, a house rivaling imperial power, really accept a commoner? No way. It wasn’t just the family; imperial law wouldn’t allow it.

Sure, if Asha insisted, some noble house could adopt her and push the marriage through—but would Emperor Kiel approve it?

“No way he would…”

“Huh?”

“…What?”

“I can’t get married?”

Hearing Esael’s muttering, Asha asked in alarm if he was doomed to stay single, and Esael panicked.

“Oh, no… I didn’t mean you… I meant that not only you but His Majesty doesn’t have any marriage prospects either…”

“Oh… right.”

For Asha, if he wanted to marry, his family would find a way to launder the bride’s status and pamper her into the match, so no problem there. But Kiel was different.

Unlike noble marriage laws, which only cared about equal rank, imperial marriage laws were absurdly specific and strict.

The written imperial marriage code laid out eligible partners and conditions in painstaking detail. The key rule was that direct imperial descendants could only marry children of families tied to the imperial house.

It was a law to preserve bloodlines, strengthen imperial power, and prevent its dispersal. Direct imperials could only marry fifth cousins or beyond.

Esael, a son of a fallen earldom, could marry Aira because his great-great-grandmother had been a distant imperial relative. Tracing back like that, there seemed to be plenty of families linked to the imperials—but since only direct bloodlines counted, the women Kiel could marry, factoring in family, age, and other conditions, numbered fewer than ten.

And even those scant few were all married, leaving just one—an exception.

Asha might be past prime marrying age, but he could still find someone roughly suitable. Kiel, six years older, had almost no prospects, barring a legal overhaul.

“Now that I think about it… if even Elaine and Jenny are married, there’s no one left for Kiel to wed, is there?”

Thanks to his encyclopedic knowledge of the imperial family tree, Asha’s sharp observation made Esael nod gravely.

“Right now, in this country, the only direct descendants of imperial-linked families past marrying age are you and His Majesty.”

Stopping there, Esael replayed his own words, then glanced at Asha with a nagging unease. Something flickered in his mind. Way back, there’d been something similar…

Feeling déjà vu, he dug through his memory, then froze as a chilling realization hit him. There had been a similar case—long ago.

But that was during the chaotic time just before or after the written laws were set. No, it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be. It better not be.

“…No, that’s not it. That’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous?”

When Asha asked what he meant, Esael quickly dismissed it as nothing.

“Nothing, just a weird thought.”

“What weird thought?”

“…It’s nothing. Anyway, when we reach the capital, His Majesty said to stop by the palace first, so you’ll get to the Chester Marquis estate a bit late.”

“That’s fine. I’m going because of His Majesty anyway.”

“…How’d he hold back from seeing you this long if he missed you that much?”

Unaware that Kiel and Asha had met occasionally, Esael grumbled teasingly, and Asha hurriedly looked out the window again.

Suspicious of the evasive move, Esael eyed him with a “no way” expression.

“No way—you met him in the meantime?”

“…”

“Asha, tell me the truth. Have you met His Majesty in the last four years?”

Knowing Asha couldn’t lie, Esael asked directly. Asha, who’d been dodging, glanced at him, rolled his eyes, then looked away again.

“…I’m exercising my right to silence.”

Silence meant confession.

He’d met him.

“…You did meet him.”

“…”

“No wonder His Majesty sent you so far away and somehow held it together…”

As his worst suspicions started feeling more real, Esael pressed his throbbing temples.

No matter how much he told himself it couldn’t be, that it was absurd, his thoughts kept drifting that way.

Of course, it couldn’t happen and shouldn’t—but if it was that emperor, nothing was too bizarre or beyond his reach.

Yeah, Kiel could do anything.

Esael shivered involuntarily. At the same time, a fundamental doubt crept in—was it okay to bring his friend back like this?

For the country, sure, but for Asha, this could be a tragedy. No, it might ruin his life.

If he left Asha behind, Kiel wouldn’t spare him, but as a friend, shouldn’t he turn back to Baikan for Asha’s sake? Then his three-year-old son’s face flashed before him.

If he got in Kiel’s way, the emperor might banish him to some foreign land forever. He’d never see his beloved wife and son again.

Friendship mattered, but his family came first. That’s the core of humanity…

“Asha.”

“Yeah?”

“When we get back…”

“When we get back?”

He almost said to reject any marriage talk outright but stopped himself.

That was too broad. What if—by some tiny chance—a golden opportunity came up and he missed it?

He needed to be specific and careful.

Not to block other possibilities…

“…Watch out for His Majesty.”

Asha burst out laughing at the abrupt warning.

It was a laugh that said, Why state the obvious?

“I’m always careful around His Majesty. He’s such a weird guy.”

He said it casually, but Asha showed no sense of danger or wariness.

Thanks to childhood experiences, he knew in his head to be cautious of Kiel, but their closeness kept his instincts from guarding up.

Even if he snapped to attention, Asha’s simple, short-attention-span nature meant he’d fall into that eccentric emperor’s trap in a heartbeat. Kiel himself boasted that his only long-term, obsessive hobby was “fishing for Asha”—so reeling in this naive guy would be instant.

If Kiel set his mind to it, no amount of caution from Asha would help.

Honestly, to the emperor, Asha wasn’t even a mouthful.

That left one option.

“Asha.”

“Yeah?”

“When you get back to the capital, you have to date.”

“I was planning to?”

“No, don’t just plan—do it. Regardless of rank, gender, or age, just date someone. Then your great-uncle, father, and brother will handle the rest. Even if it’s an elderly commoner man, your great-uncle would forge documents to turn him into a noble lady and marry you off. So, just date.”

If Kiel would balk, the high priest would save Asha somehow, Esael reasoned—then shuddered as his own words hit him with a revelation.

Could that be why the high priest had fought so hard to depose Kiel as crown prince…?

He’d dismissed it, but once the possibility crossed his mind, evidence supporting it poured in from every direction. How had he missed this when it was everywhere?

Cold sweat broke out.

He felt like he’d opened a forbidden box—a treasure chest Kiel had carefully hidden for over twenty years, no less, with his unhinged mind.

“Esael? What’s wrong? You’re sweating.”

Noticing his pale face, Asha, seated across from him, grew concerned, and Esael quickly pulled himself together.

Right, it wasn’t too late.

Kiel didn’t know he’d opened that box yet.

The smartest move was to close it tight, pretend he’d seen nothing, and ignore it. Don’t mention it, don’t think about it, erase it from memory.

I know nothing. I saw nothing. I think nothing.

“It’s… a bit hot. Summer, you know…”

Denying it was cold sweat and insisting it was heat, Esael pulled out the handkerchief Aira had lovingly embroidered with his name and wiped his brow.

“It’s not that hot. Guess going into admin work weakened you.”

“You were always frail anyway,” Asha added, and Esael stared at him wordlessly.

By normal standards, he wasn’t frail at all. It was just that, by Asha’s absurdly healthy, brute-strength benchmark, he seemed weak.

It’s the guy who doesn’t tire after two days of sleepless marching who’s weird.

“It’s the humidity from the coast.”

Clenching his teeth to insist he wasn’t weak, Esael wiped his sweat with the precious handkerchief, straightened up, and picked up his book again.

Asha nodded, seemingly convinced by the excuse.

“Yeah, that’s true. Stay here long enough, and I feel like a rag.”

Patting down his clothes after a day of patrolling in the salty, humid sea breeze under the sun—smelling like a literal rag by evening—Asha opened all the carriage windows.

Fresh air rushed in through the open panes.

The carriage had entered a forest by now.

The faint briny sea scent lingered, but the humidity had lessened.

To the capital, it’d take four days at a brisk pace by the shortest route. They had a long way to go, but his heart was already pounding as if he’d arrived at the palace.

Living leisurely in the provinces was fun, but returning to the capital meant seeing his missed family and friends, which was great too.

Above all, he most wanted to see Kiel. The thought of seeing him often now, not just every six months, thrilled him.

Say what you will, he’d never disliked him, having known him since childhood.

Unaware of what lay ahead, Asha gazed out at the scenery with a bright smile.

Whatever Esael’s expression as he watched him.

“How’s this?”

In the heart of Gedel, the capital of the Frisdeil Empire, Kiel sat in the main palace parlor, raising his teacup with a smile.

The newly thirty-year-old emperor, his dazzling blond hair neatly combed back, gleamed with a mad glint in his gem-like green eyes, beaming with the happiest smile of his life.

But Allen, seated across from him, couldn’t muster a smile.

He’d always known the emperor was unhinged, but this time, it seemed he’d truly lost it.

“…Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence, but may I ask why you’re showing me this?”

Glancing again at the stone tablet on the table, Allen softened his What’s this nonsense? into a polite question. Kiel looked at him pityingly, as if he couldn’t believe he had to ask.

“Can’t you read those letters?”

Clicking his tongue as if he’d have to read it aloud himself, Kiel prompted Allen to barely restrain his urge to snap You know why I’m asking and ask again courteously.

“What I mean is… where did you find this, and why are you showing it to me now? I’m asking about your intent.”

The stone tablet Kiel had thrust at him was the original of the imperial marriage law, inscribed by Emperor Capin III 580 years ago when the first written laws were established.

Of its 76 slabs, 18 were said to have been lost in a war 500 years ago. Three were confirmed destroyed, seven of the remaining 15 were recovered from the black market, but the whereabouts of eight remained unknown.

Those missing eight dealt with rare exceptions in imperial marriages, so they weren’t deemed critical.

Still, as a national treasure and imperial relic, the palace had tirelessly searched for them, but they were maddeningly elusive. Most assumed they’d been taken abroad or shattered.

Allen, too, had naturally thought they were gone. Yet here was one of those eight, right before his eyes.

Dropped out of nowhere.

After 500 years of fruitless searching, this impossibly rare object suddenly appeared, leaving Allen unable to believe it existed—especially since it favored Kiel.

Knowing Kiel could forge a nonexistent tablet and pass it off, Allen eyed him with deep suspicion. Noticing this, Kiel grinned as if he’d expected it.

“You think I fabricated this, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes… no, I mean… it’s just bewildering that something the imperial family couldn’t find despite all their efforts suddenly shows up today. I only want to know its origin.”

“You’d be shocked if you knew where I found it.”

“I’m already shocked enough that it exists. So no matter where you found it, I’m confident I won’t be surprised.”

Polishing his This insane law existing is already absurd into refined words, Allen spoke, and Kiel nodded as if he understood.

“If you’re that curious, I’ll tell you.”

Pausing, Kiel leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.

“Your family’s basement storage.”

Allen frowned slightly at the quick reply, feeling like he’d misheard.

“…Pardon my insolence, but what did you just say…?”

Certain he’d heard wrong, Allen asked again, and Kiel elaborated slowly and clearly.

“I found it in the Chester Marquis family’s basement storage.”

“…What?”

“In an acacia wood box shoved in the far right corner of the basement storage at your family’s main estate.”

The overly specific detail jogged Allen’s memory of an acacia wood box long buried in the basement, and he raised his voice unwittingly.

“What?”

Packing disbelief, That makes no sense, and The temple searched for it forever—how could it be in our basement? Say something logical, into one word, Allen stared as Kiel narrowed his eyes and smiled.

Clearly delighted by Allen’s stunned reaction.

“A month ago, I visited the marquis estate, didn’t I?”

Now that he mentioned it, that had happened. Kiel had shown up out of the blue in the middle of the night, saying he missed Asha.

“Yeah, I found it then. In your basement storage. I’d finally traced this tablet’s trail, and since it ended up at your place, I went to get it.”

So, when Kiel had barged in shouting to open the door, they’d let him in reflexively.

His sudden visit had raised suspicions, but they couldn’t exactly turn away the emperor, so they’d welcomed him politely and given him a room when he said he wanted to stay the night.

They’d drunk and talked late into the night, and Allen had passed out drunk—apparently, Kiel had rummaged through the estate all night to find this.

Unbelievable. So very Kiel-like that he had no retort… but it still didn’t add up.

“If my father had found this, he’d have surely offered it to the imperial family. The Chester Marquis family has spent immense time and money recovering not just lost tablets but cultural artifacts from the war. Why would my father have any reason to hide this?”

If the Chester Marquis family had hidden an imperial treasure, it’d be blatant treason. But they weren’t strapped for cash, and his father of all people wouldn’t do such a thing, Allen argued. Kiel nodded in agreement.

“Well, that’s what you’d normally think… but it was definitely at the Chester Marquis estate. I bet even the minister doesn’t know it’s missing yet.”

“He wouldn’t have known it was there either. There’s no reason for the Chester Marquis family to hide it.”

“Is there really no reason?”

Kiel’s languid tone and Do you really think that? question left Allen speechless.

This clause was highly problematic. If the imperial family pushed to enforce it, their power could grow terrifyingly strong.

In Frisdeil, where church and state were separate, the balance of power between imperial authority and the priesthood was crucial to maintaining the system.

If that balance tipped, the system could collapse in an instant.

In that sense, if one of the Chester Marquis family’s ancestors—who’d produced high priests for generations—feared the imperial power growing too strong, they might’ve hidden this tablet.

So…

“What do you want me to do?”

Kiel sneaking into someone’s basement to steal this wasn’t exactly praiseworthy, but if he made an issue of the Chester Marquis family hiding it, they could face annihilation.

Starting with the high priest, everyone bearing the Chester name could lose their titles, have their wealth confiscated, and in the worst case, his father, who’d inherited the marquisate, and Allen himself, set to carry it forward, could lose their heads.

Kiel was smiling and joking, but the tragedy this could unleash was colossal. And Kiel was the type to behead someone while grinning.

But showing it to him first meant he had another goal. Urging him to spit it out with his gaze, Allen watched as Kiel leaned back in his chair, chuckling.

“No need to be so tense. You and I are old friends and distant relatives, aren’t we? Besides, I’ve got no intention of stirring up a bloodbath over some imperial trinket being hidden. There’s no need to spark a civil war in these peaceful times just for imperial honor or pointless prestige, right?”

Practicality and profit matter most, Kiel said, feigning magnanimity, but Allen didn’t buy it easily.

Kiel was a born conman. If he hadn’t been born an imperial—let alone the sole crown prince—he’d have been a legendary swindler or cult leader.

In a way, it was a blessing for the country that Kiel was the only crown prince. Not because he was a great emperor, but because if he weren’t, he’d have ruined the nation and then some.

Being emperor was the only thing keeping him from wrecking it.

So Allen couldn’t let himself be swayed by Kiel’s serpentine tongue. He had to stay sharp and negotiate properly.

“Please tell me what you desire, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, you still don’t get it? The meaning of me showing this to you alone?”

Leaning back in his chair, Kiel let out a long sigh, gazing at Allen with an expression that seemed to say, “How are you going to make use of yourself with a brain that slow?”

But even if he said that, nothing came to mind for Allen.

“What do you mean…?”

“It seems all that work lately has made your head stiff. Think about it carefully. This clause.”

As if to say, “What are your eyes for if you can’t use them?” Kiel clicked his tongue and gestured with his chin toward the stone tablet. Following the signal that seemed to urge him to read it until he understood, Allen slowly reread the tablet’s contents once more.

Reading each word carefully and mentally organizing the meaning again, Allen soon realized what Kiel was getting at and recoiled in horror.

“Your Majesty, you can’t seriously mean to enforce this, can you?”

“Of course I do. Why else would I have spent seventeen years searching for it?”

More than Kiel’s chiding remark—“Do you think I have time to waste?”—Allen fixated on the number that came before it.

“Seventeen years?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you bother with something so pointless…?”

Allen caught himself mid-sentence and quickly shut his mouth. Kiel’s eyes were daring him to keep talking.

From experience, he knew that continuing in such a situation would, with high probability, lead to a massive fallout, so Allen swiftly changed tack.

“I understand Your Majesty’s intent. However, even if this marriage law were applied immediately, this condition…”

Though it was an outrageous clause, the sliver of hope lay in the sheer difficulty of the criteria it set forth.

Honestly, meeting these conditions was nearly impossible.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve already set up everything to meet the conditions perfectly.”

“That’s not an easy…”

Allen stopped himself from saying “That’s not possible” and paused. He looked down at the tablet again, reviewing the attached clauses.

So…

“…Huh?”

…It works. Perfectly.

Stunned, he snapped his head up to see Kiel grinning smugly. Annoyingly so.

“Your Majesty, this is…”

“Did you think I sent that kid to the provinces for four years because I had nothing better to do?”

At Kiel’s decisive declaration, Allen let out a sigh.

He’d thought something was off all this time. That man wasn’t the type to let Asha go so easily, yet when he sent Asha far away, Allen had let his guard down, thinking, “Maybe he’s finally settled down after taking the throne.” That had been a mistake.

He should’ve known Kiel’s obsession wouldn’t fade that easily, yet he’d been too complacent.

“I know full well how much Your Majesty cherishes Asha, and he’s grateful for it. But this… it doesn’t seem right.”

“What doesn’t?”

“For starters, we need to verify the authenticity of this tablet first. And even if it’s proven genuine, there’s no guarantee it’d be legally recognized under current laws.”

In roundabout terms, Allen was saying, “What lunatic would accept a law that just popped up out of nowhere?” Kiel burst into hearty laughter.

“No need to worry about that. I’ve already had the descendants of the craftsman who carved it confirm its authenticity. And right now, laws incorporating this tablet’s contents are being drafted in secret. This isn’t a matter of acceptance or rejection—it takes effect the moment it’s announced. It’s already an established law.”

“It just went missing and came back,” Kiel claimed, leaving Allen speechless.

He had a point. It was only lost, not invalidated. Rejecting a newly rediscovered part of the marriage laws from that era while accepting the rest would undermine trust in the legal system. It was all or nothing. The seven recovered tablets had already been added to the laws and were in effect, so if this one was genuine, it naturally had to be respected.

But…

“That may be true, but… this isn’t something I can decide alone. I’d need not just my father’s approval but my great-uncle’s and uncle’s too.”

“Then you’ll just have to get their approval.”

“…What?”

“Get their approval. Within three days, by any means necessary. If you don’t, something very unfortunate might happen to you.”

As if he’d been waiting for it, Kiel’s threat came swift and sharp, his bright green eyes twinkling prettily.

They were undeniably beautiful eyes on the surface, but having seen them countless times, Allen flinched in alarm.

“No, Your Majesty—no, wait a second! Why do I have to convince my father and great-uncle?”

“Because you’re my friend. And the future Marquis of Chester.”

Kiel’s prompt reply made Allen shout despite himself.

“Your Majesty!”

“You have to convince them. I’ll handle Asha, so you take care of your family. Otherwise…”

Smiling brightly but baring his teeth slightly, Kiel drew his right index finger across his own throat in a slicing motion. Then he pointed it at Allen.

“This is your future,” that gesture meant, sending a shiver down Allen’s spine.

“Are you threatening me right now?”

“Yep. If you don’t want your family wiped out, figure it out. It’s a win-win, so let’s get it done quickly.”

It wasn’t a win-win—by any measure, it was only good for Kiel. But even so, Allen had no more arguments to counter with.

This wasn’t something he could resolve. He needed to buy time. He didn’t know much, but convincing his father and great-uncle himself was impossible. No, beyond impossible.

His father might be manageable, but his great-uncle would storm the palace to kill Kiel the moment he heard this.

“Your Majesty… even so, this is too fast. Even if it’s applied, it’ll take time to take effect, and people need time to understand and accept this law, so please give me a little time.”

Three days was absurd, and as Allen scrambled to stall, Kiel laughed as if it were pathetic.

“Allen, you know my temper, don’t you?”

“…”

“We both know each other too well to drag this out and tire ourselves unnecessarily, right? Let’s handle this quickly before Asha arrives. Speed is key. The outcome’s already set, so no need to dawdle, is there?”

Kiel had already made up his mind completely. Realizing this, Allen gave up entirely.

Once Kiel set his mind to something, he’d push it through by any means. If someone got in his way, he’d eliminate them rather than persuade them. If a law blocked him, he’d amend or nullify it.

No, he’d already found all the ways to do it before summoning Allen to inform him.

So this wasn’t a negotiation. It was an order.

One he had to obey.

Truthfully, what Kiel was planning wasn’t bad for Allen. No, for his entire family, it was actually a great thing. It’d be good for Kiel and fantastic for the imperial house too.

As always, the sole victim of Kiel’s schemes would, once again, be Asha.

That was the problem.

“Fine, alright. It’s all good. But are you planning to scam Asha again?”

“Scam? I just adore that kid, that’s all.”

Kiel’s shameless reply gave Allen a sudden headache, and he pressed his temples hard.

Over the past twenty years—hundreds of petty scams, about five major ones. The fact that Kiel, who’d even forced Asha’s engagement, was now plotting something far worse made Allen’s entire head throb.

Meeting Kiel as a child when he’d followed his grandmother to the palace was a lifelong regret. If he hadn’t gotten close to Kiel, Asha wouldn’t have caught his eye, and their whole family’s beloved little brother wouldn’t have suffered so much.

A bit odd but still adorably childlike, Asha’s face came to mind, and Allen let out a heavy, desolate sigh. When Kiel suddenly demoted him, Allen had cheered, thinking Kiel’s bizarre fixation was finally over—but who knew it was the prelude to tragedy?

If he’d known, he would’ve somehow stopped Asha’s provincial assignment and married him off to Princess Aira…

Sending Asha quietly to the provinces to separate him from Kiel had been a mistake. Breaking the engagement right after…

Recalling that grim memory from four years ago, Allen’s eyes widened as a possibility struck him.

“Your Majesty, uh…”

“Hm?”

About to say something, Allen quickly shut his mouth. No need to give Kiel a hint first.

“It’s nothing. For now, I’ll try convincing my great-uncle and father.”

“Even if the sky falls, there’s a way out,” they say—and miraculously, a brilliant plan hit him.

Announcing and properly applying this law would take time anyway. If he married Asha off to someone else before then, even Kiel couldn’t do anything. For all his bluster, he was weak to Asha…

So for now, he’d pretend to go along. Kiel smiled refreshingly, clearly pleased with the response.

“Looks like your brain’s finally working.”

“My brain’s always worked fine,” Allen thought but kept to himself, lifting the teacup before him. He savored the aroma and took a leisurely sip.

In that moment, Allen didn’t know.

That his brain wasn’t, in fact, always sharp.