Scandalous Wedding Chapter 7.1

“Gone…”

Waking up early in the morning, Asha glanced at the empty spot beside him and mumbled with a hint of disappointment.

Kiel had definitely said he’d come by later, but he hadn’t. The cold, untouched side of the bed and the stiffness in his shoulders and back were proof of that.

Of course, it wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep without Kiel, but in the imperial palace, he’d grown so used to using Kiel’s arm as a pillow that he felt oddly out of sorts.

“Hmm…”

“Young master, are you awake?”

As he sat on the bed with a puffy face, scratching his stomach, the familiar voice of Nob reached his ears.

At his private residence, Nob would barge in without knocking, yanking off the blankets and scolding him for still being in bed. But here, Nob’s polite greeting prompted Asha to slide off the bed. Still scratching his stomach, he trudged to the door and flung it open.

The sudden motion startled the servants waiting outside, who quickly bowed their heads.

“Are you awake, my lord?”

“Yeah. Is the bathhouse free right now?”

Aiming his question at the palace servant rather than Nob, Asha got a courteous reply.

“The bathhouse is always ready, my lord. May I ask why?”

“My body feels stiff, and I want to soak in hot water.”

He’d slept fine, but he still felt achy. He wanted to wash up.

“Then I’ll guide you right away. A soak in warm water should help you feel better.”

At the servant’s polite offer, Asha scratched his messy, nest-like hair and stepped into the corridor.

Nob frowned, clearly displeased at seeing Asha head out still in his nightshirt, but they were in the inner palace. During the day, only a few servants, knights, and Kiel could enter.

The moment Kiel ascended the throne, he’d declared the palace his own and kicked out all the freeloading relatives, leaving it perpetually quiet.

So, right now, the inner palace held only Asha as a human presence, besides the servants and knights who functioned as background or furniture.

Which meant it was fine to be a bit sloppy. He just needed to look proper when Kiel returned.

Having long given up expectations for his master and now focusing solely on his future, Nob trudged after his disheveled lord. Then, Asha, walking ahead, suddenly turned back as if remembering something.

“Oh, Nob.”

“Yes?”

“There’s a paper on the table in my room. Can you take it to the palace librarian and ask them to find those books?”

“…Ah.”

Only then did Nob vaguely recall how, last night, Asha had bolted out barefoot in his nightshirt, insisting on going to the library.

Something about marriage laws and filing a petition…

It had slipped his mind in the chaos, but now that he thought about it, that was an issue too.

“But what’s this about a petition?”

Asha kept going on about petitions and wishes, so Nob asked what was so urgent about it. Asha realized then that Nob hadn’t fully grasped what he meant by “petition.”

“Oh, I’m trying to change the law.”

“Why the law, all of a sudden?”

At that fundamental question, Asha stopped walking. Now that he thought about it, why had he started thinking this way?

“Well…”

It had been fine up until the banquet yesterday. He’d greeted his mother’s friends, and when they asked him to give them space, he’d moved to grab some steamed buns. But then he overheard Alicia’s name, and his mood soured.

Pondering what that unease was about, he’d walked absentmindedly until he smacked his head into a pillar. The noise startled Nob, who ran over, joking that he’d cracked the pillar. Seeing the bump on Asha’s forehead, Nob had quickly brought him back to the inner palace.

Somewhere in there, his thoughts had spiraled.

According to Esael, there were no more eligible ladies in the capital for him or Kiel to marry. Not in terms of family status, but age—there were simply no suitable matches left.

In the capital, only he and Kiel were well past marriageable age and still single. But Alicia’s arrival changed things.

Esael had said Alicia was an exception, but if her exclusion was due to illness, that no longer applied.

If, as she claimed, she was fully recovered, she was the prime candidate for empress. By imperial marriage law, her lineage and age made her perfect.

That’s when his thoughts veered in a new direction.

Why was same-sex marriage impossible?

The purpose of marriage wasn’t just reproduction. Whether it was a transaction between families, as Nob argued, or the fruition of love, marriage could have many purposes. So, limiting it to opposite-sex partners felt unfair.

For more flexible, diverse marriages, same-sex unions should be allowed. Besides, before Emperor Kapin III’s reign, same-sex marriages were permitted.

In the vernacular version of Life Before Codified Law, there was a record of Prisdeil’s first emperor’s sister marrying the eldest daughter of the Paddington Dukedom. The Marquis of Chastain had even married Count Alman, absorbing vast estates. The issue of heirs was resolved by adopting Count Alman’s younger brother as their son, a record still vividly preserved.

So, something was wrong here. The law needed fixing.

That was how Asha’s thoughts had evolved.

“So, cutting the range of choices in half isn’t a good thing, right?”

“…What?”

“I mean, with just Alicia and me, doesn’t it seem unfair that Kiel has no real choice? I think it’s bad when laws restrict personal freedom. It’s not like it’s a crime. Oh, by crime, I mean actions that cause physical, mental, or material harm to others.”

So, Asha’s point was that same-sex marriage didn’t hurt anyone physically, mentally, or materially, and thus shouldn’t be restricted by law.

But to Nob, who was only hearing the conclusion, it was too much of a leap to follow. Asha had built up his reasoning, but Nob was lost.

“…I don’t understand what you’re saying…”

“So, with Alicia…”

The moment he said her name, Asha felt a slight pang. Oddly, his chest stung.

“Oh…”

Dazed, Asha opened his mouth and touched his chest. Nob blinked and asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“…My chest hurts a bit.”

“Your chest?”

“Yeah…”

What was this feeling? Rubbing near his sternum, Asha tilted his head.

“Indigestion?”

“You, indigestion?”

Nob was floored by Asha’s claim of indigestion first thing in the morning. It wasn’t about an empty stomach.

In all his life, Asha had never had indigestion. To be precise, he was so robust and healthy, with a stomach of steel, that he’d never even caught a common cold or stomach bug.

It was to the point that, during his time with the Holy Knights, when a stew with poisonous mushrooms sent everyone vomiting and collapsing, declaring an emergency, Asha alone was fine.

And in the summer he’d joined the palace guard, when everyone ate undercooked meat on a night patrol and collapsed, Asha was fine.

Even last fall, at a seaside festival, when everyone got food poisoning from grilled clams, Asha was healthy.

At that point, it wasn’t just healthy—it made you wonder if something was wrong with him. But according to the Marchioness of Chester, it was because he’d eaten so much off the floor as a kid.

Come to think of it, Nob had seen Asha eat a lot off the ground. He was greedy.

So, ailments like stomach issues, heartburn, indigestion, nausea, or dizziness—common among ambitious climbers—didn’t exist in Asha’s world.

This was a huge deal. It meant some germ worse than food poisoning was floating around the palace.

“You, indigestion? This is no small matter. I’ll call a physician right away.”

“Uh… I don’t think it’s that serious…”

“You need one. If you’re feeling off, others are probably already dead.”

“That’s true, but…”

Nob had a point. The last thing Asha ate was steamed buns at the banquet, so if something was wrong, others who attended might be sick too.

But making a fuss felt vague. There was a poking pain, but it was bearable. Besides, if the buns were bad, the palace would already be in chaos. Since it was still quiet, the food wasn’t the issue.

“Hm… It’s not that bad. I’ll see how I feel after a bath. Could be muscle tension.”

Nob scowled at Asha’s unconvincing explanation.

“Do you have muscles in your organs?”

Pausing to wonder if organs had muscles, Asha couldn’t recall and looked down at his chest. Then he nodded slowly.

“Maybe it’s chest muscles hurting.”

“You can’t tell muscle pain from organ pain?”

“I’ve never felt pain, so I don’t know.”

Nob sighed at Asha’s honest admission that he’d never even had muscle aches.

Fair enough. Only those who’ve eaten meat know its taste, and only those who’ve felt pain know it.

“Well, if it’s you, I suppose that’s possible.”

“I feel fine now, so I’ll go bathe. While I’m there, take the paper to the librarian.”

Saying he was okay and trudging off, Asha was followed by Nob, who, still worried despite calling him his master, checked again.

“You’re really okay?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

“You better.”

“Okay.”

Nodding earnestly and walking down the corridor, Asha’s back was watched by Nob, who let out a long sigh and shook his head.

Since growing up, Asha felt more like a son than a master.

He was so healthy, carefree, and simple, and as a kid, he’d been called a baby Hercules for his strength, so there was no worry he’d get hurt. Sure, he got a bit of disdain, but since he didn’t notice or care, that wasn’t an issue either.

The problem was when he bluntly spoke out in front of important people or stirred up trouble like now.

Still, with the Chester Marquisate and the emperor behind him, he’d be fine… but Nob worried anyway.

When Asha caused trouble, he wasn’t the one scolded—Nob was, by Asha’s mother, for failing to stop him.

“Ugh… Not a master, a walking disaster.”

Grumbling but heading to deliver the book list to the librarian, Nob went to the room.

Love him or hate him, a master was a master.

* * *

“Now’s the time to decide.”

Rubin’s low, confident voice rang out, and Kiel silently stared at his uncle standing before him.

Early in the morning, Rubin had stormed into the palace, using his status as uncle to barge into Kiel’s study and urge him to marry Alicia. His argument was that Kiel was far past marriageable age, making further delays risky, and the empress’s seat couldn’t stay vacant any longer.

At that, Kiel flashed a rare, benevolent smile.

You think I’d marry because you say so? his face seemed to say.

But Rubin wasn’t one to back down easily.

“Your Majesty, you’re no longer young. Far from it—your peers are about to have grandchildren. You can’t delay marriage any longer. Since Alicia has recovered, it’s time to proceed.”

“I appreciate your loyalty,” Kiel said, “but as you know, I’m a romantic. I don’t want a loveless marriage. You’d know that from how I didn’t marry Ira off to the Chester Marquisate but let him wed Esael.”

Grinning with a lie so blatant even a passing dog would laugh, Kiel was met with Rubin’s own smile.

Didn’t you break that engagement to marry Asha? his face replied.

“I’m well aware of that,” Rubin said, “but currently, Alicia is the only suitable match for Your Majesty. If not her, you’d have to wait another decade, and a forty-year-old with a teenage bride? Isn’t that a bit shameless?”

There was no law against age gaps, but it’d be embarrassing, and wouldn’t she be too old to bear children? Rubin’s veiled jab was countered by Kiel, who nodded as if impressed.

“Funny you’d say that. I thought you were still unmarried. Shouldn’t you, my uncle, be more pressed than me?”

Who are you to talk about age? Kiel’s retort made Rubin smile, eyes crinkling.

“I’ve already declared I won’t marry.”

Used to old bachelor jabs, Rubin’s calm response was met with Kiel’s chuckle.

“Not won’t—can’t, right?”

Because I made sure of it. Omitting that, Kiel pressed lightly, and Rubin replied coolly.

“I love my free life.”

“Crying alone in bed every night?”

“Who said that?”

“Lawson.”

Your best friend. Digging at a sore spot, Kiel watched Rubin bristle, realize he’d been baited, and clamp his lips shut. Gritting his teeth, Rubin answered.

“Lawson’s a compulsive liar.”

“He seemed truthful to me.”

That’s why you got exposed and exiled three years ago. Bringing up past mistakes, Kiel prompted Rubin to change the subject quickly.

“My affairs aren’t the issue here. It seems rumors of Your Majesty’s lack of marriage prospects have spread to other countries.”

Kiel nodded, acknowledging it was expected. He had spies reporting on foreign courts, so others likely did too.

“They’d need that much to conduct proper diplomacy.”

If they didn’t have such intel, it’d be negligence, Kiel said, laughing. Rubin, now smug, continued.

“Speaking of which, the Mason Empire seems to be preparing for a state marriage.”

That short but sharp remark made Kiel’s face stiffen involuntarily.

“…A state marriage?”

“Yes. The second princess of Mason is still unmarried. Since Your Majesty is also unwed and lacks domestic prospects, they’re suggesting a state marriage to strengthen ties. Princess Ira has a lover, so that didn’t work out, but since you’ve no such ties, it wouldn’t be a bad move to solidify relations between our nations.”

You cunning snake. The words nearly slipped from Kiel’s lips but faded.

He’d wondered what Rubin was banking on with Alicia’s wildcard, and this was it.

A state marriage wasn’t trivial. Mason was nearly equal in power to Prisdeil, and as major trade partners, rejecting their proposal could spark trade disputes. Ira’s case was informal, and Kiel had excuses to decline, but this was different. Rejecting Mason twice would bruise their imperial pride.

He’d need to announce his marriage to Asha quickly, or if delayed, accept Mason’s offer. Their reasoning was solid: with no suitable match domestically, a state marriage would cement alliances. He had no counterargument.

He’d fallen into his own trap.

Realizing it, Kiel gave a self-deprecating smirk.

No wonder it felt off.

Rubin, knowing retaliation for crossing him was brutal, had made an obvious move. Meanwhile, he’d tipped off Mason about the situation, planting the idea of a state marriage.

Coming from Kiel’s own uncle, Rubin Paddington, Mason would assume he was open to it.

Now, he was cornered—marry Alicia or proceed with Mason’s princess.

This time, his uncle had played a clever hand.

Kiel grinned, baring his teeth at Rubin’s childish, vile scheme. He’d been digging and hauling stones to marry Asha, and Rubin thought he could swoop in?

So adorable, Kiel wanted to skin him alive and rub salt in.

“Of course, like everyone, I’d prefer not to see a foreign princess as empress. So, marrying Alicia swiftly would preserve Prisdeil’s imperial legitimacy, don’t you think?”

The tablet was no longer the issue.

Now it was Mason. Rubin was scattering ashes everywhere.

Annoyingly.

“Curious how invested you are in my marriage.”

“As your uncle, I must do my utmost to assist.”

To think he’d been scheming like this behind a quiet facade. Had he stayed still, he could’ve lived peacefully, but now he’d made things hard for himself.

Kiel gazed at his uncle, who was shortening his own lifespan, with pity.

His eyes glinting.

“I understand your intent. But choosing the nation’s empress deserves time to think. Even if Mason pressures, we can’t take a woman of questionable sanity as empress, can we? For the nation and the imperial house.”

“As you saw, Alicia is fully recovered. You’re welcome to have a physician confirm.”

“Oh? Then I’ll look into it after a check. But it’ll be my physician making the diagnosis.”

“By all means. When shall we schedule it?”

“Ten days.”

With physicians aplenty in the capital, ten days was absurd. It meant Kiel wasn’t really calling one—he was stalling.

Rubin saw through it instantly.

“There won’t be that much time. Mason seems quite impatient…”

Trailing off, Rubin flashed a meaningful smile, confessing he was in direct contact with Mason and threatening to pressure them if Kiel didn’t decide quickly.

But Kiel was too cunning for such crude threats.

“Well, if that’s the case, so be it. A state marriage doesn’t sound bad. Shall we try one after all this time?”

If he couldn’t marry Asha, a Mason princess might be better than Alicia. At Kiel’s declaration, Rubin’s mind raced.

Kiel would never give up Asha. That’s why Rubin played this card, but knowing Kiel, he might choose Mason’s princess over Alicia to gain their empire as allies.

It was impossible to predict. Of Kiel’s many flaws, the worst was his unpredictable whims.

That’s why Rubin had always disliked him. Rubin needed stability, order, and predictability.

He got called a conservative fossil, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t bold enough to play risky cards. Too cautious.

He always bet on the safest, most likely outcome.

And this time was no different.

“Then three days should do?”

Wary of Kiel choosing a state marriage, Rubin cautiously gauged his expression, playing it safe.

Ten days was too long. Even five gave Kiel too much room to scheme.

Three was perfect—enough to think and try something, but too short for unexpected moves to bear fruit.

Insisting on no more, Rubin pushed harder. Kiel leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Three days won’t confirm Alicia’s condition. Ten days to see if she has a fit or not.”

No less, Kiel countered firmly.

Ten days was the shortest time for a petition to be accepted. If Asha filed one, Kiel would reveal the tablet to push it through as fast as possible. Ten days was the minimum.

Ten days was enough. He had no intention of delaying further.

“No, ten days won’t do.”

“Three won’t either. Not enough to check for fits.”

“Then… five.”

“Ten.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll send word to Mason myself. I’ll proceed with the state marriage.”

Fine, I’ll just do it. Kiel’s attitude finally made Rubin raise the white flag.

“Very well. Ten days it is.”

“Glad we’re on the same page for once.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

Finishing his farewell, Rubin stood and headed for the door. Watching him, Kiel called out as if remembering something.

“Duke Paddington.”

Grasping the doorknob, Rubin turned and bowed.

“Speak, Your Majesty.”

“Watch yourself at night.”

Grinning openly with a threat, Kiel’s boldness made Rubin’s face stiffen. Shrugging, Kiel continued.

“They say ruffians roam the streets at night. The capital’s security is a mess.”

Though they’d ended on agreement, Kiel’s greeting reminded Rubin he hadn’t forgotten their grudge. Forcing a smile, Rubin replied slowly.

“I’m honored. I’ll be most cautious.”

As it was the emperor’s word, Rubin answered politely and left the study.

The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room. Kiel stood, swiftly crossing the study. As if something urgent had come up, he left quickly, issuing a brief order to the waiting servant.

“To the inner palace.”

Seeing Rubin’s face had soured his mood, and he needed to cleanse his eyes with Asha.

Last night, he’d been too busy plotting how to crush Rubin to visit the inner palace. Well, he’d had time, but feared he’d do something reckless, so he’d pinched his thighs to resist. By now, Asha would be awake, and he wanted to eat with him.

Then, as if struck by a thought, he called the servant.

“Fetch Gunner.”

The sudden order to summon the palace apothecary prompted a practiced reply.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And tell him to bring ‘those things’ when he comes.”

“As you command.”

Satisfied with the servant’s quick understanding, Kiel hurried his steps.

Other than a mental evaluation seventeen years ago, he’d never been sick from childhood to now, a picture of health. He’d never needed physicians or apothecaries and didn’t now, but he sought the apothecary often.

Not for illness, but for “those things.”

“Those things” were custom drugs made by his handpicked apothecary, categorized in five stages: “Seed,” “Weed,” “Pest,” “Poison,” and “Green Juice.”

“Seed” was a mild sedative for those who needed squashing before they sprouted—weaklings. “Weed” was a fever inducer for those who’d grown and needed uprooting. “Pest” caused mild food poisoning as a warning to those who flitted about without real power. “Poison” triggered headaches for those who’d cause harm if left unchecked. And “Green Juice” was a laxative to mess with those meant to be ground down.

All were harmless, with effects lasting from a day to two weeks depending on dosage.

So far, they’d only been named and tested clinically, but it seemed Rubin might need a dose soon.

He’d probably have to put all his messengers to sleep.

* * *

“Not great…”

Emerging from the bathhouse after soaking in warm water, Asha mumbled, still looking dissatisfied.

The hot water had eased his shoulders and back, but his mood remained off.

Or rather, he felt drained. At first, he thought it was because he hadn’t seen Kiel, but sitting calmly in the bath, he realized it wasn’t that simple.

If it were about Kiel, he’d have felt off for the past five months, but he’d been fine until now. It started this morning—or rather, yesterday.

What was this nagging feeling?

Puzzling over this unfamiliar sensation, searching for its source, he trudged along when he heard whispering. Maidservants were chatting in a nearby room.

“…So he’s marrying Lady Alicia?”

At that name, Asha stopped. His chest ached again.

“But I heard the Duke of Paddington mentioned a state marriage earlier. Since Princess Ira’s match fell through, isn’t it His Majesty’s turn?”

“That’d be hard to refuse. They’ve already declined once, so twice…”

A diplomatic issue could arise, Asha realized, eyes widening.

A state marriage usually meant a union between royals of different nations. With only Kiel unmarried in the imperial family—since Ira and Esael’s three-year-old son wasn’t an option—Kiel was the only candidate.

Kiel, in a state marriage…

With Alicia already in play and now talk of a state marriage, Asha’s simple mind tangled. The chest pain was stronger than before.

“I feel bad for His Majesty, suddenly. Whether he marries either, he won’t be able to stay close with Lord Asha like before. Honestly, they’re practically married, just without the ceremony, right? They always sleep together in the palace, and there’s that rumor His Majesty sneaks into the Chester Marquisate at dawn.”

“True. Good thing Lord Asha’s a man, or his marriage prospects would’ve been ruined.”

“If he were a woman, they’d probably be married already. No issue there.”

Thinking the inner palace was empty, the maids spoke freely, and Asha’s heart sank.

He’d never considered it before, but marriage changed a lot. Look at Nob or Esael—after marrying, they became steadier, calmer, rarely going out like in their bachelor days. Other friends were the same, leaving no one to hang out with in the capital, which had pushed him to consider marriage too.

That meant if Kiel got married, he wouldn’t have time to hang out with him anymore. No more sneaking off to explore the market, holding hands to wander festivals, or rolling around in bed at night, chatting away.

As his imagination spiraled to that point, Asha let out a gasp and clutched his chest.

He’d been naive. He’d always thought that even if he or Kiel got married, their relationship would stay the same. For the past twenty years since meeting Kiel, nothing had changed, so he’d assumed it would be that way forever.

“Uh…”

A sudden, sharp pain stabbed his heart, and Asha let out a short groan, pressing his hand to his chest.

It seemed his chest muscles were really tense.

“Alicia…”

The moment he said her name, another stab of pain hit. Frowning, Asha pressed his hand against his chest and muttered again.

“…Alicia?”

Saying her name brought another piercing pain. Standing still, puzzled by the odd sensation, he felt the pain subside.

As the pain quickly faded, Asha gently rubbed his sternum and tried saying her name one last time.

“Alicia.”

The moment he spoke, a deep, knife-like pain struck again.

He was starting to understand what this was. So, he tried a stronger word.

“…State marriage.”

This time, the blow was heavy. A searing pain, like a massive spear piercing his body, made Asha lean against the nearby wall for support.

“It hurts…”

Muttering that this must be what pain felt like, Asha marveled at the mysterious situation.

In his twenty-four years, aside from minor scrapes during training, he’d never been seriously injured or felt pain. He was so healthy, with great athletic ability and reflexes, that he rarely got hurt. Plus, he was far less sensitive to pain than others, so he barely noticed it. This was a completely new experience.

“So this is how you die…”

Maybe, as Nob said, he’d caught a deadly disease.

If he was in this much pain, it had to be serious.

Shocked by his own absurd fears, Asha leaned against the wall with his left hand, pressing his chest with his right.

Normally, pain wouldn’t spark such thoughts, but even optimistic Asha couldn’t help feeling pessimistic now.

Come to think of it, his great-uncle had said he’d leave his fortune to him, but he’d planned to pass it to his nephews. As he considered writing a will, he saw Nob running toward him from down the corridor.

“Young master, why are you so late? His Majesty’s been waiting for ages.”

At Nob’s urgent message, Asha felt the stabbing pain in his chest vanish instantly.

“Huh…?”

Surprised by the sudden relief, Asha lifted his hand from his chest and stood upright.

“It doesn’t hurt…”

The gut-wrenching pain from moments ago was gone. Without taking any medicine, the pain had vanished like it was never there. Asha blinked, wondering what was happening.

“Acute…?”

Muttering in a daze, Asha was prodded by Nob, who’d just reached him.

“I thought you’d drowned in the bathhouse. Why’d it take so long? His Majesty came to have breakfast with you.”

The news that he could eat with Kiel brought a glow to Asha’s face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, so hurry up. Wait, you went to bathe—why do you look grubbier? You didn’t comb your hair again, did you?”

“Uh? Well…”

He was about to say he hadn’t combed it since it was still wet, but no chance. Nob whipped out a comb from his sleeve, stood Asha in place, and started brushing his damp hair.

“Didn’t I tell you to comb your hair? Who’s gonna untangle it if it gets matted? How long do I have to keep doing this for you?”

“It’ll sort itself out if you leave it…”

“Sure, you think it sorts itself out—because I sort it.”

As Nob tugged his hair with feeling, Asha winced, and Nob launched into another lecture.

“You can’t meet His Majesty looking like this. You’ve got to look proper.”

“His Majesty doesn’t care…”

“Not to you.”

Calling him clueless, Nob finished combing the wet hair neatly, plucked stray strands from the comb, adjusted Asha’s clothes, and pushed him forward.

“Go on. His Majesty’s waited long enough. He meant to come at dawn, but the Duke of Paddington delayed him. The duke said something that’s got him in a foul mood, so cheer him up.”

Asha turned to Nob, startled.

“His Majesty gets in bad moods?”

In the twenty years he’d known Kiel, Asha had only seen him smile. No matter when he saw him, Kiel was always grinning, calling him cute or pretty even when he messed up.

Sure, sometimes he’d add a grim “makes me want to wring your neck,” but Kiel was generally laid-back and cheerful.

Asha’s own overly optimistic and relaxed nature owed a lot to Kiel. Growing up watching someone who did whatever he wanted, nearly got deposed, and didn’t care had taught Asha that most things weren’t a big deal, letting him stay carefree.

So, Kiel in a bad mood? Asha couldn’t believe it. As he stood there, incredulous, Nob urged him on.

“It’s because of the Duke of Paddington. Honestly, using marriage as leverage? That’s low.”

At the word “marriage,” Asha stopped dead, grabbing the wall again. He muttered softly.

“It hurts…”

His small, whimpering groan, like a wounded animal, made Nob stop too. Alarmed, he peered at Asha’s face.

“What? Are you unwell again?”

“Yeah…”

Asha’s quick admission of pain had Nob reeling, as if the world had turned upside down. He grabbed Asha’s arm.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Here. It’s stinging and tight.”

Pointing to his chest, Asha spoke, and Nob tilted his head slightly.

“Like indigestion again?”

“It’s similar, but not that. My stomach’s fine.”

“Then what?”

“Heart disease, maybe…”

At Asha’s grave declaration, Nob, who’d been watching worriedly, froze.

Fresh from the bath, Asha’s face was flushed, almost too vibrant. His skin gleamed, his eyes were clear, and his lips shone red.

In Kiel’s words, he looked like a soft, glossy steamed bun straight from the steamer.

If that was a sick person’s face, Nob was a corpse.

Glaring at Asha, who shamelessly claimed heart disease despite looking the healthiest man alive, Nob snapped.

“No way your heart’s bad when you could sprint ten laps around the training field without stopping. It’s just indigestion.”

Nob was certain Asha’s heart couldn’t possibly have issues.

Having been by his side for twenty-four years, he’d stake his life on it.

But Asha wasn’t convinced. He’d never had stomach pain, but this didn’t feel digestive.

“Then why does it hurt like this?”

“It’s indigestion, I’m telling you. I’ll get you a digestive.”

“I haven’t eaten anything.”

“True, but… it’s indigestion. Take a digestive and eat with His Majesty.”

Insisting it was indigestion whether he’d eaten or not, Nob dragged Asha by the arm.

Skeptical of Nob’s flimsy logic, Asha questioned as he was pulled along.

“Is it okay to eat if I’m indigested?”

“It’ll sort itself out soon. You’re not some ordinary human, are you? Just go.”

He’d never had indigestion, but he remembered his mother saying not to even drink water when it hit.

But since Nob insisted, Asha figured it must be true and let himself be dragged back to his room.

First, he’d see Kiel. He’d deal with the rest later.

* * *

Too impatient to waste time moving, Kiel had ordered breakfast in the bedroom. While it was being prepared, he flipped through the stack of books on the table, frowning.

The heavy, thick books, bound in parchment, looked centuries old. Kept in the imperial library, they were in good condition, but their cowhide covers were faded, and the text was in an archaic dialect similar to modern Prisdeil script but slightly different.

Used only by high priests in the temple, it was unreadable to Kiel. The other books, written in old or dead languages, were equally tough, so he pushed them aside, bored, and stood to head for the door.

Waiting wasn’t his thing, and he figured he’d waited long enough. Just as he reached to open the door to fetch Asha, a knock sounded.

The door swung open, and Asha stepped in.

“Kept you waiting long?”

Smiling brightly as he pattered in, Asha was instantly pulled into a tight hug by Kiel.

Warmth radiated from him. Probably from soaking in hot water, his body felt cozy.

Like a freshly steamed bun.

“Just got here. Bathed well?”

“Yeah. The water was warm, so my muscles relaxed a lot. Since you didn’t come last night, I slept funny and my neck’s stiff.”

Saying his left side ached especially, Asha prompted Kiel to check his neck, alarmed.

“Why? Slept wrong?”

“You didn’t give me your arm to sleep on.”

At that, Kiel’s lips softened into a smile.

“Did I?”

“Yeah. So you’ve gotta do it tonight.”

This kid’s trying to kill me. Still, Kiel nodded with a chuckle.

“Sure.”

“Then let’s eat first.”

As Asha grabbed Kiel’s hand to head to the dining hall, Kiel tugged him back.

“I told them to set up breakfast here, so no need to go out.”

“In the room?”

“Yup.”

“Nice.”

Eating alone with Kiel in the cozy bedroom beat sitting at the grand palace table, so Asha was all for it.

Delighted by the idea, Asha stepped further into the room with Kiel and spotted the pile of books on the table. His eyes lit up.

“Oh, Nob already brought them.”

“You asked for these?”

“Yeah.”

Checking the thick, heavy, musty-looking books one by one, Asha frowned.

“The Theological Compendium and Why They Chose Codified Law aren’t here. No Scriptural Studies either.”

“Those matter?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to have them look?”

If he asked the book-obsessed audit team slaves, they’d probably dig them up fast. But Asha shook his head.

“If they’re not in the palace library, they’re not in the palace.”

“Then where?”

“Great-uncle’s study.”

“Oh…”

Kiel got it instantly.

High Priest Rauel Chester’s library was famed for holding rarer tomes than the imperial or temple libraries. From theology to law, politics, philosophy, and aesthetics, it was packed with priceless rare books, making it the top destination for Prisdeil scholars.

Kiel had seen the staggering collection in their basement himself.

If those oddly named books were anywhere, it’d be there. They’d even had a tablet lost in war—what wouldn’t they have?

“So, you’re heading home?”

“Yeah, I think that’s best. There’s lots of material in great-uncle’s study, so working there would be quicker.”

Since he could check references on the spot, writing at the Chester Marquisate would be faster, Asha explained. Kiel thought for a moment before asking.

“How long will the petition take to write?”

“I’ve got the gist sorted, and the info’s in my head, so if I can check the books, three days should do it.”

“And the approval process?”

“Petitions go straight to the priests, so initial review takes about two days. Then it goes to the high priest, who reviews and calls priests and scholars for scrutiny—about ten days? Fifteen total, I’d say.”

Listing the timeline in detail, Asha made Kiel’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Fifteen days from now?”

“That’s if it’s fast. Including deeper review, figure twenty days. You need reputable scholars to review it, so even with prior notice, revisions could stretch it longer. Plus, it’s a controversial topic, so it might take more time. That’s if you’re lucky—petitions can take months if the temple drags, and who knows how long once it hits the palace. Could be years, depending.”

“Years?”

“Yeah.”

No way. He’d rather announce the tablet and get married.

He couldn’t wait that long.

He’d told the Duke of Paddington ten days, but the petition process was trickier than expected.

Sure, he could pressure the temple to speed it up, but that’d require a deal…

The temple kept pushing for priest tax exemptions, which he didn’t want to grant…

“…This is a problem.”

Muttering softly to himself, Kiel caught Asha’s curious glance.

“A problem?”

“…No, nothing. Just focus on that. I’ll find a way to buy time. Or rather, instead of buying time…”

Mumbling to himself, a brilliant idea flashed through Kiel’s mind.

“Yeah, a state marriage isn’t bad…”

Slipping up and voicing his true thoughts in front of Asha, Kiel nodded, thrilled with his own words.

“…Yeah, it’s great.”

Suddenly in a fantastic mood, Kiel smirked slyly, nodding repeatedly.

The idea that just hit him was pretty good. No, not just good—genius.

It’d eliminate the need to stall. One move could settle everything.

I’m a genius, he confirmed again, squinting at Asha with a grin.

“Pretty thing.”

Sure enough, seeing Asha untangled all his messy problems in a flash. No better lucky charm existed.

“Come here.”

Sitting first and beckoning with a finger, Kiel watched Asha obediently approach.

But Asha’s expression wasn’t great as he neared. Unlike his usual self, his brows were furrowed, and his lips pouted slightly. Kiel cupped Asha’s chubby cheeks, blinking.

“What’s wrong? Hungry?”

“…I am, but it’s more that I’m in pain.”

“Where?”

“My chest.”

Pointing to his chest with his right hand, Asha lowered his head. Alarmed, Kiel stared at it.

A guy who rarely complained of pain saying he hurt meant something serious.

“Where exactly?”

“Here.”

Pointing to his sternum, Asha drew Kiel’s intense gaze.

“Indigestion?”

“I thought so too, but I don’t think it is.”

Since he hadn’t eaten, it couldn’t be that, Asha said, shaking his head. Kiel muttered gravely.

“Something spoiled in the heat?”

“I’m a person…”

Kiel knew that. It’s just that, in his mind, Asha was already a steamed bun.

“Anyway, something’s wrong, so see a physician. Not a physician—an apothecary, but the guy I called should be here soon. How’s it hurt?”

“Hm, like a stabbing in my chest, or sometimes it tightens up. It comes and goes.”

Describing it, that’s exactly how it felt. Like his heart or stomach was clenching.

Pleased with his own explanation, Asha nodded, while Kiel stared at his sternum, uneasy.

“This is bad. If you say it hurts, it’s gotta be serious…”

Wondering if a rib was broken, Kiel frowned. Asha nodded in agreement.

“Nob said the same. If I’m hurting, others would already be dead.”

Nodding that he thought so too, Asha prompted Kiel to leap up, startled.

“A physician—let’s see one now! The apothecary’s coming soon, but after him, I’ll call every physician in the palace to check you.”

“It’s not that bad…”

It wasn’t constant—just occasional—so maybe seeing his family doctor at home would do. But Kiel disagreed.

“Physician first.”

“Uh… But I want to head to the estate today. It’s not that painful…”

Needing the books urgently, Asha suggested seeing a doctor at home, but Kiel brushed it off.

“No, physician first.”

“Uh…”

It was a pain, honestly, but Kiel’s unusually firm tone made Asha nod reluctantly.

“Okay. I’ll see one, then go.”

Since his condition felt off, he’d follow Kiel’s advice and see a physician first.

The heart was important, after all.

“Alright. Let’s eat first.”

* * *

Right after finishing the meal set up in the room, a physician arrived, as if on cue.

A young-looking man with hollow eyes, calling himself an apothecary, entered smiling but openly grimaced when told to check Asha’s condition.

He clearly didn’t want to. But it was the emperor’s order, so he began the examination reluctantly, tilting his head skeptically even after finishing.

His odd reaction made Kiel ask urgently.

“What? What’s the illness?”

“Hm…”

“Speak quickly.”

Unfazed by Kiel’s prodding, the apothecary checked Asha’s eyes again, tilting his head once more.

This time, Asha, not Kiel, asked.

“Am I dying?”

His wide-eyed question made Kiel jump up, knocking his chair back.

His world-shattering reaction irritated the apothecary slightly.

“Who said that?”

“Huh?”

“Who said Commander Chester’s dying?”

“I’m not?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll live forever. No issues. Zero issues. Abnormally so.”

Grumbling as if he shouldn’t have to explain, the apothecary let Kiel sink back into his seat, relieved.

But Asha, unconvinced, looked down at his chest.

“But my heart hurts.”

Asha had already diagnosed the stinging pain as “heart disease.”

Since heart disease was serious, he asked cautiously. The apothecary stared at him like he was nuts.

Rumors about Asha Jester and Kiel were so widespread that even the socially clueless apothecary knew them. He’d pictured Asha as a small, cute young lord, but meeting him, the kid was… off.

No, really off.

“I don’t know what you heard or imagined, but there’s nothing wrong with your heart, Commander. It’s so strong you’ll live a hundred years, so don’t worry.”

Far from faulty, it was almost too healthy. Heart, stomach, liver—nothing was wrong.

Among the hundreds of people the apothecary had examined, Asha was the second healthiest.

After Kiel.

Maybe even healthier than Kiel.

Glancing at Kiel, the apothecary recalled four years ago when he’d been summoned to “make drugs in the palace.” Thinking it was some lunatic, he’d been shocked to learn it was the emperor. Told he’d only make drugs, not treat patients, he’d doubted it, but it was true.

He’d joined as the emperor’s apothecary, but Kiel was so healthy there was nothing to treat.

Living carelessly, doing whatever he wanted, and venting freely kept Kiel robust.

And Asha, whom Kiel adored, seemed cut from the same cloth, living as he pleased.

Health was innate, sustained by shamelessness. No amount of care could match it.

You needed that kind of personality.

“Anyway, no issues, so don’t worry.”

As if he’d wasted his time, the apothecary looked at Kiel, asking if he could go. His obvious dislike for examining people made Kiel start to nod, but Asha spoke up.

“Then why does it hurt?”

At the fundamental question, the apothecary looked at Asha, annoyed.

Young and favored by Kiel, he’d become a palace physician-apothecary but cared little for human health. His passion was developing poisons and antidotes from plants, mushrooms, roots, and flowers.

Sure, he’d been called a prodigy since childhood, earning the title of genius physician at sixteen, but his heart was in drugs.

That’s why he’d chosen to be the emperor’s apothecary. Kiel rarely got sick, and even his occasional “ailments” were just excuses to order weird drugs.

His job in the palace was holing up in a dim apothecary, extracting and crafting strange poisons.

Anything else—especially examinations—he loathed. But since it was Asha, whom the emperor adored, he’d done it. Now, a perfectly healthy guy doubting him? His pride was bruised.

Question my skills? I’d check a hundred times—you’re fine. About to snap, he caught Kiel’s piercing glare.

Answer Asha’s question properly.

Intimidated, the apothecary backed down.

“Fine. I’ll check again.”

Forced by the emperor’s order, he examined Asha again, sighing deeply at his excessively healthy state.

“Still fine.”

Most people at his status and age had some ailment, but Asha was perfectly healthy.

Emphasizing each syllable to shut down further questions, a knock interrupted.

The three in the room turned to the door as the voice of Kiel’s closest servant spoke.

“Your Majesty, Baron Langbell has urgent news.”

“Later…”

About to dismiss it for more pressing matters, Kiel paused at “Langbell.”

It sounded important. Asha, catching his hesitation, spoke up.

“Your Majesty, if news came this far, it must be urgent. Go check.”

“Let’s hear the diagnosis first.”

He couldn’t leave Asha without a clear diagnosis. The apothecary, finding Kiel’s overprotective streak pathetic, piped up.

“Nothing to hear. He’s fine—excessively so. If there’s a problem, it’s that he’s too healthy.”

Worry about something worth worrying about. Don’t you know my skill? His borderline rude tone made Kiel glance at him, then back at Asha.

The apothecary’s skill was trustworthy. If Kiel had to pick one physician to entrust his life to, it’d be this guy.

“I’ve got urgent business, so I’ll step out. Keep checking Asha’s condition.”

“There’s nothing to check.”

The apothecary snapped, but Kiel fixed him with a quiet stare.

I’m not asking you to check his actual health—I’m telling you to give him the answer he wants. That look made the apothecary quickly shut his mouth.

Kiel valued the apothecary’s skill and usually let most things slide, but not when it came to Asha.

Even the socially clueless apothecary knew that much. So, he opted for politeness.

“I’ll examine him carefully again.”

“Of course you will. Asha, you’ll talk with him and then head to the Chester Marquisate, right?”

“Yeah. Finding the books will take time, so I want to leave soon.”

Since his great-uncle’s study was vast and locating books would take a while, Kiel briefly wondered if it was safe to let Asha leave the palace.

Not out of possessiveness, but with so much going on, he wanted to keep Asha tucked away in the palace. Yet, the books were crucial, and time was tight, so he couldn’t hold him back.

“Alright, then. But take the escort knights. I’ll have the palace guard on standby.”

“It’s fine. It’s close.”

I’ve commuted from home to here, Asha said, grinning cluelessly.

At Asha’s naive cheer, Kiel let out a small sigh.

“It’s not fine. There’s a witch roaming outside the walls these days, looking to pop steamed buns.”

“Come on…”

“It’s true. She’s going around setting fire to bun shops, oil can in hand.”

“No way.”

Asha, now old enough not to take Kiel’s words at face value, didn’t buy it. Unlike when he was a kid, his skeptical attitude made Kiel toss out a bolder move, slightly hurt.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yeah.”

Too many times to count, Asha said, blinking. Kiel immediately conceded.

To be precise, it wasn’t lying but coaxing a kid, though some exaggeration, omission, and distortion might’ve happened along the way.

“Fair, but this time it’s true, so be careful. Bun costume and all.”

Stroking Asha’s chubby cheeks, worried he might get hurt, Kiel finally got Asha to nod.

“Okay, I will.”

Satisfied with the answer he wanted, Kiel kissed Asha’s cheek.

“Good boy. Send a knight with news as soon as you reach the estate. Stay cautious even inside. The witch might follow you there.”

“Don’t worry. Our estate’s safe. Especially my southern annex.”

True enough. If anything, it was safer than the palace.

The Marquis of Chester had rigged the annex with traps and snares to keep him out.

“Fine, but don’t overdo it. See you in three days.”

“Okay.”

After their oddly mother-son-like exchange, Kiel gave Asha’s cheek a final squeeze and stood.

He was still uneasy about Asha’s pain complaints, but trusting the apothecary’s skill, he hurried out of the room.

The sound of quiet footsteps faded, followed by the door opening and closing. Silence fell instantly.

Left alone with the apothecary, Asha stayed quiet, waiting for answers, while the apothecary stayed silent, out of things to say.

Asha’s bright, demanding eyes, asking why he was in pain, made the apothecary recall Kiel’s earlier glare. Swallowing his irritation, he asked as kindly and politely as he could.

“How does it hurt? Beyond stabbing or tightening—be specific.”

“Uh…”

At the apothecary’s call for details, Asha thought hard about when the pain struck.

So, it was definitely…

“When I hear about Alicia or a state marriage, it hits me right here.”

Despite his unchanged, lackluster vocabulary, Asha was satisfied with his explanation, certain of it.

It was definitely “Alicia” and “state marriage” causing the issue.

It hurt even now.

“Yeah, it hurts when Alicia or state marriage comes up.”

Alicia and state marriage—what a leap. The apothecary felt a moment of confusion.

Physically, nothing was wrong, so it must be mental. But what did Alicia and a state marriage have to do with each other? He didn’t know and didn’t care to. Kiel said to give Asha what he wanted, but this was a hassle.

From the vibe, it seemed Alicia was tied to a state marriage…

“It’s unrequited love.”

“…Unrequited love?”

“Yeah. You’re in love with this Alicia person.”

“…I only met her last night.”

He’d heard rumors about her, but since he rarely attended banquets or gatherings, last night was his first time seeing her in person.

Loving her felt off, and Asha gave the apothecary a suspicious look. Seizing the chance, the apothecary replied.

“Love at first sight.”

There, done. The apothecary tried to shut down further questions, but Asha still looked unconvinced, frowning.

Alicia didn’t feel likable—more like dislikeable. Not her specifically, but the situation.

“It doesn’t feel good. It feels bad…”

“…Then it’s because you dislike her. Her face annoys you, and just thinking of her makes you furious, right?”

What a pain, the apothecary thought, tossing out a vague explanation. Asha pondered for a while before answering slowly.

“Not sure about annoyance or fury…”

Still uncertain, Asha’s vague reply made the apothecary grit his teeth.

What do you want from me? The thought bubbled up, but he held back. To keep making drugs in peace, he couldn’t mess with Kiel’s steamed bun.

“You must have a gentle nature. Anyway, this Alicia person is definitely the cause.”

Asha already knew that. What he wanted was a cure, not a cause.

“So what do I do?”

“There’s only one cure, either way.”

“What’s that?”

“Get rid of her.”

The apothecary forgot to add from your mind. Honestly, he was too annoyed to elaborate.

Most people would get that it meant ignoring or forgetting her, so he left it at that, figuring Asha would sort it out. But Asha took it literally.

“Kill her?”

“…That’s illegal. Look, that’s not my field, so ask His Majesty.”

“Would His Majesty know?”

“Yeah.”

If he doesn’t, tough luck. Your steamed bun, your problem. The apothecary’s careless tone was met with Asha’s nod.

Not all his questions were answered, but if it wasn’t the apothecary’s expertise, pressing him was pointless.

Sensing Asha’s acceptance, the apothecary shot up from his seat.

“So, we’re done?”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

Having come to deliver Kiel’s ordered drugs and stumbled into this mess, the apothecary grabbed his things and bolted out.

Not looking back, as if he never wanted to see Asha again, his retreating figure made Asha scratch his hair and stand.

Time to get ready and head to the Chester Marquisate. He wasn’t sure why the apothecary said to ask Kiel, but since he did, Asha decided to ask him later. Changing clothes, he headed to the wardrobe.

He wasn’t fully satisfied, but as long as he wasn’t dying, it was fine.

* * *

McCain was having a nightmare.

No matter how you sliced it, it was a nightmare.

In the dream, he was rolling a steamed bun. Endlessly.

The bun kept growing, snowballing until it cast a shadow over him.

He didn’t know why it was growing or why he had to roll it, but he kept at it. Then, a bright light hit him.

Warm, radiant sunlight.

But somehow, McCain felt it was ominous.

Something was wrong—very wrong.

But what?

Even in the warm sunlight, what was off?

Unable to explain the nagging unease, McCain sank into thought.

He could think in a dream.

Yesterday, he’d worked past midnight again, dozing off in the archive.

He could’ve gone home, but with an early meeting today, he’d chosen to stay.

So…

Tracing his memories, a chill ran down his spine.

But no way.

It was still summer, so it couldn’t be that. Slowly opening his eyes, McCain creaked his neck to check the wall’s pendulum clock.

Instantly, he shut his eyes and opened them again, thinking he’d misseen.

But the clock’s hands stayed put.

Which meant…

“Argh!”

McCain’s yell echoed through the quiet archive, jolting the corpselike figures sprawled around into sitting up.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Did His Majesty show up? their friends asked. Wordlessly, McCain pointed at the clock with his right index finger. Following his gesture, they checked the time, kicked off unblanketed covers, and scrambled up, rummaging for documents strewn across desks.

Without a word, they bolted out of the archive, running.

“Damn it, what’s this? How’d we all oversleep?”

Didn’t we agree someone would stay awake? Crune whined, clutching heavy documents in his left arm while fluffing his flattened side hair with his right. Beside him, McCain, barely shoving on shoes, pressed down his sky-high hair, groaning.

“Man, this is insane. We’re cutting it close. If we’re late, His Majesty’ll flip.”

Not just one or two, but a whole group late—how’d they handle that temper? As McCain griped, their junior, Ben, running alongside, tried to comfort them.

“He’s always late anyway, so don’t worry. We’re not that late. If we run, we’ll make it.”

“That’s the problem—he’s early on days like this!”

“He’s always early on days like this!”

McCain and Crune, with puffy faces, shouted in unison at Ben’s naive remark.

Over a year in the Special Audit Corps, and Ben still hadn’t figured out Kiel.

Kiel loved dramatic, late entrances like a protagonist, but on days like this, he was always early. No wonder they called him possessed.

“Hey, who’s the rookie? The rookie’s supposed to wake up and get the seniors! How’d we all sleep through?”

“Exactly! How’s not one person up early? Someone should’ve woken up halfway!”

“It’s that damn Steamed Bun Day—we’ve been up three nights straight!”

Not our fault. We couldn’t take it yesterday, Ben retorted. The Corps sprinted, ignoring knights and others greeting them, racing to the Second Meeting Room for the day’s session.

“Not late yet!”

Looking a mess but arriving before the meeting started, Crune, at the front, shoved the door open. The next moment, he froze with a gasp.

His sudden halt made the others pile up behind him, stopping in their tracks. Ben, entering last, muttered softly.

“Whoa, chills…”

I’ve got goosebumps, he said, rubbing his arms despite the sweltering weather.

He’d hoped against hope while running, but hope was dead.

“We’re not late.”

Facing Kiel, who sat at the head with an enigmatic smile, McCain threw up a defense to survive. But Kiel had a miraculous counter.

“You’re not late for the meeting.”

Meaning they were late for something else. Everyone got it.

“We all stayed up in the archive last night.”

“So?”

Find anything? The question silenced them. Last night, split into teams, some dug into the Duke of Paddington’s background, others checked Alicia’s sanatorium and physicians, and a few worked on codifying the tablet’s contents.

But no results yet. Truth be told, they’d already dug up everything there was.

Kiel had squeezed his uncle’s network so dry over the years, there was nothing left to find.

“No answer means nothing, right?”

Their silence answered again, and Kiel leaned back, smiling lazily.

As they desperately avoided his narrowed, grinning eyes, Kiel, unusually generous, addressed them.

“Fair enough. It’s just one day.”

Nodding as if it was no big deal, Kiel’s reaction made McCain and the others stare at him, eyes full of fear.

What’s he plotting, playing nice? their looks seemed to say. Kiel laughed, incredulous.

“What’s with the insolent stares?”

“…Did something happen last night?”

Instead of asking if the shock of his uncle derailing his seventeen-year dream had driven him mad, McCain phrased it politely. Kiel chuckled.

“Maybe?”

Was something up, or not? His sly smile gave nothing away, and as they watched him warily, Kiel casually gestured for them to sit.

“Take a seat. I’ve got important news. Close the door first.”

Waving a finger as if annoyed by noise, Kiel prompted Ben, at the back, to shut the door quickly. As they awkwardly settled into their usual seats, Kiel began slowly.

“Let’s get to it.”

All eyes locked on him as he dove into his agenda, wondering what bizarre scheme he was cooking up.

Kiel grinned, pleased. He loved having everyone’s attention fixed on his every word. Even better, he relished announcing something that shattered their expectations.

Utterly thrilling.

With a commanding tone, he issued his order.

“Prepare for a state marriage, top secret.”

Before anyone could process it, they blurted out in unison.

“A state marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s having one?”

You? The Corps’ expressions asked. Kiel laughed, delighted.

Then he revealed the subject of the marriage.

“Rubin Paddington.”