“That man is…”
Caesar’s intimidating gaze made Tialen bow deeply.
“M-My name is Tialen, Your Majesty. I believe we met once when I delivered to the palace—”
“A tailor, I see.”
“Y-Yes!”
Tialen nodded eagerly, thinking Caesar remembered him.
“I’m here to tailor Lady Chester’s debutante dress—”
“Sorry, but,” Caesar interrupted coldly, his face looking slightly irritated.
“Evelyn needs to leave immediately. She won’t have time to fit a dress.”
“What?”
This time, it was me who asked.
“Go where? Why? Is something wrong?”
As I questioned him urgently, Caesar opened his mouth but then closed it firmly. That’s when it dawned on me—maybe this was something he couldn’t say in front of others.
No matter how familiar he felt to me, Caesar was still the Emperor. Perhaps it wasn’t something to discuss openly.
“Uh, Mom, you heard him. I have to go.”
“But…”
Mom looked conflicted, glancing between Tialen and me. It must have been difficult to arrange a meeting with such a renowned tailor. But defying the Emperor’s orders wasn’t an option either.
With a sigh, Mom nodded.
“Fine, we’ll have the dress made next time you visit. Maybe even by another tailor…”
“Another tailor? Baroness! Please leave the dress to me, Tialen!”
Tialen clenched his fists as he interjected.
“But aren’t you very busy?”
“Even so, I will personally handle Lady Chester’s dress! Just let me know, and I’ll come running anytime.”
Tialen glanced at Caesar as he spoke, clearly hoping this encounter would help him establish a connection with the Emperor. Designing a royal family member’s outfit was on a completely different level from simply delivering to the palace.
“I promise to make Lady Chester the most dazzling presence at her debutante ball!”
This time, he directed his words at Caesar, as if asking for praise.
“You’re coming back next time?”
Caesar’s muttered response was icy, and his expression looked far worse than before.
*****
“What’s going on?”
The moment we left the place, I hurriedly questioned Caesar. But he didn’t respond.
“Your Majesty?”
“Alvin is bringing the carriage now. We’ll need to wait a bit.”
“…What?”
Bringing the carriage? Then how did Caesar get here?
I looked around, wondering if he had come on horseback, but there was no horse in sight. Actually, there wasn’t even a servant or a guard accompanying him.
“Your Majesty, did you come here alone?”
“……”
“I told you it’s dangerous to go anywhere alone! Didn’t you leave with Sir Alvin? Why is he bringing the carriage? How did you get here?”
As I bombarded him with questions, Caesar avoided my gaze.
“There was only one teleportation scroll…”
“What?!”
Did he use a teleportation scroll to get here? The kind that costs dozens of gold coins each and can only be used once?
“Since intercontinental teleportation is prohibited, we arrived at the empire’s harbor together. I used the scroll to come straight here, while Alvin is bringing the carriage from the harbor.”
As Caesar explained, I was left speechless.
“But… why?”
He had said he came back urgently because of business, but he hadn’t even met my father and instead was trying to take me to the palace. Something didn’t add up.
“Well… there was something urgent…”
“What urgent matter?”
I knew my questioning could come across as rude, but from my perspective, this was ridiculous. I’d barely come home on vacation, and after just one day, I was being summoned back to work. I deserved to know the reason.
Caesar’s gaze wavered nervously. Seeing his reaction, a thought struck me.
“…Your Majesty, could it be—”
“What?”
Caesar flinched as if caught in the act of doing something wrong.
“Could it be… are you unwell?”
“What?”
“Is something wrong with your body?”
I grabbed his shoulders and examined him closely. Thinking back, this was the longest we had been apart since it was revealed that I was Caesar’s guide.
‘Could that have caused an issue? Did he go rampage again?’
“How do you feel? Are you in pain? Did something strange happen, like last time?”
“I… um…”
When Caesar hesitated, I grabbed his hand urgently.
“How about now? Does it feel any better?”
“Ah… yes, a bit better now.”
So, he had lose control. My irritation vanished, replaced by guilt.
‘How could I scold someone who came running here because they were unwell?’
“This isn’t the first time, is it?”
“What?”
“Is that why you kept insisting on putting my room right next to yours? Were you just enduring it until now?”
“Well, uh…”
Caesar didn’t answer immediately, probably worried I’d criticize him for holding back. His hesitation only made him seem more pitiful.
“It’s fine. Just tell me. Did you lose control of your powers?”
“Well…”
After swallowing hard, Caesar nodded.
“…You could say that, yes.”
*****
When the trip to the Southern Continent was first planned, Caesar’s greatest concern was Evelyn. This was their first time being apart for such an extended period.
Although the aristocratic faction had been quiet lately, Caesar knew they could never be trusted.
To ensure Evelyn’s safety, he assigned a royal guard to serve as her escort and gave him strict instructions: report to Caesar immediately if anything happened. He even handed over an expensive magical communication device for swift contact.
That wasn’t enough to ease Caesar’s anxiety. He regularly contacted the guard to check on Evelyn’s situation. The guard consistently reported that Evelyn was spending her vacation peacefully.
After two days of uneventful updates, Caesar finally began to relax.
Today was no different. When asked if there was any news, the guard replied there was nothing unusual. The only “problem” was the magical device’s excessively good performance.
<“Lady Evelyn is getting fitted for her debutante dress!”>
<“Oh, how exciting!”>
Through the magical device, Caesar overheard the maids chatting behind the guard.
A debutante dress?
That was all Caesar needed to hear to piece together the situation. Without further thought, he immediately crossed the continent. He informed Alvin of his destination and hastily tore open a teleportation scroll.
There was no grand plan. He was simply driven by an instinctive desire to stop Evelyn’s debutante ball at all costs.
Having arrived so suddenly, Caesar couldn’t come up with a convincing reason for his actions. When Evelyn questioned him with concern, he panicked and nodded at her assumptions.
He lied. He claimed that being apart for so long had caused his power to spiral out of control again.
That excuse smoothed things over for the moment, but it also created unintended consequences. Evelyn became excessively attentive.
She began to show up at the training grounds whenever Caesar’s sword practice ran long, insisting he return with her. She worried even when he worked late. She even grew more comfortable taking his hand without hesitation.
Though guilt gnawed at him for lying, Caesar couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt when Evelyn clung to him so closely.
The real problem, however, was that Evelyn’s debutante preparations continued smoothly despite his efforts. Baroness Chester had no intention of letting her only daughter’s debutante ball be canceled.
The tailor, Tialen, seemed equally determined. For reasons unknown, he even visited the palace to take Evelyn’s measurements and fit her dress, his enthusiasm undiminished. Caesar found himself powerless to intervene.
With the debutante ball just a week away, Caesar grew increasingly anxious. He couldn’t bear the thought of Evelyn sharing her first dance with someone else. The mere idea made his blood boil, an emotion so intense even he found it absurd.
Yet, there was nothing he could do. Claiming illness had worked once to delay the preparations, but using the same excuse twice was out of the question.
While Caesar agonized alone, time marched on relentlessly. The day before the debutante ball finally arrived. The palace was buzzing with excitement as not only Evelyn but also several young servants who had recently come of age prepared for the event.
Amid this festive atmosphere, Caesar brooded in solitude, finally pushed to his limit. He made a desperate decision.
When Evelyn wasn’t around, Caesar went to find Katana. He barged into her chambers, startling her as she sat reading. Without any preamble, he blurted out his demand.
“I need a potion.”
“What?”
Katana, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, stared at him in shock.
“Something that causes a fever, coughing blood, or anything visibly dramatic.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s it for?”
Katana’s face was a mix of disbelief and confusion.
Caesar, overwhelmed by his own helplessness, responded bitterly.
“…For me.”
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