HPTL Chapter 1.4

“Don’t worry about Mirae. I’ll look after her until this is over.”  

Yelena was an impressive woman. A steadfast friend and a thoughtful companion. It was thanks to her that Miraera had grown up so well, never once suffering from even a minor ailment.  

“…Please.”  

Seeing Christian’s low reply, Yelena gave a small smile, then lifted the exhausted, sleeping Miraera into her arms and turned away. Christian stood watching as they headed back to Yelena’s house, only turning around once they’d completely vanished from sight.  

That’s when he noticed a man leaning against the wall by the door, observing him. The man’s violet eyes locked onto Christian.  

The man spoke.  

“Quite a strange scene.”  

Roman Erenstein’s cold, piercing purple gaze demanded an explanation from Christian.  

“To borrow Mirae’s words, you and ‘her’ are husband and wife, Lord Baren. So why do you live in separate houses?”  

Christian Baren’s face twisted.  

“Must I report such personal matters to you?”  

Roman Erenstein laughed at the icy response.  

“No, you don’t need to brief me on your marital affairs. But…”  

Roman straightened up. Christian flinched as the man strode toward him.  

A dark shadow loomed, growing as if to swallow Christian whole. Roman Erenstein looked down at the pale, rigid Christian and said,  

“If Mirae carries Erenstein blood, that changes things.”  

Thud—  

Christian’s heart plummeted.  

He doubted his ears.  

‘What did he just…!’ 

Reflected in Christian Baren’s blue eyes, Roman Erenstein’s sharp gaze seemed to dissect him entirely. How much—how far—did he know? Christian didn’t even realize his lips were trembling.  

Did he really come here knowing everything?  

‘That’s impossible.’

But what if he did?  

If he’d come to Haksil fully aware, what could Christian possibly say to him?  

‘I have to deny it.’  

It’s not your child. It’s mine. I won’t give it to you. You won’t take it from me.  

Countless speculations churned in his mind. Roman gazed down at Christian’s silent, sunken eyes, utterly uncurious about his thoughts. Christian steadied his breathing.  

‘If it comes to it, I’ll flee.’

And to escape, he’d need to overpower the man before him. But could he, in his current state?  

Seven years ago, Christian Baren had been the empire’s strongest knight. As the eldest son of the Baren Count family—a lineage renowned for producing exceptional swordsmen—and the son of the Imperial Knights’ commander, he’d never lost to a peer. Even as an adult, he rarely fell to seasoned warriors. His own father, Count Baren, had conceded defeat to the grown Christian.  

But now…  

‘Damn it.’

His fist clenched unconsciously. Christian cursed inwardly.  

‘If it were just me, maybe. But escaping with Mirae too… impossible.’  

Seven years ago and seven years later—so much had changed. An unexpected childbirth had ravaged his body. It took years to recover, and only two years ago could he finally lift a sword again.  

And the man before him was…  

A scion of the Erenstein Imperial Family, who inherited the ancient spirit’s bloodline.  

Roman Erenstein possessed magic potent enough to rival the crown prince. Seven years ago, Christian—peerless with a blade but hopeless with magic—would’ve struggled to predict the outcome of a direct confrontation with such a formidable foe.  

The Empire’s Greatest Mage. That was another name for Roman Erenstein.  

But if he fought with his life on the line, he might just manage to subdue him.  

As Christian mentally sparred with the prince, Roman spoke.
“You dare think of other things while in my presence?”  

Roman Erenstein’s voice dripped with displeasure. When Christian didn’t deny it, he snorted.  

“Are you that desperate to hide it? The girl’s identity?”  

Christian didn’t reply. Roman chuckled.  

“I already know Mirae is Hyung-nim’s child!”  

Christian, who’d been repeating to himself that he must deny everything, froze at Roman’s shout. Whose child? His eyes widened as he stared at Roman, who clicked his tongue.  

“To think my noble Hyung-nim made such a mistake. You must’ve been quite the charmer.”  

Christian nearly erupted at Roman’s blatant mockery.  

‘What?’

How dare he suspect anything between him and His Highness? Forgetting Roman was the empire’s second prince, Christian almost lunged at him.  

‘Wait.’

But he quickly quelled his anger. On reflection, Roman hadn’t mentioned him as the one involved with his brother.  

“What are you saying?”  

Lowering his voice, Christian asked. Roman’s expression turned cold.  

“Surely you don’t think black hair is common in Cassel, Lord Baren.”  

“….”  

“On the Arcadra continent, black hair is exclusive to those with ancient spirit blood. That’s how I got mine. You know better than most what happens when someone unrelated to the imperial family has it.”  

Christian remained silent. Roman smirked.  

“Isn’t it obvious? Unless Mirae is of imperial descent, she wouldn’t have black hair. So…”  

Roman Erenstein concluded with certainty.  

“Mirae must be the child of that ‘Mama’ woman and Hyung-nim. Right?”  

Oh.  

Christian felt like crying.  

What should he call this emotion?  

‘He doesn’t know.’

He didn’t know—and he’d completely misunderstood. Of course. Men don’t typically bear children; women do. By ordinary logic, this conclusion made sense.  

What a relief. He didn’t need to fear this man. It was as if the Goddess Kaent, pitying his plunge into despair, had tossed him a lifeline of light. Christian regarded the man before him coolly.  

“You’re something else, aren’t you?”  

Roman Erenstein, cementing his far-fetched theory as truth, mocked Christian.  

“Hiding out in this backwater for years to clean up after your beloved Hyung-nim—your loyalty is downright noble.”  

That saccharine smile didn’t sit well with Christian, not least because they’d been adversaries years ago. Gritting his teeth, he glared at Roman, who muttered, “Abandoning your family—you must be out of your mind.”  

For a moment, they locked eyes in a heated stare.  

“Your Highness? There you are!”  

Just then, a voice broke the tension.  

Christian shifted his gaze from Roman to the approaching stranger. Though Roman kept watching him, Christian’s attention fixed on the newcomer.  

“Didn’t you say you’d step out to find a magic gate? If you’re out here—oh, Lord Baren?”  

Christian recognized the man sighing at the second prince. It clicked: Sven Felix, Roman’s adjutant. Sven, too, identified Christian effortlessly.  

“Your hair… why’s it like that?”  

Sven pointed at Christian’s brown locks, baffled. Christian gave a slight nod in greeting, then glanced at Roman, whose brows twitched.  

He spoke.  

“I humbly address His Highness Romanic Erenstein, noble prince of Cassel. If your business here is done, I ask that you take your leave.”  

“Lord Baren, actually, His Highness—”  

Sven tried to explain at Christian’s curt words, but Roman raised a hand to silence him. Expressionless, Roman addressed Christian.  

“My business isn’t finished, Lord Baren. It hasn’t even started.”  

‘This is trouble.’

What was this man thinking? It didn’t seem he’d come knowing about Mirae from the start. Did that mean he’d really come all this way to drag him back to Vermar?  

‘Impossible.’

Their relationship wasn’t that close. Though tied by a single night’s mistake, there was no affection between them—just raw, distasteful desire and pleasure.  

Sorting his thoughts, Christian spoke again.  

“Your Highness.”  

“Speak.”

Roman granted permission. After a moment’s hesitation, Christian bowed to the unsettling figure.  

“If Your Highness’s journey to Haksil stems from me, I beg you—I’ve left the Baren family and fled Vermar. Only His Highness the Crown Prince, my former lord, has the right to judge my sins. I owe nothing to Your Highness the Second Prince, so please, can’t you overlook today?”  

Roman Erenstein burst into laughter.  

“That’s a tough ask. I might’ve considered it, but I’ve already ‘seen’ it.”  

“….”  

“What are you talking about? Seen what?”  

Sven tried to interject their cryptic exchange, but Roman’s cold glare pushed him back. Roman stepped closer to Christian, who pressed his lips tight.  

“Aren’t you afraid?”  

As Christian met his gaze with sunken blue eyes, Roman continued.  

“My Hyung-nim, whom you once swore loyalty to, hasn’t ascended the throne yet.”  

Christian’s eyes trembled.  

“His position remains precarious, and my dear Empress Majesty is eyeing it greedily—to place me in his seat.”  

“What are you trying to say?”  

“Is your head not working? If I leave as you ask, do you think I won’t mention ‘Mirae’ to my mother—the only one I have—who believes that seat is mine?”  

“If you touch that child, I’ll never forgive you.”  

Roman Erenstein laughed smoothly.  

“Hahaha! You really give the most entertaining answers. Since when was forgiveness even an option between us?”  

As Christian faltered, Roman yawned loudly, stretching, then glanced back. Noting the still-open door of the brick house, he said,  

“I’m tired. That’s enough for today—show me to a bedroom, Lord Baren.”  

What?  

“Why so shocked? The sun’s setting soon, so I’m asking you to prepare a place for me to sleep. Is that so wrong?”  

“Your Highness.”  

“Oh, Christian Baren, I don’t think I was clear earlier. Let me clarify now.”  

Turning from Christian’s outburst, Roman adopted a mock-solemn tone.  

“I don’t care about Mirae.”  

What?  

“Whoever’s blood she carries, whoever’s bastard she is—I’m not interested. I came to Haksil solely for you, Lord Baren.”  

Christian’s eyes widened further.  

Roman Erenstein declared,  

“So until you return to Vermar with me, this prince has no intention of budging from here. Stop this pointless bickering and show me to a room.”

 

︶︶︶ ✦ ⋆˚₊⋆ ☽༄༅༄☾ ⋆₊˚⋆ ✦ ︶︶︶

 

“It’ll be cramped for two.”  

At Christian’s words, carrying blankets and pillows, Sven Felix, who’d been surveying the room, hurried over.  

“Haha, Lord Baren, I appreciate the thought, but I won’t be sleeping here. Only His Highness will.”  

“What? Then where will you sleep, Lord Felix?”  

“Me? Oh, I’ve got plenty of options. Worst case, I’ll sleep outside. No worries—I’m used to roughing it following His Highness. But… is that His Highness’s blanket?”  

Christian glanced past Sven, who grinned, saying, “It’s thick, huh?” Beyond him, a black-haired man sprawled on the bed, boots still on, humming a tune.  

He looked pleased—unlike Christian, whose face darkened. Christian stared at him disapprovingly before speaking.  

“Leave this place at dawn.”  

“Ha, haha, Lord Baren, that’s…”  

“Didn’t I say I can’t? Unless you’ll come to Vermar with me, that is.”  

Roman Erenstein turned to reply. Seeing Christian grimace at his shameless smile, Roman’s grin deepened.  

Christian, fed up, turned to leave. Bang. The door slammed shut, stinging Roman’s ears. As he picked at them with a long finger, Sven, watching, spoke.  

“You’ll be hated.”  

Who’d hate whom went unsaid but was obvious. Roman shifted his gaze from the closed door, sprawling his arms and legs wide.  

“Did that knight ever like me to begin with?”  

“Your Highness.”  

“More importantly…”  

Roman Erenstein sniffed the air.  

“This room reeks of Lord Baren everywhere. You said this was his room, right?”  

The “Glory of the Empire,” Christian Baren, had finally bent to power. Or was it power? Roman snorted.  

‘More like he couldn’t shake the knightly spirit ingrained in his bones.’

That’s why, in the past, he couldn’t ignore Roman’s orders despite trembling at sharing the same air. Though his hair was no longer the dazzling silver brighter than the sun, watching those brown locks quiver with barely contained rage was delightful.  

“What?”  

Roman chuckled, recalling Christian’s earlier expression. Sven, observing silently, said,  

“Sometimes, Your Highness, you seem unhinged.”  

Roman burst into laughter.  

“Sven, you’re only noticing that now? How perceptive are you?”  

“No, I’ve simply just realized again. I’m in awe of your perverse tastes.”  

“That stings. Perverse? I’m just true to my feelings.”  

“Sure, whatever you say.”  

Sven replied halfheartedly, placing the blanket Christian had given him at the foot of Roman’s bed.  

“What about what I asked you to look into?”  

Roman, lying still for a while, asked Sven, who was tidying the room. Sven answered without pausing.  

“Haksil’s an ordinary village. Its population’s shrinking, not growing. Lord Baren and his so-called wife started living here about seven years ago.”  

“Around the time of their ‘lover’s escape.’”  

Sven continued.  

“There’s a reason for the two houses. Lord Baren’s wife is a physician and apothecary. The house on the hill is her clinic, where she spends most of her time. The rest, she spends with Lord Baren.”  

“Hmm.”  

“The villagers hesitated to talk about them because they owe her a lot.”  

“So she heals them in exchange for their silence.”  

“Physicians are welcomed anywhere.”  

Roman let out a low hum. Sven went on.  

“In Haksil, Lord Baren goes by ‘Arnold Hopper.’”  

“Arnold Hopper?”  

Roman sat up, eyes widening.  

“He’s lived seven years under such a pathetic name?”  

“It’s not pathetic—it’s common. A name you’d hear anywhere. A smart choice, I’d say.”  

Sven’s casual reply earned a sharp look from Roman, who grimaced.  

“If we go back, we’ll need to give him a new one.”  

“A new one? Why not just keep him as Lord Baren?”  

Idiot.  

“Sven, don’t you remember the Baren family’s proclamation? There’s no place for Lord Baren there anymore.”  

“Oh… right. The Baren family’s already…”  

Muttering as if recalling something, Sven asked,  

“Why take such a hard road?”  

Roman looked puzzled as Sven, who’d just been discussing Christian, turned to him. Sven elaborated.  

“Why not just tell Lord Baren? He might change his mind if he hears you out. There’s no need for such low-level threats…”  

“Naive words.”  

Roman sneered.  

“Sven, do you think a man like Lord Baren would take my words at face value? He’d reject me without listening. We’ll do it my way—just follow.”  

Sven replied listlessly.  

“Fine, if that’s what Your Highness wants, who am I to stop you? But… what’s ‘Mirae’? You’ve been clashing with Lord Baren over her, right? I hear she’s his and his wife’s daughter—why are you using her to threaten him?”  

Sven’s words trailed off as his eyes shifted to the door. Roman, sitting on the bed, followed suit.  

“Sven.”  

“Understood.”  

At Roman’s command, Sven opened the door, and a clatter rang out—something tumbling down stairs or dishes and tools crashing. The two men rushed toward the noise.  

There stood Christian Baren, paler than when he’d entered their room minutes ago, now in lighter clothes.  

“Lord Baren?”  

Sven spotted what looked like a communication orb rolling at Christian’s feet. Hearing Sven, Christian’s blue eyes flicked not to him but to Roman Erenstein behind him.  

Christian stomped toward Roman—thud, thud—his furious steps echoing. As their eyes met in the air, Christian bit his lip, glaring at him before shoving past.  

“Wait.”  

Roman grabbed his arm.  

“Let go.”  

“What’s wrong?”  

“No time to explain.”  

“Tell me.”  

“I said let go!”  

Christian shook off Roman’s grip. Clearly shaken, he glared at Roman’s frowning face, then seized his collar.  

“L-Lord Baren!”  

Sven panicked at the bold move.  

“It’s because of you.”  

“What?”  

“I never should’ve let you in.”  

Christian ground his teeth. His agitation, already high, seemed to explode upon facing Roman. Roman felt a flicker of murderous intent from the hand on his collar. Calmly, he spoke.  

“Tell me what’s happening first.”  

“Mirae’s sick.”  

“Sick?”  

Roman’s expression shifted to surprise. Christian, staring into his face, struggled to suppress his boiling rage before releasing his grip. Stepping back, he bowed his head.  

“I’ve… committed an offense against Your Noble Highness. In my distraught state, I acted rudely. I’ll accept my punishment later—please, step aside.”  

Roman Erenstein replied to Christian, awaiting his response.  

“Granted.”  

As he moved slightly, Christian, head raised, flung open the gate and rushed out.  

“W-What’s going on? Why’s Lord Baren like that? What’s this about Mirae being sick?”  

“….”  

“Your Highness?”  

“Hah hah.”  

“….”  

“Pfft, haha haha!”  

As Sven, bewildered despite witnessing it, approached Roman, the prince suddenly shook with laughter.  

Roman laughed for a while, staring at the open gate of the red-brick house.  

“Did you see that, Sven? Lord Baren grabbed my collar.”  

“Your Highness…”  

“No one in the empire dares touch my collar—not even Hyung-nim. Yet this knight grabs it over his brother’s sick child! My collar—Roman Erenstein’s—like it’s nothing!”  

“Puhahaha!” He roared with laughter. Sven felt a headache coming but didn’t show it.  

“This is it. This is exactly it.”  

Roman’s eyes, tracing Christian’s vanished figure, gleamed with delight.  

“Lord Baren never fails to thrill me!”  

Sven didn’t want to respond. Roman strode toward the still-open gate.  

“Where are you going!”  

Startled by Roman’s sudden move, Sven called out. Roman answered,  

“To follow him. Wherever he’s headed.”  

With that, he bolted out, leaving Sven sighing at the second prince’s retreating back.  

“Truly perverse.”  

Shaking his head, he followed suit.