PLQYM | Chapter 23

When Heraith turned, he was frowning at Lucian.

“When did you arrive?”

“Just now.”

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Heraith brushed past Lucian and approached the table. He sat down in the chair pulled out for him by the attendant trailing behind. Lucian stepped closer to his side, as he usually did. But then—

“Huh?”

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As he was about to move to Heraith’s side as always, Lucian froze in his tracks, his body stiffening unconsciously. Heraith, noticing this, glanced at him briefly, his expression hardening immediately.

“What’s this about?”

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“Oh, my apologies.”

Lucian quickly apologized, flustered, and approached Heraith. Heraith, who had been half-rising from his seat, frowned again but resumed sitting down. His expression suggested he had plenty to say, but he kept his silence, though his gaze carried a clear sense of disapproval directed at Lucian.

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‘What’s wrong with me?’

Lucian, trying to suppress his confusion, shook his head slightly. When he had stepped closer to the emperor and caught his scent, heat had surged through his body as if he were burning up.

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‘I must be losing it. What’s with this sudden reaction?’

Lucian ran a hand through his hair as if welcoming a soft breeze, trying to act as though nothing had happened. However, his attempts at composure faltered when he noticed his hands trembling faintly.

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Heraith’s eyebrows twitched as he observed Lucian’s evident disarray. His steely gaze followed Lucian’s every move—the trembling hands, the pale, startled face. Despite the fact that Lucian claimed not to remember, Heraith couldn’t help but think otherwise.

‘The mind might forget, but the body remembers, it seems.’

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After all, he had been so deeply embedded into him that forgetting was unlikely.

But shouldn’t that be a reason to rejoice?

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Heraith’s lips quirked into a subtle smirk, a trace of possessiveness lurking in the upturned corner. Yet Lucian, consumed by his own bewildering reactions, failed to notice Heraith’s subtle display of emotion.

By the time Lucian had calmed himself enough to look away, Heraith had already masked his expression and was sipping his tea with a composed demeanor.

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“Luce.”

Heraith set down his teacup and called Lucian’s name. His face bore its usual imperial arrogance as he crossed his arms.

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“The time.”

Lucian immediately understood what he was asking. Without missing a beat, he shifted to a business-like tone.

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“Three minutes left.”

“Hmm.”

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Heraith tapped a finger against his crossed arms.

“What’s the percentage on the exclusive rights to mana stones for the Mage Association this year?”

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“Fifteen percent.”

“And the holy water rights for the Cleric Association?”

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“Eleven percent.”

“Let’s cut both by three percent.”

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“If so, the treasury will grow significantly. It wouldn’t hurt to make the association heads wait a bit longer.”

Heraith’s lips curved slightly in a smile that seemed to say, That’s exactly what I want to hear.

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Just then—

“Aaaaaah!”

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Thud-thud-thud!

A strange scream and hurried footsteps echoed from the far end of the garden. Moments later, the sound turned into two people frantically running toward them.

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“Looks like the matter of exclusive rights will have to wait.”

“Tch.”

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Lucian commented dryly with a tinge of regret, and Heraith clicked his tongue in annoyance. The two figures, running as though their lives depended on it, arrived exactly on time and stopped before Heraith, panting heavily as they bowed.

“Huff, huff. Greetings, Your Majesty.”

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“It’s been a while since we’ve—huff—seen you, Your Majesty.”

Heraith gave a curt nod in response.

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“Sit.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you.”

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The two collapsed into the chairs pulled out for them by the attendants.

“Making two elderly men run like this… I must have been quite rude.”

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Heraith’s words carried a bright smile as he added, “You could’ve taken your time.”

“Oh, no, Your Majesty. We couldn’t possibly keep you waiting.”

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“It’s rare for the old man to make sense, but he’s right. Please don’t doubt our loyalty.”

“I’ve never doubted it.”

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Heraith chuckled softly and lifted his teacup again.

The two association heads took a moment to catch their breath, exchanging glances and nervously shifting their eyes. They whispered to each other in what they thought were hushed tones.

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“Why do you think His Majesty is here?”

“How would I know? Didn’t you invite him?”

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“Are you mad? Do you want to drop dead of a heart attack before seeing your great-grandchildren? Of course not!”

“Same here! I value my life, thank you very much.”

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Lucian glanced at Heraith. The emperor, sipping his tea slowly, showed no signs of reacting to their muttered exchange, even though it was loud enough for him to hear. Should he stop them? Lucian hesitated, but before he could intervene, the two association heads shifted their attention to him.

They gestured subtly and mouthed, Sir Lucian, Sir Lucian.

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Come over here.

Lucian glanced at Heraith again. The emperor maintained an indifferent expression, as if inviting Lucian to handle the situation. Taking this as silent permission, Lucian approached the two men.

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The Mage Association head and the Cleric Association head leaned in conspiratorially.

“Why is His Majesty here?”

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“We could’ve managed just fine on our own.”

Lucian sighed inwardly. They genuinely seemed to believe the emperor was oblivious to their whispers.

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“Where in the Imperial Palace can the emperor not go? Naturally, he’d be curious about a meeting between the heads of the two associations.”

The two heads exchanged awkward looks.

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“Well, that’s true, I suppose.”

“Yes, yes.”

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One coughed awkwardly, and the other followed with a similar noise. The Mage Association head, clad in a black robe, was Chauver, the Master of the Mage Tower. The Cleric Association head, wearing a white robe, was Priest Freester, the High Cleric. They were the leaders of the Mage Tower and the Great Temple of Pranas—and renowned for their stubbornness.

If you don’t count the emperor, of course.

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Heraith was the ultimate definition of “stubborn.” Lucian smiled softly at the two men. Seeing his gentle expression, they turned away hastily, clearing their throats again. The faint redness of their earlobes didn’t escape Heraith’s notice, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“But it doesn’t seem like His Majesty’s input is necessary for our discussion.”

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Then why am I here?

Lucian tilted his head in confusion at Chauver’s comment.

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“Yes, indeed. We have no need for His Majesty’s involvement.”

So what about me?

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Freester nodded in agreement.

Am I just the pushover here?

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Lucian shot Heraith a sidelong glance. The emperor rested his chin on his hand, watching the proceedings with mild amusement, urging him to continue.

Really now. Them and him too.

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Lucian sighed and refocused on the two men, mentally reviewing the budget allocations for the Mage Tower and the Great Temple. Hopefully I won’t need to use this, but better safe than sorry. If I have to deal with these two, it’ll be a useful weapon.

He clenched his fists at the memory of nights spent memorizing the details.

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Before long, the two heads began an animated discussion. Initially, they spoke in hushed tones, but as their excitement grew, their voices rose.

“Names are important. They define everything!”

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“No, we need to start with action before worrying about names.”

“You can’t have identity without a name!”

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“Are you accusing me of dismissing identity, you old fool?”

Lucian sighed. You’re saying the same thing, both of you.

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“Gentlemen,” he interjected, raising his voice to cut through their escalating argument. “You’re proposing a joint organization to foster understanding between the Mage and Cleric Associations, correct?”

“Yes.”

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“Exactly.”

“But we can’t agree on a name! This guy keeps saying strange things.”

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“No, it’s you spouting nonsense!”

Lucian pressed a hand to his temple. They’re literally on the same page.

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“You snake-like old man, all you do is suggest magic-related terms!”

“And you raccoon of a cleric, you only mention saints and divine beings!”

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“What did you say?!”

“You want to go?!”

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They stood abruptly, their voices booming. At that moment, Heraith’s voice cut through.

“How about calling it the Healing Association?”

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Everyone froze, their eyes snapping to the emperor.

“Pardon?”

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Heraith, arms crossed, scanned the two men with a leisurely gaze.

“Healing techniques are shared by both sides, aren’t they? The name works for both.”

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Healing magic and divine power were the only overlapping abilities between mages and clerics. Mages used spells to heal, while clerics relied on holy water and sacred powers.

“So, use a name that applies to both.”

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Heraith’s gaze swept over the two men before finally settling on Lucian.

“Besides, having tea with my aide like this is its own kind of healing for me.”

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A deep smile curved his lips as he looked at Lucian.