PLQYM | Chapter 46

Franz hesitated as he stepped into the guest parlor of the Clan Marquisate to greet his visitor. He froze the moment he saw who was waiting for him.

Of all people, it had to be him—the person he least wanted to see.

The man lifted his head slightly, acknowledging Franz’s presence. His pale, pristine face looked as stoic and austere as ever.

That blank expression—how much ridicule must be hiding behind it?

With a furrowed brow, Franz entered the room, his irritation palpable.

“Sir Franz.”
Lucian greeted him with a polite nod. Every perfectly measured movement of his infuriated Franz, as if mocking him.

“…Lucian Astro.”

“It hasn’t been long, but it feels like ages, doesn’t it, Sir Franz?”

“…”

Franz glared at him in disdain, then walked over with heavy steps and plopped into a chair. His hostile gaze bore into Lucian, who remained calmly composed, watching him in silence.

“I heard you called in sick. I was worried, but you seem fine. That’s a relief,” Lucian remarked.

“Sick leave?” Franz sneered.

“Why the act, Chief Aide? Don’t tell me you actually believed I was sick.”

“…”

“I was just tired from all the work and needed a break. Guess the rumors got exaggerated.”

Lucian sighed deeply at Franz’s dismissive attitude.

“This doesn’t seem like the best behavior for the current situation. You should return to work soon.”

“Ha, return to work? And who are you to tell me what to do? A second son of a count’s family with no title to inherit—how dare you?”

Despite Franz’s outburst, Lucian’s expression didn’t change. He looked at Franz calmly, as if he had expected this reaction.

“…It’s not my place to say, but Sir Franz, your actions aren’t exactly commendable right now.”

“What?”

“It’s clear you’ve mishandled your duties in His Majesty’s service while I was away. That alone is grounds for reprimand. If you return to your duties now and do your job properly, I might overlook this. But if you keep feigning illness, do you think His Majesty will tolerate it?”

Franz’s face grew redder with each word Lucian spoke.

“I wouldn’t let it slide if it were me, but His Majesty is remarkably forgiving.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to lecture me?!”

Franz shot to his feet, nearly knocking over the teacup on the table. The tea spilled across the surface, but neither man paid it any attention.

With a face full of rage, Franz glared daggers at Lucian. For a moment, it seemed like he might throw a punch, but Lucian remained unbothered.

Nothing about Franz’s threats was remotely intimidating to him.

“I know what you did,” Lucian said, his tone cold. “Even if you don’t like me, your issues with me should stay professional. Stirring up trouble like this is unacceptable.”

“W-What? What are you talking about?”

Franz had sworn to himself before this meeting that he would feign ignorance no matter what was thrown at him. No matter the evidence, he’d play dumb.

But as Lucian’s piercing ice-blue eyes bore into him, his resolve wavered. Those steady, unyielding eyes stirred up something inexplicable within him—a wave of emotion he couldn’t quite name.

Looking into those blue eyes gave him an irrational impulse—

“Franz Clan.”

Lucian’s calm voice snapped him back to his senses.

As he refocused, Lucian’s gaze met his. Was that disdain in his eyes?

“This mess started with you. I suggest you do your best to clean it up. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise? What are you going to do? Kick me out?!”

“Do you think I can’t? We’re both second sons, neither of us destined to inherit our families’ legacies. But unlike you, I have my competence. Let’s see which of us loses more if this escalates.”

Lucian’s words turned Franz’s earlier insult back on him.

“Lucian Astro!”

Franz, unable to hold back his rage, grabbed whatever was within reach and hurled it at Lucian.

Lucian tilted his head just enough to avoid the object, but not completely unscathed. The vase full of flowers shattered against the wall, splashing water across Lucian’s face.

Even with water dripping down his face, Lucian didn’t flinch. If anything, his gaze turned colder.

“You may have charmed His Majesty somehow. Or perhaps you used your pretty face to seduce him? It seems His Majesty’s taste leaves much to be desired, favoring someone as lowly as you—”

“Franz Clan.”

The chill in Lucian’s voice made Franz flinch. Realizing he had shown fear, his pride stung.

‘I am of the Clan Marquisate! How dare a mere count’s son—’

Grinding his teeth, Franz shouted, “I’ve done nothing wrong! I’ve only taken a break because I’m unwell. If you want to make my life harder, why should I suffer?!”

“Only a fool fails to seize an opportunity. I warned you. If you make the wrong choice, that’s your stupidity—not my problem.”

“What?!”

“Be back at work by tomorrow. If you don’t, His Majesty will see to it that you face the consequences.”

“Watch yourself, Lucian. Don’t forget you’re just a count’s son talking to someone from the Clan Marquisate.”

“Let’s see how long your precious Marquisate’s reputation lasts.”

For the first time, Lucian’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Before Franz could respond, Lucian turned and left without looking back, leaving Franz staring after him, dumbfounded.

Lucian exited the Clan Marquisate with his hair still damp. The household staff looked at him with concern, but he walked on without faltering.

By the time he reached his carriage, the Marquisate’s butler had rushed to meet him.

“Sir Lucian, are you leaving just like this?”

“Yes, my business here is done.”

“But your hair is still wet—perhaps you should dry off before you go.”

Lucian touched his damp hair briefly. The water from the vase wasn’t much; it would likely dry during the ride back.

“It’s fine. It’ll dry soon enough.”

“Even so, we can’t let you leave like this…”

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t be filing any complaints about this incident. It was simply a minor dispute between Sir Franz and me regarding work.”

The elderly butler hesitated, unsure how to respond. Lucian offered a polite nod before climbing into the carriage.

Or rather, he tried to. The sight inside made him pause.

“Sir Lucian?”

“…No, it’s nothing. I’ll take my leave now.”

Lucian quickly entered the carriage and shut the door before the butler could follow. Offering a final bow through the window, he ordered the carriage to move.

Once the Marquisate was far behind them, Lucian finally addressed the figure waiting inside.

“How on earth did you get here?”

“I switched carriages.”

“Hah!”

Lucian let out a dry laugh of disbelief.

“Really… Do you know how much trouble you cause your knights with antics like this, Your Majesty?”

At Lucian’s words, Heraith Yorun Kellenhan stretched his legs out leisurely, a sly smile on his face.

“Don’t worry. Kent will manage. He always does.”

“Poor Sir Kent. He’s not a magician—how is he supposed to keep up with you popping up all over the place?”

“This isn’t the first time. He knows the drill. Stop worrying.”

That soft smile returned, but something felt off.

‘Wait… what is this feeling?’

Lucian’s instincts prickled as Heraith smiled warmly at him. Despite the smile, there was an unsettling chill in the air.

“Your Majesty?”

“Hmm?”

“Is something bothering you?”

“Something bothering me…”

Heraith repeated the words, extending a hand. His smile deepened as he reached toward Lucian.

‘Oh no.’

Lucian cursed inwardly. He had completely forgotten about his wet hair.

As dread sank into him, Heraith’s sharp eyes glinted.

“With your hair wet like this and petals clinging to you, you do look quite stunning,” Heraith mused, plucking a crimson petal from Lucian’s hair.

As his fingers brushed against Lucian’s cheek and lingered, a sharp sting followed.

Lucian flinched involuntarily. Heraith’s eyes narrowed, and his unsettling smile grew even brighter.

“And where exactly did you get this injury, Lucian?”

The tension in the carriage thickened as Heraith’s tone dropped, the threat clear.

How dare anyone harm my Lucian?