PLQYM | Chapter 49

Heraith entered the hall with his characteristic confidence and leisurely stride. As the nobles bowed and greeted him, he returned their salutations more cheerfully than usual, exuding the image of a composed and benevolent ruler.

Watching this, Lucian’s brow twitched slightly. A flicker of confusion crossed his ice-blue eyes but disappeared almost instantly. He maintained his usual composure, keeping his gaze fixed on the emperor.

Even though someone else—Nils Bowman—stood in the spot that had been his for years, Lucian’s expression betrayed no change. He acted as if it was perfectly natural.

“Isn’t it usually Lucian Astro who accompanies His Majesty?”

“Look, you’re right. It’s someone else today.”

“What could this mean…?”

“Do you think His Majesty abandoned him?”

“Impossible. Look at him, managing the entire banquet so flawlessly. His Majesty wouldn’t do that to him—he’s practically the emperor’s right hand.”

“Well, true. His Majesty has always been so fond of him… although I wonder why he favors him so much. Don’t tell me…”

“Don’t tell me he traded his body for favor?” someone whispered with a smirk, prompting soft, derisive laughter.

“What? I heard rumors… you know, about that sort of thing…”

“Stop it. If that icy chief aide hears you, who knows what consequences we’ll face.”

“True. He’s like an emotionless machine. No way he’d let something like that slide.”

The hushed gossip reached even where Lucian stood. Cliff, the head attendant, stiffened, his expression darkening.

He knew Lucian had long endured all kinds of rumors and malicious whispers. Lucian had always been the type to quietly let such things roll off his back. But hearing this sort of talk still grated on Cliff.

“Sir Lucian…”

“It’s fine,” Lucian interrupted calmly. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. They wouldn’t dare say it to my face, anyway.”

Cliff clicked his tongue softly and glanced at Lucian. The aide’s serene expression only made him feel worse.

Though Cliff had always known Lucian to endure much, the extent of it felt heavier than ever now.

Turning toward the emperor, Cliff saw Heraith greeting Princess Eloine of Alosa, his face adorned with a gentle smile. He looked more stunning than ever, standing beside her with an air of perfection.

“They already look like they’re married,” someone murmured.

“Could this really be a royal marriage?”

“If so…”

A ripple of hushed speculation spread through the crowd.

As if to mask the murmurs, music resumed.

Heraith extended his hand to Princess Eloine, inviting her to dance. The two moved gracefully to the center of the hall, their elegance captivating all who watched.

“Lucian Astro must have…”

“Been abandoned by His Majesty.”

“Do you think someone else has taken over his place of power?”

“Of course. He had it coming, acting so high and mighty.”

“But he never really abused his authority…”

Mocking laughter and speculative whispers grew louder. All eyes seemed to be on Lucian, as if he were no longer the emperor’s aide but someone completely irrelevant.

Then a sharp, irritated voice rang out above the rest.

“They spout such nonsense, and yet they wonder why they’re stuck living like this.”

“Exactly. Honestly, why does His Majesty even tolerate such fools?”

The voices belonged to none other than Master of Magic Tower Chauver and High Chancellor Fristhe.

The two stood behind Lucian, glaring at the gossiping nobles and launching a relentless verbal assault.

“They’re so dumb, talking to them might actually make us dumber.”

“Honestly, stupidity is contagious.”

“Tower Master, High Chancellor,” Lucian greeted, turning to see them standing protectively by his side, their scorn directed at the murmuring crowd.

At their arrival, the nobles began looking away, their courage faltering. A few dared to glance back but quickly averted their gaze when met with the venomous glares of the two elders.

“Pathetic cowards,” Fristhe scoffed.

“It’s hard to stand firm when faced with the two of you,” Lucian replied wryly.

“See? That’s why the younger generation is so weak these days. At least in the old days, people like you would put up a proper fight with us,” Chauver said, grinning.

“Fight? I think you’re mistaken. And for the record, I’m part of the younger generation,” Lucian countered with a faint smile.

“Look at you, though. Spending every day beside a tyrant like that, no wonder you’ve grown a spine of steel.”

“Exactly. Surviving under someone like him isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“Be careful what you say. His Majesty might hear and punish you both.”

“Let him! What’s he going to do? Tear down every temple across the continent? He knows I’d rebuild them before he could blink.”

Lucian couldn’t help but chuckle. Was there anyone else in the empire who could speak so brazenly about the emperor?

“Still, what’s the reason behind all this? It doesn’t seem like His Majesty stands to gain much.”

“Who knows what goes on in that black heart of his? Poor Lucian always ends up suffering because of it.”

“Exactly. You should leave him and come join the Mage Tower. It’s not too late—”

“What nonsense! Lucian belongs at the High Temple as my spokesperson!”

Lucian could only laugh awkwardly as the two began bickering over him.

Who sent these two here, of all people? he wondered. Once they started arguing, there was no stopping them.

Still, their presence had its perks. Thanks to the loud banter between the Tower Lord and the High Chancellor, no one dared to gossip about Lucian any longer—at least not where he could hear.

They couldn’t have shown up at a better time… Did His Majesty send them?

Impossible.

Lucian shook his head. The emperor wouldn’t bother thinking about him during an engagement banquet.

The idea of Heraith sparing a thought for him…

Lucian let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, the voices of the two elders a constant background noise.

He was foolish to entertain the notion. The emperor was the emperor—sovereign of the empire. One day, he would marry someone else to continue the imperial line…

“Ugh.”

“Lucian?”

“Hey!”

Lucian clutched his chest unconsciously, alarming Chauver and Fristhe.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Take it easy, Lucian. You should rest—”

“No, I’m fine. Just indigestion, that’s all.”

Lucian mustered a faint smile, his expression reassuring enough to ease their concern slightly.

“Young people these days are so fragile,” Fristhe muttered.

“It’s all because of that cursed emperor overworking him!” Chauver grumbled.

“That’s not true. His Majesty isn’t that cruel,” Lucian replied softly, though it was clear the elders weren’t listening. They were already engrossed in their criticism of Heraith, their voices growing louder and drawing more attention.

Lucian shook his head in exasperation, unable to hold back a small smile. But amidst the chaos, he failed to notice someone slipping into the banquet unnoticed.

The venue was large and open, with many entry points. While security was tight, gaps inevitably existed, especially with all focus on the emperor and his partner.

So no one noticed the man approaching Lucian—not even Chauver and Fristhe, who were too busy venting their disdain for the emperor.

“Excuse me, you should both calm down,” Lucian said, stepping between the two elders to defuse their argument.

Thanks to them, his earlier gloom had lifted somewhat.

That’s when it happened.

A man suddenly pressed close to Lucian from behind, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Lucian Astro?”

A cracked, rough voice whispered into his ear.

Just as Lucian began to turn, the voice spoke again, dripping with resentment.

“It’s all your fault. You ruined everything.”

The venomous words struck Lucian like a knife.