“His Uncle’s Princess?”
“…Ah.”
Anette, who had been fidgeting with the hem of her dress while watching the imperial family in a tense atmosphere, finally recalled Mikhail’s utterly ridiculous misunderstanding.
Charlotte, who had remembered the same issue, also grimaced with a sharp intake of breath.
At the same time, another scene flashed in her mind, and she realized her son’s irresponsible words weren’t just because of Kardin’s earlier comment.
“Oh, Mikhail. Be polite. She’ll soon be part of the family.”
“That’s not what we meant by ‘part of the family’…”
She had brushed it off, thinking he was just a child and she could explain it later—but now, she regretted it. The result had come back in an unexpected way.
Feeling the full weight of responsibility for saying something so easily misunderstood, Charlotte stepped forward with an awkward, troubled smile.
“Mikhail, the princess isn’t your fiancée.”
“…Huh?”
“She’s going to be your aunt.”
Still sniffling with teary eyes, Mikhail looked completely lost, unable to comprehend what was being said.
In the end, Charlotte bent down and whispered something into his ear.
Then, with eyes widened in shock, Mikhail turned to Anette and exclaimed in horror:
“P-Princess is my uncle’s?!”
No way! She looks my age!
Mikhail stared at Anette in disbelief, and his gaze eventually landed on Kardin.
His usual sparkling eyes, always full of admiration and respect for his uncle, now looked… strange.
“Nephew? Why are you looking at your uncle like he’s some kind of pervert? There’s a reason for all this…”
Kardin tried to explain urgently. But he didn’t get the chance to finish.
“…!”
Without warning or any sign, Mikhail suddenly collapsed forward like a puppet with its strings cut.
Anette gasped in shock, but Lucius calmly stepped forward, as if he’d been expecting this, and caught Mikhail in his arms.
“Princess, thank you again for today. I’m sure you have many questions, but I’ll explain everything next time.”
With those words, Lucius quickly turned around.
Anette watched, eyes trembling, as Lucius carried the unconscious Mikhail with Charlotte following behind.
Sensing her unease, Kardin spoke gently.
“It’s okay. He’s just tired and fell asleep.”
“But…”
“He’ll be fine when he wakes up.”
“…That’s a relief then.”
Still worried, Anette nodded, accepting his reassurance for now.
“Then let’s go too. We need to get your wound checked.”
“Okay… Ah!”
Before she could even fully respond, Anette suddenly found herself lifted into the air—Kardin had picked her up.
“W-What are you doing? Put me down!”
Startled by the sudden height change, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and cried out.
But Kardin strode out into the garden with complete calm.
“You’re a patient.”
“I hurt my hand, not my legs!”
“Still, this is faster. I’ve got longer legs.”
“Hah…!”
Unable to refute that fact, Anette let out a frustrated breath.
She didn’t need a mirror to know.
The way she was nestled in his arm must look exactly like the way the emperor had just carried the crown prince—a daughter in her father’s arms.
The embarrassment of being treated like a child by her fiancé, the strange feeling of betrayal, and the ominous thought that this might happen again in the future made Anette’s face pale.
“Such a weakling.”
“Father…”
“Don’t call me that. You are not my son until you awaken your authority!”
“…!”
Startled by the thunderous roar, Lucius’s eyes flew open.
He gasped, breath caught in his throat, and looked around.
His quiet office slowly came into focus.
Then he remembered—after tucking in his sleeping wife and son, he had come to his office late at night to finish his work.
“…I’m not a kid anymore.”
Lucius let out a dry chuckle.
He’d just closed his eyes for a moment, but in that short time, he had dreamed—of that nightmare he hadn’t revisited in a long time.
Taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, he rose from his chair.
He needed some fresh air.
There was always one place he naturally wandered to when his heart was heavy.
The secret garden where chaos had erupted earlier in the day.
And there, where he thought no one would be…
“Kardin.”
He called out to his brother, who was standing silently, looking up at a tall tree. Kardin slowly turned his head.
Lucius instinctively smiled in relief, but quickly frowned again.
“Why are you still wearing that? Doesn’t it suffocate you?”
Kardin touched the mask and gave a faint smile.
“Not really. I’m used to it now.”
“…Forget it.”
What Lucius truly wanted to say was: It’s just us. Show me your face for once.
But Kardin surely understood the hidden meaning—he was just pretending not to.
Normally, Lucius would nag him, saying things like, You’re engaged now. Isn’t it time to let your guard down a little? But tonight wasn’t the time.
With a deep sigh, Lucius walked over to stand beside Kardin.
The garden had returned to its peaceful state, as if the earlier chaos had been a dream.
Lucius realized the tree Kardin was staring at was the same one Mikhail had nearly knocked over—and the one Anette had furiously hacked with a knife.
Most likely, the moment they left the garden, a powerful restoration spell had returned everything to its original form.
That was only possible because this garden had been designed as a training ground for the royal family’s authority since the founding of the palace.
It was here that Lucius had trained under the former emperor to awaken his power.
“You useless fool! You’re already fifteen and still haven’t awakened? You shame the name of Alkan!”
“…”
“There’s no other way. Starting next week, Kardin will train with you.”
“But, Your Majesty! Kardin is only three. How can a child that young—”
“Age doesn’t matter. He’s still of Alkan blood. History records royals who awakened at five.”
But that person had fled for their life during a rebellion, holding their nanny’s hand. Their life was constantly threatened.
Lucius couldn’t bring himself to say that aloud. He feared his own inadequacy would endanger his little brother.
Seeing the anxiety on Lucius’s face, the emperor twisted his lips in a sneer.
“Afraid that bastard child will awaken before you and steal your position as crown prince?”
“What? Of course not—”
“Then awaken quickly, if you’re so afraid.”
Lucius clenched his teeth as the emperor turned away.
That very night, he awakened his power.
He would never forget the overwhelming feeling—the way the air shifted around him, completely different from mere wind.
It was a miracle, a long-awaited victory. He no longer had to disappoint his father. He could finally be a proud heir to the Alkan throne.
But most of all, he was overjoyed that he could protect his younger brother. He naively believed that once he awakened, their father would leave Kardin alone.
He never imagined that this power would become another curse—a shackle that bound him tightly.
“…Brother.”
Kardin’s voice pulled Lucius from his thoughts.
Lucius lifted his head slightly to meet the eyes of his younger brother, now taller than him.
The boy who used to cling to his legs, insisting on studying with him, had grown up.
While Lucius was smiling bitterly, Kardin asked,
“You’ve kept Mikhail’s awakening a secret from everyone until now, haven’t you?”
“…Yeah. Don’t even mention it. Your sister-in-law already scolded me enough.”
Lucius responded lightly, though he paused at first.
It wasn’t a lie—Charlotte had indeed been furious when she found out everything stemmed from Mikhail’s awakening.
She had been deeply sorry she hadn’t recognized how much her son had been struggling alone in the garden.
“Of course, it makes sense. You wouldn’t expect him to awaken before ten…”
Most children awakened their powers in their early teens. Lucius himself had been late, so he naturally assumed Mikhail would be too.
Honestly, he didn’t care if his son never awakened at all.
He had hoped to pass on a stable kingdom and throne to a child who didn’t have to rely on power.
“So, was that the only reason you kept it secret?”
“…Kardin.”
“Or… was it because he has the same power as the former emperor?”
“….”
Lucius’s face hardened. This was a conversation he didn’t want to have. Not today.