Chapter 36: Whispers Behind Closed Ears

Before I knew it, winter had fully arrived. I should have been wrapping up autumn, but as someone who was slow at everything, my transition through the seasons was naturally twice as sluggish as everyone else’s. Even now, the sharp, cold scent of the winter wind felt unfamiliar, failing to completely replace the bittersweet aroma of fallen leaves. I was always like that. By the time I finally grew accustomed to something, it was already over.

The end-of-year holidays were packed with an incredibly dense itinerary. Of course, that was strictly by imperial standards. To the ordinary citizens of the Empire, the Terralorum holidays were simply a week-long festival.

The Terralorum holiday was a week dedicated to commemorating the day the Goddess and the Dragon created this world. Beginning on the final Monday of December and stretching until Friday, it consisted of five days of festivals and banquets, followed by two days of rest over the weekend to complete the week. There was also a custom where people would hang stockings the night before the holidays began, so that those precious to them could slip gifts inside.

According to what I had heard from Mitchel, the opening banquet was supposed to begin with a memorial to honor those who had fought in the war, but Felix apparently intended to break the ice by conferring my title first.

Ever since Claire and Zeimer had brought me the wheelchair, I frequently moved around during the day. While Claire and Zeimer were the ones who escorted me most often, on tedious days, I would ask the resident servants to take me out. Though “going out” usually just meant rolling back and forth along the corridor right outside my door.

Ilya dropped by right at lunchtime to share a meal with me, just as he always did. With the imperial court hosting five consecutive days of banquets for the Terralorum holidays, he looked rather gaunt and exhausted.

“You look tired, Ilya.”

“Ah, does it show that much?”

I nodded, using my fork to spear a small piece of steamed potato before putting it into my mouth. Thanks to Zeimer’s specific instructions, my meals had practically returned to normal food, though most dishes were prepared to be completely non-irritating. Whenever Ilya ate lunch alone, he usually made do in his office with a sandwich filled with red onions and a bowl of onion soup topped with croutons. Because he pursued extreme efficiency during his busy periods, he seemed to view the time spent sitting down for a proper lunch as a waste.

“The banquets are approaching, after all. There is definitely a lot more paperwork to handle than usual.”

I held my fork between my teeth, falling into deep thought. A banquet for the Terralorum holidays… Before I became the Hero, the holidays I spent with my family back at the orphanage were humble and ordinary. We would hang our stockings the night before, wake up early in the morning with fluttering hearts to check them, and offer our prayers to the Goddess. Then, toward evening, we would go to the Temple to watch the ritual honoring the Dragon.

To be honest, I couldn’t remember much about the holidays I had spent at the imperial palace after becoming the Hero. I usually just stood quietly in a corner before slipping away back to my room, so there wasn’t anything particularly memorable.

“And there are a few things that need to be ironed out regarding your title, Ian. His Majesty hasn’t mentioned it to you, but we’ve run into some conflicting issues during the process of conferring your title.”

“What?”

“If you recall from last time, I promised to be completely transparent with you about everything, which is why I’m bringing this up. There are quite a few central nobles who are making an issue out of your background. It’s absolutely not because they consider your lineage lowly or anything like that. Rather, they are questioning the lack of clear records and your legitimacy. Your background has essentially been guaranteed by the Goddess herself, and their complaints about whether you possess the knowledge to govern a fief are nothing more than petty nitpicking, but it’s still better to have everything airtight. That’s why I’ve been drafting the relevant documents.”

“Is it possible… to decline the title entirely?”

“Well, I think you would have to discuss that directly with His Majesty.”

Ilya offered a slightly uncomfortable smile.

Forgetting to continue my meal, I sat in silence with my fork still resting against my lips. The very situation I had been desperately struggling to avoid had finally become a reality. Though I had dodged it for as long as I humanly could, I was now half-resigned to it.

Right, compared to going out to meet a literal Dragon, this is nothing. If it was just an honorary position, it would be a title in name only, without any lands attached to it. However, the mention of a fiefdom—which Mitchel had brought up days ago and Ilya had just repeated—nagged at the back of my mind.

“Ian.”

Perhaps because I had been lost in my thoughts for too long, Ilya’s gentle voice calling my name made me flinch. I blinked at him rather blankly.

“In the end, I think it would be best for you to speak with His Majesty directly.”

Ilya set his utensils down completely.

“To tell you the truth, I opposed it as well. You have already done so much for us, Ian. We cannot hold you back out of our own greed.”

Ilya brought it up in a way that suggested I should try reasoning with Felix, but deep down, I knew that talking to Felix wouldn’t change a single thing. Felix existed to guide this continent toward its most good and righteous path. His choices were always the ones that would make this world perfectly whole. He would never reverse a decision like this.

Because I had entirely spaced out, Ilya eventually took the utensils from my hand and fed me bite by bite, just like Zeimer used to do. At first, wrapped up in my own thoughts, I naturally accepted the food without realizing it. By the time I snapped out of it, I flinched and waved my hands in protest, but Ilya merely maintained his characteristically amiable smile and refused to let go of the fork.

Having finished the remainder of my lunch through Ilya’s hands, I was currently heading toward Felix’s office, following Ilya’s advice to speak with the Emperor directly.

“I do not know if His Majesty will change his mind, but having a direct conversation with him will be the most definitive way.”

Ilya’s voice drifted from behind me as he pushed the wheelchair. Without replying, I lowered my gaze to my toes. Resting neatly side-by-side on the footrest of the wheelchair were my feet, clad in the socks Director Janet had knitted for me and a pair of indoor slippers lined with warm wool.

Zeimer, having noticed that I disliked running into unfamiliar faces in the corridors, had given orders to clear the hallways whenever I stepped out of my room. As a result, not a single soul was visible save for a few familiar servants I saw every day. Even so, the lingering fear of people’s gazes kept me from raising my head, and I kept my eyes down while listening to Ilya.

To get to Felix’s office, we had to leave the palace where my room was located and cross over to the adjacent structure. Even though it was a very short distance between the palaces, the imperial gardens were beautifully paved; the ride didn’t jar me much, even with Ilya—who didn’t possess mana like Claire—pushing the chair.

Terrified that I might lock eyes with the gardeners tending to the grounds, I buried my chin deep into my chest. When Claire, Felix, or Zeimer carried me in their arms, it was deeply embarrassing, but at least I never had to worry about things like this. Despite feeling guilty about it, it really was much more comfortable to entrust my body to the hands of people I knew.

When we arrived at Felix’s office, I found the room flooded with afternoon sunlight, all the curtains pulled back completely. Because this area housed both the Emperor’s private quarters and his workspace, the security was incredibly tight, and it was a highly private zone where almost no foot traffic passed.

“Ah, Ian.”

The moment the servant standing guard outside announced our arrival and opened the door, Felix, who had been focused intensely at his desk, knitted his brows and looked up. Since he apparently didn’t have an official luncheon with any dignitaries today, a croissant sandwich filled with ham, cheese, red onions, and lettuce—the kind Ilya frequently ate—sat half-finished on his desk.

“Glory to the Sun of the Em—”

“Stop. Didn’t we agree to dispense with such formalities?”

Felix cut me off, tapping a stack of papers against the desk to align them. The imperial seal, which had been resting on the desk in its fluid, melted state, slid smoothly back onto Felix’s left ring finger the moment he casually tapped his knuckles twice against the wood. I had thought I should observe proper etiquette since this wasn’t my private room and there were eyes around, but Felix didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

Fastening his cuffs, which he had unbuttoned out of convenience, Felix rose from his seat.

“We can speak over there on the sofa. Ed, please have some light refreshments and a gentle tea prepared.”

Edward, the Imperial Chief of Staff who had been working at a desk right beside Felix while wearing a monocle, stood up from his seat. He rang a small handbell to order the refreshments before promptly vacating the room to grant us privacy.

While two attendants entered to place a teapot and light snacks onto the sofa table, Felix lifted me into his arms and moved me over to the couch.

“I am glad to see you are putting it to good use. It will take some time to get fully used to it, but it will allow you to move around much more freely.”

Felix smiled with a hint of pride. Although I had kept my head down the entire way here, I couldn’t help but agree with his words. It truly was a convenient contraption, even if I hadn’t fully adapted to it yet.

Once the attendants bowed deeply and withdrew, only Ilya, Felix, and I remained in the vast space.

Leaning my back against the plush cushions propped behind me, I pulled the blanket over my lap up a little higher. Part of it was because my own room was exceptionally warm, but Felix’s office felt uniquely chilly. Of course, since my clothes and the blanket were embedded with warming magic, pulling it higher didn’t make a practical difference, but my body moved instinctively at the sensation of the cool air entering my nose.

I sat on the long, straight sofa while Ilya took the seat directly opposite me. Felix, occupying the seat of highest honor, poured the tea himself and handed me a cup. I didn’t possess a refined palate for tea so I couldn’t identify the exact blend, but it was a warm black tea with a very mild, non-stimulating fragrance. While Felix poured, Ilya organized the documents he had brought over from Felix’s desk. They were clearly the files related to me.

Pulling a fountain pen from his vest pocket, Ilya leaned over the low sofa table and rapidly scribbled something across the papers.

“Your Majesty, it would be best to address this matter first.”

Ilya handed the top few sheets over to Felix. At the very top, written in Ilya’s elegant cursive, were the words: ‘Temple approval completed, legal code review completed.’

“Right. Ian, take a look at this for a moment.”

Felix slid a paper densely packed with text directly in front of me. The individual sheets were held together by a high-end, matte pin. When I stared at it awkwardly due to the teacup held in my hands, Felix kindly took the cup from me and placed the document into my palms.

“There is nothing too extraordinary. Ian, you only need to verify the first page and the final page.”

Just as Felix said, the very first page was filled with a flurry of jargon that was difficult to parse at a single glance. However, two terms stood out with striking clarity: ‘Duke’ and ‘Northern Fiefdom.’

I looked up at Felix, my eyes trembling.

“……A fiefdom?”

“While the fringes of the continent are still being sorted out, the eastern and northern regions closest to the capital have just finished being restored to their original state. I shall grant you whichever region you desire.”

He must be entirely out of his mind. I replied to Felix with absolute sincerity.

“You truly do not need to go this far for me, Your Majesty. I possess neither the ability nor the desire for such things.”

“Even if it begins as an honorary title, it is far better to have a fief attached if we want to transition it into a formal, hereditary Dukedom later on.”

“I don’t even need an honorary title. I don’t need a medal either. If it pleases Your Majesty, I will stay by your side for as long as you want. Really, I am perfectly fine without any of it.”

At that, Felix pressed further. His voice was filled with an unyielding determination to force a territory upon me.

“If you despise the idea that much, I shall assign a separate governor to manage it for you. Do you still object? My personal preference is a location as close to the capital as possible.”

I shook my head firmly against his words. The scale of this situation was ballooning far past my expectations. If his goal was simply to keep me close, an honorary title wasn’t even necessary; he could easily bestow a modest administrative post to keep me bound to the palace as a nominal official. Trapped in a battle of wills against Felix’s inexplicable behavior, a suffocating weight settled in my chest, entirely unable to comprehend what he was planning.

As Felix relentlessly tried to persuade me and I kept shaking my head to avoid his gaze, the heavy doors suddenly swung open without a single word of warning. Relieved that this stifling conversation had finally been interrupted, I turned my head, eager to welcome whoever was walking through the door. I felt like I could finally breathe again.

The person who had abruptly thrown the doors open was Zeimer.

Just as expected, Felix refused to grant Ian’s request. Sitting across from Ian, Ilya narrowed his eyes. There was no way Felix was acting out of ignorance. He was the Emperor of the continent—a man sharper, and in some ways, far more cunning than anyone else.

Felix’s intentions in thrusting a fiefdom upon Ian—who claimed he didn’t even want an honorary title—were painfully transparent. You will never be allowed to escape my grasp.

As the Emperor’s closest friend and holding the authority of the Chancellor, Ilya had already inspected every single document on Felix’s desk. Felix was pulling out every stop, utilizing every available means just to anchor Ian to the imperial palace and secure him a formal title.

Even if Ian fought tooth and nail to reject it, the offer of a fiefdom was a truth completely devoid of falsehood. Anticipating a scenario where Ian might refuse until the absolute bitter end, Felix had already gone so far as to prepare a small, isolated island as a backup.

What exactly does he know? Every single thing Felix was pushing toward Ian carried a blatant, calculated motive. Beyond merely granting a title to keep Ian by his side, Felix was trying to secure Ian access to the Great History of the Continent. The history text, which had been writing itself through the power of the Dragon and the Goddess since the dawn of time, was restricted by the Dragon Tongue carved into the legal code; only those holding the rank of Duke or higher could access it.

Because Felix wasn’t entirely certain if an honorary Dukedom would satisfy that ancient condition, he was attempting to grant a fiefdom to secure the rank. A title could only be fully recognized as a formal peerage if it was anchored by land.

The sacred legal code, crafted long ago by the Temple using the molted scales of the Dragon as its medium, held the various laws governing this world. The contents of the code could only be altered if someone wielding the power of the Dragon and a High Priest acknowledged by the Goddess infused their strength into it simultaneously. Furthermore, the edicts etched within the code drifted across the world via the Dragon Tongue, taking on the weight of absolute inevitability to ensure the world progressed in its most ideal direction.

Allowing Ian and Felix’s meaningless circular argument to drift through one ear, Ilya carefully scrutinized the papers in his hands, only for a strange anomaly to catch his eye.

The Great History…

Just as he was struggling to untangle the knot of thoughts twisting inside his mind, the office doors burst open. There was only one person alive who would dare enter the Emperor’s private office without a knock or an attendant’s announcement.

“Felix.”

It was Zeimer. Sensing the ominous aura radiating from Zeimer today, Ilya quickly surged out of his seat to greet him before a conflict could ignite. Ian was currently in this room. If Felix and Zeimer unleashed their raw pressure and snarled at each other like apex predators—just as they had done before—it would undoubtedly be terrible for Ian’s fragile health.

“Ah, Zeimer. Hello.”

“Yeah.”

Zeimer cast a brief, utterly dismissive glance toward Ilya before instantly ripping his eyes away. A headache throbbed behind Ilya’s temples. What on earth is going to happen today? Ian, completely oblivious to the sudden spike in tension, was casually offering Zeimer a greeting.

“Hello.”

In stark contrast to his treatment of Ilya, Zeimer accepted Ian’s greeting with immediate warmth. Though a bitter taste filled Ilya’s mouth, he didn’t harbor any actual resentment. If anything, he felt profoundly grateful to Ian for being the only anchor capable of managing the volatile, unpredictable mage.

“Hey, Ian. How have you been? Isn’t it a bit cold in here?”

Zeimer leaned over from behind the backrest of the sofa where Ian was sitting. Naturally, Ian tilted his head all the way back to look up into Zeimer’s face.

“I’m fine.”

“Really?”

Ilya noticed Zeimer resting both hands on Ian’s shoulders while his sharp eyes rapidly swept across the documents held in Ilya’s hands and scattered across the table. Ilya hastily pulled the papers flush against his chest to hide the text, but it was already far too late. Straightening his spine and tilting his chin upward, Zeimer looked down his nose at them.

Zeimer shot a piercing, venomous glare straight at Ilya. Yet, the tone he maintained when he spoke down to Ian was so incredibly tender it made goosebumps erupt across Ilya’s skin.

“The air feels quite cold. What about your ears? Aren’t they freezing?”

Zeimer’s hands, which had been resting quietly on Ian’s shoulders, slithered up to softly cup Ian’s ears. This wasn’t a gesture intended merely to provide warmth. He had physically placed his hands there to block out all sound using an advanced barrier magic—one so seamless Ian wouldn’t even notice the spell being cast.

Having completely sealed Ian’s hearing, Zeimer snapped his gaze toward Felix.

“I believe I told you not to do this.”

His voice was a lethal, threatening purr.

In total opposition to the highly volatile aura Zeimer was projecting, Felix remained entirely unbothered. Ignoring Zeimer’s lethal glare, Felix took a calm sip of his black tea before finally deigning to speak. Naturally, he kept his lips completely still, ensuring Ian wouldn’t be able to read his words.

“You know as well as I do that we have no choice.”

Hearing the words that slipped from Felix’s mouth next, Ilya found himself wishing he could simply pass out on the spot. He felt profoundly pitiful, trapped between an entirely oblivious Ian and two snarling, apex beasts radiating invisible bloodlust. It felt like the universe was punishing him for the crime of making the wrong friends.

“You are the Administrator, Zeimer. Are you not?”