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Join the ServerEthan had purchased a generous assortment of pastries, intending to share them with everyone in the mansion. He had even thoughtfully packaged Bliss’s and Dongja’s portions separately. Though Ethan had wanted to buy something for Kyle as well, Kyle had firmly declined, stating he preferred to personally provide for his wife.
After their meal, Ethan distributed the pastries to those who wished to enjoy a quiet tea time, either alone or with compatible companions. Soon after, he was led by Bliss into a private reception room, which connected directly to Bliss’s bedroom via an inner door.
“It’s nothing special,” Ethan said, “but let’s share them together.”
Bliss opened the pastry box with the reverence one might afford a high-end jewelry case. Inside, a selection of not-too-sweet pastries lay nestled in separate, divided compartments.
“…Each one looks like a work of art,” Bliss murmured, his gaze sweeping over the delicate treats. “The desserts here are notoriously expensive. Considering what you gave to Doctor Sera, Philip, and Dale earlier, haven’t you been overly generous…?”
“They’re certainly cheaper than the jewels you gave me,” Ethan retorted playfully.
“Those appreciate in value as assets, though…”
“Bliss, your ears are turning red.”
Bliss, who had been muttering incoherently, promptly sealed his lips, meeting Ethan’s gaze as the latter’s mouth curved into a faint smile.
“……Thank you,” Bliss finally said.
His expression remained that of a cool, aristocratic paragon, as if such a small gesture warranted no emotional response. Yet, his flushed ears betrayed the true warmth in his heart. Ethan found himself feeling inexplicably embarrassed by the sight, his toes curling in a strange sensation. He cleared his throat and tossed Dongja’s box of pastries into the air.
Dongja, who had been floating proudly between them, eagerly awaiting their share, snatched the box and chattered excitedly.
[Ethan, you mentioned it, didn’t you? That you wanted to visit the Ancaster family after the festival.]
Bliss, who had placed the open pastry box on the table and was pouring the tea Dale had prepared, recalled the report he’d received from Kyle after work. He turned to Ethan.
“Do you believe Anna Green’s disappearance is connected to her first Esper? If so, I could look into it.”
Ethan exhaled slowly. The warm tea Bliss had poured, the delectable pastries, and the perfectly conducive atmosphere for a conversation—everything felt just right.
“Bliss,” Ethan began, “what I’m about to tell you might sound utterly unbelievable, and you don’t have to believe it. But I truly wish you would.”
Instinctively sensing that Ethan was about to reveal something momentous, Bliss responded with grave sincerity.
“The unbelievable reality of a gwi eating pastries right before my eyes is also a very real reality,” he said, a hint of dry humor in his tone.
“Pffft!”
Ethan, his tension easing, burst into laughter.
“The truth is, I don’t actually have amnesia.”
“…So it seems,” Bliss replied.
As Bliss calmly picked up a pastry, Ethan’s voice softened considerably.
“I think I might have come here from another world…”
Bliss’s expression remained unchanged. Although, a faint twitch of his eyebrows did suggest a momentary surprise.
Ethan’s long, arduous story, finally unveiled from deep within him, continued without pause until dawn.
****
Only three days remained until the matching test. In the interim, an invisible tug-of-war had been playing out with intense tension. Scott remained completely off Enoch’s intelligence network, clearly hidden by someone powerful. Scott Kenton’s mental health therapist had shown Enoch the drawings Scott had made, detailing his unstable mental state. Enoch’s anxiety had reached its peak, and his inability to focus on His Highness Herace’s affairs prompted Bliss to take a more proactive approach. This newfound assertiveness was possible now that he had a Guide.
Devon had proposed conducting the test at the Center, using it as a front, but Bliss countered, insisting on using the Antares Unit’s equipment. Herace, feigning moderation, subtly swayed King Genoa, leading to an agreement: the test would be held not at the Center or the Unit, but at the Royal Palace. There, they would use a new type of testing device, proudly registered as new equipment under the pretense that the Ancaster family had developed it for unit movements.
Up to that point, events seemed to unfold according to Bliss’s and Herace’s intentions, but Devon proved to be no pushover. He proposed holding the test at the Royal Palace, yet in a public hall, inviting foreign and domestic media to transform it into an event that would further highlight the Spring Blossom Festival. The King had readily agreed. For Genoa, who desperately wanted to erase the negative rumors tarnishing the Aitoolia Kingdom’s image due to recent unsavory incidents at the palace, this was an irresistible opportunity.
“…Now there’s a commotion within the family,” Bliss muttered.
For the first time in a while, Bliss’s smooth forehead furrowed deeply. In his hand, a luxurious, classic letter bearing the Moore family’s seal was crumpled. Though it appeared to be a highly formal correspondence, it was, in fact, an official request from the Elders’ Council for his attendance at a meeting.
The fact that it had been sent not only to his private residence but also to the official offices of Esper unit commanders, including those used during visits to the palace and his unit, clearly indicated a deliberate attempt to inform the Royal Palace. This was a blatant expression of their strong disapproval regarding the King’s perceived interference in the Moore family’s marital affairs.
“It seems the old folks of the Moore family have lost their minds,” Herace sneered, leaning casually against Bliss’s desk with his arms crossed. “To even think of challenging the Royal Family… They must not have considered for a moment that this would be perceived as a provocation by His Majesty the King. What an impressive display of family power.”
Herace, who had been leaning diagonally against Bliss’s desk with his arms crossed, scoffed. There had been several instances where the King had sided with Devon Green to keep the Moore family in check. At such a critical juncture, there was no telling how this situation might escalate.
Bliss had intended to quickly orchestrate the King’s marriage decree to avoid being swept up in internal family strife, but King Genoa’s pretext of the Spring Blossom Festival had tied his hands. Consequently, the Elders’ Council, usually known for their sluggishness, had unexpectedly sprung into action, hastily convening an emergency meeting after securing a majority consensus before the test.
“…Where is Ethan?” Bliss asked.
Bliss, having shredded the letter, turned to Philip. Philip, who had already contacted Kyle after entering the palace, promptly replied.
“He’s currently being instructed on the festival ceremony rituals at the Department of Ceremonies.”
“…I suppose we can leave together then.”
“You might have to wait a while, though.”
“I’ll just go to a nearby cafe.”
“Look at you, coming to the palace after so long just to do your business and leave,” Herace chided playfully. “At least stay for dinner.”
Herace, whose presence had been utterly ignored, chuckled mischievously and extended a dinner invitation to Bliss. Despite his somewhat casual demeanor, like a carefree idler from an ordinary household, a private dinner invitation from royalty was often more exclusive than a formal banquet.
“It’s not a prearranged meal,” Bliss stated flatly.
At Bliss’s blunt refusal, Herace straightened up from his leaning posture, as if he had expected nothing less.
“How vexing. In that case, I suppose I should announce an upcoming official invitation from my end. My consort will soon invite Ethan. Without you, that is.”
“Herace!”
Bliss reached out to stop him, but Herace merely raised a hand in farewell and was already exiting the door.
‘Damn it.’
Caught off guard by Herace’s slight trickery, Bliss sighed deeply and departed with Philip.
****
“…The festival ceremony essentially comprises two main parts. The eve of the festival, marking its official commencement, begins at sunset. Lord Ethan, you will stand upon the dais and, after receiving herbs and water brought by a pre-awakened girl and boy, place them into an earthenware jar…”
The festival ritual official, who had been explaining the ceremony while pointing to a model jar with two young attendants, narrowed his eyes. Ethan had been nodding enthusiastically to his explanation, yet his eyes lacked focus, and his gaze drifted past him. More disturbingly, his pupils seemed to roll upwards repeatedly.
*Thwack!*
At the sound of the model jar being deliberately set down with a rough thud, Ethan’s eyes snapped open. He mumbled.
“I enjoyed the meal.”
The attendants he had brought with him couldn’t suppress their giggles, causing the official to sigh in resignation.
“Ah…! Shall we call it a day then?”
It was truly wondrous. That single sentence was a magical incantation that instantly snapped Ethan’s half-closed eyes wide open and made him spring to his feet.
After quickly bidding farewell to the official, Ethan exited, with Maxon and Kyle, who had been waiting outside, falling into step beside him.
“Why are you coming out so early? You’re really going to make a fool of yourself in front of all the cameras at this rate.”
“How can you fall asleep just listening to the ceremony explanation?”
Ethan, with an aggrieved expression, resorted to a ‘pulling others down with him’ tactic.
“The official’s voice is a total sleeping pill! I almost want to ask if the guards can listen in during the lessons too.”
“…”
“It’s fine, we’re not ‘Flowers of the Empire’,” Maxon declared, finally bringing up the title Ethan found so cringeworthy. “We don’t need to memorize the order of rituals.”
Maxon, who had been brazenly justifying their actions by invoking the title that made Ethan cringe just hearing it, suddenly halted his steps.
“I’m strong in real situations, so I’ll be fine. Ah, brother, why are you suddenly stopping…?”
Ethan, who had been chattering away, his eyes now completely devoid of sleepiness, followed Maxon’s gaze and looked up.
“There’s a stiff statue in the middle of the corridor,” Devon sneered at Ethan, who had not bowed his head. He was accompanied by guards, attendants, and secretaries, heading somewhere. “If one is that stiff, they’re not a Flower of the Empire, but a Statue of the Empire.”
Maxon, who had regained his composure first, sharply elbowed Ethan in the side. Only then did Ethan mechanically and reluctantly perform a bow.
“…We greet His Highness Devon Green, the Second Prince.”
Following Ethan’s lead, Maxon and Kyle also subtly bowed their heads.
“…”
Devon neither acknowledged their greeting nor bade them raise their heads. He merely gazed down elegantly at those who had bowed respectfully to him, then let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, clearly intended for them to hear.
“Your etiquette towards royalty is deplorable, Ethan Prescott.”
“…My apologies. I was simply a little startled.”
Ethan swallowed dryly. He wanted to look up and confirm, but it seemed Devon was determined today.
“This is the Royal Palace, not the Moore estate. I wasn’t aware that seeing a prince in the palace was such a surprising event.”
Passersby in the corridor began to cast furtive glances their way. Even with their heads bowed, Ethan could feel curious eyes raking over them. This was the envy directed at a commoner Guide, whose sudden rise in status was anticipated by most of the nobles, regardless of their rank. Though usually concealed with polite courtesy, their underlying desire to crush Ethan whenever an opportunity arose was now laid bare, fueling vulgar gossip.
“I was wondering why the corridor was so crowded at this hour,” Bliss Moore said, his voice smooth and familiar. “It turns out it was His Highness, the Second Prince.”
Devon’s face, poised to unleash a torrent of reprimands, stiffened. Bliss Moore, who spoke casually with Herace, the legitimate First Prince, suddenly approached, feigning recognition. Then, from a perfectly calculated position, he bowed deeply, performing a lengthy and elaborate greeting.
“My partner and I greet His Highness Devon Green, the Second Prince,” Bliss announced.
He stood right beside Ethan.
“……Lord Bliss Moore,” Devon finally responded.
Devon, who had remained silent at Bliss’s audacity of naturally including Ethan in his greeting as if they had arrived together, was forced to reply when he noticed the murmurs of the surrounding nobles shifting their attention to him.
Ultimately, Ethan raised his head alongside Bliss. His calm demeanor, acting as if nothing untoward had happened, only inflamed Devon’s anger. To Ethan, who seemed unfazed by such trivialities, Devon revealed the true reason his entourage had paused, gesturing towards his own retinue.
“Scott, go ahead and inform them I’ll be a little late. Tell them to start circulating the aperitifs.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
Scott, who replied convincingly as if well-versed in court etiquette, quickly departed. As he passed Ethan, he only offered a fleeting side glance, not even a friendly greeting or acknowledgment. He merely gave a slight bow to Bliss Moore before continuing on his way.
“I’m scheduled to have a brief seminar with the Center executives, accompanied by a meal,” Devon stated, feigning nonchalance.
Devon’s natural demeanor, completely ignoring the tension of the situation, was infuriating. The only areas open to commoners not involved in palace affairs were typically limited to the west wing, making it clear he had invited the mixed noble and commoner executives of the Center there. This was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated show to cultivate Devon’s image as a prince who prioritized commoners over nobles.
“……Now I understand why Enoch couldn’t find his Guide,” Bliss murmured, replacing the stunned Ethan.
Devon, feeling a childish sense of triumph at Ethan’s now somewhat disturbed expression, responded languidly.
“Lord Bliss Moore, you are mistaken. Scott Kenton is not Enoch Cloud’s matched Guide, is he? He is my kind and diligent attendant, and a Guide affiliated with the Center who has yet to find a matched Esper.”
Devon’s words implied that he was aware of the information manipulation Enoch had performed regarding Scott. It was a clear warning that if Bliss were to claim Scott had been abducted in this situation, it would publicly expose Enoch’s information tampering.
“……Perhaps you should have contacted the Cloud family, where Scott Kenton was residing,” Bliss suggested, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“Haha, Bliss. Jokes don’t suit such a serious expression. The weaker Enoch Cloud becomes, the better it is for me, so why would I do that? Besides, Scott Kenton himself didn’t want it.”
Scott had become Devon Green’s new attendant.
Devon’s gaze, filled with a triumphant smile, landed on Ethan.
“Wasn’t Scott Kenton Ethan Prescott’s old best friend?” Devon asked, using the past tense.
The very use of the past tense by Devon Green immediately ignited a surge of indignation within Ethan. This feeling reached its climax when Dongja’s amused voice echoed in his mind.
[Hey, that Scott guy is incredible. You were looking forward to him, Ethan, but he chased after you, calling you his best friend, only to dump you first? Wow. Did he tell that foxy princeling everything about you, down to the last detail?]
Bliss’s brow, standing beside them, twitched. However, Ethan’s words came out even faster than Bliss could react.
“…Yes. Just like His Highness Herace, the First Prince, and His Highness Devon, they were truly like brothers who cared for each other.”
“……!!”
Gasps rippled through the surrounding crowd. The hidden meaning was a tremendous insult, yet the sentence itself was utterly beautiful. Ethan Prescott, an ‘ignorant commoner and a beauty,’ had uttered it while looking at the prince, who championed policies for commoners, with respectful eyes and an innocent smile.
The nobles were instantly confused. It was almost unbelievable that Ethan, a commoner, could employ such a high level of double-speak, a technique often used by aristocrats. And to do so while involving two princes of the Empire?
‘He must be ignorant to speak like that.’
[Whew. What a temper he has.]
At Dongja’s exclamation, Bliss silently agreed, observing the cornered prince with intrigued eyes.
‘Well, what will he do now?’
The nobles subtly curved their lips. A single sentence of ‘respect’ from an ignorant commoner had become the most entertaining gossip for them—words they could laugh about behind their fans for a long time to come.
If Devon were to express anger, accusing Ethan of insulting him, the ‘innocent commoner’ would be devastated, shocked by the sordid reality of the royal family. He was left with no choice but to pretend that his relationship with Herace was amicable, for the sake of a commoner who admired fraternal affection and benevolent competition. This realization utterly contorted Devon’s face.
“…Th-that’s right.”
In the end, Devon found himself unwillingly declaring himself a ‘true brother’ to Herace, the person he most wished to eliminate. The forced words tasted bitter as gall.
“I envy you,” Ethan said, smiling like an idiot. The sight of Devon’s delicate features crumpling so horribly was truly a spectacle to behold.
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