Imperial Tea Time Interrupted

"Your Majesty."

A calm voice, unmistakably edged with a blade, rang through the reception room.

Gulp. I swallowed dryly and stared at him.

'Wh-what? I've never seen him look that angry before.'

Come to think of it, had this man ever even been capable of anger? With that permanently smiling face, the thought had never once crossed my mind.

"My, my. Someone's in quite the mood."

The Emperor seemed to share my sentiment, judging by the faint click of his tongue.

"Ahem. So the Grand Duke has arrived."

"Yes. I have."

"Earlier than I expected. I thought it would take you longer. Well then, shall we start with a few pleasantries? How have you been all this—"

"Why did you summon the Marchioness of Zacherete, Your Majesty?"

Making it abundantly clear that pleasantries were the last thing on his mind, Leon cut the Emperor off mid-sentence.

"Impatient as ever. No time to sit down and exchange greetings, even with your own brother?"

"Correct. I am impatient. So answer quickly. I asked why you summoned the Marchioness."

"……"

Leon pressed on, obstinate as a mule.

I thought I heard the Emperor muttering something like, 'Honestly, what's so difficult about a simple greeting,' but I pretended not to.

"Your Majesty. I told you clearly, didn't I? Stay out of my affairs."

"Ahem. Well, this is rather……"

"Interfere with my business like this one more time, and I will be genuinely angry."

"Now, hold on—I was only curious—"

Whatever excuses the Emperor offered fell on deaf ears. Leon let out a quiet sigh, walked over to me, and held out his hand.

"Let's go, Erna."

"……"

"Don't mind His Majesty."

But still.

'He looks absolutely crushed.'

Easier said than done, when the man's wounded feelings were written all over his face.

At his younger brother's heartless reaction, the Emperor's brows drooped in tragic sorrow.

With a solemn face marred by a distinctly unsubtle air of grievance, he looked less like the sovereign of an empire and more like an ordinary older brother pouting over his sibling's rebellion.

"Hmm. But my conversation with the Marchioness isn't finished yet."

"Your Majesty."

"……Fine. Fine, I get it."

Faced with Leon's unbending tone, the Emperor finally raised the white flag.

"This is all your fault in the first place, you brilliant little brother of mine. No matter how often I summon you, you never come see me."

"I'm a busy man."

"Hmph. You've been in the Imperial Capital since last week, haven't you? The least you could do is show your face to your brother once you've come up."

"I was busy."

"Agh, fine. Fine! I get it."

……What is with these two?

'I'd heard the rumors that the Emperor doted on the Grand Duke, sure.'

But rumors were just that—rumors. It could all have been mere gossip, for all I knew.

Astonishingly, however, it was exactly as advertised.

From what I was witnessing, the Emperor was practically clinging to Leon, desperate for his attention, while Leon regarded him as something mildly bothersome to be managed. That was about the size of it.

"I will make time to visit separately. So kindly stop using the Marchioness as bait. I'm letting this one slide—this once."

"Oh dear. How terrifying."

The Emperor, looking anything but terrified, gave a mock shudder. Then he waved a careless hand, as if to say that was all, we were dismissed.

He'd simply given up, it seemed.

"That's enough. I've learned roughly what I wanted to know. Ah, Marchioness Zacherete, do get home safely."

"Yes, Your Majesty. We'll take our leave, then."

When we bowed, the Emperor flashed a grin and gave a lazy little wave.

We hadn't exchanged anything of substance—we'd only shared tea—yet somehow I felt strangely closer to him now.

And so I was ushered out of the reception room, towed along by Leon, who had somehow known exactly where to find us.

He didn't say a word as we cut through the corridor.

Hmm. What is this……

"Are you angry with me?"

Was it because I'd met the Emperor unannounced?

'But that's hardly something I can control. When His Majesty summons you, you go.'

Still, better to tread carefully.

"If you're worried I said something unnecessary to His Majesty—"

"I'm not worried about that."

"Then why are you so upset? I mean, how did you even know to come? I swear I didn't tell a soul."

Aside from Valen and Laura, who had been present when the invitation arrived, I hadn't breathed a word to anyone. So how had this man known?

"I received a letter."

"A letter?"

He, who had been striding ahead without a sound, came to a halt and produced an envelope, holding it out to me.

It was a design I'd seen somewhere before.

The contents were similar to my own invitation, if subtly different.

There was something about it that seemed calculated to get under someone's skin.

"Nothing happened, did it?"

"By 'nothing,' you mean what, exactly?"

"Oh, say—His Majesty telling you things he had no business telling you."

Hmm. That was awfully vague.

"No. Nothing like that."

I thought it over for a moment, then shook my head. There had been a few exchanges that nagged at me, but nothing to that extent.

That was what I told him—and yet, the faint shadow lingering over Leon's face refused to lift.

He looked remarkably dissatisfied about something.

'To think the great Leon Obsidian could even make a face like that.'

It was the kind of revelation that would send the entire empire into hysterics.

And why wouldn't it? Striking, chiseled features aside, his public image was roughly as follows:

Gentle. Serene. Warm……. The sort of man you could swallow whole without even chewing. He was the poster boy for every saccharine adjective in the book.

But the man in front of me was currently harboring a mild grievance against his own brother and venting it quite openly. An utterly ordinary man, in other words.

No benevolent saint. No gentle priest. None of that.

"I'm sorry. I was invited rather suddenly myself. If something like this happens again, I'll tell you first."

"I told you, I'm not angry at you."

"That's not quite what my eyes are telling me."

"……"

When I said I could see no such thing, he looked faintly flustered and raked a hand back through his hair.

Then, grumbling under his breath:

"To be precise, my grievance is with His Majesty. Not with you, Erna. Next time he summons you, just ignore it."

"Am I allowed to do that?"

He had to be joking. But when I shot him a look that said is that even possible, he answered without a moment's hesitation.

"It's fine. Drop my name. That way they won't be able to force anything on you either."

"And then I'll be dragged off for treason."

"I'll get you out. I'd have you free before they even locked you up, so don't worry about it."

Goodness. Where on earth did a man find that kind of confidence?

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Somewhere along the way, the slight edge to his presence had smoothed over considerably.

"So, what did you and His Majesty talk about?"

"Nothing much. About our academy days."

"The academy?"

When he asked why on earth that had come up, I answered quickly.

"He asked whether there was any connection at all between you and me, so…… I argued the point, and it came up naturally."

"Was it really necessary to argue?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say instead?"

Yes, Your Majesty, the truth is I caused a scene. I got drunk and assaulted your precious little brother.

……Yeah. Not exactly something I could say out loud.

'Claiming we'd been on friendly terms all along is far more normal. And far safer.'

But more importantly—

"Oh, that reminds me of something. At our final graduation ball, we spoke privately once, didn't we? You know, when I gave the address as student representative."

"……"

"I'm pretty sure we had a conversation, but I must have been so nervous, I can't remember what—"

"If you don't remember, there's no need to dig it up."

"I'm sorry, what?"

I stared at Leon, who returned my gaze with equal steadiness before curling his lips into an odd little smile.

"Forgive me, but that particular memory belongs in my personal hall of shame."

Leon said this as he reached out and pressed his thumb to my forehead.

The pressure was slight, but unmistakably deliberate—like a warning: don't remember.

It lasted only a moment, though.

He withdrew his hand with a grin, remarked, "Ah, I left a mark," and then—without missing a beat—turned my head toward him and pressed a peck of a kiss to my forehead.

Excuse me, you—

'He didn't plan that from the start, did he?'

I jerked back and scrubbed at my forehead furiously, then shot him a withering glare—

"Gasp!"

Oh no.

Who knew how long they'd been there? Every imperial attendant in the corridor stood frozen, faces locked in open astonishment.

And at the center of it all, one Leon Obsidian, smiling sunnily away.

'He totally did this on purpose!'

The journalists' movements from a few days ago flashed naturally to mind.

Just look around—people were already whispering amongst themselves like the world was ending.

'I'd stake my life on it: by tomorrow morning, this will be spread across the entire Imperial Capital. Guaranteed.'

That the Grand Duke of Bernstein and the Marchioness of Zacherete had visited the Imperial Palace together, tender as could be, for an audience with the Emperor.

And that the relationship between the two had, apparently, taken some kind of turn……

The next morning.

"……"

See? What did I tell you?