Chapter 117

His teeth clenched.

"Next — your hypnosis. How good are you?"

"…It's awkward to say it about myself, but among the current hypnotists, I'm the best."

"Better than Civelli?"

"…Not quite at Civelli's level."

Hypnosis, they said, could only be undone by the one who cast it.

That, or by someone with stronger hypnosis than them.

With Civelli dead, that meant there was no practitioner alive who could undo the hypnosis on Lyssel.

"Might this be about the hypnosis placed on you, Your Highness?"

Of course, Caliman didn't know that Lyssel had broken his own hypnosis by overturning the very premise it stood on.

Caliman's eyes glittered with something underhanded.

As if he'd been watching for the chance.

Lyssel didn't give him even a sliver of an opening, just looked down at him evenly and answered,

"I want you to put hypnosis on the Sherburn family."

"Ah."

"And don't try anything funny."

"…What kind of hypnosis, exactly…?"

"They're people who'd run straight to the emperor the moment we let them go. So they can't — if they betray us, they die."

"…What? But she's the Grand Duchess's family?"

"What does that matter? Iberin's already agreed."

"……Ah."

Caliman's face went pale.

Not knowing she wasn't actually their daughter, from where he stood the Lecashe couple looked like people with no blood or tears in them.

If they'd kill family the moment things went sideways, his own life — which was nothing to them — would be taken without a second thought.

He'd had other thoughts for a moment, but apparently not.

Caliman flattened himself to the floor.

---

The deal struck, the hypnosis went ahead immediately.

The viscount took it relatively calmly, but the viscountess and Yunet sobbed openly.

"If you breathe a word of anything that happened at Lecashe to anyone else, you will meet your own death."

Of course, Iberin and Lyssel knew better than anyone that hypnosis didn't happen overnight, so they put in considerable effort.

The first one it took on was Yunet.

Just like Iberin had broken down when she'd realized she'd been thrown away, Yunet's mind was apparently in no shape to resist either, with the thought of her own possible death hanging over her.

When the viscountess saw Yunet muttering with her face gone slack and blank, the hypnosis soon took on her too.

It didn't end with one success, of course.

It would take continued effort.

After the hypnosis had taken a few times, they had a false letter sent to the emperor as well.

Saying that Caliman had succeeded in putting Iberin under.

That since he'd already put her under once before, it hadn't been particularly difficult — but she'd collapsed out of nowhere, which had drawn the Grand Duke's suspicion, and they'd been locked up.

That Iberin was now awake without any complications, and that the unconditional obedience to the imperial family directive had been set.

The more she thought about it, the more outrageous it was.

"I'll keep a watcher on Caliman at all times."

"Yes. Watch him closely so we can dig deeper into the hypnotists. He'll probably keep his head down for a while, though."

"Yes."

They could try to bring the hypnotists over to their side, but doing so would make them no different from the emperor — and that didn't sit right.

On top of that, both Civelli and Caliman had churned out victim after victim to build up their skill as hypnotists.

They could not allow that to slide.

Knock-knock—

Just then there was a knock at the door, and Rotte came in.

The visibly thrown look on her face suggested something had come up.

"What is it?"

"…The Crown Prince has come to call."

"What?"

"And alone."

"The Crown Prince?"

They'd met him once when they'd first come to the capital, but they'd had no contact at all since.

And now he'd shown up out of nowhere?

"Could the emperor have sent him?"

Lyssel's first reaction was suspicion, as if he couldn't trust anything about the imperial family.

Iberin had no way of knowing either why the Crown Prince had come in person.

For now, they'd at least have to talk to him.

"Shall I show him in?"

"……Yes."

"Iberin."

"He's still a child. Younger than Rozel. There's no reason for the emperor to go so far as to use a child this way."

Soon Rotte returned with the Crown Prince.

The boy, who had always been polite but somehow carried a shadowy mood about him, looked like he was sunk in an even thicker shadow now.

Had the emperor really done something?

Lyssel, on guard against Yelberk, tucked Iberin behind him.

Seeing Lyssel do that, the boy smiled faintly.

He's smiling? Why?

Lyssel wasn't openly throwing off killing intent in his guarded stance, but it still wasn't the kind of pressure a seven-year-old could weather easily.

And yet Yelberk looked perfectly at ease.

"Hello. I'm Crown Prince Yelberk Areta. Your Highness the Grand Duchess, it's been a while. Have you been well?"

"…I've been well. And you, Crown Prince Yel?"

"Not too badly."

There was no need to draw out the small talk.

Iberin asked, going straight to it,

"More importantly, what brings you here so suddenly?"

Yelberk looked startled for a moment, then smiled.

It wasn't that anything was actually funny — it seemed to be a habit.

His eyes were smiling, but his mouth wasn't smiling at all.

A boy of seven.

Had Yelberk always given off this kind of feeling?

She'd thought even from the first meeting that he was excessively polite, but something had clearly changed.

The original story floated into her mind out of habit, and Iberin shook it off.

Things had already diverged so far that there was no way to know what had changed.

She held his gaze without looking away.

The blue eyes, which had carried that gloomy cast the whole time, lost some of their composure.

Yelberk rose, then dropped to his knees.

Lyssel was startled. Iberin was startled too.

"Your Highness the Crown Prince, what are you doing?"

She hadn't expected this, and it threw her.

"I'd like to apologize."

"…For what?"

"For everything my father has done as emperor."

"……You know all of it?"

Iberin's eyes went wide as saucers.

It was definitely supposed to be much further in the future before Yelberk learned all of it.

With Iberin causing one stir after another, the emperor must have decided to lay it all out for his son.

But the truth was too cruel a thing for a child only seven years old.

Iberin's expression twisted, devastated.

Her favorite was unmistakably Ether, but that didn't mean she disliked Yelberk's uprightness.

If anything, she'd thought it was remarkable.

But the reason he'd been able to bear knowing the whole truth about the imperial family — that had been because he learned it at an age when he could think it through, at an age when he could make his own judgments.

The look on his face right now said everything.

"Your Highness."

"Yes."

"When you say you know — how far does that go?"

Iberin's heart was simply aching, and she couldn't get another word out, just looked at Yelberk.

In the meantime Lyssel pulled himself together, his expression cool.

"How far. Sounds like there's quite a lot. All I know is that the imperial family has used Lecashe for a very long time."

Yelberk's expression turned bitter.

Considering he was only two years older than Ether, even Lyssel knew this wasn't an expression a child his age should be making.

For some reason Lyssel looked deflated.

"It seems an apology from someone like me wouldn't be of any use…."

"Why apologize at all. I'm sorry, but we have no intention of accepting it."

Even if the emperor himself made the apology, it would be a question whether they accepted it — much less a proxy apology.

And from a child, no less.

How far did the emperor mean to go.

Making his own son apologize on his behalf.

It was absurd, and the feeling was complicated.

When Lyssel said it flatly, Yelberk waved his hands in a hurry.

"No, no. That's not — what I mean is, I just wanted to set things right."

"Set things right? What things?"

"…I couldn't find any justification for what the imperial family has done."

"What do you…."

"There's no reason Lecashe should be used to maintain the imperial family. A relationship where one side has to keep sacrificing unconditionally — it breaks apart sooner or later."

"……And so?"

"I believe the imperial family has walked the wrong road. That's why, even now, I want to set it all down. I'm only the Crown Prince for the moment, but if I can be of any help, I'll do anything."

Lyssel seemed at a loss for words — as if wondering how a son like this could come out from under the emperor — and Iberin thought, of course.

Young or not, Yelberk was still Yelberk.

She'd expected he would break under the weight of knowing a truth too heavy for someone his age, but here he was, thinking of taking the right road.

"Even if it means turning on your own father?"

"I've prepared myself for that."

"Prepared yourself. Prepared. Turning your back on family. You seem to be treating it too lightly."

"Of course I know it won't be easy. But I didn't come this far on a simple impulse."

His gaze met theirs head-on, perfectly straight.

Lyssel flinched at the look in those eyes, which somehow resembled Iberin's.

Unlike the emperor's shadowy gaze, it still held a child's purity and resolve.

"If we don't stop now, the imperial family will run all the way to the end. I don't want that."

"You don't want to be emperor?"

"Not once. Not even once have I thought that. I was the Crown Prince from birth, and everyone called me Crown Prince, so it just became natural."

"And yet…."

Just then, Iberin, who'd been quietly listening as the two of them squared off, finally spoke.

Both their eyes turned to her in an instant.

"Your Highness the Crown Prince."

"Yes."

Yelberk, who'd straightened up looking slightly tense, swallowed.

"Your Highness, aren't you seven?"

"…Pardon?"

"Aren't you seven."

"I am, yes. Seven…."

"……What does justification mean?"

"……Pardon?"

Yelberk's eyes shook hard.

"How does a child this young talk like this?"

"That's because I'm an exceptional student who's received an imperial education since I was very young, and as the Crown Prince there should be nothing I don't know."

"You're seven, though."

If she asked nine-year-old Rozelia what justification meant, would she even know?

It wasn't that difficult a word, but it still wasn't the kind of thing that should come out of a child's mouth.

Not just that — he was laying out his own convictions without hesitation, and no matter how you looked at it, this didn't seem like seven.

How hard would a child have to be put through the wringer to end up like this.

"Age isn't everything."

"No, it is everything."

"……Anyway, how did the conversation suddenly get here? Wasn't this supposed to be where I proved my trustworthiness to you?"

"Well, in any case, you're saying you want to side with us, aren't you?"

"……Yes."

"Then let's do that."

"What? Nothing more to ask?"

"Nope."

"…Why?"

Yelberk asked, looking baffled.

He seemed genuinely thrown.

He'd clearly prepared for a hostile reception and come fully braced for it, so when she gave in this easily, he seemed to feel he ought to be doing something — and he started spilling everything in a rush.

"From the moment His Imperial Majesty laid out the whole truth, I've been thinking about this every day. So I've also met with a hypnotist separately and gathered evidence,"

"Really? That's wonderful! Which hypnotist? Caliman?"

"……Pardon? Y-yes."

"Wow, Your Highness, you're the best!"

"……."

Yelberk looked truly thrown.

Lyssel, thinking not knowing where she'll bounce next is so Iberin, stepped in and demanded confidently,

"Hand over the materials."

"……."

"All of them, while you're at it."

They said love makes people resemble each other.

Lyssel was picking up the wrong parts.