“What else! His Majesty just said he’ll be having lunch with you!”
Marco, who had been watching the two of them, beamed, grabbed Lev’s uninjured hand, and tugged him back to the room.
Since the day was quite hot and he’d gotten sweaty and dirty working outside, Marco shoved Lev into the bath, insisting he needed to wash up.
Then he dashed straight to the dressing room, searched for something for Lev to wear, and pulled a disappointed face.
Everything was high-end, but nothing fit Lev just right or truly looked good on him.
‘I should have called a tailor!’
Redoubling his resolve, he gathered several outfits that were both pretty and elegant and would suit Lev.
“The tailor’s coming after the meal,” Marco chirped as he helped Lev dress.
“A tailor?”
“Yes. You didn’t forget our bet, did you?”
Of course he hadn’t. Still, Lev hadn’t expected Marco to actually follow through so promptly; he scratched his forehead.
‘Well, a promise is a promise.’
Lev gave his outfit a once-over. He’d already changed clothes so many times it was exhausting. If a tailor came on top of that, how much more would he be put through…?
He kept the thought to himself; saying it aloud to Marco wouldn’t get a kind answer.
After changing, he was shown to a dining room. It wasn’t the grand banquet hall but a smaller room that looked just as sumptuous.
Not long after Lev took his seat, the Emperor appeared as well. Guien flicked him a glance and sat opposite. Soon a generous spread was laid out.
Seeing the well-appointed table, Lev swallowed. He hadn’t realized it earlier, but the sight of food brought a wave of sudden hunger.
He wet his mouth with water, and then crunched into a fresh-looking yogurt salad.
Next he slurped up pasta tossed in a cream sauce with shrimp and clams. As expected, what looked good tasted good.
Smiling in satisfaction, Lev eyed the filet steak then flinched. It looked positively mouthwatering, glossy with juices and wonderfully fragrant. The texture would surely be perfect.
Lev looked at his bandaged hand.
‘Mm…’
Because he’d injured his right thumb, not only holding the knife but cutting with it would be tricky. He wished he could ask for shears and snip it up, but there was no way a place like this would have such a thing.
“What are you doing?”
Guien, eating with practiced elegance across from him, paused and asked. Lev gave a sheepish smile and wiggled his bandaged finger.
“Why?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
Even when the Emperor asked again, Lev left it at that. He couldn’t very well say he wanted the steak but couldn’t cut it.
The Emperor’s gaze slid to Lev’s plate and then slowly rose.
‘Why do I feel uneasy?’
Lev was thinking that when the Emperor suddenly spoke.
“I suppose I’ll have to cut it for you.”
“What?”
He was so startled he slipped into informal speech. Realizing his mistake a beat late, Lev darted him a wary look but the Emperor was issuing an order to Marco, not to him.
“What are you doing? Cut it into bite-sized pieces.”
‘Of course.’
As if the Emperor would cut it himself.
Embarrassed by his own brief misconception, Lev kept his eyes fixed on his plate the whole time Marco cut the steak. Throughout, the Emperor’s gaze stayed on them.
‘Why keep staring?’
Every time Lev looked up, he met those clear golden eyes; the pressure was no small thing. It wasn’t only Lev. Marco felt it too.
His hands, which had been trembling slightly, began to visibly shake, until at last the knife slipped and clattered onto the plate.
Clang.
The sharp crack rang through the dining room.
“I—I, I’m so sorry!”
Marco went pale as a sheet and dropped to the floor at once. His hunched back shuddered uncontrollably.
Marco had erred while cutting Lev’s steak, but it had been the Emperor who gave the order. No wonder he was terrified.
Something about it felt like a replay of the other day, and Lev couldn’t help but frown. His eyes turned to the Emperor.
But the Emperor’s face was impassive. His gaze wasn’t on the trembling Marco; it was fixed on Lev.
‘You’re telling me to handle it, aren’t you?’
Reading the look in his own way, Lev turned to Marco.
“It’s all right, Marco. No one’s hurt. Get up now.”
Even at the gentle, generous words, Marco didn’t raise his head easily.
Lev glanced back at the Emperor. Still, he said nothing.
“Marco, it’s okay to stand.”
Lev urged again, and when Marco still didn’t move, Lev sighed softly and rose to his feet.
“Ah—ah! Sir Lev!”
Startled by the hand that took his arm, Marco sprang up. Seeing the meek eyes flitting helplessly between himself and the Emperor, Lev patted his shoulder as if to say “don’t worry.”
Then he returned to the table, lifted his fork, and popped a perfectly uniform cube of steak into his mouth.
“It’s delicious!”
He let out a slightly exaggerated exclamation and grinned. And it truly was good—the texture was pleasing, there was no gamey smell, and the more he chewed, the richer it tasted.
“Thanks, Marco.”
Lev smiled again, rinsed his mouth with wine, and ate another piece of steak.
While Lev worked to put Marco at ease, the Emperor’s eyes didn’t leave them. Watching the two quietly, Guien spoke at last.
“Seems it suits your taste.”
At the offhand remark, Lev’s hand froze. He lifted his face from his plate and looked at the Emperor.
Was it a problem that he’d accepted help from a servant without permission? Apparently not.
“Yes. Well.”
Relieved yet puzzled, Lev gave him a questioning look. It didn’t feel like a meaningless comment.
But Guien, as if it meant nothing, shifted his gaze and surveyed the room.
The attendants and maids inside couldn’t quite hide their bewilderment. The Emperor’s attitude toward his consort was inconsistent, and they seemed unsure how to judge it.
They’d heard the two had spent the night together, and then suddenly the consort was ordered to clean the gardens. Yet here they were eating lunch together, the Emperor acting nonchalant, and now he was overlooking the fact that the consort had raised a servant without even consulting him.
They were doubtless trying to decide how to interpret it all. It was precisely the mood Guien wanted.
He lifted his glass as if to drink and hid the crooked smile at his lips. Or so he thought—apparently not. When he looked back, his consort was giving a tight, bitter little smile.
“What is it?”
“No, nothing.”
Lev averted his eyes quickly, scraped up what was left of the salad, and popped it into his mouth, as if it were nothing.
He already knew the man had a nasty streak, but especially when he smiled like that it was really…
‘Chilling. Don’t talk back. Keep quiet and get out of here in one piece.’
He was a ruthless ruler who cut down his rivals without hesitation. Provoke him and your head might roll.
Redoubling his resolve, Lev drained the rest of his wine. He could feel the Emperor looking at him, but he pretended not to notice.
After that unsettled, uncomfortable lunch ended, an unexpected figure was waiting in the corridor on their way out: Marquis d’Albret. Beside him stood the same attendant who had made trouble for Lev last time.
The hostility in the man’s eyes said he was still nursing a grudge.
‘Well, he never liked me to begin with.’
As Lev smiled wryly, Guien wore a look of mild surprise.
“Marquis? Unexpected. What is it?”
“Did Your Majesty dine well? If it pleases you, I came hoping we might take tea together for a moment.”
Marquis d’Albret bowed politely yet requested the meeting with confidence. He was sure the Emperor wouldn’t refuse.
“Is that so?”
Guien arched one brow and then looked back over his shoulder.
“Lev, you may go ahead.”
Seeing the Emperor dismiss his consort without a second thought, the marquis and the attendants present shared a similar impression:
His Majesty did not cherish that consort; at most, he was a bedmate.
“Understood.”
Lev answered meekly and slid a glance at the marquis. Their eyes met at once, as if the man had been watching him. For all his composed face, his eyes brimmed with contempt.
‘You’ve badly misunderstood, and I have no way to clear it up.’
With that thought, Lev offered a bland bow.
“Hello, my lord Marquis.”
At the lowborn greeting, the marquis twisted his lips in a sneer, but, mindful of the Emperor, he replied with forced decorum.
“Pleasure.”
The condescension came naturally from his assumption that Lev wasn’t a noble. It wasn’t warm in the least.
Lev merely nodded. From their point of view, they didn’t know who he was, and he was objectionable in many ways.
“Your Majesty, may I walk in the gardens?”
Conscious of Marquis d’Albret, Lev asked in a slightly more formal tone than usual.
“A walk?”
He was asking permission as required so why that look? Lev simply nodded.
“Yes, I’d like to stroll a bit to help my digestion.”
It wasn’t exactly a difficult request. The Emperor could take tea with the marquis; Lev would stroll with Marco for a while.
For some reason, though, the Emperor didn’t answer right away; arms folded, he fixed Lev with a steady look.
By then, the marquis too wore a cautious expression, trying to read the situation.
The attendant standing a half-step behind them exchanged a whisper with a younger page, eyes gleaming with interest. The young page sneaked a glance at Lev and nodded.
Focused on what answer the Emperor would give, Lev failed to notice the reactions around him.
“Very well.”
Only after a long pause did the Emperor give his consent. Why the delay when he was going to allow it anyway?
“Then I’ll be off.”
Lev bowed to the Emperor and the marquis in turn and walked past them.
He felt stinging eyes on the back of his head. Whether they belonged to the Emperor or the marquis, he didn’t look back.
He exited by the rear door and was just about to step onto the neatly kept lawn when—
“Marco!”
A strange voice sounded behind him. Marco and Lev turned at the same time.
A boy about Marco’s age flicked Lev a sidelong glance, then hurried over and practically spoke loud enough for Lev to hear on purpose.
“Ivan is looking for you.”
“Ivan?”
Marco’s brows knit of their own accord.
‘If he had business, he could’ve called me over when we crossed paths at the dining room.’
Calling him out separately now was tantamount to slighting Lev—especially given that Ivan had tried to brand Lev a thief over the lost gold button.
As the younger son of a minor noble, Ivan habitually looked down on and mistreated low-status servants. Because of that, Marco, from a merchant family, often suffered unfair treatment and bullying.
‘I don’t want to go…’
But he couldn’t ignore a summons from a senior attendant. And with someone as petty and ill-tempered as Ivan, who knew what he’d pull later.
“Marco, go on. I’ll be at the water-lily garden.”
Thinking Marco was hesitating on his account, Lev gave permission first. Even then Marco wavered a moment, then finally nodded with a sigh.
“Then, Sir Lev, I’ll pack tea and some snacks and catch up right away. Please go on ahead.”
“Sure, got it.”
Lev nodded readily. Marco looked back several times before heading into the palace.
Lev chuckled at the look as if leaving a child by the water and then looked down at the sullen page standing squarely in his path.
‘Why aren’t you going?’
Puzzled, Lev tilted his head. The page, looking thoroughly reluctant, spoke.
“Master Ivan told me to guide you through the garden.”
“Ivan?”
Who was that supposed to be? More to the point, he’d just told Marco he was going to the water-lily garden. Hadn’t he heard?
The page sneered, as if to say “You don’t even know who Ivan is?” then snapped his head away.
“I’ll just—”
Lev was about to decline politely when…
“Follow me.”
Whether he hadn’t heard Lev or was simply ignoring him, the page set off ahead with an irritable face.
Lev stared after him in disbelief. He wasn’t that lacking in tact; that was no accident. He’d heard and chosen to ignore it.
‘Well, it’s not incomprehensible.’
To them, Lev was someone who could tarnish the prestige of their revered Emperor. It was understandable to be wary and contemptuous—but how much of it he ought to abide was another question.
‘Do I really look that easy to push around?’
He doubted it. Lev, whose sharp upturned eyes had gotten him into scuffles now and then, scratched his temple once and followed the page, determined to see what he was up to.
Even so, this was a bit much…
“Hah.”
Lev let out a short breath and looked around.
At the entrance stood a fountain with a statue of a languid goddess. Beyond that stretched a walkway lined on both sides with shrubs a handspan taller than his head. The trouble began after they’d walked quite a ways along the hedges.
The page walked three or four steps ahead of Lev, and after turning corner after corner of the hedgerows, he finally disappeared.
Standing among the tightly planted trees, Lev glanced ahead, behind, and to both sides, and realized one thing easily enough:
He was lost.
No—more precisely, he’d been deliberately abandoned. Lev looked around again despite knowing it was pointless. The shrubs surrounding him were all taller than he was. Even retracing his steps would be difficult.
“It’s a maze…”
The height of the greenery blocking the view, all the turning this way and that, the uniform rows of trees—everything said so.
“So they meant to dump me here on purpose, huh?”
There wasn’t much to think about; that was clearly it. He’d suspected something the moment they’d peeled Marco off, and from the page’s sour face even as he “guided” him.
“It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with childish bullying like this.”
Lev smiled thinly and pressed himself to the hedges on his right. In a complicated maze, the only way out was to keep a hand on the wall and follow it.
He didn’t know how long it would take, but one way or another he’d get out.
“All right, let’s go.”
With a little pep talk to himself, Lev started walking forward.
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