Chapter 9:
Russell, who had been absentmindedly stroking his beard and mumbling to himself, didn’t actually hear Daphne’s words properly.
“Where did you get that slave?”
“At the slave market in the Port of Idarian.”
If it was the Port of Idarian, then perhaps the hypothesis he had in mind might be correct. That was precisely the place the royal left for, practically driven out of the imperial palace—it bordered the neighboring kingdom of Osyrea.
The one thought dead might have somehow survived there. Having wandered as a prisoner of war and slave, it was not impossible he had eventually come to the Duke’s attention. At least, the probability wasn’t zero.
“Do you know his name?”
“Old man, if I knew it, would I be calling him Puppy? I don’t know if he forgot his name or just doesn’t want to say it. No matter what, he refuses to speak, so I just call him Puppy.”
Daphne spoke nonchalantly, but Russell’s complexion grew paler by the second, turning from yellowish to a sickly green.
Russell hesitated. Should he say something now? Or wait until he was more certain? But what if things escalated by then?
‘No… Nothing is confirmed yet. Better not to make Lady Daphne worry unnecessarily.’
Still, the unease remained.
After offering Daphne a few vague excuses, Russell left her office, his face clouded with concern. He was about to return to the annex where he was staying, but let out a deep sigh and turned back with a resolute expression.
He walked quickly toward the underground prison where he had seen the man earlier.
No one in this place failed to recognize Russell. Nor did anyone question his intentions, so when he said he was going to inspect the prisoner, the guards readily opened the door.
Descending the stairs, he dismissed the guards and approached the cell holding a torch.
Behind the bars stood a shadowy figure, hands clasped behind his back, as if he had been expecting Russell to return.
Even with the moon behind him, the golden eyes shone brightly, filled with divine energy.
A story of someone who lived unknown in the shadows. A tale of one intentionally ignored despite being seen. It flickered faintly in Russell’s mind.
“…Show me your face.”
Unlike before, when he had hesitated, the man stepped forward slowly and revealed himself.
As his features came into the torchlight, Russell had to fight the urge to scream.
“My god… You—how are you alive? If His Majesty were to find out about this…!”
The man quickly grabbed Russell by the collar and yanked him toward the bars.
It happened so fast that both the old man and the guards nearby froze in shock.
“Don’t acknowledge me, Russell.”
“But, Your Highness!”
Puppy—no, the second prince—smiled beautifully and whispered softly.
The guards rushed forward to pry Eden’s hand from Russell’s collar.
“You scoundrel! Do you know who you just grabbed?! Unhand him immediately!”
One even prepared to open the cell door to pounce on Eden.
“Stop! All of you, stand down! I have urgent matters to discuss with this man. Please leave us for a while.”
“Sir? Is that really okay?”
“I will take full responsibility for everything that just occurred. Now go.”
At Russell’s command, the guards bowed and retreated.
“It’s been a while, old man.”
“Your Highness… how can you say it’s been a while? What in the world happened? You were declared missing, and the Empire is about to officially announce your death!”
The Manua Empire had more than one prince. Besides the First Prince, Lucius de Manua, there was a Second Prince—Eden Manua.
He was a prince who had lived hidden like a shadow, ignored by many. The son of the emperor’s concubine, Madame Arnea.
Although technically a concubine, the emperor truly loved her. They had been together even before his political marriage to the empress.
Coincidentally, Eden and Lucius were born the same year—on the same day, even.
One was the son of a concubine, the other of the empress.
Their positions had been determined from birth, but everything changed after Madame Arnea’s mysterious death, and the emperor brought the orphaned Eden into the palace.
The empress and the powerful noble families saw Eden as a thorn in their side.
If only he were stupid or a fool, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But his beauty was radiant, his physique robust, and his character impeccable.
He was simply impossible to ignore.
Lucius was brilliant in his own right, but in both martial and academic fields, whenever Eden was present, Lucius was second-best.
Still, the empress and her followers were certain that the son of a concubine could never threaten the line of succession.
That is, until the emperor announced he would grant both princes equal rights to the throne.
“I will pass the Empire to the one who can bring the greatest peace and prosperity. To a true monarch who loves and is willing to sacrifice for Manua. From now on, all princes and princesses of the imperial household shall hold equal succession rights. There will be no discrimination based on parentage.”
The empress and her faction fiercely opposed this decree—but the emperor was resolute.
“The princess is no threat. She’ll be happy as long as her brother does well. But Eden… He’s the real problem. The son of a woman whose origins are unknown—whose face I never even saw—and now he’s poised to overshadow my son and claim the imperial throne? Over my dead body! The next emperor will be my son!”
Living in the palace, Russell had long learned to close his ears to gossip and rumors. He pretended not to hear, not to see. A passive observer—because, cowardly as it might be, that was the safest course.
One time, when a wandering sage was invited to the palace, he looked at seven-year-old Lucius and Eden and said:
Lucius would bring prosperity to the empire but would spill much blood. Eden, lacking support, would live like a precarious boulder on a cliff edge—destined to fall before ever blooming.
But if he could survive that fall, he would bring peace and prosperity greater than anyone else.
The sage disappeared soon after, likely on pilgrimage.
From that day, the emperor began to treat the two equally—something the empress could never tolerate.
She worked tirelessly to ensure Eden would never gain a foothold in society.
And that wasn’t all. She spread malicious rumors about him to make his life difficult.
Eden himself added weight to those rumors. He feared people. He disliked being in the spotlight. Whenever he had to appear in public, he wore a mask, causing headaches for the emperor.
People gossiped that he hid a terrible scar or that he was hideously ugly, but no one had seen his true face.
The empress thoroughly isolated him, ensuring he had no allies, and used her influence to prevent the emperor from acknowledging him publicly.
She made him live in the shadows.
The empress and her relatives worked hard to win over influential courtiers like Russell.
Around that time, the emperor fell seriously ill, and as his condition worsened, he spent more time bedridden. No one could openly oppose the empress anymore.
“If Prince Lucius is truly worthy of succession, he will earn the throne without my help. Why are you so afraid, Your Majesty?”
Russell had once said this to the empress.
She didn’t reply. But everyone knew why.
Lucius was competent—brilliant in academics, martial arts, and appearance.
But he was cruel by nature. Just as the sage predicted, he would shed blood for the empire’s glory.
He had the makings of a tyrant, displaying a frightening ruthlessness even as a child.
In contrast, Eden, despite the stigma of being a concubine’s son, won many loyal followers with his gentle demeanor. If judged solely by virtue, Eden was the better heir.
More than anything, the emperor loved Eden, who shared the golden hair of Madame Arnea.
After all, Arnea was the woman he truly loved, unlike the empress, whom he had married only for political gain.
After her death, the emperor’s relationship with the empress worsened—and he suspected her involvement in Arnea’s mysterious demise.
That only made him love Eden more.
