CHAPTER 48….
“This is whiskey brought directly from Tabanta. They say even a single drop can put a giant to sleep.”
“…….”
“Will you have some?”
The Count poured the liquor into a glass himself and raised it to Killian, as though testing him.
His hearty smile met Killian’s slightly furrowed gaze.
“Why that look? Don’t tell me my daughter told you not to drink anything I offer?”
“…No, sir.”
“She really does take after me, more and more.”
The Count laughed at Killian’s belated response. The fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes revealed his seasoned experience.
“You needn’t drink if you’d rather not. If the Commander gets drunk, I won’t be able to say what I must.”
“Please.”
Seated across from him, Killian took the glass from his future father-in-law and tilted it back.
Even though the drink was filled to the brim, he downed it without hesitation, without even a tremor.
A liquor so potent that a single sip supposedly made men clutch their throats and collapse—yet to Killian, it went down like holy water.
“You hold your liquor well.”
“You flatter me.”
“Some say a strong tolerance for strong drink runs in the blood.”
As the Count’s cryptic smile deepened, Killian looked at him in silence, expression unreadable. Despite the calm setting, tension between them only grew.
“I assume you have something to say to me.”
“Ah, was it that obvious?”
“Please speak freely.”
“…That, I cannot do.”
Who am I to dare.
The Count stared at Killian, who was already pouring his second drink without pause.
As a born merchant, the Count had an instinct for beauty. He admired the young man’s striking face as if appreciating a fine piece of art, slowly emptying his glass.
“Looking at such a fine figure under the moonlight reminds me of a tale I once heard.”
“…Count.”
“Long ago, there was said to be a northern noble lady with silver hair so stunning, she was mistaken for a fairy. Even His Majesty the Emperor was said to have fallen for her at first sight. No further explanation needed, surely.”
“…….”
“And as fate would have it, I believe her family name was also… Setian, wasn’t it?”
The Count’s red eyes gleamed across his glass. Killian’s expression didn’t change, but the Count read the certainty in his blue eyes.
“Such a shame. It’s quite an interesting tale, and yet you seem wholly uninterested.”
“Not so much uninterested… more like tired of it.”
“I see. Understandable. It happened decades ago—who would still remember?”
Trickle.
To Killian’s neither-confirming-nor-denying response, the Count poured him more whiskey.
He had dismissed all servants earlier, so doing this himself didn’t bother him.
“Still, I wonder how someone like you came to take an interest in our Adele.”
“Isn’t she someone worthy of interest?”
At that bluntly honest answer, the Count stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Now that things had come this far, there was no point in beating around the bush. Reading the other man any longer would be a waste of time.
“I’ll speak plainly. I want my daughter to live better than anyone else in the Empire. That is why I consented to this match without protest.”
“…….”
“I want her to sit on a seat so firm and high that no one dares challenge it—not live a life hiding in the shadows.”
“If, by chance, you wish for her to become Empress…”
“Who, me?”
Surely you jest.
Killian’s indifferent gaze made the Count’s eyes sharpen. This time, it wasn’t a joke.
“How shocking. A mere knight commander speaking such treason so casually.”
“Count Sergio.”
“I said I want my daughter to rule the widest and highest stage. How is a life trapped in the palace, flapping wings with nowhere to fly, the pinnacle of power?”
His graying brows furrowed, unafraid to show displeasure.
“I didn’t raise her with such care just to lock her away. She’s a girl who can live doing exactly what she wants.”
“Then what is it you truly want from me?”
“How she lives is her choice. But as her father, I will not stand to see her placed in danger. And I trust you know exactly what you must do to ensure that.”
The bottle was almost empty now, but neither man showed the slightest sign of wavering.
Heh.
It was the Count who smiled first, as expected.
“If you’re willing to do that for her, then I’ll take responsibility for my daughter.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Adele’s not a foolish girl. Even now, she’s probably wondering why I so readily agreed to you.”
“…….”
“By tomorrow, she’ll be dissecting every word I said and digging into anything suspicious. And before another day passes, she’ll have someone investigate every last root of the Setian name.”
It was a precise assessment.
Killian didn’t deny it. His eyes simply darkened.
“…Adele is…”
“Still, I can guess who she’ll send. They’re clever, but they’re still within the palm of my hand, so I’m not concerned.”
“…….”
“I was thinking of creating a fictional baronetcy near the northern Legoneu region. Orphaned early, modest fortune and reputation, an unremarkable house with no particular history.”
It sounded like a casual suggestion, but for him to speak this much meant the entire plan had already been constructed.
Hmm.
Hearing footsteps of a servant approaching the study, the Count clasped his hands.
Killian raised his eyes, sensing it was time to wrap things up.
“Wouldn’t that be a loss for you, Count?”
“…A loss? For me?”
The Count chuckled incredulously but looked intrigued.
Still, only Killian remained icily composed.
“You’ll gain no royal in-laws, no overwhelming power, and if your efforts go unrewarded—there’s nothing in it for you.”
“But I gain the man my daughter wants.”
You’re narrower-minded than I expected.
The Count looked slightly disappointed, but Killian didn’t rise to the bait. In fact, he was so calm, it was almost unnerving.
“Forgive me, but from a father’s perspective, no suitor would ever truly satisfy. Not even the ruler of the Empire himself.”
“Then why accept me?”
“Because if no one’s good enough, I’d rather choose the one who truly treats her well.”
“…….”
“This will be the first and last time I speak this informally. I hope you’ll understand. It’s no loss to me to speak so frankly to a man like you.”
Then, let us drink to that.
With a mischievous grin, the Count raised his glass and emptied the rest.
But Killian, who had lifted his own, merely twitched his brow at the man’s smile. The tension between them remained delicate.
“Master, the young lady has come down. Shall I show her in?”
“Is that so?”
Both men turned their heads simultaneously.
But in that brief pause, the Count couldn’t resist tapping his table with raised fingers.
“There’s one last thing I’d like to ask you, Commander.”
“Please do.”
“Just now, my Adele asked if I wanted her to sit at the Empire’s highest seat, didn’t she?”
“…….”
“If I had said yes—what would you have done then?”
It sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t. The Count’s quiet, dark smile wove around Killian like a spider’s web.
Yet Killian remained pristine, as if untouched by dust.
His heavy gaze and lips took a long moment to move—not hesitating, but choosing his words with great care.
“If you had… I would have, of course…”
It was then—
“My goodness. Just how much have you two had to drink?”
“Adele.”
At the sound of her voice, clear and bright, Killian reacted first.
Adele, dressed in a red gown, was more radiant than he had ever seen her.
Pale skin, red dress, a diamond tiara atop her black hair—it was a masterpiece of contrast and elegance.
Not even the white veil of the temple could hide her beauty. And now that she had chosen everything herself—jewelry, dress, the works—her beauty was overwhelming.
Even the Count looked pleased, stroking his chin at the rare sight of his daughter in such formal attire.
“Adele, come join us. Have a drink—”
“Drinking this early in the evening? Is this what you meant by wanting to speak with Killian privately?”
Despite her dazzling appearance, her tone was as blunt as ever.
Startled by the number of empty bottles, she immediately turned to check on Killian.
‘Go on.’
She focused completely on what signal he would give while holding the glass.
Even if drunk, Killian wouldn’t forget: two taps meant help me, a circular swirl meant I’m drunk.
“…Commander?”
But the next thing wasn’t part of the plan: liquor spilled.
Though Killian quickly straightened the glass, the white tablecloth was already stained.
No… what does that even mean?
Adele froze in confusion. Killian didn’t look fine.
His Adam’s apple bobbed deeply—he seemed even more rattled than she was.
“Well now.”
The Count chuckled quietly.
Leaning forward to replace Killian’s glass, he whispered low enough for only him to hear.
“I’ll take that as your answer.”
As Adele moved her knife, her bracelet jingled lightly.
Every gesture was cautious. That’s why she didn’t usually dress up unless it was truly necessary.
But today, she had picked out everything herself—dress, jewelry, all of it.
Because of the man sitting next to her.
She didn’t want just to be pretty. She wanted to surprise him.
She wanted to make him glad he had come this far—to make him see her again.
Even though she knew Killian wasn’t someone swayed by mere appearances, she couldn’t help but wonder—
Can someone like him still be surprised? If so, what kind of face does he make then?
So far, his reaction wasn’t bad.
She didn’t expect him to gush like others, but Killian was slow—at everything.
Slow to speak, slow to meet her gaze, slow even to look away.
It looked like drunken behavior, but Adele chose to interpret it how she pleased.
“Adele, have a sip. If it suits your taste, I might invest in it wholesale.”
“…Really?”
The Count handed her a glass with a sly glance.
As if enjoying a show, he leaned back into his chair, and a butler approached to pour her drink.
Adele watched the liquor fill the glass with an expert’s eye.
“The aroma and color are nice.”
“Right? And thankfully, our son-in-law seems to like it too.”
Since when is he your son-in-law?
Adele gave a half-hearted smile at her father’s tone.
She was grateful he had accepted Killian without fuss, but she knew him too well to be entirely relieved.
This same man, if displeased, could flip the table in an instant.
The icon of social death.
That was the nickname people used behind the Count’s back.
And flipping a table was merciful compared to what he did when truly angered—he’d ruin reputations so thoroughly that you could wander all day in the capital and not find a single person willing to speak to you.
Not even one.
