Chapter – 22
“They say the Volsheik family is older than this very continent, so no matter what history it carries, it’s nothing to be surprised about.”
“Is that true?”
To Ashili, it didn’t matter how old the Volsheik line was.
Only whether that history was true mattered.
She swallowed dryly and waited for his answer.
Even if it turns out to be false, don’t be disappointed.
It’s just a coincidence that you stumbled across the phrase ‘dimensional travel’.
You haven’t even taken the first real step toward finding a way back to your original world.
So even if this leads nowhere, don’t be disappointed—no,
you must not be disappointed.
How many times, how many dozens of times, had she repeated that to herself?
At last, Ludwig exhaled a thin, weary sigh and shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
At those words, Ashili plummeted from heaven to hell.
She had told herself not to be disappointed, but when has the human heart ever obeyed so easily?
Her strength drained away, and the thick history book slipped from her grasp, tumbling across the carpet.
The sight of it lying there, abandoned, felt like the perfect image of her own foolish hopes, and she suddenly felt so wretched she could have cried.
Staring down at the fallen book, not blinking once, Ashili finally spoke.
“I must have expected too much. I knew disappointment would follow, and still…”
Life was a series of disappointments. Yet humans—foolish creatures—never stopped expecting, never stopped being let down.
“No.”
Ludwig bent and picked up the book that had rolled away—along with the expectation she had dropped.
“It’s too soon to be disappointed.”
Her dimmed expression instantly lit up again.
Because Ludwig never lied to her.
“The head of House Volsheik would know the answer.”
“The head of the family? But hasn’t he been asleep for years? I didn’t ask before, but… is he ill?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Well. Only the one sleeping would know the reason. He fell asleep suddenly, with no warning or symptoms.”
“What? That sounds like an illness to me!”
“No, not an illness—he called it ‘a matter of curiosity.’”
Ashili lifted her face sharply toward Ludwig until their noses nearly brushed.
At that intimate distance, without blinking, she cut him off.
“You’re going in circles.”
Looking into her clear blue eyes, Ludwig lightly leaned his forehead against hers.
“He left me a letter before he fell asleep. Said he was going to sleep for a while to ‘satisfy a curiosity,’ and that during that time, all matters of the family would be entrusted to me.”
“‘For a while’? So no one knows when he’ll wake up?”
“Then we’ll wake him.”
“You don’t even know why or how he fell asleep!”
“Then I’ll find out. But for now…”
Still resting his forehead against hers, he gently pushed her back by the shoulders.
Ashili sank into the deep sofa cushions, blinking as Ludwig draped his jacket over her.
She unconsciously gripped the familiar—no, now comfortingly familiar—scent and warmth of him.
“Get some rest. I’ll find a way to wake him.”
Then, pressing his lips softly to her forehead, Ludwig whispered:
“For you.”
When Ashili, fast asleep as if fainted, murmured faintly in her dreams,
Ludwig was facing the Emperor.
The tea, once pleasantly warm, had long since gone cold, and between them stretched a silence that no one could honestly call comfortable.
As always, it was the Emperor who broke that silence first.
“Volsheik, is it.”
“Yes.”
And as always, Ludwig’s reply was curt, to the point.
The Emperor leaned back deeply into his chair and regarded Ludwig in silence.
But from that dry, emotionless face, finding a single clue was like searching for a needle in a desert.
“You said the Grand Duke holds full authority over House Volsheik.”
“Yes.”
“Then whoever that young lady is, she’s Volsheik.”
Even at the Emperor’s blunt insinuation—that Ashili could never truly be of Volsheik blood—Ludwig’s expression did not so much as twitch.
“I merely declared what was already true: that she is Volsheik.”
“Grand Duke.”
“I have nothing more to add, Your Majesty.”
Not even an emperor could force Ludwig’s mouth open.
If only Ludwig had coveted the throne, he would have been far easier to deal with.
The title of Grand Duke was granted only to one who carried imperial blood, one who could rightfully be heir to the throne.
So if he desired it, he’d have every justification.
But he truly—genuinely, plainly, unquestionably—had no interest in the throne.
The Emperor had tested him subtly, directly, even brazenly—and Ludwig had never once wavered.
“The next emperor will be the Crown Prince. He must be.”
That had always been Ludwig’s stance, and it had never changed.
He was the Crown Prince’s strongest ally.
Which only made things harder.
If the Crown Prince was to grow into a ruler fit for the throne, he needed to face powerful enemies, endure suffering and hardship, and learn to impose his will no matter the circumstance.
And who better to play that powerful enemy than Ludwig?
So, though the Emperor knew it was unreasonable, he had still ordered Ludwig to do it.
To endanger the Crown Prince. To show no mercy. To push him to the brink of death.
But the results… had been less than satisfactory.
Thinking of his ever-smiling son, the Emperor couldn’t help but sigh, half exasperated, half amused.
He rubbed at his temples and asked abruptly,
“Tell me—do you think the Crown Prince lacks something?”
The question came out of nowhere, unrelated to the prior topic, but Ludwig, as always, answered impassively.
Whenever the Emperor spoke of his son, his words were always like this—disjointed, unstructured.
Because somewhere in his mind and heart, the Crown Prince was always there.
“No, Your Majesty.”
“As emperor material?”
“More than sufficient.”
“Good. If the Grand Duke says so, I can believe it.”
The Emperor sighed deeply.
Even Ludwig said the Crown Prince lacked nothing.
Not out of fatherly affection—objectively, the Crown Prince had the talent to surpass even the Emperor himself.
“Then why, I wonder…”
The Emperor’s muttered anguish hung in the air, and Ludwig remained silent.
The Emperor’s vision of his son, his expectations, and the reality of the man himself—what could Ludwig possibly say?
Even if he and the Crown Prince had been close enough to know each other’s hearts, Ludwig could never defend him or explain him before the Emperor.
But the truth was, Ludwig had barely any interest in the Crown Prince at all.
All he could do, as always, was quietly listen to the Emperor’s laments.
The Emperor, too, probably wasn’t truly seeking an answer.
But when he spoke this way, it almost always meant he was about to make some unreasonable request concerning his son.
It was, in fact, the Emperor’s way of softening Ludwig—of maneuvering him into agreeing.
Another troublesome errand, then.
Ludwig saw through the Emperor’s every ploy, yet he always nodded and accepted anyway.
Because refusing would only lead to worse trouble.
It was simpler just to do as the Emperor wished.
But this time, the Emperor’s next words far exceeded even Ludwig’s expectations.
“You will hold a selection for your Grand Duchess.”
He spoke as if already assuming Ludwig’s consent.
“I’ll personally set the theme for the trials. They will begin—”
“Your Majesty.”
Ludwig, in an act of grave discourtesy, cut the Emperor off mid-sentence.
“The position is already filled.”
The Emperor didn’t scold him for his rudeness. Instead, he seemed prepared for the objection.
“I know.”
“Then what do you mean by a ‘selection,’ Your Majesty?”
“Now, now, don’t be so hasty.”
The Emperor waved a hand with a genial smile, but Ludwig did not yield.
He had allowed the Emperor to meddle in nearly everything else.
Because it had never mattered much, one way or another.
But the Grand Duchess—that is, Ashili—was a different matter entirely.
That, he would not allow.
That, he would never allow.
“Your Majesty.”
Ludwig cut him off again, and this time the Emperor met his gaze squarely.
A heavy silence fell.
The air between them prickled, but Ludwig’s dry eyes never wavered.
At last, the Emperor backed down slightly.
This was, after all, a man who had always complied—perhaps not eagerly, but without open resistance.
There was no point provoking unnecessary discord.
Besides, the Emperor still needed him.
“Grand Duke.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I don’t mean to replace your Grand Duchess. The title is just for show.”
“You mean, as when Your Majesty ordered that last party.”
“Precisely. The pretext is for the Grand Duchess—but what we’re truly seeking is the Crown Princess. You understand. If I announced a Crown Princess selection outright, you know how that boy would react.”
“The next day, he’d already have dragged one home.”
“Exactly. He’d do something utterly ridiculous.”
“So, not a Grand Duchess selection, but a Crown Princess selection.”
At Ludwig’s clarification, the Emperor blinked, then nodded uncertainly.
“Y-yes… that’s right. Let’s be clear on that point.”
“With all due respect—”
“Yes?”
