Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor
Chapter 3

“Did the meal suit your palate?”

Count Dergha asked as he set down his utensils. The luncheon that lasted for a couple of hours was finally drawing to a close. The sun that had hung high in the sky had long since begun its descent towards the mountains.

“It was absolutely splendid. It’s of a quality that would not be out of place even in the imperial palace.”

Ian, who had been silently tidying up the napkins, paused in surprise.

Such a statement, comparing anything to the imperial palace – the center of the world and the epitome of dignity – would have been shocking in Ian’s era. However, as he looked at Count Dergha’s people, none of the Count’s household members reacted.

‘Is this considered normal?’

If so, it implied that the influence of the imperial palace might not be as strong as he assumed. Even disregarding the short-reigned emperors from 100 years ago, one would have to go back seven generations to find a comparable era.

“I’ll have the dessert prepared.”

“Thank you, Countess.”

As Ian wracked his brains, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. Countess Mary looked at her two sons with an elegant and gentle smile.

“Chel. Ian. The adults have matters to discuss. The two of you should go to the next room and have some tea.”

No doubt they will gossip about Ian’s adoption. Even excluding the very person involved.

While the progression of the adoption was almost a foregone conclusion, the unusual scrutiny and objections due to their unusual distance from the palace’s influence was anticipated.

“Yes, Mother.”

As Ian answered crisply, the corners of Countess Mary’s mouth trembled slightly. It seemed no easy task to even feign affection towards such a pitiful creature. With a soft pat on his cheek, she managed to express a semblance of affection. However, the more she did this, the deeper the scorn in Chel’s eyes became.

“Over here, Sir Molrin.”

“Oh my, quite impressive indeed.”

They entered the main building, leaving the backyard behind.

The large reception room at the heart of the mansion was not just luxurious, but to a degree that was almost mind-boggling. The golden foil adorning the room glittered in the sunlight, illuminating the area.

Squeak.

As the adults went into the inner reception room, only Chel and Ian remained. The two sat opposite each other, each taking the measure of the other. To be exact, Chel glared, while Ian observed.

‘The young master does resemble Count Dergha’s quite a bit. Any passerby would know they’re of the same lineage.’

His fiery red, curly hair and freckled nose. Despite his youthful age, his rotund belly unmistakably showed Der’s lineage.

The reflection in the mirror, Ian, with his blonde hair and absinthe eyes, seemed to have heavily inherited features from his unknown mother. He was pretty, with no similarity to Chel whatsoever.

“Master Chel. Master Ian. I’ll serve the tea.”

The servant approached politely and set down the tea and cookies. Chel’s eyes hardened, and he smacked the servant’s head.

Smack!

“Ah!”

Hot tea spilled from the servant’s hand. Ian reflexively searched for a handkerchief, but he, a lowly servant, had none to offer.

“Say that again.”

“Pardon?”

The servant looked taken aback as he rubbed his scalded hand on his apron. Luckily, the burn was minor.

“Who gave you the audacity to call me by my name?”

“Aa… I apologize, Young Count.”

This term acknowledged him as the Count’s only legitimate offspring, essentially publicly declaring him as Dergha’s successor.

Ian, well-versed in etiquette, was aware of this, but he too found Chel’s aggressive response a bit strange.

“Since you spilled the tea, you’re responsible.”

“…I’ll bring a fresh pot.”

“Bring a fresh pot? Do you not know the value of this tea? I’ll have it deducted from your salary. Since it’s a tea you’ll never taste in your life, might as well lick it off the floor.”

“I’ve made a mistake. Please forgive me just this once.”

“You’re insignificant.”

Such disdain was not commonly seen. ‘How could his temperament be so cruel? Clearly, his parents raised him poorly.’

“Since the tea is still hot, go cool off your hand.”

At Ian’s soft command, Chel’s face contorted. The servant, fearing to be caught in the crossfire, quickly retreated with the tray.

Her judgment was correct. Chel looked ready to grab Ian by his hair at any moment.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What are you referring to?”

“Your older brother was talking. How dare you interfere, giving unnecessary comments?”

Ian then spoke with a placid face, as if asking about the obvious. “If you keep treating the servants like this, soon you might have to handle the mansion’s chores yourself, hyungnim. It would be wise to perform your duties without causing unnecessary trouble.”

At the calm and logical response, Chel’s eyes bulged in surprise. “You lowborn brat dare to talk about duties… Just because Molrin praised you, you think you are high and mighty? Do you think you’ve become a real noble?”

His voice was soft and quiet, which was to be expected since there were guests on the other side of the door. At least he was that much tactful.

Ian chuckled while sipping his tea. “And if I’m not a noble?”

“…What?”

“Then you, hyungnim, might get sold off.”

He laughed at his own words. Even though he was emperor for only three years, he was at the peak of Bariel. Chel needed to understand that it was an undeniable honor, hearing his words.

Though seeing Chel’s face turn red, the boy seemed to think Ian was making fun of him.

“Yo-you’re insane!”

Chel raised his hand to slap Ian’s face, but was stopped in mid-air, his wrist tightly grasped by Ian.

“You’re Chel, aren’t you?”

Ian was thinner and smaller than his peers. Hence, if Chel decided to overbear him, he could. However, Chel couldn’t do it. Because when Ian called his name in a low voice, he felt chills down his spine.

“What will Molrin think if he sees my face with a scar here? Huh? What about the Count and his wife? They’re trying hard to sell me, but instead of cooperating as a son, you’re trying to cause a problem”

The emperor, Ian, tapped Chel’s cheek lightly.

It was a gesture telling the person in front of him to get a grip.

“And what will you do if I disappear?”

At those words, Chel’s eyes gradually gleamed with malice. “Hmph, you?”

The sneering smile, as if he had seized an opportunity, was not that of a child’s. It was similar to a thug who had been through a lifetime of hardships in a back alley, a testament to why his family was called vulgar among nobles.

“Go ahead and try. Then your mother’s head will be kicked around like a ball in the marketplace. Ahahaha!”

Phew. Ian sighed inwardly.

As a former emperor, he had never heard such a wild and naked threat. It was more,… a sophisticated stab, so to speak.

Anyway, Ian learned another piece of information from Chel’s words.

‘His mother was his Achilles’ heel.’

There was a reason why Ian had to cross the border without making a sound. It was almost impossible for the child from the slums to escape Dergha’s grasp.

‘Yes. Looking back, there must be a reason why I entered this child’s body among numerous choices.’

As Ian pondered briefly, Chel misunderstood that his attack had worked.

“Kneel down. That’s the only way to extend your life for even a day with your mother, right? Even if you roll around in the marketplace, your filthy body wouldn’t stand out.”

That was the moment—

Ian grabbed Chel’s hair and looked him straight in the eyes. His absinthe¹-colored eyes changed to gold and his magical power erupted. It was a reaction that happened involuntarily, as if blood was surging up.

“You foolish child.”

Ian let out a sigh, feeling the magic power with his whole body. It was miniscule compared to when he was the emperor, but it was not a level Chel could withstand. Moreover, wasn’t he, the brightest star in the history of magic?

“No matter how young you are, the weight of words is the same. A three-inch tongue is not too short to change a life. If you’re not careful, it could be cut off.”

A century ago, the current Bariel Empire had virtually no recognition of magicians compared to when Ian ruled. Even the capital’s nobles could only connect with them if they were lucky, let alone Chel, who didn’t have a trace of it.

“Ah…”

Thus, even when faced with a strange phenomenon, he had no idea what it meant. Chel was on the verge of fainting, his face turning pale white.

Thump.

He fell onto the sofa with a slump, wetting himself out of sheer shock. Ian withdrew with a grimace, clicking his tongue internally. With his back against the direct sunlight, Ian looked like a manifested angel. Chel continued to make mistakes without stopping.

‘…This is driving me crazy.’

He thought he should call a servant when suddenly the door to the reception room swung open.

“Dear guests. Please enjoy the tea……”

Molrin paused while walking in with a gentle smile, as he faced Ian bathed in sunlight. For a brief moment, he could see Ian’s golden eyes transformed into an absinthe hue.

‘Just now?’

Was it an illusion caused by light reflection? Something felt odd.

Molrin studied Ian’s eyes, replaying that fleeting moment until the Countess’s fuss broke his concentration.

“Chel! What is this!”

Countess Mary had found Chel, who was standing there in a daze. The child stumbled as he looked at Ian, but his face remained calm.

‘It wouldn’t be good to speak nonsense.’

The warning conveyed through silence seemed to have reached Chel. The child almost cried as he stammered his excuse.

“…I, I, I spilled the tea.”

“Oh dear. Oh dear. In all the world!”

Finally noticing Chel, Molrin turned away, coughing awkwardly as if embarrassed, and Dergha tightly shut his eyes.

‘What a disgrace! A seventeen-year-old, grown son committing a faux pas in the reception room! If rumors spread, it would be unbearable to show my face.’

“Is there no one outside? Anyone would do, quickly!”

“What’s going on? Egmont!”

“Bring clothes, towels, and something to wipe with.”

While the Countess was bustling about calling for a servant, Molrin quietly asked Count Dergha for permission to leave. While it wouldn’t be surprising for a Central Bureau employee who urgently came down to oversee the change, it was also hard to keep standing like this.

“Count, I have an urgent matter. For now……”

“Oh! Of course. It was an honor today.”

“Same here. If it’s alright, may I request Master Ian to escort me out?”

Dergha, too flustered, let his thoughts slip out before he could stop it, especially when Chel started sobbing.

“Thank you for your permission, Count. Master Ian, the mansion is quite large, could you please assist this old man?”

“Of course. Sir Molrin. I will gladly guide you.”

Although he had no idea about the layout of the mansion, leaving with Molrin was a far better choice than staying here. He could just catch any passing servant and ask them to hold Molrin’s coat.

“Let’s go.”

Ian, with a wide smile, guided him out.

Once again, facing those absinthe-colored eyes, Molrin scrutinized the child with a gaze filled with wisdom of the ages. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ NovᴇlFɪre .ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

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