Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor [EN]: Chapter 2

“Did you enjoy the meal?” Count Derga asked, setting his utensils down. The luncheon, which had lasted for a couple of hours, was finally coming to an end. The sun, which had been high in the sky, had long since begun to lean towards the mountains.

“It was excellent. It’s comparable to what one might eat in the Imperial Palace.”

Ian, who had been quietly arranging his napkin, paused.

It was a statement that dared to compare the meal to that of the Imperial Palace, the center of the world and the highest authority. In Ian’s time, this would have been quite shocking, but judging by the lack of reaction from Count Derga’s people, it seemed normal.

‘Is this typical?’

If so, it could be inferred that the Imperial Palace’s power was not that strong. It was over 100 years ago. Even setting aside the emperors with short reigns, it was necessary to go back seven generations.

“I will prepare dessert.”

“Thank you, Countess.”

While Ian was deep in thought, the meal was completely finished. Countess Mary looked back at her two sons with an elegant and kind smile.

“Chel, Ian. There are things the adults need to discuss, so why don’t you two go to the next room and have some refreshments.”

They were clearly going to talk about Ian’s adoption. Without him, the person in question.

In fact, the adoption process was almost a foregone conclusion, but since this was a border region that was not usually influenced by the Imperial Palace, they would likely be nitpicky and difficult as a form of check.

“Yes, Mother.”

When Ian spoke clearly, Countess Mary’s lips twitched slightly. It must have been quite a chore to try and pat the shoulder of a commoner.

She merely showed affection by tapping his cheek. The more she did, the more Chel’s eyes narrowed.

“This way, Sir Molin.”

“Oh, how wonderful.”

They left the backyard and entered the main building.

The large reception room, which occupied the center of the mansion, was so luxurious that it was almost overwhelming. The gold ornaments that glittered everywhere reflected the sunlight and brightened the room.

Squeak.

As the adults went into the inner reception room, only Chel and Ian remained. The two sat facing each other, staring at each other. To be precise, Chel was glaring, while Ian was observing.

‘He really looks just like Count Derga. Even a passing dog would know they’re father and son.’

The red, curly hair and freckled nose. Even though he was at an age full of vigor, his bulging belly clearly showed that he was of Derga’s bloodline.

Ian, as seen in the mirror, had blonde hair and absinthe-colored eyes, which seemed to be heavily influenced by his unknown mother. He was pretty, and there was nothing about him that resembled Chel.

“Young Master Chel, Young Master Ian, I will bring the refreshments.”

A servant approached politely and placed tea and cookies down. Then, Chel’s eyes narrowed, and he struck the servant’s head with his hand.

Thwack!

“Ah!”

The hot tea spilled onto the servant’s hand. Ian instinctively reached for a handkerchief, but a lowly bastard would not have such a thing.

“Say that again.”

“Yes?”

The servant rubbed his hand on his apron, looking flustered. Fortunately, it was slightly swollen, but not badly burned.

“Where do you get off calling me by my name so presumptuously?”

“Ah, I, I apologize. Young Baron.”

It was a title that declared him Derga’s successor, meaning he was the only heir to the Count’s lineage.

Ian, who was well-versed in etiquette, was aware of this, but Chel’s sharp reaction was a bit strange.

“You spilled the tea, so you are responsible.”

“…I will bring it again.”

“Bring it again? Do you not know how precious tea is? It will be deducted from your wages, so take what you spilled. You’ll never taste it in your life, so you might as well lick it up now.”

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

“How pathetic.”

It was an act of cruelty that was not easily seen. How could his nature be so cruel? It was clear that his parents had raised him poorly.

“The tea is fine, go out and cool your hand.”

At Ian’s quiet instruction, Chel’s expression twisted. The servant, fearing to be caught in the crossfire, quickly retreated with the tray.

Her judgment was correct. Chel was on the verge of grabbing Ian by the hair.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“My brother was speaking. How dare you interrupt and tell him what to do?”

Ian spoke with a nonchalant expression, as if asking why he was asking such an obvious question.

“If you treat the servants like this, you might have to do the mansion’s work yourself soon. It would be wise to stick to your duties instead of causing trouble by losing your temper.”

At Ian’s calm and logical retort, Chel’s eyes bulged.

“How dare a child of lowly blood talk about duties… Did you get so arrogant just because Sir Molin praised you? Do you think you’ve become a real noble?”

However, his voice was quiet and hushed, as there were guests just beyond the door. At least he had that much sense.

Ian chuckled as he sipped his tea.

“What if I’m not a noble?”

“…What?”

“Then you’ll be sold off to the Cheonrye tribe.”

Even as he said it, he found it funny.

Even if he was only an emperor for three years, he was the pinnacle of Bariel. Chel needed to know that this was a clear honor.

Judging by his flushed face, he seemed to think he was being mocked.

“Y-you’ve gone mad!”

Chel raised his hand to slap Ian’s cheek, but it was stopped in mid-air. It was firmly grasped in Ian’s hand.

“You’re Chel, right?”

Ian was smaller and thinner than others his age. Therefore, if Chel grabbed and pressed down, he should have been crushed.

But Chel couldn’t. When he called his name in a low voice, it felt like the back of his neck was prickling.

“What would Sir Molin think if you got a bruise on your face here? Huh? What about the Count and his wife? They’re trying so hard to sell me off, and you, as their son, should be helping, not ruining it.”

The Emperor raised his hand and tapped Chel’s cheek.

It was a way of telling him to get his act together.

“What if I disappear?”

At those words, Chel’s frightened eyes slowly took on a cunning glint.

“Hmph, you?”

His smug smile, as if he had found an opportunity, was not that of a child. It was exactly like a street thug who had spent his whole life in the back alleys, which explained why the family was called vulgar among the nobles.

“Try it. Then your mother’s head will be chopped off and kicked around like a ball in the marketplace. Ahahaha!”

Ah. Ian let out a low exclamation inwardly.

As an emperor, he had never heard such crude and raw threats. It was more like he had received a more refined barb.

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

‘His mother was a shackle.’

There was a reason why Ian had to cross the border without a word. There was almost no chance that a child from the slums could escape Derga’s grasp.

‘Right. Come to think of it, there must be a reason why I ended up in this child’s body out of so many choices.’

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

“Bow down. That way, you and your mother will live another day, won’t you? Even if you roll around in the marketplace, your body is so dirty that it won’t even show.”

It was at that moment.

Ian grabbed Chel by the hair and looked him straight in the eye. His absinthe-colored eyes turned gold, and magic surged. It was an involuntary reaction, as if his blood was rushing backwards.

“You foolish thing.”

Ian felt the magic coursing through his body and spoke sharply.

It was insignificant compared to when he was the Emperor, but it was not something Chel could handle. Besides, Ian was the brightest star in the history of magic.

“Ah…”

One century ago, the current Bariel Empire had almost no awareness of magicians compared to when Ian ruled. Even the nobles in the capital could only make contact if they were lucky, and of course, there was no trace of it in the border region.

Thus, even when faced with a strange phenomenon, they did not know what it meant. Chel’s mind went blank, and he was almost on the verge of fainting.

Thud.

He slumped onto the sofa and wet himself. Ian clicked his tongue inwardly and stepped back. Ian, standing with the sunlight behind him, looked almost like an angel incarnate. Chel continued to make mistakes without stopping.

‘…This is crazy.’

Just as he was thinking of calling a servant, the door to the reception room suddenly opened.

“Young masters, did you enjoy the refreshments…?”

Molin, who had come out with a benevolent smile, paused. He was facing Ian, who was bathed in sunlight. For a brief moment, his golden eyes flashed and turned absinthe.

‘Just now?’

Was it just a reflection of the light?

But something felt strange.

Molin replayed the fleeting moment and looked into Ian’s eyes. Until the Countess’s fuss broke his concentration.

“Chel! What is this!”

Countess Mary found Chel standing there blankly. The child stammered and looked at Ian, but his expression was indifferent.

‘It wouldn’t be good to say anything foolish.’

It was a warning given in silence, but it seemed to have reached Chel well. The child almost sobbed as he made an excuse.

“…I, I spilled the tea.”

“Oh my. Oh my. Goodness gracious!”

Only then did Molin, who had checked on Chel, clear his throat awkwardly and turn his back, while Derga closed his eyes tightly.

It was a disgrace among disgraces, a complete humiliation! A seventeen-year-old, grown son had relieved himself in the reception room! If the rumors spread, he would never be able to show his face again.

“Is there anyone outside? Anyone, please come quickly!”

“What’s going on? Oh my goodness!”

“Bring clothes, a towel, and something to clean up with.”

While the Countess was calling for servants and making a fuss, Molin quietly asked Count Derga for his understanding. A central official who had come down to the border region would not have anything urgent, but it was also a chore to keep standing here.

“Count? I have some urgent business. For now…”

“Ah! Of course. It was truly an honor today.”

“Likewise. If it’s alright, may I ask Young Master Ian to see me off?”

Derga was so flustered that he nodded before he could think. It was because Chel had started to sob.

“Thank you for your permission, Count. Young Master Ian, the mansion is too large, so please be kind enough to help an old man.”

“Of course, Sir Molin. I’d be happy to guide you.”

He didn’t know the structure of the mansion at all, but it would be much better to go out with Molin than to stay here. As for the guidance, he could just grab a passing servant and have him hold his coat.

“Let’s go.”

Ian smiled brightly and guided him.

Once again, he met the absinthe-colored eyes. Molin scrutinized the child with eyes that held the passage of time.