Er, where was I?
Right, since the monarchy was toppled and restored in the past, royal rule was absolute in Khangena today. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say King Liam was deified. Just being born with violet eyes in Khangena made you one of the chosen ones. If you’re royalty on top of that, it’s like you’ll never taste defeat.
With silvery hair, violet eyes, and royal blood, this guy’s basically invincible. So when an invincible boy like this proposes to you—how do you react?
Okay, what’s the catch?
Prince Kamil’s profile… It was a tad concerning just how flowery the language praising the prince was… Assuming it wasn’t sanctioned by the boy himself, I’m just gonna guess it was written by some rabid fangirl or cultist. It’s just a lot! ……And as exaggerated as the text was, it made me wonder if his profile pic was doctored, too.
As if that wasn’t already too much to stomach…I had another profile to look at.
I ran my eyes over the profile of Yarsh, third prince of Valjean.
He was nineteen years old. From his picture, he was a cheerful young man with brown skin, black eyes, and blond hair streaked with red.
Whenever I heard the word “Valjean,” the first things that came to mind were matcha shiratama ice cream and curry! They were an innovative nation with delicious cuisine. Aaand I think it was a Valjean prince who bred chirro into the product my father loves today? The breeding actually made the plant look thornier and worse in appearance, but the flavor improved, and it was easier to grow.
Another thing about Valjean was that the king was allowed multiple partners, and all princes and princesses born from him were treated as equals, regardless of their mother’s title. “Might makes right”—that was their law. Their pyramid of power was formed purely on talent. You might even have something like the tenth princess at the top and the eldest prince at the bottom. They competed against each other, and the strongest would ascend the throne. Even their budgets were distinctly separate from each other. It was survival of the fittest for the Valjean royal family.
But Prince Yarsh’s profile was…in a word, “basic”? It says his hobbies include traveling to historical sites. Maybe it was because I read it after Prince Kamil’s profile, but it felt really boring.
Except there was one thing… Not sure how to put it, but I had the sense that he was selling himself short on purpose and trying not to highlight his good points. And maybe his profile pic was selling him short, too? Those are the sorts of doubts the profile evoked from me.
Going off just their dating profiles—Khangena was assertive and Valjean was passive? I got the sense that a lot of details about both countries were grossly simplified…
“Father…” He looked at me without saying a word. “Let’s assume neither betrothal comes to fruition…”
I wanted to have a romance like my brother and Sil, but I was painfully aware of my place. Marriages of love were the exception among the royalty, not the rule.
Most marriages between royalty were political, to strengthen alliances, or like a hostage situation. Depending on how much power your nation had, you either gained rights…or gave up rights… That kinda thing.
“Would that negatively impact Esfia?”
If I turned them down, would relations between our nations sour…?
My question received a scornful snicker.
“No,” my father replied firmly. “If you reject these proposals, Esfia will suffer no negative consequences. This kingdom is far too strong to be shaken by something like that—we are on solid ground.”
But contrasting the boldness of his words…there was a catch in my father’s voice that sounded anything but confident. It sounded…anguished.
“Whether the crown engages in debauchery, marries a commoner, wages war—no harm will come to us. That is Esfia.” He paused there, mid-thought. After a moment of silence, he finished, “Because of this, you have no need to worry.”
That’s not what he was going to say.
My father had changed his mind halfway.
“However, if you are to be unattached, attaining a lover is something you should consider.”
“How do you feel about these proposals, Father? Not as a king, but as a man?”
A playful smirk dented my father’s face.
“As a man? I think they’re all right as far as proposals go, but your feelings come first. You may instead introduce your beloved officially when the day comes. I pray the one you’ve chosen is not problematic.”
Ahhh, right… My father did say once that there were exceptions. There’s still the possibility that if I bring home a guy like, “Hey-hi, here’s my boyfriend!” my dad might reject him!
And in the event that I don’t produce a fake boyfriend, a political marriage is already knocking at my door. Is it just me, or am I in more of a jam now than I was when I first made the big lie that I have a boyfriend?
“If you wish to keep your beloved a secret, you may do that, of course. I won’t force your hand. But I won’t tell you where Roberts was moved to, either. The conditions under which I would feel safe revealing that information to you would disappear.”
Um, yeah, you definitely are forcing my hand!
And with that, my father backed me into a corner. I had no idea how me revealing my boyfriend and my father revealing Hugh’s whereabouts were connected, but as far as I was concerned, any chances of evasive action or delay were now completely dead.
Fine. Challenge accepted. I’m not confined to my room and other limited locations—I’ve completely eliminated that barrier. And under the assumption that Meet the Parents is unavoidable, I already cleared my post-junior ball schedule of all obligations aside from the survey I just went on—so at the moment, I’ve got heaps of spare time.
I’m the type of gal who puts off my summer homework until the last day. I was made for this!
“Please forget the last question I asked, Father. I do have a beloved. We love each other, just like you and Lord Edgar. I just worry… Wouldn’t revealing his identity end the peaceful quiet we’ve enjoyed thus far?”
“Just like me and Edgar…,” my father muttered, staring at Edgar. He followed it with a smirk and said, “I’m happy we could be role models…don’t you agree, Edgar?”
Before Edgar could answer, my father rose from his seat, walked over to Edgar, and leaned over. Then he pressed his lips to Edgar’s temple.
And I wasn’t the only one surprised. Edgar was so startled, he dropped the glass he was about to pick up. My father grabbed it.
“Enoch…”
With a stern look in his eye, Edgar grabbed my father’s collar and pulled him close. Then he whispered something. Surely my father heard it, but he did not so much as flinch.
I had seen my father and Edgar behave intimately in the past, but this was the first time I’d seen them handle each other like this.
And maybe that’s why…
…something felt amiss. And not because in-family BL made me gag, like the times I’d caught Sirius and Sil making out. At the very least, whenever I saw Sil and Sirius canoodling, it was always more like a, “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re so in love,” envious sort of feeling. It felt natural.
But when I saw the pair before me now—
“Oh my, I did not expect to find you here, Your Majesty—and Octavia as well?”
I turned to look in the direction of the voice. Beyond the closed door, that clear voice sailed through the hallway all the way into the room. With a glance at the entryway, Edgar released my father’s collar and my father set the glass he still gripped in his hand down on the table.
He headed to the door himself and opened it. The action looked rough, coming from my father.
“Leif. What do you want?”
Standing behind the opened door was Leif Nightfellow.
Uncle Dearest.
To me, he shall always and forever be my messiah!