Casioth would still think of Ranok as the Demon King. And not just that — a traitor who had deceived him and died at his own hands.
Naturally, there was no way revealing his identity would earn him a warm welcome.
Ranok pressed his eyes shut.
“Faerie, I think I understand what you’ve been saying now.”
— You do? Finally……
“At least the part about how deeply I hurt that kid because of me.”
Hm? The Faerie asked back, but Ranok simply opened his eyes and let determination light in them.
“Normalization — let’s actually give it a proper try.”
Watching that, the Faerie narrowed its eyes. It wore the look of someone staring at the world’s most spectacular fool.
— You still…… don’t get it at all, do you.
You actually think that man ended up like that simply from the wound of betrayal……
Having thought that far, the Faerie let out a deep sigh.
It would be better for him to realize this on his own. Even if it explained things, he probably wouldn’t accept them anyway.
— So what are you going to do now?
“Well.”
Ranok looked around the wrecked interior — beyond the stained carpet and scattered bottles, there wasn’t a single part of the place that wasn’t a disaster. The manor was already sizeable, and every corner of it was in shambles.
Ranok spoke with a bright, easy smile.
“Maybe start by clearing out some of this mess?”
How in the world did things end up like this?
“Phuuu.”
Zak, who had been vigorously beating the filthy carpets at the nearby washing area, took one look at the heap of rugs piled around him and let out a long, involuntary sigh.
The prince had shoved laundry into his arms telling him to start with the washing — so he’d hauled it out here — but the labor just kept going with no end in sight.
No, but why am I doing laundry here in the first place?
Sure, the manor was such a disaster that cleaning and washing had to come first — but the real question was why he was the one here dealing with months’ worth of accumulated washing.
Until not long ago, Zak had been an attendant that everyone envied.
A commoner-born man who had become a trusted attendant to a prince — enough that there were those who resented him for it.
But as is always the way with attendants and servants, when the master fell, Zak fell with him in an instant.
On top of that — when the prince was taken to the Empire as a hostage, Zak was dragged along with him as his closest attendant!
By that point, the very people who had once envied him were laughing and pointing at his downfall.
But honestly, Zak hadn’t thought it was all that bad. Either way, I’m heading off to see the grand world of the Empire, aren’t I?
Sure, the prince’s infuriatingly temperamental nature had made the journey out an absolute nightmare — but that was more or less an irregular occurrence that happened every now and then, and handling the prince was Zak’s specialty.
The problem arose around the halfway point of the journey to the Empire.
Assassins appeared.
The moment they killed the coachman and turned on the prince, Zak fled without looking back even once. He had absolutely no loyalty worth dying for!
Whether the assassins were sloppy or had never intended to kill everyone to begin with — Zak survived.
And so, running away with nothing to his name, Zak realized something belatedly.
Oh. If I just go back to the Kingdom like this, I’m finished, aren’t I?
An attendant who had abandoned his master and run — the life he’d live would clearly be worse than death. No matter how openly the Royal Family had thrown the prince away.
So Zak had turned his feet back toward the Empire.
It’d still be better to start fresh in the Empire. Of course, having literally nothing in his hands, the thought of living like a beggar was enough to draw tears of blood. And to begin with — there was no guarantee he’d even be allowed entry!
And then he’d spotted him.
The prince, perfectly alive! Being attended to by knights!
How did he survive?
Questions could come later. Zak had weighed his options in an instant. Starting from nothing in the Empire and living as a beggar — or sticking close to the prince. The latter is still better!
And so that was how he’d…… latched back on.
“Oh, damn it all!”
He hurled the washing bat he’d been beating the carpet with.
So how in the world did things end up like THIS.
The prince is strange.
He’s changed.
Milano Mortiel — the prince he had served since childhood — had been, to be blunt, a vulgar human being.
Born with that bloodline, that face, that talent — gifted with everything — and yet so constitutionally lazy, shallow of thought, and impervious to learning that from a young age he’d driven both the king and queen to throw up their hands entirely. A genuine fool.
And beyond that — how he had tormented the second prince for being a bastard.
Even to Zak, who didn’t know everything, it had been clear as day that at this rate the throne would be taken by the bastard younger brother — and yet the prince had paid it no mind, going on tormenting his sibling and living however he pleased, until he was finally driven out of the kingdom by that same brother, now grown.
And then — he changed.
He wasn’t quieter exactly, but the habit of loudly advertising his own ignorance and having the word shit constantly on his lips had vanished somewhere, and his whole manner had become impossibly calm.
He was always smiling pleasantly, same as before — but if the old smile had been lighter, more idle-noble in feel, the current one was somehow unreadable.
Honestly, it was a little frightening.
He would have preferred the old version — the one who would snap and blow up at the slightest dissatisfaction — because at least that was easy to manage. Now, Ranok was impossible to read, and every time those eyes landed steadily on Zak, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
They say a brush with death can change a person — but wasn’t this a bit too extreme?
Then, suddenly picturing the prince’s face smiling calmly down at him, Zak shuddered with a full-body ugh.
Terrifying! Genuinely terrifying!
In the end, Zak picked the washing bat back up and went at the laundry with frantic, unhinged energy.
Some time later, Zak hoisted the now-waterlogged and even heavier pile of carpets onto his back and trudged back toward the manor, wheezing and groaning.
“Your Highness, I’m baaack——”
CRASH! THUD!
Zak came stumbling inside, wheezing and making enough noise to ensure the prince would know of his suffering — and then his eyes went wide as he witnessed the very prince he’d been thinking about all day get hurled to the floor and go rolling across it.
“Wah — Your Highness!”
Zak yelped, threw down the laundry, and ran to Ranok.
“Oh, Zak. You’re back?”
The prince, now rumpled and disheveled from rolling across the floor, greeted Zak with that same familiar smile.
Would you stop smiling in a situation like this! You’re actually frightening, you know that!
Zak swallowed the scream internally. He couldn’t exactly yell at the royalty he served.
Biting the bullet, he rushed forward and helped the prince to his feet.
And then he noticed. Standing across from them was the very person who had sent the prince flying in the first place.
“Uh——”
Zak’s breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.
That man.
Casioth Mordian.
The genius of the sword once spoken of as the next Sword Saint. The man once called the demon of the battlefield.
And the owner of this house.
“Prince.”
The man called out to the prince in a low, grim voice.
“I’ve had no idea what you’re thinking since yesterday…… I have no intention of playing along, so find somewhere else.”
It dawned on Zak belatedly — the place the prince had come flying out of was the very room the Duke had entered the day before.
That’s the Duke’s room! Zak reeled internally, and Casioth’s grim voice continued slowly.
“I’d think that whether you’re Empire-raised or Kingdom-raised, everyone learns from childhood that you don’t barge into someone else’s room without permission — don’t they?”
This insane prince walked into that insane Duke’s room. Zak broke into a cold sweat as he stared at the prince.
But with only the back of the prince’s head visible, there was no way to read what expression he was wearing.
“This house is mine, and I don’t think it’d be much of a problem if one useless royal cast off by their country were to drop dead here, would it?”
The Duke was openly threatening him now.
“Even if it all goes to hell for me too — I don’t particularly care.”
Having said his mad piece in the manner befitting a madman, the Duke curled the corner of his mouth into something resembling a smile, then slammed the door shut with a resounding bang and disappeared inside.
“Ah.”
Zak slid down and landed hard on the floor.
He realized it only then. His heart was pounding like it was about to leap out of his mouth, and his hands and feet were trembling.
All from nothing more than being briefly in the line of sight of that deranged Duke!
What kind of person is that beastly? But more importantly — what in the world is the prince thinking, going up against a man like that?
“Your Highness — what on earth is going on?”
In response to Zak’s question, Ranok held up a feather duster.
That’s quite an object that doesn’t belong anywhere near the prince… Zak thought — and then Ranok explained, smiling as always.
“I went in to clean his room. Asked him to step aside for a moment, and that’s how he responded.”
“……You went to clean, Your Highness?”
“Yeah. Went in and found it was a complete mess. Living in a place like that is bad for your health.”
None of this made any sense, and Zak’s eyes shook with it.
No, what is any of this. The prince cleaning is already bizarre in itself — but it not being his own room is baffling — and on top of that the other party is of all people the Duke — and he walked into the Duke’s room to attempt cleaning — and living in a place like that is bad for your——
“……How did you get into the room? Did he let you in?”
“The door handle was busted, so it just opened.”
Considering the state of this manor — where everything except a few normal things was an absolute disaster — it wasn’t particularly strange that the handle on that ill-tempered Duke’s door was broken.
Whenever it had broken, the fact that it had been left unrepaired and neglected was also not particularly! Strange.
But the prince walking into that room to clean was beyond strange. It simply didn’t make sense.
