Adrian clicked his tongue. It really was a troublesome existence. Constantly whining for food at any time, sulking over trivial matters, a headache that interfered with state affairs.
Yet his hand still stroked the soft back. The body that had been stiffly rigid at first gradually relaxed as if drawn by the rhythmic touch. The ears that had been perked up soon lost strength and tilted to the side, and the puffed-up tail also drooped down limply.
Watching the sleeping fox, Adrian had to acknowledge it. Though bothersome, he couldn’t cast it away. Because his daily life had clearly changed for the better since this small creature arrived.
The most remarkable change was sleep. The terrible insomnia that had tormented him every night had disappeared as if it had never existed in the first place. Even the priests with divine power and the most excellent physicians in the Empire couldn’t handle that chronic ailment.
Perhaps thanks to this small warmth that kept watch beside him every night, the nights had become comfortable now. The body heat of a living creature, the faint rise and fall of its chest, its regular breathing. All of it exerted a stronger effect than expensive sleeping pills. It seemed this fox’s warmth provided psychological comfort and stability.
Palace life during the day had also become bearable.
Those tedious hours spent listening to the flattery of nobles fattened by greed and having to deal with them. The anger and irritation that always boiled up inside after facing them would melt away like snow on a spring day just by thinking of the small fox that would be waiting for him in the study.
Without doing anything, just by existing, it had changed his day.
Adrian’s gaze slowly flowed along the fox. Jet-black fur. Small ears that occasionally twitched. And the leg where new fur was growing, now almost fully recovered.
What that meant was clear. The time had come to return this small life to its proper place, to the embrace of the wild where it originally belonged.
It was natural. It was also the ending that had been planned from the beginning.
Yet strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to decide. It was a parting he had considered so natural, but now that it was upon him, he hesitated. Among the countless decisions he had made as Emperor, this was the most trivial yet most difficult moment.
Adrian let out a deep sigh. Releasing the fox was a problem for later. What he had to face right now were the documents piled up like a mountain before his eyes. He was the Emperor. He couldn’t stop the Empire’s work while tied to the fate of one small beast. He picked up his pen again.
The moment Adrian picked up the pen, the fox’s ears perked up. Swish, swish—its ears trembled faintly at the sound of scratching parchment, then it turned its head to look at the desk.
A pen.
The pen nib slid across the paper. The fox’s eyes swayed left and right following the pen’s trajectory. At the sight of the tip glittering in the sunlight as it moved, the instinct to chase prey surged.
When the pen paused briefly then moved again, the tip of the fox’s tail trembled slightly. The creature readied its posture again and began lightly touching the pen with its sharp claws.
Tap. A moment of silence. And then tap again.
Here we go again.
That small gesture was enough to scatter Adrian’s concentration. When he tried to move the pen again, this time it tried to grab the pen shaft using both front paws.
Does it like the pen?
It was like this last time too, and this time as well. Watching the fox show interest in the pen, Adrian readily placed a fountain pen before it. There were plenty of pens, so it didn’t matter if he gave one up as a toy. The fox seemed pleased to have a new toy, tapping the fountain pen and playing alone.
Seeing the fox playing well by itself, he opened a drawer and took out a new fountain pen. And just as he was about to sign on the paper again, the fox’s attention immediately shifted to that fountain pen.
“Yours is right here.”
When the fox tried to snatch the pen, Adrian pointed to the fountain pen placed in front of it and spoke. But the fox didn’t even glance at that fountain pen right in front of its nose. No matter how fancy and new the things scattered around were, the fox’s gaze and front paws always aimed only at the pen he was just about to grasp.
Adrian let out a short sigh and set down the fountain pen on the desk. Then the fox, as if it had been waiting, stretched out its front paw and pulled it toward itself. And as if it were a trophy, it hugged it preciously with both paws.
Whether it wanted to draw the Emperor’s attention, or whether it was an instinct to chase anything that moved, he couldn’t tell. The only thing certain was that this small troublemaker’s eyes saw only one thing. That pen that Adrian was just about to hold in his hand.
At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to process a single document all day long.
That said, he couldn’t stop working either. Instead of blocking the fox, Adrian chose another method. Taking advantage of the moment when this being’s mischief briefly stopped to quickly sign. He thought it wouldn’t be too difficult.
The problem was that those agile movements had the opposite effect. The rapidly moving pen greatly stimulated the fox’s hunting instinct. Now the fox boldly sat occupying the center of the desk, eyeing the pen.
The Emperor’s desk had suddenly become the fox’s playground.
When the fox stretched out its front paw, Adrian hastily withdrew the pen. In the instant the fox’s concentration scattered, Adrian reached out his hand again. But the fox didn’t stay still either. Like lightning, it extended its front paw trying to snatch the pen. Before the claw tips could reach, Adrian quickly pulled back his hand. The fox’s paw tips only scratched at empty air in vain.
Once, twice.
As the same back-and-forth repeated, the fox’s eyes changed. The sparkling curiosity had transformed into stubborn determination. Now the pen was no longer a simple toy. It was a target that must be seized.
The fox crouched even lower than before. It watched Adrian’s fingertips in a hunter’s posture. Every time Adrian tried to grab the pen, it swiftly blocked him.
This fox, really.
It was something that would be finished with just one signature, but the moment he lifted the pen, the fox would pounce, and Adrian had to withdraw his hand each time. Even he, who had shown ocean-like patience only toward the fox, began to run out of patience.
“If you do that one more time, I’m putting you down below the desk.”
Whether the warning worked, the fox flinched momentarily. Adrian aimed for precisely that opportunity. In the instant the fox hesitated, he grasped the pen in one go.
The moment he lowered the pen nib toward the signature line, the fox’s eyes flashed.
Forgetting the warning, with the single-minded determination to catch it this time, it launched its entire small body into the air. Adrian reflexively pulled back his hand and simultaneously moved the inkwell as well. The pen was safe. The ink didn’t spill either. But the problem was what came next.
The fox’s leg touched the teacup that was still half full.
“Oh no…!”
With a dull sound, the teacup tipped over. Brown liquid crossed over the expensive parchment. Focused only on the pen and inkwell, he hadn’t thought about the tea. Adrian hastily lifted the paper, but the tea water thoroughly soaked the diplomatic document that had arrived this morning—specifically, the document from the remote small kingdom of Wynfen.
Adrian quickly grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it firmly over the letters that were beginning to blur as they got wet. Last time it hadn’t been such an important document, but this time was different. He had to save it somehow. But the tea water had already soaked most of the paper.
Adrian silently looked at the dampened document for a moment. The culprit quickly jumped down from the desk and hid itself beside the fireplace. It knew too. That what it had done was quite serious.
Adrian wanted to catch the fox and scold it severely, but he forcibly suppressed his boiling anger. He temporarily postponed both his anger at the fox and his self-reproach for not preventing it again after already experiencing it once. Right now, he first had to clean up the chaos before his eyes.
He took the stained paper and approached the window. The sunlight gently seeping in through the arched window illuminated the document. It was to dry the paper.
At that moment, characters that hadn’t been there originally faintly emerged on the parchment bathed in light.
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
The document had originally stated as follows:
‘Annually tribute to the Empire 1,500 tons of iron ore, 1,000 sacks of wheat, 500 horses, and 1,500 rolls of wool.’
Though it was less than half the amount from the previous Emperor’s time, Adrian had been willing to approve this proposal. The Kingdom of Wynfen, suffering from a treasury on the verge of collapse and consecutive years of poor harvests, could no longer bear the tribute to pay the Empire. Adrian had judged that maintaining a stable alliance was better than unprofitable exploitation.
However, the hidden text revealed in the light read:
‘However, from three years hence, reduce to 500 tons of iron ore, 300 sacks of wheat, 100 horses, and 500 rolls of wool, and the Raven iron mine region ceded to the Empire during the previous Emperor’s reign shall be returned to the Kingdom of Wynfen one year after the treaty is concluded.’
Adrian’s fingertips touched the edge of the parchment.
