00002 01. System ------------------------------------------------------------------------=
*
The news that Nike Haineuk’s prospective fiancée had entered the manor had not the slightest influence on the Haineuk family’s vassal meeting. One reason was that the matter discussed in today’s meeting was important, but in truth, that father and son were not men who would spare their time for a woman. Syein, who was both the Count’s nephew and one of the Haineuk family’s vassals, glanced at his indifferent uncle and his cousin, who was even more so than the uncle.
“The child the Queen of Lete bore……”
The administrator Jacob’s voice gradually trailed off.
“They say he resembles not the king, but the king’s uncle.”
The Count of Haineuk finished the words the administrator had been unable to complete. Jacob secretly let out a sigh. It was not even his own doing, yet seeing the Count’s ominous mood, he felt he should be the one begging for forgiveness instead. Of course, the Count was uniformly severe to everyone except the Countess, but for some reason, he seemed even more savage today.
Syein twirled his pen and smirked. There was no scandal like this scandal. And from the royal family, no less.
The King of Lete, Nissa III, was a young king who had just passed his coming-of-age. The reason the youngest brat among seven brothers had been able to become king lay in the fact that the family of Nissa III’s queen, Syasa, held immense power. Queen Syasa was fifteen years older than the king, a woman practically old enough to be his aunt. The young king kept his distance from the queen and indulged in pleasure. Still, whether God had not forsaken Queen Syasa, or whether the queen’s family had taken other measures, fortunately no woman had conceived a royal grandson, and the queen was able to enjoy her authority without much worry. And when one year had passed since the king’s accession, the queen showed signs of pregnancy. However, far from rejoicing, Nissa III secluded himself in his chambers for days, earning the resentment of the masses. The people said the king hated his aged queen so much that he now spurned even his own seed, so much so that even the Queen Mother greatly rebuked Nissa III. After several days, the king emerged from his bedchamber and declared that he would invest the child in the queen’s womb as the Crown Prince and bequeath upon him all his glory. The queen and her family were overjoyed, recording their loyalty in writing and dedicating half their fortune. And after ten months and three days, the precious Crown Prince of Lete was born. The Crown Prince had beautiful blond hair like the queen and a birthmark on his neck like the late king. Those who saw the Crown Prince were all shocked, as if gasping. It was because the Crown Prince possessed eyes of a peculiar color, rarely seen in Lete. Red eyes exactly like those of Count Cherubil, the eldest son of the former king and Nissa III’s eldest brother.
In truth, a scandal of this degree could be heard with one ear and let out the other, but the problem was that the Haineuk family had invested an enormous sum in Lete’s resource development.
“Even if Nissa III protects the Crown Prince, after his death, a struggle for the throne will surely break out,” Syein said, still twirling his pen.
“If civil war breaks out, trade will cease. The resources we developed with such difficulty could be openly seized.”
“Even if we tried to recover the investment now, wouldn’t the losses be enormous? There is no other way.”
“We may have contracts, but we might clash with the king who succeeds in the future.”
“Wouldn’t it be enough for Haineuk to throw our weight behind the Crown Prince?”
“How would the central government view our interference in another nation’s politics……”
“Moving hastily is dangerous.”
“It’s not as if Nissa III will live forever; we ought to secure a firm commitment in advance.”
In the midst of the vassals repeating their worries from various angles, Syein interjected in a detached voice.
“Indeed. He may be only twenty, but life is such that you never know who will go first. Really, if only one knew when one was going to drop dead.”
Syein, who had been biting the end of his pen, scratched the back of his head as he saw the displeased gazes pouring toward him. Seeing that several of the vassals’ expressions were contorted, it seemed he had made another blunder today. The earlobe of his father, seated to the Count’s left, burned bright red. *I’ll get an earful when I get back, I suppose.* Having resolved to no longer participate in the meeting, Syein put on a languid expression and looked around the meeting hall. *An old man like a raccoon, an old man like a fox, and over there, an old man who looks like a bear too. If only I could see the prospective daughter-in-law of the Count’s family rather than sit through a boring meeting with this pack of beastly old geezers.*
“What do you think?”
When the Count looked at his son and asked, Nike, with a detached expression, said.
“Eliminate the root of the problem.”
“The root of the problem?”
“I mean the Crown Prince.”
Silence settled over the buzzing meeting hall. A newborn baby? It had not even been half a month since he was born? It had to be a joke. The frozen vassals exchanged glances among themselves. The Count rubbed his temple and said.
“That is not a good idea.”
The Count rejected Nike’s proposal outright.
“Had we known earlier, we should have eliminated him while he was still in the womb.”
........
Once again, the meeting hall froze over. Like father, like son. Syein looked at the father and son, cruel beyond compare, and clicked his tongue. That prospective fiancée who had newly arrived—her path ahead was clearly going to be a rough one.
*
The meeting that had disgusted Syein and exhausted the many vassals adjourned. As the vassals surged out of the manor, Syein followed behind the Count and his son. There had been a countless number of nobles who had sought to become Nike Haineuk’s fiancée; what sort of person could the Haineuk family’s prospective in-law be, having pushed aside all those powerful old men? And what sort of woman was she who had entered proudly bearing the title of the Haineuk Count’s family’s prospective daughter-in-law? Nike glanced at Syein’s eyes sparkling with interest and quietly muttered.
“Why?”
“So I can leave a good impression on the future Countess.”
His expression was full of interest; his words were not.
Nike snorted and withdrew his gaze from Syein. They say that ten years changes even rivers and mountains, but there was one thing that never changed. That man. That man who loved spectacle more than three square meals a day absolutely never changed. So much so that Syein’s father called his own child a lunatic mad for freaks and their antics, worrying that one day Syein would bring home a clown to marry, simply because he found it amusing.
“Is the outer hide at least serviceable?”
Syein whispered softly, just loud enough for Nike to hear.
“Who knows.”
It was not Syein alone who deserved censure. Nike was no less unusual. He did not rebuke Syein for uttering such rude words as “outer hide” about his prospective fiancée—a woman who might become his wife. It was not his place to choose his wife; even if she were to become his wife, she would be of use only for producing an heir. Dia would clutch the back of her neck in outrage if she knew, saying he was treating her like a prostitute, but to Nike, a wife was nothing more than a means of breeding.
“Fa-ther!”
Nike halted his steps momentarily at a tone that absolutely did not suit the manor, one he could never have imagined hearing. The back of his father, walking ahead of him, was colored with bewilderment.
“Has the meeting ended early?”
The Countess approached the father and son with quick steps, wearing a pleased smile. Behind her, Syein saw the prospective daughter-in-law of the Haineuk family that he had so wanted to see: Dia. Dia greeted the Count, who had entered before Nike, with charming coquetry.
“So it is. How is your fever?”
The Count assessed his wife’s condition with a tender voice completely different from the one he had used in the meeting hall. As she was unusually frail and frequently ill, the Count was always sensitive to his wife’s health.
“I’m fine. Dia, finish your greeting.”
“I am Dia Rujanik. I shall do my best not to become a disgrace to the Count’s family~!”
“......I see.”
“Honestly, you are embarrassing a newcomer.”
Dia shook her head as if to say that was not the case and pursed her lips. Her shining eyes said: *I’m innocent. I don’t know much about the world. I’m just untainted. But I will work hard. Isn’t that admirable?*
Having realized that in the Count’s manor nothing worked better than coquetry, she had switched her strategy from that of a virtuous daughter-in-law to a daughter-like one. But she would certainly observe propriety. Dia handled the hearts of elders as skillfully as she stole the hearts of men.
As the Count and his son had dined with the vassals, Dia ate with the Count’s mother, Lady Pilmonia, and the Countess. Even Lady Pilmonia, as taciturn as her son and grandson, could not withstand Dia’s coquettish assault; she wore a subtle smile throughout the meal. Needless to say, the Countess adored the prospective daughter-in-law who brightened the desolate manor.
The game of winning hearts was always Dia’s victory. See. Had she not captured the hearts of the two ladies of the Count’s family with just one meal? Dia gazed at the Count’s back with self-satisfied eyes.
Nike’s and Dia’s gazes collided in midair.