In stories like this, shouldn't I and my son have more screen time?
"Rejoice! Rejoice, there is no such thing."
Just imagining Guren his height, his build, the way his presence alone warped a room made Ett snort inwardly. Who, exactly, looked older here? The role-playing was almost too convincing. The "elder brother," the "little Emperor."
"My son…?"
As if.
Today was the banquet. The first time Guren would appear without the helmet that concealed the lower half of his face. On the battlefield, he returned clad in steel, his features hidden from the masses. No wonder the nobles were giddy. Mystery, after all, was currency.
"How should I do this?"
Should she follow the script?
Ett found herself curious. Would events unfold the same way now that she was Ett?
"Are you going to attend the first banquet held by the Emperor, Your Ladyship?"
Ett glanced at Akan, calmly sipping grape juice.
"You'll keep me company first."
"Of course, Your Ladyship."
"Is there a need for the Emperor to know?"
"No need."
Akan smiled easily.
It was always like this. Her Ladyship never cared for such formalities. Matters between mother and child were… complicated. Bound by blood, yet never meant to cross paths unless fate insisted. From the shadows, she schemed for the Adiand Empire's benefit—always unseen.
"Let's hide."
Ah?
"I beg your pardon?" Akan blinked.
Ett rose to her feet, staring at him as though he were slow on the uptake. "I said, let's go."
"To where, exactly, Your Ladyship?"
Hide? Vulgar phrasing. She sighed and corrected herself.
"Lead me to the most inconspicuous place where I can still observe the banquet."
Akan nodded helplessly. To ensure she wouldn't be seen, he draped a cloak over her shoulders before guiding her upward past the grand hall, higher still, to where servants hoisted decorations from above. Just beneath that was a narrow passage used by maids to clean or dismantle adornments unnoticed.
"You may stay here," Ett said.
"But, Your Ladyship, I can crouch and accompany you."
"No."
Disappointment flickered across his face before he obediently withdrew.
From above, Ett watched as the banquet unfolded. Guren sat upon his seat, aloof, indifferent to the countless gazes drawn to him.
"This boy…" she muttered. "Can't you see how badly they want to approach you?"
Most of the crowd consisted of his peers. The rest older, sharper-eyed were already calculating politics.
In the Adiand Empire, banquets did not require the Emperor's presence to proceed. Whether he appeared or not, celebration followed ritual. When Ett's father still lived, when she was born, the palace had known endless festivities.
When Guren was born, the previous Emperor opened the gates once more announcing his grandson as heir.
And then came death.
The second time the nobles gathered was for a funeral and an announcement. At nine years old, Guren ascended the throne.
Even then, Ett had watched from the sidelines. That day, rebellion brewed openly. The palace trembled with dissent.
Guren's coronation marked a turning point. The nobles were welcomed then half a faction was wiped out. The first meeting was held on a day soaked in blood.
For a nine-year-old to witness no, to execute such methods… whether guided by his so-called mother or acting alone, Ett could only judge it as a failure. A dereliction of duty, seen through the eyes of a modern outsider.
"How old is he now?"
Thirteen.
Just thirteen, yet unmoved as a mountain.
Different environments forged different children.
Below, nobles conversed and laughed. It looked no different from the historical dramas and manhwa she once devoured.
"…Though I do like this kind of theme."
Adiand favored dark attire a tradition born the night the first Emperor unified the lands. Under a full moon, cloaked in darkness, the Emperor became the moon itself. To this day, the royal family wore dark colors to honor that night.
"Too much symbolism."
Their pale skin paired with obsidian fabrics made them seem bloodless, distant cut off from the rest of the world unless conquest was involved.
"This empire is either strange," Ett mused, "or it caught the indifference disease from its ruler."
Even so, today the nobles buzzed with excitement. A rare opportunity. Limited access.
"Of course they're desperate."
She watched, amused, as they calculated their approaches—until a familiar figure entered the hall.
Cashim.
He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, charming ladies effortlessly. Tonight, he dressed like a proper young master—nothing of the carefree information broker who ran the House of Isotel.
Good.
Surrounded by nobles of impeccable lineage, suspicion toward her would dull.
Dukes, earls, barons… yet Adiand valued blood purity above talent. Power over ability.
Then Ett stiffened.
Her lips curved faintly, eyes brightening as she watched the dance floor.
"Even sitting still, he makes them blush."
The smile vanished.
Three figures approached Guren.
The Duke of Ostenian.
The Third Prince of Larak.
And the Second Commander.
Ett brushed the dust from her clothes and turned back toward Akan.
Enough. She'd seen enough.
Now all that remained was whether Guren would act as he did in the novel.
"That's enough for today."
"Then allow me to escort you back."
Her Ladyship already had a plan. Akan could tell...his mind racing to keep up.
"You leave first."
"…Pardon?"
"You heard me."
"Your Ladyship, this servant cannot—"
"Just this once."
Akan paused, realization dawning. Ah. Of course. Duke Ostenian.
"So… you'll still allow me to assist with that matter?"
She nodded.
Relief flickered then worry returned. Her Ladyship was always at her most fragile when alone.
Seeing his expression, Ett scowled.
"Don't even think about it."
Cough. "Leave."
"…Then I take my leave. Please walk carefully."
"Mhm."
As he disappeared, Ett faced the unlit stairwell—the servants' passage, narrow and steep.
"So dark."
The novel's line surfaced unbidden:
She felt the banister's smooth surface as she descended. The floor creaked beneath her feet. Darkness closed in.
That was all the book said.
After that night, Ett never attended another banquet.
"So this is the loophole."
She took a step down.
"Darkness…"
A metaphor, perhaps.
Then why—
"…do I feel such strange vibes?"