"Impressive, Your Grace."
Ewan sneered at Gillen with a cold expression. It definitely sounded mocking, though Gillen had no idea what had set him off this time.
"You've managed to keep your image as a loving father, secure a room right next to the man you like, and still not break a single clause of the contract…"
Ewan's gaze hardened as he continued.
"But what you're hoping for tonight will never happen."
Then he stepped into his room and slammed the door.
What the hell was I even hoping for tonight, you lunatic…? And why are you sulking off on your own again…
Gillen rubbed his eyes with one hand and took a deep breath. He'd been through this enough times now that it no longer startled him like it used to.
"Navard."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"If this room is the lady of the lord's chamber, there should be a connecting door to the lord's room, right?"
"I… suppose so?"
"Then ask if they've got any thick planks lying around in this castle."
"Pardon?"
"Two thick planks. No, just bring me every single one they have. I'm going to block that door."
"…Are you serious?"
"…No, forget it."
The ever-loyal Navard simply ignored Gillen's sigh and began instructing the other servants to bring Gillen's belongings into the room.
Gillen folded his arms and glared at Ewan's firmly closed door. He might have played it off like a joke, but bringing up marriage and a proposal in front of Cecilia meant Ewan was serious. And that meant he would likely try to act on it soon.
'That will never happen.'
Gillen motioned to Navard. The aide stepped closer.
"Red alert, Navard."
"Sir?"
Navard's eyes wavered.
"It's time to completely break that little bastard."
Gillen spoke with grim determination.
The codename sibsae referred to Ewan. To others, Gillen claimed it meant "a bird that appears suddenly from ten different directions," but in truth, it was simply an abbreviation of ssibal saekki—fucking bastard.
During the first week, when Ewan appeared almost every single day, Gillen had been so worn out that he gathered all the servants in one place and made a declaration:
'This can't go on. From now on, we're establishing a codename and a tiered emergency alert system!'
If Ewan—the Sibsae—appeared: Silver Alert.
If the Sibsae was heading toward Gillen: Black Alert.
If the Sibsae seemed likely to encounter Cecilia: Yellow Alert.
And if the Sibsae had already approached Cecilia: Red Alert—the highest level of emergency.
Until now, thanks to the combined efforts of Gillen and countless others, they'd managed to avoid ever reaching Red Alert. But now, they had crossed a line from which there was no return.
The servants didn't know the full details, but all of them believed Gillen had good reason to dislike Ewan. Their master was not a man who hated or excluded others without cause.
Navard, the aide, thought the same. He regarded Ewan as Gillen's political rival and suspected Gillen had plans to make Cecilia the future empress.
'As expected of our duke. He may seem like a benevolent man uninterested in power, but even that must be part of his calculated strategy.'
Navard silently renewed his admiration and loyalty. In any case, it was to Gillen's benefit.
"If it's a Red Alert, what exactly should I do?" Navard asked in a hushed tone.
Gillen led him into the room. The door closed, and soon the faint murmur of secret whispers leaked from within.
***
By dinnertime, everyone had gathered in the castle's dining hall. A lavish feast was spread across the long, grand table. The earlier awkwardness between Ewan and the guests eased somewhat in the presence of fine wine and delicious food.
"Thank you for your generous hospitality, even on such short notice, Marquis Hampton," Hexion said, raising his glass.
The others followed suit, lifting their glasses for a toast before taking a sip. Gillen glanced around discreetly, then spoke at just the right moment.
"Your Highness, I have a gift I brought specifically for you. I think now would be the perfect time to present it."
"A gift?"
Hexion looked at Gillen with curiosity. Gillen smiled faintly and gestured to Navard, who stepped forward from behind him. In Navard's hands was a long, black box.
"This is a noble rot wine produced in the year 587 of the Moore Calendar, when the Sobain Kingdom's vineyards saw an unprecedented harvest. They say wine this fragrant and sweet hasn't been made since."
"A Sobain vintage from 587? That's famous. And you're giving it to me?"
"Of course. Such a rare treasure should be shared with Your Highness, especially since you've honoured us by spending your summer holiday here."
Twenty years of living with a borrowed identity had taught Gillen how to flatter even a young crown prince with effortless, honeyed words. And in this case, the flattery was a critical part of his Red Alert counterplan—so there was no reason to hold back.
"Shall we open it tonight and enjoy it together? Cecil, you like noble rot wine, don't you?"
Made from grapes affected by noble rot, the wine was intensely sweet and rich—very popular among noblewomen. It paired especially well with goose liver, so much so that after a bountiful noble rot year, people joked that twice as many geese died. The aristocracy, ever fond of fine dining, tossed such jokes around casually.
"I… prefer it with dessert. Let's have it after the meal," Cecilia replied.
She had spoken naturally to her childhood friend Hexion, but after glancing at Ewan and the castle staff, she belatedly switched to a more formal tone. Hexion chuckled in amusement.
"Why so formal all of a sudden? Speak comfortably. The duke knows we've been close since long ago, and the marquis will overlook it too. Won't you, Marquis?"
Hexion asked playfully. Ewan's lips curved upward—faintly, stiffly.
"Of course. What matters most is Cecil's comfort."
"…Yes, that's true."
The easygoing smile faded from Hexion's face. It was because Ewan had called her "Cecil" so naturally. Hexion wasn't oblivious—just unrestrained in front of friends. And this was his way of showing he hadn't forgotten that Ewan had proposed to Cecilia earlier.
Gillen hid a satisfied smirk. This was an excellent start. His plan was simple: if stopping Ewan was difficult, then the solution was to push Cecilia and Hexion's relationship forward. Step one—get Hexion tipsy. The wine he'd prepared wasn't overly strong; just enough to relax the atmosphere and maybe help Hexion realize his own feelings for Cecilia.
Besides, Cecilia—like Gillen—could drink a lot without getting drunk. Even if Hexion forgot what happened the next day, Cecilia would remember everything. And she'd certainly notice if her friend and maybe-something-more had shown signs of affection. That would make her more aware of him… then things could move quickly to marriage.
"Cecil, have you thought about marriage?"
Ewan's question shattered Gillen's pleasant daydream in an instant.
"Hmm, Ewan. Honestly, I never took it seriously,"
Cecil said cautiously.
"We only spent a few days together ten years ago, and even then, the marriage talk was all you."
Gillen knew what had happened between them from the original story. But Hexion was different.
"What exactly happened ten years ago that you spent 'a few days' together?"
Hexion asked with a smile. Yet everyone present noticed the subtle sting hidden in his question.
"Let me explain, Your Highness. Ten years ago, I was ordered by the former Archmage Nocheen… to go repair the defensive walls and protective wards on the western border."
The arrogant fifteen-year-old wizard was already known as the next Archmage candidate and had been entrusted with major missions. On the way to the border, however, he encountered bandits. Coincidentally, those bandits were kidnapping children from the village for human trafficking. Cecil was among those children.
"Cecil, were you ever kidnapped?"
Hexion looked closely at Cecil in surprise. Though it was a story from ten years ago, he couldn't help but worry. Cecil smiled.
"Just for a very short time. And I was kidnapped on purpose."
As a regressor, Cecil knew that the bandits were minions of Duke Gallat. Duke Gallat was the one who would eventually bring down the Blake family. The trafficking operation was his secret money and influence source, and Cecil had long sought to cut that line. So she had walked into the lion's den on her own.
Of course, Gillen knew all of this. That's why, before Cecil did anything reckless, he had assigned the Blake family's covert squad to follow her closely—respecting her will but ready to intervene immediately if she was in danger.
Fortunately, just like in the original story, Cecil successfully wiped out the bandits and met the secondary male lead, Ewan, there. Whether that was lucky or not… Gillen often regretted and worried despite knowing she wouldn't get a scratch.
'Our daughter was really brave back then…'
Gillen shook his head gently, ending the memory.
"What do you mean by 'kidnapped on purpose'?"
"Remember when Duke Gallat got caught for human trafficking and had to pay a huge bail ten years ago?"
"That's right—Duke Gallat used bandits for human… Cecil Marian Blake, you don't mean!"
Hexion's eyes widened, as if he'd put the pieces together.
"I was the one who reported it. That's when Ewan and I got caught together. That's how I got close to Ewan."