FMY 39

‘How much does he know?’

Unconsciously, Serge’s throat felt dry, and he swallowed hard.

“What…”

Serge chose to feign ignorance for the time being. Although they were allies who had joined hands for their mutual benefit, he still couldn’t figure out how much he should reveal.

“There’s no need to pretend you don’t know.”

But Raphael saw right through it….

“I have eyes and ears everywhere in the royal palace. I told you, Serge. You must be careful everywhere.”

“You… there was a reason you kept giving me those warnings, wasn’t there?”

“That’s right. There’s no guarantee that information that comes to me won’t go to someone else.”

He meant that the reason for the warning was advice born from his own experience of collecting information in such ways. That explained their meeting for today’s conversation, and why he always seemed overly cautious even in deserted places.

“Even if you hadn’t actually witnessed it that day, it was something I was going to tell you eventually. But thanks to you, I can spare some of the explanation. It’s just as you think. My older brother and Madame de Beauharnais have been coveting each other for quite some time.”

“You mean that wasn’t the first time it happened that day?”

“Right. The period for which I’ve grasped the situation and secured concrete evidence seems to be over a year.”

My goodness…. How on earth they managed to enjoy clandestine meetings with the king’s mistress for over a year without getting caught was a mystery in itself. It seems the Crown Prince’s head only works well for that sort of thing, not for the good of the country.

“Disgusting…”

How could he desire someone who sells her charms while warming his own father’s bed? Was it the pleasure that comes from tasting the forbidden? Serge simply could not understand.

“No… the royal family has always been promiscuous throughout history, so I guess it’s nothing new.”

“But they’ve crossed the line.”

The one who knew more of the truth expressed the disgust he felt with just that simple explanation.

“Not only are they excessively indulging in lust, but their minds are becoming dull as well.”

“…?”

“His Majesty the King’s hands tremble so much that he can’t even sign a single document concerning national affairs without drinking. And it’s the same for Her Majesty the Queen. She can’t even close her eyes properly at night without taking sleeping pills or medication to calm her nerves.”

“And the Crown Prince…”

“Is too busy fooling around behind the scenes, neglecting the affairs of state he ought to be attending to.”

The poor response of the Royal Guard at the royal ball flashed through Serge’s mind. And then, Raphael followed with a shocking statement.

“In fact, did you know that I am not my parents’ ‘second’ son?”

What? Serge’s eyes widened.

“I’m not saying I’m not their biological son, I’m talking about the order.”

“Ah…”

You really scared me…. Annoyed at having been momentarily fooled by the ambiguous expression, Serge nudged Raphael with his shoulder.

The king and queen had married later than average, and had lost three children during the particularly intense struggle for the throne. The Crown Prince was the first son the queen had managed to give birth to and protect with her aged body. So, after losing their first, second, and third children during that chaotic period, she had with great difficulty become pregnant again and finally raised their fourth.

‘So many traumas are so horribly intertwined.’

That fourth son eventually became their eldest son. And though they subsequently had another son, the king and queen were always excessively wary of Raphael, who was both the youngest and the second son. It was because of that fateful prophecy.

They were afraid of losing their precious François, afraid that their children would once again go through a fierce battle for the throne, like a bout of measles, just as they had. Fearing this, the aging king and queen educated Raphael harshly.

Raphael, his gaze still fixed on a distant point, briefly finished his explanation of the past to Serge.

“…You managed to grow up properly amidst all that.”

Serge murmured slowly, resting his arm on the back of the bench.

He was someone who, unlike himself, had not been daunted by reality but had instead lived with his shoulders held even more squarely. It was a compliment he could give because he knew how difficult that was.

“You asked me earlier where on earth my confidence came from, didn’t you?”

“…”

“I suppose I have striven to live my life… to the point where it might appear that way in others’ eyes.”

It sounded almost like a sigh.

As if all his loneliness and weariness toward life were melted into that single answer.

The dominant alpha that everyone envied, a pure-blood born into the direct line of ‘de Blanche,’ a family that could dare to be called a nation in itself. The incredible status of a prince. Until now, he had thought that all these things had formed his confidence.

But how foolish a judgment that had been…. How could a person become admirable simply because their status and position were noble? The living proof that it was by no means an easy thing was none other than himself in his past life.

For a moment, Serge felt a sense of doubt about his past.

‘Although I wasn’t a prince, I was the son of a powerful man and of noble birth…. Back then, even though I had every support, I lived such a pathetic life with no confidence at all….’

The situations of the two men were similar, yet completely different.

Despite being born into positions that others envied, their lives were strewn with factors that made them unhappy.

Despite those adverse conditions, the one who had protected himself to the end and planted a victor’s flag on the mountain of life without ever succumbing to unhappiness was Raphael. In contrast, the one who had easily crumbled under those adverse conditions, completely leaving himself as prey for the surrounding jackals, and had lain foolishly in a dark corner of the street was himself.

That’s why he knew.

He knew what an incredibly difficult thing this man had accomplished.

How amazing it was that, under parents who denied and oppressed him, he had raised himself to stand as honorably as a tree that grew straight toward the sun.

Serge felt as if a part of Raphael that he had known in his head but had not understood in his heart was now clearly imprinted in his mind.

That realization stirred a strange feeling in Serge.

A bit of awe and respect…. An admiration for him as a fellow human and man. And a small pang of pity for him who, unlike himself who had restored his relationship with his father, was still being shunned by his family….

The humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the queen at the last salon flashed before his tightly shut eyes. The harsh cracking sound that had cut through the air, Smack! The sight of him silently enduring as his own mother stabbed him with the cold blade of her words.

‘Haah…. They say you’re doomed the moment you start feeling sorry for someone….’

He would probably no longer be the same after this moment, after gaining this small realization. It meant that the time for him to look at him dispassionately, as just a figure from a bygone past who had played a part in some segment of his life, was already over.

They were already too deeply entangled with each other, and that was true on an emotional level as well.

Human emotions like a sense of kinship, pity, admiration, and poignancy were digging their way in between them.

Serge quietly, unconsciously, called the name of the man to whom he had just given over a very small corner of his heart.

“…Raphael.”

“…?”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

The eyes of the two men, who had been looking straight ahead, turned toward each other.

A quiet air and a shallow silence settled over them.

“…”

“…”

Serge quietly met the deep, clear sea in Raphael’s eyes.

Looking at that blueness, he somehow felt his stomach churn. That mischievous face that had held him, an omega heavier and sturdier than anyone, and spun him around in the air. The serious expression he wore as he said, who dared to laugh at you, you are beautiful just as you are. Those things came to mind again, stirring waves in his chest.

‘Damn it….’

Serge felt as if emotions were constantly trying to interfere between them, so he deliberately shook his head, trying hard to shake them off. As if by doing so, the various emotions caked in his head would really fall from him like dust and settle on the ground.

After shaking the complex emotions from his head with a flutter, he looked forward to see Raphael, still staring straight into his eyes, come into view.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Serge covered Raphael’s eyes with both hands. The blue sea was hidden beneath a white hand.

“What is this now?”

“What do you mean, what is this? Your humble servant is personally covering your eyes with both hands lest the noble prince be blinded by the sunlight. Look at that scorching sun! If we stay like this, it’s the perfect recipe for getting your beautiful eyes completely wrecked.”

Serge was desperate to hide his reddening face from an unknown embarrassment. At the feast of nonsense he was spouting, Raphael chuckled. Even though only half of his face was visible from under Serge’s hand, the pleasantly upturned lips made him feel like he knew exactly what expression he was making.

“You’re talking like that again?”

His tone was as if he found his fiancé-to-be, who was acting familiar and joking around, quite cute. Serge tried hard to ignore it and continued to spout whatever came to mind.

“How is it, Your Highness. Are your noble eyeballs a bit more comfortable?”

“Yes. They are very comfortable.”

Raphael raised his own hands and placed them over Serge’s.

“So comfortable, in fact, aside from the fatal flaw of not being able to see an inch ahead of me.”

“…”

“Other than that, everything is fine.”

Raphael tried to remove the hands covering his eyes, and Serge resisted fiercely, pushing back, as they bickered and scuffled with the kind of meaningless, trivial antics that even mischievous little boys wouldn’t engage in.

After some time spent pulling at each other’s arms and batting away each other’s hands, Raphael suddenly asked through the now-calm air.

“Serge. Do you love your homeland, Blanche?”

“That’s quite a random question. Are you, a member of the royal family who is Blanche itself and its master, testing me now? For all I know, a wrong answer could have consequences.”

As Serge chuckled as if in disbelief, Raphael, who had been looking at the fountain, turned completely to face him.

“No, not like that. Let’s forget our statuses for a moment and just talk casually. Do you love this country?”

At his sudden, serious question, Serge also brought his playfully raised lips back to their place. And he calmly sank into thought.

Do I love this country? It was truly a question so unfamiliar that it required him to ‘contemplate,’ of all things. Of course, having been raised as a grand noble of Blanche and having received that education since childhood, he had naturally been brainwashed, in a way, and had lived with a sense of patriotism for his country.

But he had also experienced a life vastly different from his current one. He had come from a modern, democratic country that valued human rights above all else, and where patriotism was not a cultural trend considered as important as life itself, so, well. Patriotism now…. The brows between his eyes naturally furrowed as he concentrated on his thoughts.

Then, Serge naturally thought of his father.

Of Duke Arthur, a subject more loyal to the country than anyone, a statesman who worked so hard managing the nation’s finances that he even sacrificed his sleeping hours.

<It is my wish, Serge, that those who set foot on the soil of Blanche live without going hungry for even a day, and live with a smile.>

In his boyhood days, before his younger siblings were even born, Serge remembered the words his father had said while touring the estate together.

Duke Arthur had placed the young Serge directly on the saddle in front of him and, casting his gaze into the distance, had spoken. As they looked at the golden wheat fields at sunset, at the horizon formed by that endless land of plenty. As if trying to teach his still immature and undeveloped child the proper way to see the world. The memory of that beautiful sight that day and of his father personally putting him on the horse and touring the fields and farmlands was so impressive that he still remembered it vividly now.