RODH Chapter 72

72.

“Do you know when the late Sir Hubert’s death anniversary is?”

At my question, Bain bent his fingers to count for a moment before answering.

“They said it was three days before the Holy Festival, so… tomorrow.”

“There’s less time than I thought.”

“Where are you planning to go this time?”

Bain looked at me with a worried expression.

I ruffled his hair roughly and said,

“It’s nothing dangerous. I’m going to the temple, like today.”

“You’re going to meet Lord Michael?”

“No. Well… hm, you could say it’s something similar.”

Bain didn’t seem to understand what I meant.

I was planning to read Michael’s memories the same way I had read Alex’s.

It wouldn’t be too difficult to drop the ring on purpose and ask him to pick it up.

Although it wouldn’t hurt to investigate Alex once more, my instincts were pointing toward Michael.

It was that prickling sensation along the back of my neck, like the feeling of being close to death.

‘What on earth is it?’

The servants of Count Hubert’s household, Alex’s memories—everything suggested Michael was a textbook victim of abuse.

And I had never heard of him possessing any special abilities.

It seemed best to leave uncovering the motive for the crime to Nevan.

Just then, Bain suddenly blurted out something odd.

“But my lord, do you remember when the young lady once dressed you in women’s clothing? I think I understand why.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“You really did look good in them.”

“……”

* * *

The next morning.

Ian looked at his oddly extravagant clothes and said to Bain,

“I’m not going out to play, Bain.”

“Even so, since you’re meeting nobles, it’s better to look like one. Yesterday’s clothes were too…”

“Plain?”

“Yes! They didn’t match your status.”

Bain, as he said this, looked oddly pleased.

Something about this felt like I was being tricked.

Ian thought so to himself.

Either way, he had to leave quickly.

If a servant, the butler, or heaven forbid his parents saw him, it would be dreadful.

“Let’s go out through the back door, my lord.”

As they went through the servants’ entrance, some workers who barely glanced at Ian shouted at Bain.

“Found yourself a new sweetheart, Bain?”

“It’s not like that!”

Had Bain not gotten angry, Ian might have gone back to scold them himself.

They rode in an ordinary carriage again, heading toward the temple of Glass Torna. Even in the early morning, there were many visitors.

“Oh, god of love…”

The common prayer echoed and tickled Ian’s ears.

But today’s purpose was Michael El Hubert.

Ian quietly prayed for Nevan’s safety as he kept a close watch on the columbarium.

Yet, even as time passed, not a single trace of Michael appeared.

Ian said to Bain,

“Something’s off. I thought he would come today… Could it be he never left home?”

“I heard there’s a separate family tomb. Maybe he went there instead?”

“Then let’s hurry to the count’s estate.”

“You mean just like that?!”

Though Bain looked horrified, Ian quickly gathered up the troublesome hems of his skirt and climbed into the carriage.

“Officially, I’m supposed to be sick right now, so I can’t be moving around. But since the late Sir Hubert was a national hero, on his death day the gates will open even for ordinary nobles.”

“Ah, so we can just slip in with the rest.”

“Exactly.”

“But how do you plan to get into the family tomb?”

The grounds would surely be divided by sections, but Ian insisted he had a way.

The Hubert estate was packed with people, like a swarm of anchovies.

Bain handed Ian a ticket with a fake name on it, bought with a discreet bribe of gold.

“Iria Robin? That’s such a half-hearted name.”

“Ugh. I thought it was good… Maybe I’m not cut out for naming things.”

“Forget it. Let’s go.”

Ian left behind the memorial stone stacked with bouquets and glanced around.

The estate guards were strict, preventing visitors from wandering into other sections.

As Ian worried, he decided to use the same trick Bain had—feigning illness.

“Oh, I feel faint…”

With his ripened-golden hair and emerald eyes that looked like they might drop tears any second, Ian drew murmurs from the guards.

“Young lady, are you unwell?”

Caught them.

Ian claimed that the heavy scent of flowers was making him dizzy, and that he needed a place to rest.

“But still…”

As the guard hesitated, Bain stepped forward.

“If anything were to happen to our young lady—how would you take responsibility?!”

Well done, Bain!

Ian cheered him silently.

Perhaps because of Bain’s threat, the guards relented and led Ian alone to the staff break room.

“Please rest comfortably.”

Just beyond that room lay the family tombs at the back of the Hubert estate.

Once certain the area was clear of people, Ian lowered himself and moved along the bushes.

After kicking aside twigs and grass for some time, voices could be heard in the distance.

It was Michael’s bright voice—one that could never be forgotten.

“You really found Father’s keepsake?”

“Yes, brother. Look at this. The family crest is perfectly intact.”

From what he overheard, it seemed Michael had found the late Sir Hubert’s relic.

‘How did he find it?’

As though in answer, Michael’s clear voice continued.

“By chance. Or perhaps fate. I found Father’s ring at a street vendor’s stall.”

Peter seemed to roll the ring around in his hand for some time.

Michael said,

“Now… it will be yours, brother.”

“Well done, Michael.”

Peter patted Michael’s head.

Michael gave a faint smile and nodded.

But Ian found this suspicious.

‘He just happened to find the family ring at a street stall?’

It wasn’t only Ian who found it strange—Alex spoke up irritably.

“Michael, are you still obsessed with that religion?”

“Eldest brother.”

“Prayers from such a place won’t reach Father. He was a knight of the Empire, full of honor. How dare you tarnish that honor?”

“Alex.”

Before it escalated, Peter stopped him.

Michael stood there, eyes brimming with tears.

‘Michael is immersed in that religion. And Alex knows about it.’

Ian decided to press further, taking one step closer to catch more of their conversation.

But—

Crack.

“Who’s there?!”

All he did was step on a branch, and suddenly a dagger flew past him.

“Your Highness, shall I go?”

“No. I’ll go myself. You stay and tend to family matters.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

Oh no.

Ian looked around for somewhere to run, but since eyes were already on him, there was nowhere left to flee.

He tried hiding as best he could…

“Come out.”

In the end, he was discovered.

Ian rose reluctantly and saw Seor. He, too, must have come to honor the late Sir Hubert.

Contrary to Ian’s hope, Seor recognized him instantly.

“…Ian?”

His face turned dumbfounded, as if asking why Ian would appear here.

Ian hurried to deny it.

“I—I am not Ian.”

“Ian Pearl Ruben.”

“I said I’m not.”

“There is no one else in the Empire with such vivid green eyes. Ian, why are you following me in women’s dress?”

What?

Ian lifted his head in disbelief.

Seor, meanwhile, had a faint blush on his face, and cleared his throat with a cough.

Realizing Seor had completely misunderstood, Ian spoke quickly.

“I was not tailing Your Imperial Highness.”

“Then why the disguise?”

Of course, he couldn’t explain it was because of his feigned illness and need for another identity.

“I simply didn’t want to be recognized.”

At this, Seor replied with a dignified air,

“I am generous enough to accept my fiancée’s special tastes.”

“Special… tastes?”

“Yes. For example, cross-dressing.”

“That’s not it!”

When Ian shouted in exasperation, Peter approached from the distance.

Ian’s face turned pale.

“So you even gave yourself a new name?”

“……”

Unwilling to answer, Ian pressed his lips shut. Seor said,

“Peter is coming.”

“Your Highness.”

“I want to know the young lady’s name.”

“…Iria Robin.”

“Robin. How charmingly chosen.”

What the hell is this man saying!

Ian glared at Seor, whose nature was better suited to ‘terrible’ than ‘charming.’

Seor stopped Peter in his tracks.

“It’s nothing serious. Just a little robin here.”

“I see.”

“Go on with your memorial. I’ll stay and admire this robin.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Peter withdrew, leaving Seor close at Ian’s side.

He lifted Ian’s luxurious golden hair to his lips and said,

“You wear gold hair well too.”

“Would you step aside?”

“I cannot. I’ve caught this robin.”

“I am not a robin. How could such a large robin—”

Before Ian could finish, Seor closed the distance, pressing him back against a wooden pillar.

There was no space left between them.

Seor’s lips hovered close.

“You…”

A faint musk filled the air.

His inner senses tugged at his pheromone glands, urging him to quench the thirst.

But Ian held firm, recalling Nevan’s scent of fresh grass.

Seor brushed Ian’s long hair back behind his ear, then pressed his lips to his.

Contrary to Ian’s expectation of violence, the kiss was gentle and polite.

Their lips touched briefly, then parted—too quickly for Ian to stop it.

Seor’s face flushed red as he spoke.

“You’ve taken my first kiss.”