Emperor's Alternate - Chapter 17
Time flew swiftly, and before I knew it, it had been two years since the proxy exam.
In that time, I have lived strictly in the shadow of the Sixth Prince.
‘Perhaps it’s better this way.’
The narrow tower had become a comfortable refuge for me. My eyes inadvertently glanced out the window.
The entrance exam to the Persi Academy was in the winter. Shortly after the year turned, I received a letter announcing my admission to the senior class. While the Sixth Prince grew even more arrogant and the Emperor’s mistress seemed pleased, amidst it all, there were benefits for me.
Considering that those who served as proxies were usually early targets for assassination to ensure their silence, I hadn’t realized until now that simply being unharmed was a reward in itself.
“You were the top student at the time of admission, but you’ve been doing poorly on every exam, inviting suspicion around the Sixth Prince. What do you think, Winter?”
“I think…I can’t go out in public anymore.”
As was somewhat expected, the Emperor’s mistress kept summoning me whenever there was an exam for the Sixth Prince. She persistently pushed for me to take the proxy exam again, but I could only keep refusing.
“Haven’t there been an unusually high number of historical revolutionaries who dropped out of Persi Academy? To the public, what matters more than academic performance is the mere fact of admission. Perhaps it’s more advantageous to frame the Sixth Prince’s decline in such a way that it aligns with that image.”
“…Hmph, if you say so.”
In truth, it wasn’t because of that reason. Initially, I had resolved to take the proxy exam for the Sixth Prince whenever necessary. If it was difficult once, it would continue to be difficult for any subsequent tests he took. I had planned to consistently maintain high grades to solidify his position as a prodigy, so that he would have an advantage when he claimed the throne in the future. However…
‘Lecan appeared around the Sixth Prince so frequently that it seemed odd. No matter how much he tried to frame it as a coincidence, it didn’t look that way to me. Moving to take another proxy exam in that situation would be nothing short of a suicide attempt.’
I never explicitly confessed, ‘It seems like Lecan has seen through me.’ Yet, vaguely, I could deduce it from his actions. Lecan had noticed my presence. That was why I developed the habit of staring out the tower window. It must have been around six months after the Sixth Prince’s enrollment. I once saw Lecan’s flag fluttering in the distance. After the trauma of the Emperor disabling the Grand Duchy’s mana defenses and my subsequent exile, what concerned me the most was the mana barrier itself. I had tripled the barrier to ensure no passerby could visually perceive the tower. However, Lecan had gazed keenly into the empty air with a look that seemed to indicate he knew where I lived. He was on his horse, hesitating to come closer. How could he have possibly known the location of this tower? In truth, I felt like I could guess the method.
‘He never misses even my slightest mistake.’
Over the next few years, Lecan and I remained in a static standoff. We never greeted each other in our true forms, never had a single conversation, yet we could communicate. Lecan acted as if he had already realized that the Sixth Prince was a mere puppet in my hands.
The first communication occurred when the Crown Prince died. As the alliance with Chancellor Alfred crumbled following the Crown Princess’s suicide, the Crown Prince, who was losing favor, ultimately met his demise. No noble was unaware that the term “met his demise” meant he had been cast aside by the masses and murdered. At that time, Lecan delivered a simple letter of condolence to the Sixth Prince. It didn’t seem like Lecan was unaware that all documents coming to the Sixth Prince first passed through my hands. Superficially, it was just an ordinary note of sympathy, but when translated into the ancient language and with only the initial letters extracted, a secret message emerged.
I almost crumpled the translated text, thinking about Lecan continuously questioning me during the academy interview. It was clear that he had designed the translation to reveal the secret sentence in the ancient language.
He was showing off that he had somehow, if not completely, figured out what was going on with the admission tests.
But I can also tell from his reaction how much he knows.
‘He still doesn’t know that I am Winter of the Rotea Grand Duchy.’
He had no idea that I was his former fiancée; he acted like a lord who had discovered an interesting talent and was eager to recruit him. Similar to an emperor of an empire from ancient East Asian legends, who visited three times to secure a scribe. Lecan often flirted with me, covertly, with cryptic sentences, as if he were desperate to win me over.
Nobles seasoned in the art of politics share their words carefully to leave room for interpretation. Whenever something good happened to the Sixth Prince, Lecan would send him a gift with a congratulatory note written in eloquent prose, which also contained a secret sentence.
A popular sweet snack that broke apart inside the mouth, was made with ingredients that the Sixth Prince, who had a peach allergy, couldn’t consume. Allergies were highly classified because they can be a weakness for assassins. He had the luxury of being able to show off his intelligence while still being polite.
Lecan occasionally threw sensitive questions my way. He seemed curious as to why I remained passive, even when suspecting that Alfred’s successor might pledge loyalty to him. It would be overwhelmingly advantageous for the Sixth Prince to have an ‘elitist’ faction under his command.
“…Because I can’t have a vengeful person as a subordinate,” I muttered, almost as if responding to him, looking into the void beyond the window.
