It Seems Like The Infamous Trash Can is Right Here! - Chapter 15
I told Lionel everything—how I ended up heading to Vivian’s room, what I witnessed there, and the questions I was asked.
“I thought it might lead to misunderstandings that could tarnish Your Grace’s reputation, so I felt it was best to inform you as soon as possible.”
That was the conclusion of my tattling, punctuated by explaining my reasons for heading up to the third floor.
I withdrew my lips from near Lionel’s ear and waited for his response.
For some reason, he remained crouched, unmoving, for a long while.
“……?”
For a moment, I almost wondered if my divine power had reached the level of stopping time. If not for the tips of his ears turning bright red, I might have genuinely believed it.
I-Is he… ticklish?
This was the second time now.
Whether Lionel was just sensitive to tickling or had a peculiar reaction to such stimuli, I couldn’t help but be unbearably curious, even though I knew it wasn’t something worth figuring out.
Only after I stepped back did Lionel seem to snap out of it, straightening his posture.
It was usually me who avoided his gaze first, but for the first time, Lionel’s eyes avoided mine.
“Cale, escort the priestess to my drawing room,” Lionel ordered.
It was only then that I noticed yesterday’s attendant standing a little distance away, watching us with wide eyes.
Taking advantage of my momentary distraction, Lionel ran his hand over his flushed face.
So, he is sensitive….
Though I had seen everything, I resolved to pretend otherwise.
“I’ll deal with the guest myself and send him away. Don’t worry about it.”
Lionel regained his composure, and spoke in a low whisper as he closed the distance I had created.
His voice carried such a menacing undertone that I could only nod in response.
Forget worrying—perhaps I should pray for Dantère’s survival instead.
* * *
Dantère Ortatum
Dantère was the illegitimate child of the late Emperor’s favorite concubine in his final years, formally adopted into the Marchioness of Ortatum’s household at an early age.
Though he was technically the current Emperor’s half-brother, his nephew, Crown Prince Axion, was actually two years older than him.
In such an environment, Dantère’s priority was to make himself appear utterly harmless—someone unworthy of suspicion.
The lesson was seared into his bones the day he witnessed his master, the first to praise his talent for swordsmanship, collapse while conversing privately with his mother, blood pouring from his mouth.
From that day onward, Dantère feigned incompetence in all things, never showing effort or ambition.
His grades were consistently abysmal, whether at the academy or elsewhere.
Before reaching adulthood, he was well-acquainted with alcohol and women.
Even after his mother’s death and the Emperor’s softened vigilance, Dantère found no reason to change. The more he played the role of a libertine, the smoother his life became.
With his mother’s legendary beauty and an abundance of wealth, everything came easily. There was nothing he couldn’t have.
But what comes easily also fades quickly. True satisfaction eluded him.
Dantère drowned himself in hedonism, replacing women as frequently as meals, but even that grew dull.
