No Regression for the Victor - Chapter 13
It seemed that Marcel, in his attempt to smooth things over by introducing Mikhail as his attendant, had unintentionally caused some kind of misunderstanding. But now, saying, “Actually, I’m the prince, so don’t ask me to do this kind of menial work!” and refusing wasn’t exactly an option, so Mikhail obediently got up from the bed and picked up the box.
“Hup—”
“Oh, you’re stronger than you look. Take this up with you as well. The study is on the top floor.”
The moment Mikhail effortlessly lifted the box, another book was immediately stacked on top of it, nearly causing him to lose his balance. Fortunately, thanks to having been made to do all kinds of physical labor since childhood, he managed not to fall and was able to walk steadily.
‘Is it really okay for me to meet him like this, so suddenly?’
It was thoroughly bewildering, but at least he no longer had to wait for Marcel’s promised time. With his mind a jumble of worry and anticipation, Mikhail headed for the Duke’s study.
Creak, creak— The floorboards shrieked under his footsteps and finally fell silent as he reached his destination. Anxiety surged at the thought that his voice might give away his identity.
Should he just say nothing and pretend to be mute? His heart was pounding at this unexpectedly quick meeting. Then, as if sensing Mikhail’s presence from the other side of the door, a low but clear voice called out.
“Come in.”
That deep, weighty voice drew Mikhail as if spellbound, and he pushed the door open. At that moment, a gust of wind from the slightly open window whipped the curtain around the Duke’s back, and his jet-black hair, dark as the night sky, fluttered with it.
Three years ago, on the day Duke Transis tried to kill Mikhail, Mikhail had been fast asleep, unaware of what was happening, after being drugged at dinner the night before. He’d eaten a hearty meal at his client’s insistence, only to fall asleep right after.
When Mikhail woke up again, everything was already over, and he suddenly learned the secret of his birth—that he was in fact a prince. He was raised to princehood overnight, swept up in a whirl of events, and so had only ever seen the face of the man who had dared to hold his life and scorn the imperial family in a portrait.
Even that had only happened by chance, when he came across a portrait set aside for disposal while rewards from the Quillan domain were being distributed among meritorious nobles.
The portrait, found among ruined furniture made unusable during the rebellion, depicted a man so authoritarian, it was as if he belonged to another world, his expression utterly devoid of laughter, his eyes as fierce as if he might shoot someone dead at any moment, and his cruelty so vivid that it came through even in paint.
That was why Mikhail had always imagined that, if he ever saw Duke Transis in person, the Duke would look even more vicious than he had in the portrait. Surely after being shut away on this barren land for three years in poor health, he could only have become meaner, not softer.
But the man Mikhail met in person was nothing like the rumors.
“……”
For a moment, Mikhail was so shocked that he couldn’t say a word. The weighty, subdued voice fell again.
“An unfamiliar face. Are you a servant sent by the imperial family?”
It wasn’t a sharp or urgent demand, but a relaxed question, so Mikhail hurriedly nodded.
“Looks like Boris asked you to move some things for him and put you through unnecessary trouble. I apologize on his behalf. Just leave what you brought over there.”
The Duke seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the young servant who had suddenly brought up his belongings. His eyes never left the book in his hands.
He hadn’t worn glasses in the portrait; maybe his failing health had affected his eyesight, too, because his eyes darted restlessly behind the small lenses.
“……?”
How long had Mikhail been silently staring at the man? Perhaps growing suspicious, the man’s gaze finally shifted to Mikhail. Now he’s caught me.
The moment Mikhail felt his heart pounding madly in his chest, the Duke spoke in a cold, steady voice.
“What are you doing? Didn’t you hear me tell you to leave?”
At that moment, Mikhail’s face blushed bright red, like a stubble field set ablaze to burn away the leftover chaff.
