ICM Chapter 107

About an hour after Ashika had entered the building, Drushia stood guard watching the building’s door without moving an inch. The exhausted appearance that had seemed ready to collapse at any moment was gone, and at some point he had fallen into thought with a hardened expression.

“Your Grace, if you’re going to meet Lady Siclaire, wouldn’t it be better to come back tomorrow?”

Kalf, who had been keeping watch beside him, spoke carefully. However, Drushia’s tightly closed lips did not open. Kalf did not press further and quietly stepped back.

After some more time, Drushia hid behind the carriage. The building’s door opened and Ashika emerged. Drushia watched this sight without even breathing.

Kalf subtly furrowed his brow.

Drushia had neutralized Marquis Maiheller’s annex without damage using methods closer to those of a mercenary or assassin than a knight.

In preparation for any contingency, he had assembled a strike team composed only of outsiders rather than the family’s knights, and had gone to great lengths to obtain colorless and odorless poison which he deployed comprehensively. This method was possible because the place where Iben was being held was in a remote location far from the main building.

This extremely dangerous plan was entirely due to Ashika’s request. If not for that, even Kalf would have strongly dissuaded him.

Having succeeded in such a difficult plan, Drushia did not reveal himself to Ashika. It was difficult to understand why he ultimately refused to meet her, even while watching with eyes that flickered with desperate longing.

Finally, the carriage carrying Ashika was seen departing. Even as the carriage slowly followed the road and gradually picked up speed, even until it reached the end of the road and could no longer be seen, Drushia gazed endlessly.

The closed building door opened again. The person who came out was Nile. He looked around once, then stared intently at the carriage stopped at the corner of the street.

“Your Grace, it’s Lord Nedrov.”

At Kalf’s words, Drushia turned around. The corners of his mouth, which had been rigid all this time, slowly rose.

Only then did Kalf realize. The person Drushia had been waiting for all this time was not Ashika.

Drushia emerged from behind the carriage and headed toward the building. Nile waited quietly with a puzzled expression as he approached.

“Didn’t you meet the young lady?”

Nile spoke without even bothering with greetings. However, Drushia just stared at him, lost in some thought. Looking him over meticulously from head to toe.

Nile flinched at the heavy, unfamiliar gaze that bound him.

“Brenile Nedrov.”

The low, sunken voice was desolate. Like a trap that seeped in insidiously and tightened before one could even be aware of it. It was all the more so because the smile hanging on Drushia’s lips was one he had never seen before.

Nile forcibly shook off his uncomfortable feeling and replied with forced joviality.

“Why are you being so formal all of a sudden?”

An awkward attitude as if meeting for the first time today. Somehow feeling eerie, Nile shuddered.

“Did you eat something bad? You used to be dying to devour me whenever you saw me.”

“If my memory serves me correctly, it was the other way around.”

“That must be the Duke’s mood talking. What’s your business? If you’re planning to see Iben, you can’t. She’s someone who needs rest. Come back in at least a day or two.”

Drushia’s gaze still did not leave Nile’s face. The persistent stare was making his face sting.

“You’ve gotten quite cheeky.”

A strange light flickered in his blazing eyes. The persistent attitude that was neither hostile nor friendly made discomfort rise to Nile’s throat.

“It’s partly because of the young lady’s request, but Iben is also an important person to me. But seriously, why are you acting like this today? Are you planning to torment me in some other way?”

Drushia raised his head and slowly looked around. He scanned under the wall, above the trees, and inside the bushes, then raised his hand to signal.

Rustle—like wind brushing through grass, the presence quickly faded away in an instant.

After confirming that the secret guards had withdrawn, Drushia turned back to Nile.

“I have something to discuss. It will probably be quite a long conversation.”

“What kind of talk? Do I have something to discuss with Your Grace?”

Drushia had an excellent talent for making people uncomfortable. When he scrutinized someone like this, it became so uncomfortable to even stand facing him that one naturally wanted to flee.

“Nedrov, eldest son of Viscount Nedrov.”

It wasn’t something he was saying to Nile. Drushia repeated that name in his mouth as if savoring it. Nile’s face hardened and showed clear signs of tension.

“I heard that the precious son that Viscountess Nedrov, who had been childless all along, obtained late in life. He turned twenty this year, I believe?”

He was only twenty years old. Though Ashika’s age of twenty-two didn’t seem much different, the situations they faced were different from the start—she who had grown up receiving strict education as an heir, and Nile.

“Did you even check my territory? If you’re that curious about me, just ask directly. It’s not really something to hide.”

“I heard you left your territory for military service four years ago.”

“The Rantal outpost doesn’t verify birth certificates. Since I grew up fast physically, the registration staff just let it pass.”

Military service was officially only allowed for those over eighteen years of age, but it was common for people to lie about their age and go for various reasons.

“Hah.”

Drushia let out a short sigh.

Sixteen years old. Even those being educated as knights could only serve as pages at that age. At such an age, he had volunteered for a deployment where even knights died in countless numbers.

Why would a sixteen-year-old boy throw away his stable position as heir to a territory and go to such a dangerous deployment?

“Was there pressure?”

At Drushia’s question, Nile let out a soft laugh.

“As if.”

“Or was it the opposite, and it was too hard to bear?”

For a moment, Nile’s eyes widened. It was an honest face that couldn’t hide his inner thoughts as much as expected.

“What should I call you. Should I call you Nile casually as before, or Lord Nedrov. Or…”

Drushia paused and observed Nile’s expression. Anticipating the reaction to what would follow.

“Or should I call you by some other name I didn’t know about. What should I do?”

For a moment, Nile froze completely. His face was so shocked that he couldn’t even think to hide his emotions.

“…What…”

He tried to recover hastily, but his hand was already moving toward his sword. It was instinctive wariness.

“You need to manage your expressions. If you look so serious every time someone asks, anyone would become suspicious.”

Though his tone was leisurely, his gaze examining Nile was sharp. Nile, who had been frozen stiff, barely managed to open his mouth at the advice that wasn’t advice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps we might have common interests. Secrets we know but can’t speak aloud. Unjust anger we can’t bear to watch with both eyes open.”

Words that could only be spoken with knowledge flowed from Drushia’s mouth. Nile’s suspicion now became certainty. And what arose was a question.

Just how much did he know when he was testing him like this.

“Or do you want proper courtesy from me?”

Flinch—Nile’s hand gripping the sword hilt reacted. A murderous aura poured out. It was as if he would cut down Drushia right here and now if necessary.

Even without carrying a sword, Drushia was relaxed.

“There’s no such thing as a perfect secret in this world.”

Nile’s eyes narrowed. Just how much was sincere and how much was false. What worst-case scenario was he assuming when he brought up such words.

Behind the silent Nile, the darkened building was visible. Nile seemed to know where Drushia’s gaze was directed.

A member of Arkpella’s bloodline, who were known to have been massacred except for the Empress Dowager, remained alive. And that, while revealing undeniable traces of deep blood.

Moreover, the two families that could be called the twin pillars of the empire—Igraine and Talion—were involved. This simple fact alone was a situation where bloody winds could blow at any time. Drushia couldn’t be unaware of this.

“If you’re going to pull out, you should do it now. Are you jumping into a pit of fire?”

“I’m already in a pit of fire. In a hellish pit of fire burning me alive.”

His quietly sunken blue eyes were deep and dark.

“What happens when a person who was unjustly thrown into a hellish pit of fire returns? Would they want to burn the world with anger? Would they want to tear apart and kill those who made it so? Would they drag them all into the pit of fire to burn together?”

Resentful words poured out in a calm tone. A voice devoid of emotion spat out terrible words.

“No. None of that.”

Heat seethed in the voice that had been feigning calm. It was a desire more intense than anger.

“I want to save them. All those I’ve lost. The precious person I love. For that, I can do anything.”

Even if it meant treason. Even while pouring out incomprehensible words, Drushia’s attitude was clear. It was obvious hostility toward someone.

“But what about you? What can you do with purposeless anger? Does your resentment improve by running away like a problem child and wandering aimlessly? If you want to vent your anger, you should charge at them properly. At the right opponent.”

Finally, Nile released his grip on his sword. His expression hardened with tension, his eyes wary. Yet an unprecedented expectation flickered by.

“The right opponent?”

“I told you. We probably have common interests. If you don’t take my hand now, even Nedrov will be destroyed. Maybe you’re not interested because there’s no blood relation? But that wouldn’t be the case, would it?”

Nile let out a hollow laugh. Realizing it was useless to hold out, a hollow laugh was all he could manage.

“Since I don’t have a name given by my father, my current name is everything to me. So let’s do it as before?”

“Now we can have a proper conversation.”

Drushia’s eyes blazed fiercely. Blue light dripped from his eyes, filled with suppressed anger toward someone unknown.

“I need your help. Your Highness the Nameless Prince.”