I Will Fulfill the Role of the Villain

As Theo stepped out of the drawing room, he naturally looked around for Merel. She had been waiting solely for her son, and the moment she saw him, she led him straight to the dining room.
"I baked it in a hurry, so I’m not sure how it’ll taste."

Steam was still rising from the walnut pie set on the table. Seeing his mother’s homemade food for the first time in a long while, Theo couldn’t help but smile. Walnut pie was one of the things she used to make often when he was a child. Though he didn’t particularly like sweets and rarely enjoyed desserts, this pie was the one exception.
"Are you staying the night?"
Merel asked as she served him a slice, her voice full of hopeful anticipation. Theo could only give her a bitter smile in response.

"I plan to return this evening."
Though Merel smiled like she had expected that answer, a trace of disappointment flashed across her face.
"Work must be keeping you busy."

"Yes."
"And your health? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?"
Perhaps because she had a son in the military, asking about his health had become second nature to her. While Chester had opposed Theo becoming a soldier because he was the one meant to inherit the house, Merel had opposed it out of fear he might be gravely wounded on the battlefield.

"I’m fine. I’m in good health."
Only then did Merel’s face relax with relief. Chester now fully acknowledged his son’s path as a soldier, but Merel still quietly hoped he would one day leave such a dangerous job behind. The reason she didn’t voice that wish was because she understood, and respected, the path her son had chosen.
"By the way, how is Monet? I keep thinking of him since I haven’t seen him since we came south. I feel guilty for leaving him with Gwen."

"He’s doing well. Healthy as ever."
"That’s a relief. He doesn’t cry anymore when I’m gone, does he?"
Theo hesitated for a moment. After Merel left, Monet had cried for quite some time before eventually regaining his energy. But now, surely, he was crying again—just like back then. With that one comment from her, thoughts of Luke flooded his mind like a dam bursting open.

How was he doing? Was he eating properly? Luke had a tendency to act on impulse when he got a dangerous idea. What if that impulse had landed him in trouble?
"……"
Theo lowered his utensils without a word.

"Theo? What’s wrong? Does it not taste good?"
She immediately caught the slight shift in his expression and asked in concern. As the eldest son of a prominent house, Theo had grown up under relentless pressure, and for Merel, he had always been her vulnerable, aching heart.
What’s more, despite the difficult environment, Theo had never once shown how hard it was. He had ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) inherited Chester’s stoic nature to the letter, so it was always hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. But right now, in Merel’s eyes, he looked… upset. His face was full of silent worry and sorrow.
"……No. It’s yours, Mother. Of course it tastes good."

Theo returned to his usual composed self as he replied, and Merel gently took his hand. Her warmth was full of unspoken worry, and Theo said nothing for a moment.
"Someday…"
"Hmm?"

"There’s someone I want to make sure gets to taste this pie."
His quiet voice echoed through the dining room.
"There’s someone I want you to meet, Mother."

"…Alright. I’ll be looking forward to it."
Merel responded with a gentle smile, having read the expression on Theo’s face as he spoke those words.
***

Theo had told him not to do anything dangerous.
The first thought Luke had as he felt the blade skim his throat was exactly that. If Theo found out he’d taken such a gamble, he would definitely be angry. Even back when Luke played the villain, he used to get scolded constantly for acting on impulse while planning and executing missions.
But there was no other choice. Time wasn’t unlimited, and this was the highest probability method left to him.

"Turn around. Slowly."
At the cold voice, Luke slowly turned his body. As his vision shifted, the sight of Cailern came into view—his face rigid with tension.
"What exactly are you doing here?"

"……"
Luke scanned him from head to toe. He was used to seeing Cailern’s gentle smile, so this guarded expression, complete with a furrowed brow, was a rare sight. His pale skin made the atmosphere around him feel icy cold.
But there was no killing intent. Not like the momentary, murderous glint Luke had seen in his eyes when he first grasped Heath’s hand. Luke’s gaze dropped slightly. He could feel a faint tremor from the straight blade.

The hand gripping the hilt was awkward. Clearly, he wasn’t used to wielding a sword.
"Answer me!"
"I was waiting for Your Highness."

"…What?"
Cailern’s pupils trembled at the unexpected reply. The tremor running through the blade grew stronger.
"You’ve been observing me all along. So I assumed someone would be watching me after I left the banquet hall as well."

"……"
As Luke said this, he shifted his gaze toward a point in the distance—a corner near the stairs, where the wall turned. Nothing was visible, no shadows or figures. But Luke stared at it as though he could see through to what lay beyond.
"You’ve been watching me, haven’t you?"

Cailern remained silent. Luke caught the prince subtly glancing behind him. He was likely checking on someone hidden just beyond that corner. That gesture alone made Luke all the more certain.
He had sensed the eyes. Not long after arriving at the Welharun imperial palace. At first, the gaze had been faint, easy to dismiss. But after he’d been caught by Dante at these very stairs and forced to move to the annex, he was sure.
Someone had been assigned to tail him.

And that presence had made it harder to investigate Heath and Nox. If it was someone Heath had sent, then reckless moves could be dangerous—he had to prepare for every contingency.
He’d even confirmed with the other detachment members whether they felt watched. If Heath had truly caught on and placed watchers, he couldn’t rule out the others being followed too. But all three had shaken their heads, saying they hadn’t sensed anything.
So only he had been followed—which felt off in itself.

"When I first stood in front of these stairs… when I followed the Foreign Minister around… and even when I went out to Sainte-Rem Square for a break, wasn’t it your man tailing me?"
It was at that point, in the square, that the strange sense of dissonance began. The old man selling handmade jewelry, the conversation with Noel—the surveillance never ceased. But after he finished speaking with the old man and Heath, the gaze vanished.
"So what? What does you being tailed have to do with you waiting for me here?"

"I kept thinking. Why would Your Highness place someone to watch me? If you did, it means you suspected me. And yet, nothing ever happened."
If Cailern had been working for Heath, Luke would’ve already been dragged before Dante or Heath himself. But Luke could tell. There was something odd—he didn’t feel threatened.
"Were you testing me?"

When Luke returned from the investigation in the square, Cailern had been the one waiting inside the palace. The timing felt suspicious. If he connected it with the sudden disappearance of the tail at that moment—it was all too neat. Meeting the prince in that vast palace, having him speak first…
"……"
"Just like I’m probing you now… I wonder if Your Highness was trying to figure something out about me, too."

Cailern said nothing. He didn’t waver, didn’t speak rashly. He simply met Luke’s gaze, neither dodging nor backing down.
Luke was gambling. If his guess was right, it would pay off. If wrong—it’d end in failure.
Cailern knew something about Heath. And it was likely tied to Nox. That much was clear from the way he had kept a watcher on Luke from the beginning.

Perhaps this man held a piece of the truth. That brief flash of killing intent he’d shown when Heath took his hand—
Luke was betting everything on that moment.
"If my assumptions are wrong, and I’ve misunderstood Your Highness, you may cut me down here or report me to the palace for trespassing like a rat."

He drove the wedge in, staring straight at him. Their locked gazes pulled tight like drawn wires. The silence stretched, heavy with danger.
Then, with a sharp gleam in his eyes, Cailern suddenly raised his sword high—and brought it down in one swift motion.