Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 20

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 20. The Door
“Ian is unwell?”
“Yes, Count. He’s been complaining of stomach pain since this morning and has remained in bed.”
Count Derga grimaced as he fastened his cufflinks. He’d noticed the dining hall atmosphere felt off since morning. The servants kept glancing nervously at the food.
The Count mistook their hesitation as reluctance to report. In truth, Ian’s condition stemmed from skipping meals—he was starving.
“The physician?”
His tone betrayed concern not for his son’s health, but for blemishes on his peace offering. The Butler nodded with relief.
“He just finished his examination. He says there’s nothing seriously wrong. He suspects it’s stress-related. He said he’d observe Ian’s condition over the next day or two before prescribing medicine.”
“Is he malingering?”
“I couldn’t say. He has been pushing himself lately. You know how frail he’s always been.”
With a body so delicate it seemed it would blow away in the wind, the boy darted about so restlessly. He was unrecognizable compared to the child who first arrived at the Manor. Derga snorted dismissively and replied.
“There was a commotion at the Main Gate yesterday, I heard.”
“Yes, Count. Shall I prepare corporal punishment?”
“Corporal punishment? Just keep the physician attending to him and manage his health well. That fool will cross the border soon—he should know by now that clinging to attachments only becomes baggage. Tsk tsk.”
Does he not realize that everything entangling me now becomes a shackle?
This timing was fortunate. Controlling the boy through his mother alone had begun to concern me. Something had shifted in her heart—his mother, Philia, had grown quiet.
She no longer threw tantrums demanding to see the boy, and Ian no longer inquired about Philia’s wellbeing as he once did.
‘Compared to how desperately he wept for his mother at the beginning, it’s clear now. His emotions are slowly numbing.’
Moreover, Ian had been meeting Mollin separately two or three times a week. The old man clearly harbored hidden intentions, yet the brooch remained pristine.
At this point, I’m beginning to suspect I’m falling into some scheme. It’s an instinctive sharpness, a primal instinct.
“What was his name again? Eric?”
“Berik, Count.”
“If Ian wishes to see him, allow it. Accommodate him as much as possible. You said he’s an orphan?”
He’d examined the letter the Tutor brought last night for handwriting verification. Even a stray dog could see the writing was illiterate. It did become neater toward the bottom, but….
Derga frowned and murmured.
“There’s a saying: lose a lover and you lose your heart; lose a friend and you lose your lungs.”
I’ve bound his feet with the rope of his mother. Now I must bind his wrists with the name of friendship. Over the remaining month and a half, I needed to prepare everything meticulously so that fool would sacrifice himself entirely for House Bratz even after crossing the border.
“Teach Ian how to breathe. I’m curious how much strength a friend can become.”
Then when I tighten that noose later, the pain and terror will return doubled. The Butler bowed deeply in response to Derga’s command.
“There will be no issues with Manor management.”
“Of course.”
“Butler. I truly trust you.”
“I won’t disappoint that trust.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Then, I’ll take my leave.”
Click.
The Butler departed. Derga lit the candle in its holder. As the crimson wax inside began to melt slowly, he opened a drawer.
Creak.
He reached inside with practiced ease. He felt a circular groove. He twisted the diamond ring on his index finger and pushed it inward.
Click.
With a clear click, another secret drawer opened. On the surface, it seemed like a simple mechanism, but in reality, electric current flowed through its interior. Anyone foolish enough to shove something in carelessly would be electrocuted on the spot.
For example, like the fake key Count Derga had given to the Butler.
‘This Butler is lasting quite a while, at least.’
Long ago, very long ago, a Butler had been found dead in Count Derga’s Study. The Bratz family’s mousetrap, passed down through generations, had worked perfectly. There was suspicion he’d been in league with the Cheonryeo Tribe, but the dead tell no tales.
‘This one is more perceptive than the previous Butler, so he might know.’
Count Derga hadn’t explicitly said it was a seal storage location, but he’d subtly let it be known that precious items were kept here. Hadn’t he openly taken out the brooch right in front of Ian?
Whoosh.
Count Derga poured wax onto the letter envelope, then lightly pressed the Bratz family seal into it. The vivid image of a tiger representing the family was imprinted clearly.
* * *
Ian lay half-reclined on a comfortable bed. I’d schemed to stay alone in the Guest House, but unexpectedly, the household members were even more attentive. Ever since the doctor’s visit, servants had been bringing all manner of food in succession, making the morning feel more bustling than usual.
“Hena? Are you outside?”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Ian confirmed Hena’s presence while putting on his upper garment.
The current time was 3 PM. This was when the Manor servants finished their late lunch and began cleaning the Main Building. Though a few remained on the lower floors, this was still the quietest time.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Ian decided to search the Butler’s room with Hena’s help. She would keep watch and catch anyone’s attention if someone approached.
“But sir, are you really giving me silver coins?”
Naturally, since this was risky work, I’d decided to offer compensation beyond food. With three Central Office nobles from the same ship, surely I could spare some silver coins.
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not worry, sir. It’s just that I’m wondering what to buy to eat with the silver coins.”
Hena moved nimbly, checking both sides of the corridor. No one was there. Ian also descended the stairs, muffling his footsteps as much as possible. Just as he was about to turn down the corridor and use the back stairs where few people went—
“No way. Does that even make sense?”
“It doesn’t. Hey, you got scammed. Ahahaha!”
Voices echoed. A servant’s quarters door closed, and the sounds grew distant—it seemed like a brief disturbance. Hena descended first and made a circle gesture indicating all was clear.
“I’ll keep watch at the lower stairs. If anything happens, I’ll call out loudly, so be careful.”
“Right. Thank—”
Click.
Ian hesitated as he turned the handle. Locked rooms were rare to find in the Manor. In fact, I’d heard that even the Count’s bedroom was always open? Though there were guards standing in front of it.
“Is it locked?”
“…It won’t open.”
Had the Tutor experienced this too? From what I could tell that day, he’d probably failed. But I hadn’t expected to be unable to even enter. As Ian debated whether to use magic, Hena gestured for him to move aside.
“Just a moment, please.”
And there she was, poking around inside the keyhole with a hairpin. Ian tilted his head with a skeptical expression. How could the door possibly—
Click.
“It opened?”
“It did, sir.”
Hena brushed her hands off as if it were nothing. When Ian turned back with an astonished look, the boy smiled while tucking the hairpin back into her hair.
“Didn’t I mention I have many siblings?”
“…And?”
“In households with many siblings, doors are constantly being locked and unlocked. That’s how they express complaints or pranks. A simple handle like this can be opened with a fork.”
“From what I’ve seen, it seems like a talent to me.”
“If we call things like this talents, every street urchin in the neighborhood would be rolling on the ground laughing. Now hurry and get to work.”
Hena was aware that she lived near the red-light district, but she didn’t realize how much it had influenced her. For commoners, picking locks, passing secret messages, and switching drinks for water were unfamiliar acts.
Creak.
Ian left Hena behind and entered the Butler’s room. It was a modest space with only a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. So sparse and orderly it felt almost shabby.
“Hmm.”
I swept my gaze across the room, moving through it briskly.
What could it be? What was the Tutor trying to obtain from the Butler?
When I flung open the wardrobe door, a bundle of keys hung against the wall. Roughly dozens of them, organized in bundles of ten or more. It seemed all the keys to the Manor were kept here.
Jingle.
Each key had its purpose written on it. First multipurpose room on the left of the first floor, second multipurpose room… I flipped through them quickly and found the bundle labeled Main Building Study.
‘Here it is. Study, Steward’s Quarters.’
And then, oddly wedged between them—a strange key. It was blunt as if a bead had been attached to the end. There was no label indicating its purpose, and above all, it was quite heavy, seeming to be made of different material than ordinary keys.
Knock knock.
Just then, Hena knocked urgently on the door from outside. Someone was coming up to this floor. I opened a box beneath the wardrobe. It contained miscellaneous documents, identification papers, and a free passage permit for the territory.
Knock knock!
An even more urgent knock. I had no choice but to organize the wardrobe and leave the room. As the door closed, my eyes met those of a Servant coming up the stairs.
“Ian? Hena?”
“What brings you out? How are you feeling?”
Hena’s eyes darted about nervously. I answered naturally, walking in the direction her gaze had indicated.
“Lying down all day is uncomfortable. I thought I’d take a brief walk.”
“That won’t do! The doctor strictly said you mustn’t move at all.”
The Servants bustled about, pushing at my back, while Hena scurried along behind them. They exchanged signals with their eyes.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
‘I’m not sure.’
The only things that stood out in my memory were the strangely shaped key and the free passage permit for the territory. Since there wasn’t a single book, if the Tutor wanted to obtain something, it had to be one of those two.
“If Ian doesn’t recover soon, we’ll get scolded.”
“Hena. Don’t bother Ian and come on.”
“Oh, wait—sisters!”
Bang!
The Servants gave their instructions and dragged Hena out. The space grew quiet again. I sat by the window, staring at the potted plant lost in thought.
The blunt key, the passage permit, and the Tutor. It seemed I’d have to probe him subtly during the next lesson to find out what he really wanted.
‘Perhaps the key itself doesn’t exist.’
When Count Derga retrieved the brooch, he simply put his hand in without any particular action. There are magical devices that use fingerprint recognition, but that wasn’t something Count Derga would possess in this era.
Then a commotion erupted from outside the door.
Thud! Thud!
Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, heading toward me. I finally turned my head to look toward the door.
Could it be Count Derga? He might be coming to scold me for feigning illness.
Thud!
Footsteps halted before the door. Then came a barrage of thunderous knocks, as if the intruder meant to shatter it with their fists. I furrowed my brow and tilted my head in confusion.
“…Who is it?”
“I take it that means I can come in?”
The moment I recognized that familiar voice, the door swung wide open. Through the gap, I glimpsed crimson hair and eyes to match.
“How are you doing?”
Berik stood there, his expression brimming with self-satisfaction.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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