The Mansion Awaits Spring - Chapter 230

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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 230
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Miller stood at the largest harbor in the Rasa Empire, gazing blankly at the warships lined up before him.
He could barely remember how long he’d spent drunk at the Imperial Palace.
The Emperor loved drink, and especially enjoyed getting himself thoroughly intoxicated. Miller had spent all that time drinking alongside him and attending fundraising parties for the war effort.
Fortunately, thanks to the party, Miller hadn’t quarreled with Heidi again. That brother whom Miller found irritating had shown his face at the war fundraiser, but since they hadn’t spoken, Miller felt somewhat more at ease.
After setting aside his concerns that way, Miller had come to this harbor at the suggestion of the Emperor and other nobles.
Miller gazed once more at the armada and felt anew, with his own eyes, how right a choice it had been to cross over to Rasa. This would be no contest.
Having spent considerable time as Grand Duke, Miller had grasped most of the Dieusz Grand Duchy’s military strength.
Of course, he couldn’t account precisely for the portion where April had begun personally supporting the navy. Reports hadn’t come through properly. As a result, Rasa had lost ships in the naval engagements.
In any case, what was clear was that even accounting for that gap, it would make little difference in the Rasa Empire’s assessment of their superiority.
The scale of the warships lined up in the sea, ready to set sail, was staggering.
That magnitude was a tremendous threat and pressure not only to the Grand Duchy but to Rasa’s own citizens.
What could the Grand Duchy possibly do in this situation?
A small fish hurling itself at a whale would leave no wound and meet only its own death.
Devin Meyer approached Miller—his maternal uncle and the former Chief of the Grand Duchy Police.
Devin Meyer, who had settled in the Empire earlier than Miller by following his Rasan wife, spoke first.
“I understood it in my head, but seeing it in person… it’s even more impressive than I imagined.”
“Indeed. The military force is truly formidable.”
Devin hadn’t been able to sway his son’s resolve—Shaper Meyer insisted on remaining on Right Island no matter what. Perhaps that was why his expression looked so grim.
“I asked the navy to at least bring my son back alive, but I’m not sure there’s any hope of that. My wife cries in her room every day and won’t come out. I barely managed to talk her out of returning to the Grand Duchy.”
“Go back and do what? Is there anything to do there besides a pointless death?”
“Exactly my point. But beyond that…”
Devin had noticed Miller’s trembling hand—something he’d hidden all this time until he’d let his guard down just now in front of his own family.
“So the rumor is true. Your hands really do shake.”
“…People are talking about it?”
“Yes, His Majesty has taken notice of it. On Right Island, we don’t pay much attention to such things since so many of us come from pirate stock. But here it seems to be something that must be hidden. The Emperor… he’s obsessed with physical perfection. You might say he believes it reflects superiority.”
Miller, growing more anxious, thrust his right hand back into his pocket where it trembled more violently.
Devin continued, his expression heavy with concern.
“No matter what we say, His Majesty held Pejin in extraordinarily high regard. Whether you call it his physical perfection or his superiority—just look at how hard he tried to marry him off to an imperial woman.”
Miller honestly thought the Emperor was out of his mind, but he held his tongue since he didn’t know who might be listening.
Devin spoke again.
“So your best way to adapt is this: an unblemished body to replace Pejin. That’s why those hands must recover. Without fail.”
The more he heard such pressure, the more Miller’s hidden hand trembled, unable to steady itself.
Just then, the fleet began to set sail.
The harbor filled with nothing but the sound of ship’s bells, as though all other noise held its breath. Then the crowd began to cheer. They shouted their acclaim toward the Emperor.
Miller felt a chill run through him at those cheers.
He stood among people celebrating the trampling of his own homeland. And he himself had lent his hand to aid this war.
That guilt, however, soon faded as the thought returned: there was nothing that could be done about those countless ships anyway.
Then, suddenly, a commotion erupted, and Miller turned his head toward it.
“What kind of madmen celebrate war! This can’t be genuine! Has someone incited these fools to spout such nonsense!”
There they were—small fish hurling themselves at the whale. A few Rasans opposed to the war were stirring up trouble.
For some reason, his gaze was drawn to a heavily locked warehouse.
One of the Rasans causing the commotion rushed toward the warehouse and opened its bolt.
Only then did Miller realize that people from the Grand Duchy had been imprisoned inside.
His body went rigid.
While the police were distracted by the rioting Rasans, those who’d opened the warehouse hurriedly loaded its occupants onto carriages.
Miller’s head snapped toward the warships. Not even five minutes later, someone came at him.
“You trash! What are you doing here! You should be defending the Grand Duchy—if you call yourself a person, how can you be here!”
It was one of those who’d come from the warehouse—someone from the Grand Duchy.
He threw himself at Miller and began to choke him, intent on killing him. But he was weak from prolonged starvation.
The Grand Duchy man, despite his desperate effort to strangle Miller, realized his own weakness and broke into tears.
“How can you… if you’re even human…”
In that moment, gunfire tore through the air above Miller.
Blood poured down over his body.
“Miller!”
Devin, who had been speaking with others, called out urgently to him.
Miller didn’t stand. He remained lying on the ground, staring up at the sky.
His hand went to his throat, where the weak grip had just released him. An imperial soldier, who had fired on the Grand Duchy man, rushed over and helped Miller to his feet.
“Are you alright?”
Miller, born a noble and having lived his entire life as one, had never confronted despair up close. Perhaps today was the first time.
Ironically, it was in this very moment—saved by an imperial soldier—that he felt like a Grand Duchy man as never before.
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A soldier rushed to Pejin upon his arrival at the Northern Coast and reported.
“Scouts have spotted warships. We’ll have an exact count shortly and report back.”
Pejin nodded and looked down at the map spread across the table in the center of the camp.
Two lines were drawn on the map.
How the battle unfolded here would determine the strategy and the site of the next engagement.
As the first soldier had said, another arrived shortly with the exact number of enemy warships.
From that figure, Pejin calculated the enemy troop strength.
What mattered was the maximum. The number of soldiers if those ships carried their full complement.
And at that overwhelming figure, silence fell over the camp.
Pejin looked around at his subdued men and spoke.
“Logan.”
“Yes.”
“I’m giving you a chance. Do some magic for us.”
At Pejin’s words, Logan broke into a bright smile.
“Really? You’re giving me the chance? I’ll show you right away.”
At Logan’s response, a soldier already accustomed to these magic attempts spoke dryly.
“If that’s not madness, I don’t know what is.”
Logan replied, “What makes you say it’s mad?”
“Wanting magic shown whenever the situation allows—that’s madness, isn’t it?”
“I’ve said it before: I’m just an exceptionally cheerful person.”
“You’re not insane?”
“Just extremely bright.”
Logan, who had already had this conversation many times with the police, answered casually and performed a simple card trick.
It went so surprisingly well that the soldier hesitated, then spoke to Pejin.
“I hate to admit it, but today… it was kind of amazing?”
“So I wasn’t the only one who thought so. That’s a relief.”
“Hardly matters.”
“Looks like fortune’s on our side.”
Pejin’s words seemed to ring true, and the atmosphere, which had grown heavy with dread of the overwhelming enemy, lifted slightly.
Pejin stepped out of the camp and stood before his soldiers. Today, he did things he would normally have avoided. For they faced an enemy they could not normally defeat.
He looked at his hand wearing the Wedding Ring. Then, clenching his fist to protect it, he looked to his men.
“I know you’re all aware that the admiral Shaper Meyer and I are not on good terms.”
The unexpected name caught the soldiers off guard, and confusion crossed their faces.
Pejin continued, “But today I find I cannot ignore his doctrine. The fact that most of us are descendants of pirates.”
Pejin saw the soldiers’ eyes brighten at the mention of being descendants of pirates.
Shaper, who had lived his whole life on this island, was right in this moment at least. There could be no denying it.
The fact that they were descended from pirates could free the people of Right Island from fear.
Pejin recalled the honey from the third spoon that he had eaten on the day of Right Island’s Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
They had said that honey held the courage of the Right Island people who ventured out to sea. Remembering that day now, he felt its sweetness bloom on his tongue.
April had only come to accept that those pirates had protected the Lunos Family’s voyages much later. Pejin had accepted it even later still.
But accept it he had, in any case.
“In the end, this island will be protected by the courage of Right Island’s people who venture forth to sea.”

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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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