The Unfilial Heir Who Tries to Kill Me Tempts Me - Chapter 38

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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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Episode 38

“Thank you for undertaking such a difficult journey to the Borderland, Your Highness.”
“Not at all. I should have sought you out far sooner. I apologize for the delay.”
Inside the Reception Room.
Fabian offered his greeting with proper courtesy, a ritual formality.
Eight years had passed since the new Emperor ascended the throne, and five since Fabian himself was named Crown Prince, yet Caius remained an unsettling presence to encounter.
By all rights, he should have been the one to wear the Imperial Crown.
Since the Empire’s founding, it was not uncommon for those outside the legitimate succession to seize the throne or contest it, but for the first-in-line heir to voluntarily cede the throne to a collateral branch was unprecedented.
Even Fabian, barely twelve years old then, remembered the upheaval with crystalline clarity.
Immediately after Caius chose the title of Grand Duke and withdrew to his lands in Lucifenia, he severed every tie to the central court with conspicuous thoroughness.
Some whispered that grief had driven him mad with vengeance, but Fabian understood the truth: it was Caius’s deliberate assertion of a clear separation of Imperial Authority.
“I’m grateful for your willingness to receive me on such short notice.”
“How could I refuse the Crown Prince’s wishes?”
Caius replied with measured courtesy, half-generous and half-humble.
At present, Caius was the Imperial Court’s perfect ally.
He held that whatever the court undertook must have sound reason, and that the people need only follow its will—so he had cooperated readily with any request placed before him.
He despised sorcerers with a loathing that made him shudder, yet when the witch Charlotte chose this place as her Exile, had he not signaled his willingness to accept it as an Imperial decree?
‘That I should find her still alive came as a surprise, though.’
Fabian found himself remembering Charlotte’s unharmed face from moments ago. At the same moment, rage—barely contained these past days—rose up in him again.
‘Unless she’s developed a brazen heart, how could she wear such an expression….’
The past month had been, for Fabian, nothing short of hell.
He wanted to tear out the memory of taking her hand and whispering love shyly into her ear that day.
So when word came that Charlotte had not died, he’d assumed it was merely gossip.
Had her head been severed the moment she set foot in Lucifenia, that would have been one thing—but how could he have imagined she would be thriving in the Grand Duke’s Castle of all places?
His brother was not the sort of man to allow such a thing.
Unless, perhaps, he harbored some other intention in keeping her alive all this while?
“Your Highness.”
A voice drew Fabian from his reverie.
Caius was regarding him with that familiar, languid gaze.
“Yes, please. Brother.”
“As you know, I’ve never been skilled at circling round matters at length. You did not make the journey here to discuss central court affairs with me, I suspect….”
He trailed off with a slight smile.
“Might I ask what brought you to come all this way?”
Fabian could not hide his surprise.
He had been considering how best to broach the subject, never expecting Caius to ask it directly.
“…You remain as direct as ever.”
“It’s precisely because you sit in that chair and I remain in this one.”
Caius gave a nonchalant shrug.
Fabian exhaled softly through his teeth.
Caius was perceptive. After five years away, he could hardly fail to grasp why Fabian had come seeking his domain.
So Fabian decided to speak candidly.
“…I found that the witch still lives.”
“The witch? Ah.”
Caius released a beat-late exclamation. His golden eyes curved in a half-smile, narrowing to crescent moons.
“You mean the Lady Charlotte Schmitt, the Count’s daughter?”
The Count’s daughter.
At the oddly weighted emphasis in that title, Fabian felt his brow tighten without meaning to.
“…The daughter?”
“The Lady Schmitt—is she not?”
“…No, yes. That’s correct.”
Though technically not yet disowned, reducing her to mere hollow nobility—the Lady Schmitt. Yet it was ever so with Caius: his reactions were difficult to read, his true intent obscured.
Fabian spoke again.
“Rather, she is an evil sorceress, the very kind you find so repulsive. I believed you would have dealt with her long ago.”
“Strictly speaking, she is not a pure sorceress.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“…Or so, at least, she maintains.”
Caius answered in a tone devoid of weight, effortlessly dismissive.
Fabian fell silent for a moment, studying him intently.
Despite Fabian’s pointed observation, Caius merely held onto a leisurely smile.
Within seconds, Fabian gave up trying to read anything from his expression. This was not a man whose thoughts could be discerned so easily.
In the end, he abandoned the roundabout approach and asked with candid directness.
“…I confess I don’t understand why you’ve kept her alive. Forgive my bluntness, but she’s a wicked practitioner of Black Magic who dared covet the Imperial Heir and threw the succession into chaos.”
“Though I hear your actual preference lies elsewhere….”
“I’m sorry—what did you say?”
“Nothing at all.”
Caius shook his head.
“His Majesty asked me to facilitate the Exile of the Countess Charlotte Schmitt, not to execute her.”
“Is that truly the only reason?”
Fabian exhaled deeply, caught between relief and exasperation.
It was true that Caius, respectful as he was of Imperial will, might find it awkward to dispose of Charlotte without clear justification. Lucifenia was, after all, a cunning witch’s own choice to preserve her miserable life.
If he had to guess, Charlotte would remain a troublesome burden even there. As Imperial Heir—and as Leoni’s beloved—he bore the duty to sever this thread of malice.
“Then, brother, might you entrust her affairs to me?”
Fabian’s eyes gleamed.
“If it’s difficult for you to handle, I shall do it myself.”
Caius fell silent.
A thin smile caught at the corner of his mouth.

***

I really did try my best to stay out of trouble.
“Stop right there.”
But why does this keep happening to me?
Is this the villain’s curse?
Just as I was tiptoeing toward the rear exit of the main hall, a chilling voice fell from above, and I looked up.
Fabian, gripping the bannister of the staircase, was looking down at me with a cold gaze.
Why would he use this cramped little staircase when there’s a grand central one right there?
This is maddening.
By then Fabian had descended the full flight to the first floor, confronting me with crushing authority.
“It seems you’ve forgotten how to show proper courtesy before the Imperial Heir.”
Ugh, such a pedant.
The Fabian standing before me now—cold and merciless—bore no resemblance to the one who’d clung to me so desperately in the Reception Room a month ago.
“Show your respect.”
Listen, you…
I’m not your mother—well, not quite—but wait, am I…?
What am I even…?
Never mind.
I averted my gaze desperately and forced myself into a reluctant bow.
“Before His Majesty you wagged that cunning tongue freely enough. Has it vanished now?”
……
“Witch Charlotte.”
The fact that he called me a witch meant he’d fully regained his composure.
Fabian had never once addressed Charlotte as “Schmitt” or “young lady”—never granted her such courtesy in his speech.
He refused to acknowledge that she shared a surname with Leoni, whom he loved dearly.
“…You look well.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say to someone so hostile, but since his color did seem good, I managed to squeeze out the words.
“…Ha!”
Why again?
He asked me to speak, so I did.
And now he’s screwing up his face like that.
“How shameless.”
Fabian twisted his lips into a sneer.
“Though I suppose that’s precisely why you’d cling to that loathsome life of yours by any means. I would have chosen death instead.”
Wow.
That’s harsh.
Did I really turn the male lead into a trash-talker?

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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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