Published: January 4, 2026
“Some will surely entertain ill intentions.”
I answered immediately.
I could respond without even thinking.
It was as obvious as the sun rising in the east.
Father nodded with satisfaction at my prompt reply.
“Yes. The moment power changes hands, turmoil follows—no matter the era or the realm.”
“…If I may speak frankly,”
I paused briefly, took a breath, and then looked Father straight in the eyes as I continued.
“After Your Majesty steps down, the greatest turmoil in history is expected.”
“That is precisely why the abdication was done early.”
“Even so, it won’t be zero.”
“That’s why the illness was leveraged to the fullest extent.”
“…To expose the unruly ones.”
“Yes.”
Father nodded slightly.
He wore a serious expression and diverted his eyes from me to gaze out the window.
“He is undertaking the last great work of his life’s final preparations. One mistake, and there is no time to redo it. It’s the most difficult task in one’s life.”
“…I understand.”
I bowed my head slightly.
Failures happen throughout life.
When young, one can afford to fail and try again. There’s still time left to make things right. But at Father’s age, such time is no longer available.
The final touches admit no error.
“Excuse me, but—”
“Yes?”
Father returned his gaze to me.
“Your Majesty now seems like an artist, putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece poured with all their soul—that is the impression I get.”
“A clever analogy… that’s exactly it.”
Father smiled at my comparison.
Even Father, in these circumstances, must have his nerves stretched tight. I could easily imagine it.
I hoped I could help ease that tension even a little.
“…So that’s why you have stayed here all this time.”
“…Oh?”
“You abdicated the imperial throne, transferring power and responsibilities. Yet you never handed over only the symbol—the palace itself. Now, at last, I understand what that means.”
“…Noah, you’re amazing.”
Father looked slightly surprised, but soon wore a gentle smile.
“Jumping out the second-floor window might break a bone, but descending the stairs one step at a time is no big deal.”
“Releasing turmoil in small doses—”
I said as I knelt down.
Kneeling and lowering my head was a natural outpouring of emotion; my body moved on its own.
“Using even your own life and death as a card… I have no words.”
“That is—”
“Hm?”
I raised my face.
Father seemed about to say something but swallowed the words.
Instead, he spoke as if to substitute.
“I was blessed with children.”
“Your Majesty…”
“Do you remember Albert?”
“…Yes.”
I answered shortly, offering no more words than necessary.
Albert was Father’s second son—my older brother and once the crown prince.
When Albert was disinherited amid various troubles, I heard he tried to stage a coup, and as a result, lost his life (……).
“What Albert did was unforgivable, but it was also proof of his capability. The fact that he decided to act forcibly the moment I resolved to disinherit him—the intelligence and decisiveness. A mere incompetent couldn’t have done that.”
“…Yes.”
“Even without Albert, Henry, Oscar, and a bit more removed, Dustin. I was blessed with too many children (……).”
I remained silent.
This was a delicate topic, hardly one to respond to easily.
As emperor, having capable children is a blessing, but too many able heirs often sow discord in the family, so it’s not something to celebrate outright.
Father was clearly troubled by this, and as a direct participant, I felt awkward responding.
“Except for one, if all were like Dustin, there would be nothing to say.”
“As a person, he might be the wisest among the siblings.”
“That’s true.”
Father nodded and grew a little serious.
“Let’s get back on topic. I feigned a critical condition to observe the situation.”
“Yes.”
It had to be Oscar.
I sensed it immediately.
“Noah, from now on, you must act a bit more arrogantly.”