Published: January 4, 2026
Even after Alice finished singing, the customers didn’t leave the shop.
Most of them were watching the situation unfold with keen interest.
You see, just outside the shop, the magistrate of this place was trembling violently while prostrating himself on the ground.
This shop kept its entrance wide open at all times, so it was clearly visible from inside.
The magistrate was terrified to death, bowing so low it seemed like he might collapse.
Such a rare scene—something you might witness once a year, or perhaps only once in a lifetime—greatly stirred the curiosity of the onlookers.
I remained seated, slowly sipping my tea.
Because the entrance was wide open, I could hear the exchange between the prostrating magistrate outside and a man who seemed to be his subordinate.
“No, no… I can’t do this anymore. Lawrence, please do something.”
“That won’t do, Lord Will. If you run away now, it will only incur greater displeasure.”
“B-but… he’s prince thirteen, you know!”
“Even so, if you don’t go out, it’ll be the worst possible outcome. I’ll cover for you, so come on.”
The voices I heard were those of the magistrate—probably a man named Will—who was scared but speaking loudly enough to be heard clearly.
And that of his subordinate—a man named Lawrence—with a low, calm voice.
Those two voices.
It’s in times of hardship that a person’s true value is tested.
Thinking something like that, I waited until Will and Lawrence entered the shop.
Will prostrated himself before me, banging his head against the floor, while Lawrence knelt three steps behind him, but kept his face raised and looked directly at me.
“P-pa-Pascal Will, I humbly request an audience with prince your highness thirteen.”
“Pascal Will, huh? You’re the magistrate around here?”
“Y-yes!”
“I don’t recall appointing you, but who did?”
“I-I was directly appointed by Your Majesty.”
“I see.”
Magistrate Pascal Will looked so terrified that it was almost pitiful.
He crouched on the floor like a small animal and hadn’t once raised his face since coming in.
According to imperial law, Pascal’s offense wasn’t significant.
It was common enough to invite someone like Alice to perform privately.
He only forced her to do so.
Though still a crime, the worst punishment would probably be just a one-month pay cut or something similar.
So there was no need for him to be so terrified.
“…Pascal. Do you understand the nature of your crime?”
“Yes! I-I understand that it is unforgivable.”
“…”
It wasn’t quite that serious, though.
I sighed, and Pascal flinched in his crouched position.
I sighed again at that reaction, and then my eyes fell on Lawrence behind him.
Unlike terrified Pascal, Lawrence remained calm throughout.
“You are Lawrence, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
At my question, Lawrence bowed his head for the first time.
Then he immediately raised his face and looked me straight in the eyes as he answered.
“I am Lawrence Barten. I serve as Lord Will’s secretary.”
“Barten… your father is from the west?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.”
I liked Lawrence’s demeanor—not intimidated, but not disrespectful either.
He answered with composure.
Come to think of it, he had been advising Pascal earlier.
“…Pascal.”
“Y-yes!”
Pascal’s voice rose as if to say, “Here he comes again!”
“Write a document impeaching yourself.”
“Yes! …Huh?”
Pascal answered reflexively, but then looked puzzled as he didn’t understand the meaning.
He cautiously raised his face for the first time, still bowed low, trying to gauge my expression.
“Impeach… myself? You mean that?”
“Yes. Write what you did wrong, what punishment is appropriate. Prepare it by this time tomorrow and bring it to me. Then we’ll talk.”
“…”
“What’s wrong? Or should I judge you right now?”
“W-well…”
“How fortunate.”
Interrupting Pascal, who still didn’t understand, Lawrence bowed his head and accepted the order, then took Pascal away.
After the magistrate left, the onlookers gradually murmured and left the shop.