Chapter 20: Chapter 20: The plan

Delphine’s eyes narrowed. That was never a good sentence, not when it was one made by her youngest son.

“A plan?” she echoed slowly.

“Yes.” A deep breath. “I’m going.”

Delphine blinked once. “You’re going.”

“I’m going to the date. I’m going to sit across from him in that overpriced imperial restaurant, and I’m going to be so aggressively normal that he’ll regret ever signing that form.”

“…Explain.”

Rafael’s tone loosened up, but only just. “He wants me flustered. He wants me terrorized. That’s how he operates. He cornered Alexandra during tea and watched her squirm for five straight minutes without blinking. He got Christian to lose an entire round of chess just by standing behind him. And he lives for the chaos of people falling apart.”

“So your solution is… to not fall apart?”

“No,” Rafael said. “My solution is to be so dull, so pleasant, and so bureaucratically functional that he’s bored out of his mind. I’ll talk about tax code revisions. I’ll show him my annotated logistics reports. I’ll offer him a pamphlet on the Empire’s regional freight reform strategy.”

Delphine stared at the tablet like it might offer a better version of her son.

“I’ll ask him to discuss municipal waste separation targets,” Rafael continued, now in full spiral. “I’ll bring spreadsheets. Color-coded ones. I’ll let him see the newest palace supply inventory spreadsheet from the consort’s department. It has pivot tables, Mother. Pivot. Tables.”

“Rafael.”

“I’ll be serene. Respectful. Not one button out of place. I will bore him to death. I’ll weaponize diplomacy.”

Delphine rubbed her temple again. “Gregoris is immune to boredom.”

“Then I’ll annoy him through relentless professionalism. Edward can do it, so there is a chance.”

“I’m not sure he’s immune to that,” Delphine murmured thoughtfully.

On the other end of the line, Rafael took a breath. “I just can’t give him what he wants. If I panic, he’ll win. If I run, he’ll chase me. So I’m going to smile politely and talk about supply chains until he begs the Emperor for reassignment.”

Delphine tilted her head, for once, just once, tempted to approve of such madness.

“…You are truly my son,” she said after a pause. “That is the most vicious form of social torture I’ve heard of in years.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll still wear something flattering.”

“I…”

“And not the grey suit. The navy one with the lilac tie.”

“…Fine.”

“Excellent,” Delphine said, snapping her fingers. One of her assistants already moved to prepare an appointment with the tailor. “Weaponized logistics it is.”

“And if he brings up our compatibility score?”

“You smile. You nod. And you explain how the regression analysis on seasonal supply needs in the outer provinces has a 97% correlation with emergency response trends.”

“Right.”

“And if he leans forward and tries to intimidate you…”

“I ask if he wants to tour the consort’s supply room. We just reorganized the shelving.”

Delphine smiled coldly. “Perfect.”

There was a pause.

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“…He’s going to enjoy it, isn’t he?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Damn it.”

—

The imperial sun had long dipped below the gilded spires of the palace, casting the administrative wing in soft amber and fading blue.

Rafael Rosenroth sat behind his desk in the consort’s secretary office, posture relaxed, spine perfectly straight, and the faintest, most infuriating smile ghosting his lips.

He was calm.

Calm in the way assassins were calm. Calm in the way his mother looked before making someone retire “for health reasons.” Calm in the way only someone who had decided to out-dull Gregoris Frasner into retreat could be.

The entire junior secretary team had sensed it hours ago and started avoiding eye contact.

Now, the office was mostly empty, the noise of the rest of the palace dulled by soundproofing spells and the natural quiet that descended when one planned an elegant public execution via administrative endurance.

Rafael tapped the call rune embedded in the side of his tablet.

To his surprise, the line connected.

“Rafael?” Augustus sounded unsure. “It’s late. Are you alright?”

“Perfect,” Rafael said lightly, leaning back in his chair and glancing at his flawless calendar. “Actually, better than perfect. I wanted to ask you something.”

There was a pause from the other end. “Go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Gregoris?”

Another pause.

“…Ah,” Augustus said, very quietly.

Rafael didn’t speak. He gave him the silence, he wanted to hear from him without input.

“I assumed you knew,” Augustus finally admitted. “He told me you were aware. He said that you went with your mother’s decision of introducing me, but you already had started dating him.” He paused, the moment accentuated by the creak of a leather chair. “I assumed that you didn’t want to disappoint your mother.”

Rafael closed his eyes briefly. Then opened them again. “Gregoris and I have never been on a date. Or spoken civilly for longer than three minutes. Alexandra made a joke at the imperial heir announcement gala, one of her better ones, I admit, about how he and I were the last two single people in the imperial circle. Apparently, he took that as a divine command.”

“…You really didn’t know?”

“I knew something,” Rafael said. “But I didn’t know he’d weaponize an ancient registry loophole and trick my mother into approving a slot based on heraldic seal alone.”

Augustus winced audibly. “That sounds like him.”

“I’m sure it does,” Rafael murmured. “But I would’ve appreciated a heads-up. Instead, I got a Thursday morning panic attack and the scent of expensive sabotage.”

“I didn’t mean to keep anything from you,” Augustus said quietly. “I just… didn’t think it was my place to intervene.”

“You didn’t think your friend manipulating the imperial courtship system to corner me into a locked date slot was worth mentioning?”

A long pause. “When you say it like that…”

Rafael exhaled, tension bleeding out so smoothly it was suspicious. “Look. I’m not upset with you.”

“You’re absolutely upset with me.”

“Correct. But I’m choosing not to be.” He stood from his desk, walked to the window, and added, “Because I’d rather weaponize this moment constructively.”

“…Rafael?”

“I’m going to the date,” Rafael said. “I’ll be stunning. Perfect. And so criminally dull that Gregoris will have to file a psychological complaint to escape me.”

“You’re going to bore him into defeat.”

“I will be beige,” Rafael said flatly. “I will bring city council budget drafts and ask for his opinion on streetlight placement.”

“…He might enjoy that.”

“I know. Which is why I’ve also scheduled something far more unpredictable.”

Augustus didn’t answer.

Rafael turned back to the desk, gaze cool. “What are you doing Saturday at 21:00?”

“That’s right after your date.”

“Yes.”

“You want to…”

“I want to meet you in the garden lounge,” Rafael said, his tone deceptively casual. “There will be fireworks. You’ll already be dressed. And if your friend happens to see us together, well…” He trailed off with a delicate shrug. “It’s not my fault.”

Augustus sounded like he was about to object. Then stopped. Thought.

And sighed.

“…21:00 it is.”

“Lovely.” Rafael smiled. “Dress nicely.”

He ended the call without waiting for goodbye.

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