Chapter 167: Master of the Trade Route (4)

“It was a joke. Our Elena’s never really been interested in men—”

The Empress, perhaps amused by the Saintess’s reaction, smiled warmly like a mother would.

Only then did the Saintess place a hand over her chest, letting out a silent sigh of relief without realizing it.

“I just found Lady Istina’s expression amusing, so I decided to tease a little.”

“Was there something wrong with my expression?”

The Saintess lightly tugged on the fox fur around her neck, feeling the chill in the air.

A single, clear bead of sweat had formed on her pale neck.

“No, nothing was wrong at all. I was just relieved to finally see a bit of humanity in you, Lady Saintess.”

The Empress picked up a teacup from the round table set for honored guests.

Inside, the fragrant black tea I had prepared in advance was releasing gentle wisps of steam.

“To be honest, when I first met you, I thought you were completely different from other noble young ladies your age.”

“I’m not all that different. Even the Saintesses mentioned in the scriptures all began as ordinary girls.”

Margaret nodded calmly, agreeing with her.

“That’s true. But… the person sitting beside me now feels slightly different.”

Istina lowered her hand from the fur as the Empress’s tone took on a more serious air.

She took the teacup I passed her and quietly sipped, settling into a light tea time.

“How should I put this? Rather than a devout, prayerful Saintess… you reminded me more of myself and my daughter—someone who has lived with careful calculation.”

The Empress, Margaret, who claimed to feel a sense of kinship with the Saintess.

The most powerful woman on the continent gently raised her teacup as if proposing a toast from afar.

“That’s why I wanted to introduce Lord Roger to Elena. If even Lady Istina can show a hint of humanity…”

The Empress softly touched the teacup to her lips and gazed at me intently.

“Then maybe Elena might smile like a young girl just once.”

Margaret lowered her empty cup and told me not to mind.

Only then did Bishop Valdes slowly close his eyes, finally able to relax.

“It is an honor, Your Majesty. I’ll continue to strive to be a loyal and trustworthy subject.”

The Empress looked at me and let out a small chuckle, as if watching a clever animal perform tricks.

Then she stood up, came to stand beside me, and, as if expecting more amusement, asked,

“So, after the Saintess, what gift have you prepared for me, Roger?”

“Your Majesty’s gift still needs a bit more time. I believe you’ll see it after the performance.”

“To think I’ll only get to see it after the performance—how intriguing. I wonder what kind of unusual experience it will be this time—”

I answered her with a sly, sycophantic smile befitting a court flatterer.

Then I glanced toward Valdes and suggested his gift first.

“Bishop Valdes’s gift is placed on that desk over there. Please have a look.”

“You mean… mine?”

The bishop tilted his head with a puzzled expression.

He likely never imagined he would receive a gift, especially from someone he considered an enemy.

Which is why his expression grew all the more suspicious as he began to untie the ribbon wrapped around the gift.

And then—

“…This is…”

His brows, which had remained serenely composed in front of the Empress, furrowed tightly.

That was only natural—because the gift I gave him was something completely useless to a bishop.

The imperial flag.

It was just the right size to be mounted on a carriage.

Valdes, apparently grasping the meaning behind the flag, bit down on his lip.

The once-gentle look in his eyes turned sharply cold as they landed on my face.

Anyone else might have been stunned by the sudden shift in his expression.

After all, when a man known for his mild-mannered beauty glares at someone with the intent to kill, anyone would be startled.

But I wasn’t the kind to flinch from that.

“I do hope the gift is to your liking.”

I extended my hand with an utterly composed expression, as if I genuinely wished for him to enjoy the present.

“Our hotel’s tailor crafted this symbol of the ‘Imperial Household,’ which Your Excellency belongs to, with great care. The pure gold embroidery alone is worth five million gold.”

“It’s certainly a piece that embodies the grandeur of our Imperial Family. It wouldn’t look out of place mounted on a carriage right away.”

The Empress also praised the beautifully embroidered flag.

But only Valdes was forcing a smile.

Because the meaning of this gift was clear: go concern yourself with your own Imperial Family.

“Since Bishop Valdes is of imperial blood, I figured you’d need at least one symbol of the royal family.”

Matters of the Northern Grand Duke’s house would be resolved by Northerners alone.

In other words, this was a silent warning: don’t lick your lips where you don’t belong—go back to your territory.

“Thank you… Lord Roger.”

Valdes barely managed to return to a calm voice as he offered his thanks.

To that, I responded in an even more courteous tone.

“If Your Excellency permits, I’ll instruct someone to tie it securely to your carriage for your return.”

“…Please do.”

I ordered Yuria, who had been waiting in the hallway, to hang the imperial flag gift on Valdes’s carriage.

She nodded and headed for the elevator with the gift in hand.

Meanwhile, on the 9th floor, a gentle prelude began to signal the start of the performance.

Even the guests’ seats fell into quietude, immersed in the music of Bennet.

Among them, the quietest of all was the Empress, Margaret.

She made no move to sit in her chair and instead focused solely on the man standing atop the stage.

“……”

I quietly observed the Empress standing beside me.

Then I turned my head at the sight of Istina approaching and watching alongside her.

“Her Majesty seems to be quite fond of Sir Bennet, Roger.”

“She is indeed. She’s been a devoted fan since long ago.”

Istina seemed curious about the reason.

Of course, Bennet was the singer of the century—but there were plenty of other vocalists whose talent matched his fame.

Istina seemed to want to know why, out of all those artists, the Empress only ever favored Bennet’s songs—despite a lifetime of listening to countless masterpieces.

“The defining feature of Sir Bennet’s music lies in his lyrics.”

I whispered the answer gently, so as not to disturb Her Majesty’s appreciation of the performance.

“Even when he sings about love, he infuses his own experiences and the emotions he felt at the time into the lyrics, expressing them poetically.”

“Now that you mention it… I do recall thinking his lyrics always felt a bit unusual.”

Istina slowly stroked the fox fur draped around her neck as she gazed toward the stage—

—at Bennet, preparing his voice and beginning to share his story.

“But simply having unique lyrics wouldn’t have been enough to capture Her Majesty’s attention.”

“Then what could be the other reason?”

In response, I looked into the Empress’s clear eyes, which seemed to momentarily reflect the days of her childhood, and answered:

“Empress Margaret and Sir Bennet are from the same hometown. If you listen closely, their manner of speaking is quite similar.”

There was a vast lake in the heart of the Empire.

The town that had formed around it—Caldeho—was home to people who all shared a soft and slightly rounded accent.

Those who moved to the capital from there often hid their dialect, fearing they’d be looked down upon.

However, I, who had undergone elocution training from a young age to become a secretary, could never fail to notice such things.

Surely, the two of them—sharing a hometown—felt an even deeper bond.

A once-happy country noble girl, chosen as the crown prince’s fiancée, forced to endure years of harsh training…

The only thing that could have filled that dark period was likely the songs of a singer from her homeland.

The sole voice of home she could hear within the suffocating walls of the Imperial Palace.

In a place with tens of millions of people, encountering someone from a town with barely a few thousand—perhaps it felt like fate, or a rare stroke of luck.

「――――――.」

His song filled the grand concert hall.

As time passed, the audience’s reactions all followed the same pattern.

Some, lost in memories, wiped away tears.

Others closed their eyes, immersed in the faint, enchanting voice.

Still others embraced the ones they came with, sharing a tender moment within a beautiful love song.

“……”

But the Empress standing in the VIP section wore a different expression.

As if she were waiting for one specific song, she stared intently at the stage with a longing gaze.

And yet, her wish was not to be fulfilled.

Because after the final song listed in the concert program—

—the stage lights went out.

Not even tonight.

Even though the Empress surely knew she wasn’t alone, she still murmured something with a deeper meaning.

That was how much she had been longing for something.

“I knew I wouldn’t get to hear it… after everything that happened.”

“May I ask… what song were you waiting for, Your Majesty?”

Unable to bear it any longer, Istina finally approached her.

The Saintess stepped to the Empress’s side, her voice soft and warm, as if carrying out her duty to care for all people.

“Ah…”

The Empress paused for a moment, unsure whether she should say such things to Istina.

Then she let out a quiet sigh and opened her mouth.

“You probably wouldn’t know it, Saintess. Sir Bennet has sung it only once.”

She gazed gently at the young Saintess, who had only just reached the prime of youth—

—her pale face covered in soft downy fuzz.

“A long time ago, when he was young, he sang it once in the Imperial Palace.”

Margaret let out a faint chuckle, as if convinced someone so young couldn’t possibly know the song.

But the smile of the Empire’s most exalted woman quickly froze.

“Are you speaking of Lake Caldeho?”

Because a boy from the far north had just named the song from her hometown.

“Roger, how do you know that song?”

“It’s the only specific hometown song Sir Bennet ever sang in his youth.”

I stepped beside the Empress and the Saintess, offering a plausible explanation.

Then, with a cheeky gesture, I waved a hand as if to say they could continue speaking without worrying about me.

“…Yes, that’s the one. But Bennet would never sing it now.”

The reason was simple.

Bennet likely had almost no fond memories of his youth.

He had endured harsh musical training while being abused by his parents.

Then, as soon as he became an adult, he was tormented by the in-laws of a political marriage.

On top of that, he was worked to the bone with a grueling performance schedule by a wife who only saw him as a money-making machine.

That’s why he now sang at my hotel only once a month—and no more.

He resented his youth, despite it being the peak of his career.

“Unlike me, he probably despises his hometown.”

The Empress clearly understood the bitter history Bennet carried.

That’s why she had never asked her favorite singer to perform that song—

—and simply waited, quietly, hoping that one day he would let go of his resentment and choose to sing it on his own.

“You truly are a good person, Your Majesty.”

I looked toward the now-darkened stage and left those words hanging in the air.

Margaret, noticing the shift in my tone, turned to study me closely.

“Me? All of a sudden?”

“Yes. To consider another’s heart before your own desires… you truly are the mother of the Empire.”

Her eyes said she couldn’t understand why I was suddenly saying such things.

She surely never imagined that a boy barely twenty years old could know such deeply buried feelings of hers.

“Haha… I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Roger.”

But—

Understanding even the feelings that no one else knows is the duty of the best secretary on the continent.

And I had held that title for ten years.

――――――.

The lights of the once-darkened stage flickered back on.

And then, Bennet—whom everyone thought had exited—began to reappear under the spotlight.

“……!!”

Everyone froze, from the Empress herself to the audience who had begun to rise from their seats.

In Bennet’s hand was a letter card—one I had given him in advance.

「Good evening, everyone. This is Bennet Tolkien.」

Even after performing five songs, his voice remained composed and rich.

That deep tone, which effortlessly charmed every woman in the room,

—quickly reasserted control over the restless atmosphere of the hall.

「I hope you all enjoyed the performance.」

The crowd answered with soft laughter, as if in agreement.

With a faint smile, the middle-aged gentleman picked up the card again.

「In fact, there’s one more song left in tonight’s performance.」

“An encore?”

“Looks like it…”

The audience, excited, hurried back to their seats.

But the Empress remained motionless at the railing of the VIP box.

She focused solely on what song he would sing—her entire being attuned to it.

「Originally, I had no intention of ever singing this song again.」

A shadow passed over his face as a memory surfaced, the lines on his forehead briefly deepening.

「Every time I sang it, I was reminded of the unbearably difficult days of my youth.」

But, true to his reputation as a professional, he smoothed over his expression and smiled once again.

「However, after a conversation with a certain young friend recently, I came to realize something.」

Bennet had referred to a young man.

Instinctively, the Empress turned and glanced my way.

「That the song of my hometown—which was a source of pain for me—might have been a memory of joy for someone else.」

I nodded in response to her gaze, confirming that this was the song she had been waiting for.

「They say a singer must be everyone’s lover, don’t they?」

The audience responded with gentle laughter at his lighthearted remark.

But the Empress, staring at me, still looked stunned.

「Just as you’ve remembered me… I, too, wish to fulfill that role.」

The orchestra, which had seemingly left the stage, now returned.

They took their seats once more, preparing for the final song.

Among them was a massive cello—one of Caldeho’s traditional instruments.

「Tonight’s last song is Lake Caldeho.」

The Empress’s blue eyes, which had never once wavered no matter the circumstances—

—began to tremble faintly at the very first notes of the melody she had waited her entire life to hear.

“Roger…”

Her happy childhood in the countryside had ended, giving way to years of harsh training and isolation in the palace.

As if all that pain was finally melting away, the shimmer of Lake Caldeho began to settle in her eyes.

“Please enjoy it, Your Majesty.”

I bowed my head respectfully to her.

The Knight Order Establishment Proposal tucked inside my suit’s inner pocket felt like it was in the way.

But today, that sensation—its very presence—was something I found quite pleasing.

And so, I quietly concealed a sly smile.

One that neither the Empress nor Bishop Valdes could see.

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