"The hardest thing?"
Upon hearing Aldrich III’s words, Moen couldn’t help but feel a bit dazed.
Indeed, it was very hard.
Because looking back on his journey, everything he had faced was the most terrifying things in this world.
The Corrupted God of Love.
The King of Wither.
The Moon of Silence.
Those dark gods that other people might never encounter in their entire lives clustered around him like a swarm.
And even now, with the curtain momentarily drawn, he could only say he had temporarily gained a brief respite. What the future held, no one could predict.
“But... there’s no choice but to keep moving forward, right?” Moen smiled as he spoke.
“...”
Aldrich III took a deep look at Moen, fell silent for a moment, then suddenly said,
“Then get lost.”
“Huh?”
“I said you can get lost now.”
With a blank expression, Aldrich remarked,
“We’ve finished talking. Don’t tell me you plan to stay here for dinner? Let me remind you, brat, that while I’m hardly a good father, I’m utterly annoyed by that heartbreaker face of yours—which will no doubt charm countless young ladies.”
“...”
Moen twitched fiercely at the corner of his mouth.
When he entered earlier, he was called "the Campbell boy." Now, after being tested, he was suddenly “brat.” Who was the *real* heartbreaker here?!
“Then I shall take my leave, Your Majesty.”
Moen placed a hand over his chest in a respectful bow before turning and leaving.
Yet as he stepped out of the room, he thought he caught a faint whisper from the emperor.
“Moen Campbell... If you want to become my daughter’s husband, it won’t be so easy.”
“...”
...
After Moen’s departure, Aldrich III remained standing with his arms behind his back, gazing quietly at the sunset, which fully disappeared below the horizon.
The world gradually sank into endless night. Stars began to glimmer across the sky. The immense silence engulfed the man who continued standing like a statue.
“Come catch me!”
“Haha, you can’t catch me, you can’t catch me...”
The sudden laughter carried by the wind disrupted Aldrich’s contemplation.
He knew it was his eldest son—his somewhat foolish son—who was once again playing games with the maids.
Carefree.
Utterly incompatible.
“How long until Celicia’s birthday?”
In what seemed like an empty room, Aldrich suddenly inquired.
“Your Majesty, eight months and thirteen days remain,” responded a raspy voice from the shadows.
“Eight months, is it?”
Lowering his gaze, Aldrich looked at the city, where thousands of lights began to gleam. His deep eyes finally reflected an unreadable glimmer.
“That’s far too long.”
He sighed heavily, withdrawing his hands into his sleeves, concealing those wrists—barely noticed even by Moen who had been standing so close moments ago—covered with the same cracks as the railing he had just shattered.
...
...
“Ha... As expected of His Majesty, so much force.”
Walking through the corridor, Moen finally let out a long breath as soon as he moved beyond the sightlines of the two royal guards.
Having merely exchanged a few words left him more exhausted than fighting a fierce battle.
It made Moen sigh in amazement—how both father and daughter excelled in that skill that could leave someone’s legs trembling.
As he thought this, Moen suddenly staggered slightly, his face paling, as waves of emptiness surged through him.
Only then did he remember that he hadn’t eaten anything all day except Ann’s highly nutritious soup.
Perhaps he’d had some chocolate the night before—hardly sufficient compared to his recent energy demands.
Hungry.
Utterly famished.
Sadly, there was no rich lady to treat him to a meal.
“In such a grand palace, they don’t even bother feeding dinner? How stingy.”
Moen muttered under his breath before speeding up, eager to leave the palace and find food.
But just then, someone called out to him.
“Master Campbell.”
Instinctively turning his head, he saw the middle-aged man he’d briefly encountered earlier upon leaving the emperor’s chambers.
This man stood at the corridor’s corner, as if deliberately waiting for him.
“And you are...?”
The sense of familiarity hit him once again, but Moen just couldn’t recall.
“Master Campbell truly has a penchant for forgetting old acquaintances.”
The man smiled while removing his hat and politely bowing.
“I am Shaun Jones, a modest baron. I had the honor of attending your coming-of-age celebration—a moment where we briefly met.”
“Oh, *you*!”
Moen suddenly remembered.
No wonder he felt such familiarity. During the receiving line at his coming-of-age banquet, he had indeed seen this baron.
At the time, his “esteemed” father even pointed him out specifically, saying Shaun Jones was...
A pearl hidden among the sand.
Yes, those were his exact words. Spoken with a tone of rare sentimentality—an unusual emotion coming from a man like his father.
Which was why Moen remembered quite clearly.
Thinking of this, Moen raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at Shaun.
“Baron Jones, just now when you visited His Majesty, it was because...”
“Oh, merely to receive instructions from His Majesty.”
The gray-haired man held his hat tightly, suddenly looking animated.
“I have just been personally appointed by the emperor as the new administrator of the Lower City District.”
“Administrator...”
Hearing this, Moen froze slightly.
Shaun Jones?
A baron?
Mind you, the previous administrator, Guen, was a viscount—and his selection for the Lower City District had already raised eyebrows throughout noble circles.
While the position wasn’t prestigious, it was hardly one suited to a low-ranking baron...
Could it be...
Moen suddenly connected the dots. Taking into account everything prior, it hit him crystal clear: the emperor wasn’t just launching a heavy blow at the noble factions this time—he was employing a brutal combination of strikes, hitting them right where it hurt the most.
No wonder those aristocrats seemed so panicky lately.
“Congratulations. It seems His Majesty has unearthed a true gem.”
Moen smiled.
“My father once praised your brilliance; I suspect your talents will truly allow Belland’s Lower City District to emerge from chaos.”
“No, I owe everything to Duke Campbell’s guidance.”
Shaun’s gaze became fervent.
“If it weren’t for the Duke, I’d probably still be wasting away somewhere. So...”
“Hey.”
Moen raised a hand to cut him off.
“Your abilities were enough to earn that guidance to begin with. You don’t need to undervalue yourself. As for my father, he’s not at home right now; save your words of thanks until he returns. For now, focus on your own duties. That’s all it takes.”
“This...”
Shaun paused, staring at Moen with newfound seriousness. After a moment, he exhaled deeply and expressed admiration.
“I knew it. Duke Campbell’s son could never be the disgrace depicted in rumors.”
Grinding his teeth lightly, Shaun spat out,
“Those gluttonous, vile aristocrats—how relentlessly they slandered Duke Campbell, sparing no effort!”
“...”
Moen’s eyes twitched imperceptibly.
Well, the rumors weren’t exactly untrue—at least not back then.
“Actually, I've done nothing but fulfill my role as a duke’s son.”
Moen maintained a perfect smile.
“That’s all there is.”
“As expected of you.”
Shaun marveled.
“You are truly a chip off the old block...”
Before he could finish his words, a loud grumble disrupted everything.
Moen’s entire expression froze, his cheeks reddening slightly.
Shaun blinked before glancing at Moen’s stomach, chuckling softly and placing his hat back atop his head.
“Well, idle chatter aside, I had reserved a spot at a restaurant earlier to celebrate my appointment. I was just struggling to find someone to accompany. Would Master Campbell honor me with his presence?”
“How is the restaurant?”
“Highly rated. I hear the head chef is from the royal palace. And tonight, there will be a famous beauty violinist performing.”
Moen’s eyes brightened—but he immediately masked his excitement with a composed facade.
“Given that the chef hails from the palace, I find myself compelled to sample the cuisine.”
“Haha, naturally. Please, follow me...”
