MPNS Ch 14

Chapter 14

His features suited that sweet smile — a smile that seemed as though it would carry the sugary scent of a candy being bitten into — yet, in truth, his temperament was far from pleasant.

At this very moment, Raymond was deeply irritated. There were precisely three things he despised:

First, people who approached him solely for his looks.

Second, people who hovered around him because of his family name.

Third, Nikiel Ossinis.

Without exaggeration, Nikiel Ossinis embodied all three of these detestable archetypes in one person.

‘The lecherous prince of the realm insists on making advances — how insufferable.’

Raymond thought back to the rumors circulating recently at court: that Nikiel Ossinis, the king’s youngest son, had lost his memory.

The first time Raymond heard this rumor, he had been in the midst of a court banquet. As champagne glasses clinked, a certain noblewoman leaned toward him — none other than Countess Polak, or rather Count Polak now, famed for seducing a knight under the pretense of free love, poisoning her husband, and seizing both his title and fortune.

‘Your Grace, have you heard the news?’

Raymond endured the scent of lily-of-the-valley perfume clinging to her as he offered a faint smile — a wordless refusal, conveying both ignorance of the rumor and disinterest in engaging further. Yet Count Polak, fully aware of his meaning, pretended otherwise and pressed on slyly.

‘It is said His Highness Nikiel encountered a demon and subsequently succumbed to amnesia.’

The citizens of Ossinis believed that those suffering from amnesia had crossed paths with a demon and lost all their memories as a result. Rather than attributing the condition to trauma or psychological shock, they assumed the afflicted had erred gravely, strayed from divine providence, and thus, upon locking eyes with a demon, had their memories obliterated in terror. If a head injury preceded the memory loss, that too was considered the work of a demon striking the victim’s skull.

‘It seems the Divine does not love the prince as dearly as the other royal children.’

Count Polak had chuckled. The implication was clear — Nikiel’s divine power must be weak.

‘No wonder his divine power is feeble — that debauched wretch.’

Even for someone born with divine power, chastity was vital to preserve it, yet Nikiel spent his days crawling under noblewomen’s skirts or offering himself to men, exhausting what little grace he might have possessed. Though not required to observe celibacy like the priesthood, it was still proper to live in moderation to safeguard his sanctity. Instead, he flaunted himself like a stray dog rejoicing at a village festival, behavior as shameful as it was vulgar.

Raymond could not reconcile the fact that this very Nikiel was hailed as the savior who would break the curse afflicting him and the other heads of the Four Houses. Nikiel understood all too well the comfort he brought to the cursed scions and how desperately they yearned for it — and he wielded that knowledge like a weapon, making frivolous demands whenever it pleased him.

Even before the banquet last winter — the one where a drunken Nikiel had bellowed brazenly about Raymond’s private parts — Raymond’s patience had worn thin.

At that time, Nikiel had requested a private audience with him. Ever since Raymond had inherited both the ducal title and the curse from his elder sister, Lia Boltwick, he had known no peace. Yet, strangely, merely sharing a space with Nikiel seemed to quiet the beast roiling within him.

Thus, he agreed to Nikiel’s request. It was a highly forbidden meeting; the heads of the Four Houses and Nikiel — all unmarried and of marriageable age — were forbidden to meet privately without attendants or chaperones.

Nikiel was the only male blessed by the Divine with the ability to conceive. Moreover, with his platinum hair and sapphire eyes, his potential spouses could only come from the Four Houses. To break the curse, physical contact was necessary — and for such contact, marriage was the prescribed institution.

In truth, however, even a simple kiss upon the back of the hand sufficed to calm the raging beast within. The royal family exploited this fact, ensuring the scions of the Four Houses remained bound under their control; no one was allowed even a moment’s contact without royal consent.

For generations, kings had ruled through this dynamic — wielding their daughters, sons, sisters, and brothers as leashes upon the Four Houses. By denying the cursed scions even a touch, the crown ensured all their power flowed upward to the throne.

Thus, Nikiel, under royal sanction, grew increasingly arrogant. During that private meeting last year, Nikiel had presumptuously stroked Raymond’s thigh — sliding inward and cupping what lay gathered along the right side — before saying, eyes glinting with lascivious mirth,

‘I merely wished to confirm matters before marriage. Must you play so coy, my lord? There are ways to break the curse even without a wedding, yet you refuse to hear me out… tch.’

When Raymond saw that debauched scoundrel clicking his tongue and fanning himself with a peacock-feather fan, rage had surged to the crown of his head, driving him to storm out of the royal guest chamber without a word of farewell.

That Ossinis’ only two dukes should be treated like common streetwalkers — sold for five killy a night — was beyond humiliation.

Would their ancestor, who had slain a dragon to safeguard this land, have endured such disgrace? If he had foreseen this, he might have clawed his way out of his limestone tomb to snap the necks of Ossinis’ wormlike populace himself.

Yullan, the kingdom’s military governor and first line of defense, would have snapped Nikiel’s wrist without hesitation if subjected to the same affront.

That was what stung most: Nikiel never dared extend such lecherous hands toward that northern brute, yet treated Raymond, of the Boltwick line, as easy prey.

And now? Now he feigned memory loss?

Raymond would wager his summer estate that the love-starved wretch merely pretended amnesia to reclaim the king’s and others’ attention.

It was to confirm this suspicion that Raymond sought an audience with the king.

When Nikiel finally appeared at Baekhwa Hall — one of the royal dining halls — after an infuriating delay, he seemed, at first glance, no different than usual.

‘No… strangely…’

Yes. There was something subtly different about him.

Gone was the hazy, glassy-eyed look of one addicted to that white powder brewed from crimson eastern flowers; in its place was a gaze sharp and lucid. Though still indifferent and detached, his eyes no longer glazed over like before.

When seated, he held himself straight-backed, shoulders squared, gaze fixed forward. Though unfocused — aimed somewhere near Raymond’s arm rather than at him directly — he no longer stared at the world as though perpetually lost.

Even his greeting had been peculiar:

‘Have you been in good health?’

Such words were far from courtly etiquette. Though Nikiel lived recklessly, he always showed meticulous propriety before the king — a child, in truth, yearning for scraps of paternal affection.

For the king, upon Nikiel’s birth, had examined the infant’s hair and eye color and, deeming them auspicious, had given orders for the child’s mother to be poisoned, a secret known only to the king, the Four House heads, and his first attendant.

Raised motherless, Nikiel clung desperately to what rare crumbs of affection his father offered. Raymond, knowing this, sometimes pitied the younger man — but only sometimes. Not every motherless child grew up rotten, after all.

Yet even so, something about Nikiel that day was off. The king merely nodded slowly, as though concealing something.

Soon after, Nikiel fixed Raymond with a direct stare — not the sticky, cloying gaze of old, but clear and unwavering. It was not pleasant, yet neither was it as loathsome as before — and that, too, was strange.

Then, just as abruptly, Nikiel’s focus drifted, sliding past Raymond as though he were air. That, somehow, felt worse.

Raymond had thought the sensation merely unshakable disgust toward Nikiel.

‘I know not what you mean… I was simply wondering whether Father might bestow that splendid flower upon me.’

The manner in which Nikiel spoke was grating in itself. But what irritated Raymond most was Nikiel’s behavior when the king, noting him as one of the prospective suitors, suggested they share a meal together.

The poised, proper young man who had entered upright and focused vanished the instant food arrived. Nikiel devoured the dishes straight from the serving plates — before they were even portioned — like some beggar in a marketplace.

Raymond quickly glanced toward the king, whose face mirrored his own shock. Only then did Raymond consider that Count Polak’s rumor might indeed hold truth.

Nikiel, having cleared his plate in moments, rose from the table without royal leave and exited Baekhwa Hall in haste.

Raymond excused himself, feigning concern for Nikiel, and followed.

And then, he had deliberately provoked him with words meant to offend. Nikiel’s response had been astonishing.

‘Since you ask… honestly, you seem like a thug, my lord. If you like me that much, petition for an audience. Don’t grab at people’s wrists on their way out.’

‘…….’

‘Who knows — perhaps I might even indulge you.’

So saying, Nikiel patted Raymond’s shoulder and strode past him with the same upright posture and light step with which he had entered Baekhwa Hall.