Chapter 145
“Tsk, couldn’t you stop looking like you’re desperate to leave this place?”
“You could simply dismiss me, Your Majesty.”
“Impudent fellow.”
The Emperor clicked his tongue repeatedly at Einar, but didn’t order him to leave.
He watched with disapproval as Einar picked up a teacup with an indifferent expression, then spoke.
“You’ve heard, haven’t you?”
“I’ll handle it.”
The Emperor leaned forward, seemingly surprised by Einar’s immediate response to his vague statement.
“You? You’ll handle it?”
Neither of them specified exactly what they were discussing, but they both understood that Smith was the subject at hand.
“Yes. Riina finds it bothersome.”
Einar didn’t bother mentioning that he would also deal with the delusional shadow who had dared to harm her.
Observing him, the Emperor’s eyes grew hazy.
The boy who had never shown an ounce of motivation for anything, whose capriciousness was infamous—it was gratifying to see him finally finding purpose. Yet he still showed absolutely no interest in the imperial throne, not even a chick’s teardrop worth, and had completely fallen for Bolshevik, giving her his liver, gallbladder, and everything else…
“It’s fortunate that Bolshevik’s child, at least, doesn’t despise our country.”
Despite this seemingly random remark, Einar responded with a slight smile.
“She is truly the Empire’s treasure.”
“From daughter-obsessed to utterly whipped.”
The Emperor shook his head, but Einar merely continued smiling.
“Fine. So, you’ll naturally be away from the palace while you’re at the border—how do you plan to stop the Third Prince from trying to kill me?”
“I don’t plan to stop him.”
The Emperor narrowed his eyes at Einar’s remarkably casual response, then asked:
“Are you two conspiring to kill me? How outrageous. One son, lacking the capability but unable to control his greed, attempts to kill his father, while the other takes advantage of the situation to get rid of a troublesome old man?”
Einar offered a completely different answer to the Emperor’s convoluted question.
“You’ll need to collapse first.”
“Are you telling me to knowingly drink poison?”
“Of course not. Even with an antidote ready, pain is something everyone dislikes, regardless of age or gender.”
“How very considerate of you to think of me so.”
“Your Majesty, you must maintain your dignity.”
“Quiet. Just tell me your plan.”
Facing the Emperor’s glare, Einar shrugged his shoulders very lightly and began.
“…plan to do it that way.”
The Emperor stared at Einar, who had suddenly stopped speaking, then asked dejectedly:
“Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“He is that stupid.”
“The rumors about my failure in raising children weren’t unfounded after all.”
As the Emperor ran a hand over his face, his closest attendant appeared without making a sound.
“Forgive my interruption, but the Third Prince has requested an audience.”
The Emperor’s lips twisted as he reflexively began to shake his head.
If he was to ingest poison according to that foolish, greedy boy’s plan, he would need to meet with him. Since Smith likely had no one else he could use for this task, he would come to administer the poison himself.
Seeing the Emperor’s reaction, Einar made a perfunctory bow and withdrew.
“Since you need to meet with Smith, I shall take my leave.”
Max, summoned by Einar, shook both his hands and head at the prince’s words.
“What? I can’t do something like that.”
“But you can.”
“No, I can’t. Put someone in a death-like state and make them wake up at will? And even stop their heart once or twice? How could I possibly do such a thing?”
It was possible to find someone who could perform one or two of these three tasks.
Using certain drugs or poisons to put someone in a death-like state and revive them when desired was feasible.
But the last condition was something no one could fulfill.
Stopping the heart once or twice?
“His Majesty’s attendants are quite sharp. They’ll need to see his heart stop once or twice before they think, ‘Ah, this is truly serious.’ And while Smith is stupid and carries his head around as decoration, he’s still perceptive.”
“What? The target is the Emperor? Absolutely impossible.”
As Max covered his ears as if he’d heard something unspeakable, Einar’s voice pierced through like thunder.
“Let’s make a deal.”
In that moment, Max’s eyes transformed—just as they had when he proposed a deal to Riina—and he stared at Einar.
Meeting those eyes, which seemed otherworldly and instinctively unsettling, Einar crossed his legs and smiled calmly.
“Would you like to make a deal?”
“Yes. Because there’s something I want from you.”
“There will be a price.”
“That’s to be expected in a deal.”
Seeing Einar’s completely unconcerned attitude, Max stared at him with inscrutable eyes before finally nodding.
“Then let’s make a deal.”
“How does this work? Do I need to recite some kind of spell?”
“No.”
Max took out an extraordinarily ordinary-looking contract from inside his garment and handed it over.
“State what you desire, and the price will be filled in automatically.”
“Surprisingly similar to a normal transaction.”
“It’s a perfectly normal transaction based on honesty and trust.”
“Good. I want Max to put the Emperor into a comatose state for as long as I wish, and induce at least two cardiac arrests. Ah, and there should be no pain or aftereffects throughout the process. Also, I want you to instantly transport me from the border to the capital whenever I wish.”
Just as Max had said, the contract filled itself out the moment Einar finished speaking.
The two men had opposite expressions as they watched the previously empty “price” field being filled.
Max looked up at the sky as if blaming someone or perhaps hoping for something, while Einar grinned as he looked down at the contract.
Eventually, the contract was enveloped in blue flames and disappeared, and Einar spoke with humor in his voice.
“This isn’t ordinary at all.”
“The deal is complete. No refunds or exchanges.”
“None seem necessary.”
At Einar’s cheerful response, Max ruffled his hair as if about to tear it all out.
“Ah, I really didn’t want to make a deal with Your Highness.”
When Max whined, Einar smiled and patted his shoulder.
“Because you lost out?”
“So you knew.”
“I never lose. As a merchant, you should know. There’s no such thing as a perfectly fair deal. So if I didn’t lose…”
“Yes, yes. I lost.”
Max ran a hand over his dejected face, then shook his head.
“It’s foolish to dwell on a completed deal. More importantly, when will you tell His Majesty that I’ll be coming to put him to sleep…”
“You were calling him just ‘Emperor’ a moment ago.”
When Einar chuckled, Max also laughed slickly while rubbing his palms together in an exaggerated manner.
“I was beside myself and… anyway, when should I…”
“I’ve already informed him. You just need to fulfill the deal according to Smith’s movements as he follows his so-called brilliant plan.”
“What? You informed His Majesty first and then came to me?”
As Max gaped in disbelief, Einar simply shrugged.
“I knew you wouldn’t refuse my deal.”
“What kind of confidence is that… ah.”
Max suddenly clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence, and Einar didn’t elaborate further.
After all, if Einar wanted it, Max would certainly have made the deal.
“Sigh, very well. Max of trust and faith, having made the deal, will handle the matter perfectly.”
Shortly thereafter, the Emperor would be blindsided by Max who appeared out of nowhere, and the fact that Max’s touch, which put the Emperor into a comatose state, was filled with personal resentment would remain a secret, buried from everyone’s knowledge.
The fact that the Second Prince of the Empire was heading to the border was confidential, and the schedule was extremely tight.
Ordinarily, Einar wouldn’t have cared about either of these things.
Whenever he left the palace to travel throughout the Empire or to foreign countries, he had always gone alone and had never properly planned his schedule.
But this border trip would be with Riina.
“At this pace, you’ll collapse from exhaustion.”
“Your Highness, this is a schedule that ordinary people can easily endure. How much more so for Lady Bolshevik.”
Among Riina’s determined efforts to avoid bringing misfortune to her family was physical training.
Though she had never been particularly physically gifted, and despite all her efforts, her innate misfortune had kept her just slightly above average—nevertheless, if an ordinary person could endure this schedule, there was no reason Riina couldn’t.
“But…”
Though Einar rationally understood that the schedule his aide presented was the best option, he still hesitated.
The aide then spoke in a voice drier than the daytime desert:
“She is a Bolshevik.”
Though Einar’s desire to cherish her like a fragile glass figurine or a sand vessel that would crumble at the touch of water was plainly visible, the aide mercilessly drove home the truth.
