Knock knock. The butler knocked on the door. After waiting a moment, the butler opened it and stepped into the prince’s bedroom. With thick black curtains drawn, the bedroom was extremely dark.
What I had to do was already decided. After pulling the heavy curtains aside, I took the grinder down from the wagon and started grinding the beans.
"Good morning."
The prince pulled back the canopy and got out of bed, then flopped down in front of the tea table.
"Hurry."
The instant he sat, he urged me on in a voice with no trace of sleepiness.
"I pray the coffee will drip quickly as well."
The grounds, swollen from soaking up hot water, raised a toasty aroma. The prince, who’d been tapping the table with a finger, sending an urging signal until the coffee finished dripping, emptied the cup at speed the moment I set it down in front of him.
Everything was the same as before.
"Anything in today’s paper I need to read?"
"There’s no important news."
"Then I’m going straight to the study. A sandwich is fine for the meal."
Except the prince was more rushed.
If I considered that the explosive increase in workload came from the prince’s rut, and if I remembered the butler’s state, which had been swallowed by fear during that rut period, the butler’s attitude of politely answering “Yes” didn’t look like a normal reaction.
Once the prince, minimally groomed, headed for the study, the butler followed behind, and I headed for the main house’s kitchen to prepare the prince’s meal.
The main house was perfectly restored, as if it had never been broken. Just like the prince’s room.
The servants’ utterly ordinary, everyday demeanor—grumbling that there was a lot of work during the restoration—sent a chill through me. They looked like they didn’t know why restoration had been necessary. For a moment, I even wondered if they’d lost their memories too, like what happened at the tavern.
But no.
In places where the prince wasn’t visible, the servants spent an extremely peaceful time—laughing, gossiping about someone. But the moment it seemed like even the prince’s shadow might appear, they stiffened like prisoners standing before a judge. It wasn’t that reckless reverence the tavern people had shown, but an unmistakable fear of a monster.
They couldn’t hide how scared they were, doubting whether the prince’s rut had really ended. Even when the servants gathered among themselves, not a single person put the prince’s rut into words. They were afraid even to bring it up. Like, in a novel that had been a massive hit back on Earth, how they couldn’t say someone’s name.
"My lord Duke, Count Umbra has sent a letter."
When I entered the prince’s study with the sandwich, the butler was already placing one more letter on top of the mountain-like pile of various letters. The prince tore their gaze away from the tower of letters—which didn’t look like it was getting smaller no matter how much they read, but instead magically only piled higher—and picked up the sandwich. Compared to yesterday, when I had to bring a sandwich back three times because it had dried out after being neglected under work, it was a fairly relaxed sight. I interpreted it as meaning the letter from someone called Count Umbra was just that unpleasant to read. When I boiled coffee and set it down beside the sandwich, the way the prince, unlike usual, sipped it slowly, one mouthful at a time, made my interpretation feel even more credible.
"I apologize for having to say this, but Count Umbra requests a swift reply. His attendant is currently waiting in the reception room."
The butler spoke with their head bowed low, as if they truly were sorry. While the cook was making the sandwich, I’d heard strangely loud noise, so it seemed that attendant had acted quite willful.
"Interesting."
The prince downed the coffee they’d been sipping in one go. At the prince’s glance, I prepared to brew another cup and said,
"Today’s last cup."
"Already?"
"Yes."
"...Then cancel it."
Whether because work had increased, or because of the rut’s aftereffects, the number of times the prince reached for coffee had noticeably grown. If I brewed it whenever demanded, my employer was the type who’d drink ten cups a day. I brewed it myself, and the coffee was also extremely strong, to the point that just watching made my stomach feel sour for no reason.
I tried saying that anything in excess is never good, and especially coffee—if you drink a lot, it strains the heart and you can’t sleep—something I’d learned with my body while practicing how to brew coffee for my lord Duke by drinking the leftovers, but I couldn’t persuade an employer who shouted, “One more cup.” Even when I told them, when they sometimes pressed their forehead and looked for coffee, that headaches were also a side effect caused by coffee, that didn’t work either. No matter how many facts I stated, an employer who wouldn’t be persuaded was an employer I could only raise both hands and both feet to.
『Then would you leave a guarantee?』
So I demanded an indulgence.
『What guarantee?』
『A guarantee that since I brewed coffee at my lord Duke’s command, even if my lord Duke suffers excessive heart palpitations, stomach pain, insomnia, or headaches due to coffee, I absolutely had no intent to harm my lord Duke. If my lord Duke goes through something serious because of coffee, won’t I go through something serious too.』
My employer had a constitution healthy enough to return to normal quickly even after consuming nothing but minimal food for two full weeks, so they might have no caffeine side effects, or very few. But I couldn’t only look at an optimistic scenario like that. If even one abnormal symptom appeared, wouldn’t my neck, as an attendant, be the first to drop? So I needed to secure an indulgence, at least. Even if I didn’t know whether it would truly have any effect.
『Are you serious?』
『I am.』
The butler looked at me like I was unbelievable, and the prince, too, frowned. Just as I thought an indulgence was too much, the prince asked again.
『Then how many cups can I drink?』
It was a moment I doubted my ears, but it was also a moment that could change my future—an exaggerated way to say it, but a future where I might become the prince’s assassin.
『If you cut the amount of coffee abruptly, your headaches could get worse. Reduce it gradually, and ultimately it would be best to limit it to three cups a day.』
At my words, the prince’s brows pinched even tighter.
『Then today……』
『Today, stop here.』
『Tomorrow?』
『Tomorrow, I think five cups should be enough.』
『Seven.』
『How about six cups.』
『Seven.』
『Six cups would be good.』
『Seven.』
『Will you write the guarantee? It seems your recent frequency of headaches has increased.』
『……Fine. Six.』
Headaches, like insomnia, were a chronic condition for the prince. Still frowning, they reluctantly nodded.
After the workday ended, the butler squeezed their eyes shut as if feeling an even worse headache than the prince and lamented, “You, seriously……”—but once the prince accepted my loyalty, the butler’s lament could only end as lament.
My loyalty was at least enough that if someone shoved a huge amount of money into my hand and told me to spill the prince’s secrets, I’d refuse. Because I believed that if I reported it to the prince, the prince would give me even more money. In the first place, I didn’t even have any secret worth calling a secret.
Anyway, the prince, having accepted the advice I gave with all my loyalty, really did reduce the coffee gradually from that day on. Even as I said it with my own mouth, I didn’t think that vicious caffeine addict could endure three cups a day, but the prince truly cut it down to three cups a day. In a different sense, they were a vicious person. At eighteen, in the age of storm and stress, to be this vicious. Maybe I’d grabbed onto the right line.
"Jay."
"Yes, my lord Duke."
At last pulling their gaze from the empty cup, the prince gave me an order.
"Go to the reception room and bring Count Umbra’s attendant. Tell them I’ll give a reply."
"Yes."
The prince didn’t look particularly pleased, or displeased. It seemed they’d already decided the content of the reply, but the pen they hadn’t let go of until just a moment ago was set down completely.
I headed for the reception room at the speed the prince normally walked. If the prince had started writing the reply immediately, I would’ve walked faster, and if the prince was in the stage of composing the content, I would’ve walked more slowly.
When I arrived at the first-floor reception room, I saw Count Umbra’s attendant sitting sprawled out.
"Did you deliver it properly to the Duke? That our Count said to come back with the reply quickly."
The moment he saw me, he asked in casual speech.
"Let’s go to the study. The Duke said he will give a reply."
"Yeah?"
Unlike how he’d been hounding me before I even spoke, he lifted his brows with a surprised face. Hm, tilting his head, he rose from his seat at a slow, lazy pace. It wasn’t a posture you’d expect from a mere errand-runner.
"I’ll lead the way."
"My legs hurt, that’s why. I sat waiting too long and I think I got a cramp."
"Are you saying you intend to keep His Highness the prince waiting?"
Only after hearing the word prince did the man’s carefree face twist.
"Follow me."
Count Umbra was a figure the butler emphasized often during lessons: the chief court attendant, and also the current king’s father-in-law. In the newspaper, it was a name that appeared even more often than the king’s. In other words, along with the prime minister, a figure you could call one of this country’s true powers.
However, compared to the elected prime minister, Count Umbra’s position was weaker because his son—the queen of this country—still hadn’t produced an heir. Since dominant Omegas were extremely rare, unless they were going to take a foreign-born queen mother, there was no alternative besides the current queen.
Because the current king’s mother had been foreign-born, if the next king’s mother was also foreign, the royal family’s legitimacy would be shaken. All the more because the prince’s mother, the king’s half brother, had been from this country, Henia. Even if she was a recessive Omega and couldn’t pass a claim to the throne to the prince.
That the prince had no right of succession wasn’t a secret at all. I was the only ignorant one. After hearing the prince’s story, when I dug through old newspapers, I could find a few articles about it too. They couldn’t outright say it, but they spoke of the prince with metaphors that anyone who knew the circumstances could easily catch.
Still, it must have been a difficult story for the prince to say with their own mouth. Because everyone knew it, it was even more so. From the prince’s perspective, I might have been the only person who didn’t know their background. Not just nobles—attendants who served them at close range couldn’t possibly not know the matter of the prince’s birth.
That the prince had been popular with the inn’s guests, too, was probably because the prince had no right of succession. A boy born as the king’s son, but unable to become king. People who lived day to day, earning and eating by the day, might have felt kinship and pity for someone whose limits were set from birth.
But even if the prince had no right of succession, there was absolutely no position Count Umbra’s attendant could afford to ignore. That attendant, too, probably had no intention of reaching directly toward the prince. If what was sitting on their neck was a head, that was only natural.
His target was me.