Kironne da Diaka’s choice was to abandon Crown Prince Kachian.

Shock spread through the Room of Truth like a silent storm—some people were stunned, others quickly recovered and started calculating whom they should now side with, while some were gripped by confusion and fear.

But the one most shaken, unsurprisingly, was Kachian himself. He stared blankly at Kironne as if struck in the head, his breath caught in his throat. Only after a long moment did he finally gasp like a man being strangled. The furious, shameless shouting he had hurled at the Emperor and Empress moments ago now felt like a lie.

In contrast, the Emperor remained calm, and the Empress gave a quiet nod.

Kishiar silently took in the entire scene with a faint, wordless smile.

And Yuder—who, from beginning to end, wore a cold, unreadable expression—once again showed no reaction.

Naturally so. He had already anticipated Kironne’s response. And perhaps...

“Even if the Duke of Diaka himself were here, he would’ve said the same thing.”

Yuder felt an undeniable certainty that even if the Duke hadn’t been injured and had come in person, he would have given the same answer as his son.

“Though, if he had chosen to abandon Kachian, the reason might have differed slightly from Kironne’s.”

Kachian had already crossed a point of no return.

Until now, the Duke had covered countless scandals and crimes for him—but only in expectation that Kachian would become a useful puppet, someone with future value. But look at him now. Could anyone still find such value in today’s Kachian?

“No, clearly not.”

Kironne, on the other hand, hadn’t made his decision based on any profound reflection about Kachian. His choice was, plainly and simply, a result of the Emperor referring to him as the “young lord.”

“Of course, he might be calculating in his own way, like his father. First securing power by stepping back, then replacing the Crown Prince with a pawn more suited to his aims... something like that.”

But things wouldn’t unfold the way he imagined.

Who in this room truly understood what it meant that, whether it was the Duke or Kironne, the result would still have been the same—Kachian’s abandonment?

It meant that the Duke of Diaka, Kironne, and Kachian were all nothing more than puppets dancing toward a conclusion someone else had desired all along. And that someone was Emperor Keillusa.

They’d each strategized, believing they were acting in their own interest, only to choose exactly the path the Emperor had wanted. How chilling it would be if they realized that.

Even if Kiole had stood in Kironne’s place today, the outcome likely wouldn’t have changed. Emperor Keillusa would’ve found a way to ensure he gave the same answer.

Amid Yuder’s cold reflections, Kironne’s irritatingly graceful voice continued to ring out.

“Though His Grace the Duke is unable to speak for himself at the moment, I believe if he were here, he would’ve said exactly as I did. As the first son of the noble House of Diaka and its young lord, I will obey His Majesty’s imperial decree. I hope that this renewed investigation into the case proceeds as a righteous step toward the truth.”

In other words, whether or not Kachian went to trial, Kironne and the House of Diaka would no longer involve themselves. Everyone in the room knew that the Duke couldn’t possibly be unaware of Kachian’s past. Yet with a mere denial, they seemed confident that they would remain untouched. That arrogant face reminded Yuder of the Duke.

They didn’t look much alike, yet in this moment, they seemed disgustingly similar—a true father and son.

“I’ve heard you well. Knowing that House Diaka, surely more heartbroken than any, expresses such support eases my own mind.”

“His Majesty’s will is the Empire’s will. That House Diaka shares it is only natural.”

“I’ve heard that the High Judges’ deliberation regarding the Crown Prince will conclude tomorrow. Though you mentioned great disappointment, I still ask that House Diaka take ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) on the Crown Prince’s defense.”

“That, too, is our duty to fulfill. You needn’t worry.”

He certainly said all the right things. Emperor Keillusa’s lips curled ever so slightly.

“Now that all intentions are confirmed, and since the Crown Prince appears greatly fatigued, we shall close the Room of Truth here. Ah, but before that, one final matter.”

Everyone, trying to suppress their astonishment from today’s events, looked to the Emperor.

Behind his glasses, the Emperor’s gaze swept across them.

“While it is regrettable that the Duke of Diaka is bedridden, the ‘Conference of Light,’ held once every three years, cannot be delayed. For the upcoming session, Kironne da Diaka, the young lord, shall attend in place of the Duke. The arrangements have already been made. I will not entertain any objections.”

“......”

Another ripple of shock spread through the already shaken room.

“The Conference of Light...”

It was a governmental summit convened every three years by the Emperor, gathering the Empire’s top 100 officials for several days of discussion. Yuder had never seen one in person. When Kachian took the throne, he had denounced it as an outdated relic and abolished it.

In any case, to appoint Kironne as the Diaka representative meant that usually, only one representative per duke’s house was allowed. And now that Kironne had been chosen for it—how elated he must feel. Kironne slightly bowed, smiling as if he were already the Duke.

“I will do my utmost to serve in His Grace’s place.”

Thus, the Room of Truth, after a string of stunning revelations, finally adjourned.

Kachian, his bloodshot eyes still fixed on Kironne in a daze, was dragged out by knights. Those who had wondered earlier what exactly the Emperor hoped to achieve today no longer dared look toward his seat and quietly filed out. Figures from the neutral factions—like the Head of the Royal Magic Division, the Chief Elder of the Grand Temple, and envoys from Grand General Mucker—hurried off, each with expressions that suggested they’d found their answer.

Those aligned with the Emperor or the Cavalry, such as Revlin Shan Apeto, gave solemn bows and left with resolute expressions. No doubt they were already deliberating how to act moving forward.

Kiole da Diaka, pale and dazed, stood up—but was soon half-dragged out by nobles who had suddenly surrounded him.

“Lord Diaka! Let’s have a word!”

“Wh—what? What is—!”

The forces aligned with Kironne and the Diaka house watched Kiole with meaningful glances before following after. Yuder decided not to concern himself with what they’d do next—he’d find out soon enough once Kiole was cornered.

“Anyway...”

As the room emptied, Yuder fixed his gaze on the backs of several nobles who had earlier dared to cast insolent glances toward Kishiar. Now, terrified he might draw his sword again, they hurried off with their faces hidden—but Yuder had long since memorized their features.

“Who are you watching so intently? I’m starting to feel jealous.”

A pair of arms wrapped snugly around Yuder’s shoulders as he stared in silence until the door closed. Of course, the only person who would dare do such a thing was Kishiar la Orr.

“You already know who and why I’m watching. Why bother with the teasing?”

“Hm. Well, I’d prefer you look at me even a little more than them.”

“Blunt, aren’t you.”

“It’s a new strength I’m developing. Taking after my aide, I plan to become a more honest man from now on.”

Kishiar solemnly declared.

“I can hear the nonsense from over here. Enough talk—follow me.”

Just then, from the dais, Emperor Keillusa called out with a frown. Now that everyone else had left the room, his tone returned to its usual, more relaxed manner.