Bermuda

“So. I’d like to hear the rest of it. You said you went to a strange old castle.”

“Ah, yeah.”

Hugo dragged the conversation—one that could have easily been glossed over—back onto the table. He clearly intended to hear the story no matter what. Knowing that, Leonardo hesitated over whether he should talk about this at all, then finally made up his mind and opened his mouth.

“That castle... looked like a turtle. Its name was ‘Romang.’”

“Romang? A rather romantic name.”

Hugo scooped up a piece of the octopus dish he had portioned onto his plate with the spoon he was using, then naturally brought it toward Leonardo’s lips across the table.

“Was that castle inside my territory as well? It’s a word mostly used around here.”

Leonardo, who had lowered his gaze to follow the spoon, pulled his chin back with an awkward expression. But when Hugo flicked his wrist and urged him with a look to open, his lips slowly parted.

“No, that’s not—”

Two slices of octopus leg slipped into his narrow mouth mid-sentence. The spoon pushed deep enough for him to taste the sauce properly, gliding along the curve of his upper lip before withdrawing.

Having succeeded in feeding him, Hugo smiled in satisfaction. Leonardo, caught off guard into accepting it, covered his mouth with the back of his hand and chewed.

Even as he felt the chewy, savory flavor of the octopus, he glared sidelong at the man who was already stirring the plate as if preparing to feed him again.

“I went to the trouble of preparing it. It’ll get cold. So?”

Hugo asked with a soft laugh. Leonardo swallowed and cleared his throat.

“What kind of situation do you think the phrase ‘my romang’ would be used in?”

“My romang?”

“Yeah.”

The unexpected question made Hugo’s hand stop.

“...Since the castle’s name was Romang, perhaps the owner was expressing affection toward their possession?”

“Well, maybe, but....”

The answer differed from what he expected, so Leonardo belatedly added some information. In truth, it seemed the castle had been a gift from someone to someone else. Inside and outside the castle were stone tablets hinting at the circumstances when it was built, and what was written there resembled a letter; among it, the phrase “my romang” appeared to refer to the recipient. He explained abstractly, leaving out certain facts.

“A castle named Romang, gifted to someone, and calling the recipient ‘my romang’....”

While mulling over Leonardo’s explanation, Hugo extended another spoonful of food. The servants stood far away, but conscious of watching eyes, Leonardo hesitated again before awkwardly accepting it. Only then did Hugo set down his utensils and answer carefully.

“It sounds ambiguous. Too intimate to send to a friend of equal standing, yet distant for a poem dedicated to a lover. Perhaps words directed toward someone one admires or idealizes?”

“Distant for lovers? Why?”

“‘Romang’ means a wish one hopes to realize. More precisely, it’s closer to an unrealized romantic ideal. If they were lovers, they would have already borne emotional fruit; I doubt they would call someone they gifted a castle to merely a romang. Well, that’s just my opinion.”

“Hmm....”

Leonardo had already heard Signe say the tablet sounded like a love letter, so the conflicting opinions left him with an ambiguous expression.

Watching his uncertain reaction, Hugo added casually,

“If we focus on lovers, they may have been a cautious relationship where feelings couldn’t be expressed easily, or lingering attachment to a love that never came to fruition. Whether separation... or death. ...Now then, I’ve answered sincerely. Will you tell me the answer? At this rate the guessing game will never end.”

Leonardo flinched and lifted his eyelids. His Grace had apparently already noticed he was only revealing partial information. With an awkward smile, he pressed and released his lower lip before replying.

“I guessed the person who received that castle was the first emperor of Raina Rogia. The one called ‘my romang.’”

“The first emperor? Theodor?”

Unexpected names made Hugo’s brows rise. Leonardo rinsed his mouth with juice and nodded.

“It’s been a while, so I don’t remember every detail, but all the inscriptions seemed to point to him. I asked you about the turtle because I wondered if the castle I saw and this villa might be connected. If this place was built at least a few hundred years ago, the timing roughly matches.”

“......”

“At that time, someone wealthy and powerful enough to gift a castle to the first emperor, someone close to him—and if it’s connected to your family....”

Hugo sank into brief thought at the continuing speculation.

Perhaps because Leonardo had just questioned secrets of the peninsula tied to the first emperor before the Emperor himself. Now he dug into a related topic again—strange, and worryingly close to a dangerous line.

As that concern subtly showed in his gaze, Leonardo, who had been listing possibilities under the guise of pure curiosity, trailed off.

“...Well, we might learn something new. Most records related to the first emperor are lost, after all.”

Golden eyes flickered cautiously. Hugo rubbed his lips and answered.

“Aetas Agrizendro Rogia. Only him.”

“Aetas?”

“The last king of Rogia who signed a peace treaty with Theodor. After the era of Raina Rogia began, he also became the founder of the Agrizendro family.”

Leonardo’s eyelids widened slightly—not because he had never heard the name, but because he had assumed the one who gifted the castle to Theodor had been his lover. But according to His Grace, the two kings who signed the peace treaty—

“Lovers? Those two?”

Not an impossible hypothesis, yet not easily believable either. Until just before unification, # Nоvеlight # Raina and Rogia were fiercely opposed states.

That was why the quiet road from the eastern gate of the capital to the western gate of the Agrizendro lordship remained both a massive ancestral grave and a place of reconciliation. Over a thousand years ago the land had been a battlefield; it was hard to believe the kings of enemy royal houses held romantic feelings.

“If we consider the two of them, their relationship would be more complicated than lovers.”

But Hugo presented a slightly different perspective.

“Historians from my family have long questioned the founding of Raina Rogia. Not only ours—anyone who views the circumstances objectively would think the same. Rogia held superiority over Raina in both territory and military power, so why did it become merely a duchy during the treaty process?”

“......”

“According to records preserved in the estate, our king was a supremely wise ruler, talented in both letters and arms. At times he cared for his people with wisdom and gentleness, yet at others he set affairs right with cold reason and sharp judgment. Such a man signed a treaty with the king of Raina and became not an emperor but a vassal—his descendants could never understand it. No matter how powerful the Sun King was said to be, our ancestor’s influence rivaled him, and above all the military strength of the two nations was incomparable. But if the two shared affection, it becomes somewhat understandable.”

Hugo said that when a nation victorious in war attempted annexation, the first step was to behead the defeated king and eradicate his lineage to prevent future trouble. Now it would be called inhumane, but at the time it was standard. Leonardo almost added that things were not so different even now, but stopped himself.

So if Aetas felt any emotion toward Theodor—love, sympathy, or admiration—he would have avoided unifying the nations through war. Hugo presented his view.

“Perhaps he abandoned the chance to become emperor, even dominion over the world... for the king of Raina.”

Leonardo nodded at the fairly convincing words. Under that assumption, it aligned more closely with His Grace’s example of “lingering attachment to an unfulfilled love.” Like Romeo and Juliet, national interests beyond their houses would have formed a wall against their feelings.

But in the end, isn’t the founding of Raina Rogia itself the result of their love? Then why didn’t it come true?

Because Theodor died first? Or because an heir had to be produced?

Leonardo’s eyes wandered as his imagination expanded. Then Hugo gently warned him.

“Leo, it’s good to take interest in history, but don’t enter suspicious old castles recklessly. You don’t know what dangerous magic may be laid upon them. And if records of historical value were lost, there’s a reason for that.”

“...A reason?”

“It means don’t dig too deeply. I’m worried about you. There are many truths in this world controlled by unseen hands. If you truly wish to see related materials, come to my estate. Of course, only if you promise me you won’t take newly learned facts outside.”

Hugo refilled Leonardo’s empty glass with orange juice as he continued.

“I possess what I believe to be... a handwritten letter left by Aetas. It’s only my conjecture, but the moment I read it, I felt certain.”

“You have something like that in your house?”

He had heard that secrets and ancient documents unable to appear in the world lived alongside the estate through long years... but he hadn’t expected relics from that era as well. Surprise spread across Leonardo’s eyes, and instead of answering, Hugo cut a large piece of steak and set it on his plate.

“I’ll tell you the rest after you finish eating. Everything has an order, doesn’t it?”

Looking down at the plate pushed toward him again, Leonardo blinked. Then he chuckled softly and picked up his neatly arranged utensils. He had forgotten while talking, but it was rude to leave food untouched in front of someone who prepared a meal.

Selecting a properly sized fork and knife, Leonardo skillfully began cutting the steak. Hugo placed creamed spinach and pickled tomatoes to one side of the plate.

Watching the precise knife work, Hugo asked,

“I’ve thought this before—you’re very proficient in dining etiquette. Did you learn it somewhere?”

Leonardo shrugged casually.

“When you live as a soldier, sometimes you have to dine with important people. Attending those occasions, I just picked it up naturally.”

***

Tick, tick—

The sound of the second hand echoed through heavy air. The tightly tense servants of the ducal house stood in orderly lines with bowed heads, waiting silently. Even Flinn and the head butler could only clasp their hands politely and watch.

At the center of the dim interior sat a plush, dignified velvet sofa. The person seated there, staring straight ahead with cold blue eyes, was Gladia Agrizendro.

Arms folded, she counted the passing time at her fingertips and looked at the clock on the wall.

Even assuming they were handling what was believed to be an explosion incident, it was excessively late. It had already been four hours since Flinn guided her to the estate under the Duke’s orders.

Still waiting for the Duke, Gladia recalled his last words and gestured to the highest-ranking butler beside her.

“Yes.”

Touching the jewels covering her fingers, she spoke coldly.