Side Story 1.10
“Then shall we escort you to Baron Palga’s residence—”
“No. While this is indeed Baron Palga’s territory, Count Vector’s estate is actually closer in this vicinity. The facilities there are superior in many ways as well. Your Highness, allow me to guide you through a shortcut—”
One noble stepped forward proudly, his handlebar mustache twitching with confidence. The crown prince’s hand, which had been stroking the white rabbit, abruptly stilled.
“Count Vector’s estate?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The mustached noble puffed out his chest, stroking his facial hair with satisfaction. This was a rare opportunity—he needed to make an impression and firmly stamp his presence in the prince’s mind.
Just as expected, the crown prince’s gaze turned toward him. The noble straightened his shoulders, emboldened.
“To Count Vector’s estate?”
“Indeed. I am intimately familiar with the local geography. If you would trust me, I shall ensure Your Highness’s comfort.”
“We’re going to Count Vector’s estate?”
At this third repetition, the mustached noble was suddenly gripped by an ominous premonition. The crown prince wouldn’t ask the same question three times simply because he hadn’t heard. Twice could be dismissed as mere confirmation, but by the third time, it was clear—something was very wrong.
“Ah… That is…”
The handlebar-mustached noble faltered, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Before he could fumble further, another noble—this one sporting a straight, trimmed mustache—quickly interjected.
“If I may humbly suggest… Baron Palga’s residence would be more suitable.”
The crown prince’s silk-gloved fingers resumed their slow stroking of the rabbit’s fur.
“Is that so?”
The nobles, who had been closely observing the crown prince’s every move, finally understood.
It’s about House Palga. We must go to Baron Palga’s residence—no alternatives.
“I, too, agree with Lord Gerald’s opinion.”
“As do I…”
And so, their hunt abruptly ended as they set off for Baron Palga’s estate.
Baron Palga, faced with this sudden invasion of uninvited guests, was visibly flustered. He had received no prior notice—or rather, only a last-minute one-way communication via messenger crystal: “Prepare to receive His Highness the Crown Prince.” But wasn’t it basic courtesy to give at least a day’s notice? Half a day, even?
Sweat beaded on the Baron’s brow as he imagined the guest rooms, still unprepared. Tears threatened to spill. The kitchen staff was scrambling to gather ingredients for a banquet—would they even make it in time?
“Y-Your Highness, please, let us first escort you to the drawing room.”
Desperate, Baron Palga led them to the one presentable room fully decorated, clearly intending to stall until the rest of the estate could be made presentable.
The nobles, piecing together the situation, clicked their tongues inwardly. Of course—who would choose Palga’s estate over Count Vector’s when hunting in this region? This must feel like a bolt from the blue for the Baron. But their sympathy was short-lived. Far more pressing was deciphering the crown prince’s intentions.
For a while, the prince sat quietly in the drawing room, sipping tea—with the rabbit perched on his lap. Baron Palga stared at the bizarre sight, baffled, then glanced at the nobles for clues. They could only offer subtle shrugs. We know just as little as you.
As the uncomfortable silence stretched, the prince’s voice—a low, otherworldly timbre—cut through the air.
“How many slaves belong to your house?”
His beauty, so inhumanly perfect it was hard to believe he was born of mortal flesh, was matched only by his voice—youthful yet carrying an ethereal, almost demonic allure. Baron Palga, momentarily entranced, jolted back to reality and stammered:
“M-My household’s slaves, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
“I-It should be more than ten but fewer than twenty… I’d need to check the estate records to be certain. If you could grant me a moment—”
The butler, sensing the tension, swiftly brought over the estate records and handed them to Baron Palga. With trembling hands, the Baron skimmed through the inventory before reporting:
“Including recently acquired slaves, there are fourteen in total.”
Even as he answered, Baron Palga couldn’t fathom why the crown prince was asking this.
The prince tilted his head slightly. Fourteen. He had no frame of reference for how many slaves a Baron’s household typically maintained, but by his standards, it was a paltry number. Can a Baron’s estate even function with just fourteen?
“How many adults and how many children?”
“Ah… Ten adults and four children.”
“Gender ratio?”
“Th-Three male slaves and eleven female slaves.”
The prince’s gaze sharpened. The ratio was unusual—far too few male slaves for labor and an excessive number of females. It didn’t take long for him to deduce how Baron Palga likely used the women. His expression frosted over.
The Baron’s lechery was irrelevant. Imperial law didn’t criminalize how owners treated their property. But one thing needed clarification.
“Do you touch the children?”
The prince’s icy tone froze the room. The other nobles held their breaths under the weight of his glare, but Baron Palga—pale as death—floundered, waving his hands in frantic denial.
“N-No! I swear on my honor, only grown women! Children—I’ve never even considered them as… as that kind of prospect!”
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