CIRN 17

Chapter 17

Clois had been feeling unusually strange since this morning.

It wasn’t a bad feeling. Rather, it was a fluttery excitement sparked by some unknown anticipation.

It had been so long since he’d started a day with such a feeling that, at first, he couldn’t even recognize what it was.

And then, it suddenly came to him.

A long time ago, when someone precious to him was still alive, he used to begin every day with this same feeling.

‘But why am I feeling this way all of a sudden?’

Today was nothing special.

It wasn’t an anniversary, nor was it the death date of anyone dear. There were no special plans scheduled—just another completely ordinary day.

And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t understand why he was so excited from the moment he woke up.

He even started wondering if he’d taken the wrong medication or something.

But he hadn’t even touched the medicine prescribed by his doctor, so that couldn’t be it.

Unable to find anything unusual in today’s schedule, Clois began to retrace his memories from the day before.

Recently, aside from his worsening depression, nothing out of the ordinary had happened…

“Ah.”

Wait. There was something.

A child had suddenly appeared at the graves of Lillian and Ebbvien.

But he had given the child a fake identity and sent him away. He wasn’t going to see the boy again, so there was nothing more to worry about.

So it didn’t make sense that that encounter would be affecting him now…

Still caught up in that unfamiliar, drifting mood, Clois made his way to the office.

On his way, the ministers he encountered greeted him far more enthusiastically than usual, bowing deeply.

They chatted about the pleasant weather and asked how His Majesty was feeling.

Even if he was in a good mood, he couldn’t understand why the ministers seemed so cheerful.

These were people who normally avoided making eye contact.

Unless they’d all gone mad at the same time, there was no reason they should be speaking to him with such ease.

And yet, they were all clearly trying to read his mood carefully.

A few moments later, Clois understood why.

The ministers in the meeting room suddenly rushed to the windows, chattering excitedly.

“Look, the gifted students are arriving.”

At that moment, it all clicked.

That’s why everyone had been gauging his mood since morning, speaking to him more than usual.

‘So today was the day the academy students were scheduled to tour the imperial palace.’

Since he had instructed that Ibi Alden be enrolled, Clois hadn’t spoken a single word about the gifted academy.

And recently, petitions regarding the still-vacant successor position had been flooding in again.

So of course the ministers wanted to hear anything—anything—about his thoughts on the matter.

Especially since several of the children considered to be potential successors were now entering the palace. This was their golden opportunity.

And honestly, their logic wasn’t wrong.

If he were going to speak about succession, today would be an ideal moment.

But…

“I’m not feeling well today. Proceed with the meeting without me. Send me the minutes later.”

At Clois’s words, the ministers’ hopeful faces instantly darkened.

He didn’t intend to scold them for it.

Of course, some among them quietly hoped that their own children, grandchildren, or protégés would catch the emperor’s eye.

But more than anything, Clois now understood that many of them were genuinely concerned about the succession.

They didn’t care who it was—only that someone be named soon, to ensure the empire’s lasting stability.

But he still couldn’t decide.

He knew the answer.

As everyone had guessed, it would have to be either Arsel or Ruska—one of the two.

No one could ever truly know another person’s heart, but he had fought life and death battles alongside their fathers: Duke Kaelen and Marquis Lagselv.

He knew the caliber of those men.

Both of them would never wish for their children to become the next emperor.

And if their children were chosen, they would immediately resign from all positions within the imperial court and retreat to distant territories.

‘The children themselves aren’t a problem, either.’

Both had royal blood when traced through their ancestors.

So when rumors first began to spread that one of them might become the next heir, no one seriously questioned their qualifications.

But that wasn’t why Clois had privately chosen them as candidates.

‘Lillian cared deeply for them.’

There had been many children in Lillian’s territory besides Arsel and Ruska.

Since Clois had stayed there for quite a while, many of his aides had brought their families with them.

But Lillian had shown particular affection toward those two—as if they were her own children.

Clois trusted not only his own eyes, but also Lillian’s.

If they were children she cherished, then surely they couldn’t be the wrong choice.

“Even so, Your Majesty, the young students must be thrilled to be touring the palace. If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps just a brief greeting?”

Just as he was about to grow irritated with the ministers’ persistence, Clois snapped to attention.

‘That child thinks I’m a professor.’

Unable to say “emperor,” the boy had used the name of the professor he’d heard instead.

What if he suddenly saw him here, in the palace?

He’d surely be shocked.

And if he realized who Clois truly was, he would never speak to him so comfortably again—not like at the grave.

With that thought, Clois immediately rose from his seat.

Judging by the ministers’ behavior, it seemed they were planning to go greet the students once they entered.

It would be better for him to leave before that happened.

“Enough. I’ll be in my office. If something urgent comes up, send someone there.”

With that, Clois quickly exited.

Once in his office, he spread out the usual mountain of paperwork.

Today’s meeting didn’t have any critical agenda items anyway. So in a way, it was better that he had more time to work alone.

‘I should get this over with quickly.’

There were always too many documents waiting for his review.

He needed to go through them quickly, sign what needed signing, and send them off.

But contrary to his thoughts, his hands weren’t moving at all.

Normally, he would’ve gotten through several pages by now. Yet his eyes remained stuck on the very first sentence.

There was only one reason why—he could hear the students outside.

‘Are they already that close?’

Exclamations of awe, children calling to their friends, nonstop chatter—

The sounds of young boys and girls, rarely heard in the palace, made it impossible for him to concentrate.

‘Ibi must be with them too.’

That thought made him finally put down the document and stand.

Thankfully, the curtains were drawn. He could sneak a glance through them without being noticed.

As he peeked between the curtain folds, he saw the students.

‘I heard many kids had already dropped out.’

Still, more remained than he’d expected.

Over time, more would likely leave for various reasons.

As he scanned the group, his eyes finally found the one he was looking for.

Ibi, much smaller than the others, was being jostled around, unable to find a place to stand among the bigger students.

Even as he got pushed around, his eyes never left the palace buildings.

Clois, in turn, couldn’t take his eyes off Ibi.

‘Is it really that amazing to him?’

It was understandable. For a boy from a rural orphanage, the imperial palace must seem like an entirely different world.

The academy buildings were prestigious as part of the imperial institutions, but they couldn’t compare to the main palace.

Watching him stare in awe made Clois want to laugh.

If the other children hadn’t been around…

If it had just been Ibi…

‘Then I might have gone down there and pretended to be a professor—explained everything to him myself.’

And with that thought, Clois was suddenly startled.

He’d told himself there would be no more encounters.

And yet here he was, wanting to go to the boy and explain things to him.

Why was he thinking such contradictory things?

Just then, Ibi—still gazing up at the main palace—bowed his head deeply.

Clois, thinking the boy might have noticed him, stepped back in alarm.

“How…?”

Had the boy seen him?

He had to steady his heart, now pounding in his chest.

Taking a deep breath, he waited a while, then cautiously returned to the curtain and peered out again.

The students had already moved on, following a staff member farther into the grounds.

A small child trotted along at the end of the line, trying to keep up.

Thankfully, it didn’t look like Ibi had recognized him.

‘Then why…?’

Why had he bowed toward the palace?

Clois remained by the window, watching until Ibi’s small figure completely disappeared from sight.