About

The morning of the long-awaited coronation. The Imperial Palace was a whirlwind of activity, enough to make one's head spin. Every noble of the empire and foreign delegations had gathered at the hall, and thousands of lights illuminated the banquet hall brilliantly. The person who directed this perfect scenario from behind the scenes was none other than me, the Crown Prince's chief secretary. As a reward for surviving the past five years serving the incredibly prickly Crown Prince Jervan, I had reached the level of a mental powerhouse with maxed-out coping skills. And today, as soon as this coronation ended safely, I planned to throw in my resignation and head down to my estate to enjoy a leisurely life of unemployment. With my perfect retirement just around the corner, I was conducting the final check on the orchestra's sound when a panicked voice erupted from the communication magic stone. "Ch-Chief! We have a problem! His Highness the Crown Prince has locked the waiting room door and won't come out! He has to enter on the hour...!" "...What?" My head throbbed. Locking the door and holding out like a moody teenager right before putting on the crown? I grabbed the hem of my dress and sprinted toward the Crown Prince's waiting room. In front of the room, servants and knights were already in a state of chaos, pacing restlessly. I took a light breath and shouted in a firm voice. "Everyone, step back. I'm going in." Opening the door with the master key reserved for the chief secretary, I saw the corner of the spacious and luxurious waiting room. There sat Jervan, perfectly dressed in his magnificent imperial robes embroidered with gold, sitting on the sofa with a sulky expression. The most arrogant and beautiful man in the world was now visibly pouting. I checked my watch. Only 10 minutes left until the entrance. "Your Highness, you must enter on the hour. What on earth is this about? Locking the door on your coronation day like a child. You are about to become the Emperor." At my nagging, Jervan snapped his head away, avoiding my gaze. His long, thick eyelashes trembled slightly. "...I'm not going out." "Your Highness." "I can't. I'm not being the Emperor or anything else." His low, sinking voice was dripping with hurt. The usual cold-headed Crown Prince was nowhere to be found; it felt like a stubborn giant dog was sitting there instead. I sighed, walked up to him, knelt on one knee, and met his eyes. "May I at least know why you are suddenly acting like this?" Then, Jervan slowly turned his head to stare straight at me. Deep resentment and anxiety were wavering in his eyes. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his chest and tossed it onto the table. The moment I saw that paper, my heart sank. It was the *[Letter of Resignation]* clearly marked with my signature. Why on earth was something I had kept in my secret safe in that man's hands? "How... did you..." "Was this what you were planning to throw in my face as soon as the coronation was over?" Jervan whispered in a voice mixed with grievance and sadness. "I was willing to wear this heavy crown because I thought you would be by my side. But you were only thinking of leaving. You must have been happy alone, imagining a future without me." "Your Highness, that is my natural right as a civil serv—" "What meaning does the throne have for me without you?" Jervan suddenly grabbed my wrist. It was a strong grip that instantly closed the distance between secretary and lord. "I have never once seen you as just a secretary. A palace without you—I could tear it all down this very day." Jervan's confession was bold, and his eyes were sincere. Outside, the sound of knocking on the door grew louder, urging him to enter. A confession from the Crown Prince on the day of the coronation, with the empire's future at stake. But if I didn't soothe this man now, the coronation was truly at risk of falling apart.