According to the original plot, once the original host entered Eden Academy and embarrassed himself over and over, the Empress gradually lost patience with this son. She would never actively reach out again. The two of them would be—sacredly estranged.
But what was a hellish mode for the original host was, in Linen's eyes, the ideal state.
No shackles from the palace, yet he could still wave the imperial banner when needed—that gave him more room to maneuver.
What the original host had considered precious—his mother's attention—Linen saw only as a restriction.
In none of the storylines had the Empress ever given her son more attention because he was too outstanding. Never.
He didn't know who had come this time, only that he had to follow behind succubus-teacher Milian to the reception room.
And not long after Linen and Milian left, Hysteria immediately stood and yanked Elena up with her.
"Wait, wait, Hysia, what are you doing? They only asked for Linen-kun. Following secretly isn't very proper, is it?"
Dragged out of the classroom, Elena was bewildered, managing only barely to stop her strong-willed friend.
"We have to follow!"
Hysteria was almost incoherent. The unbeatable Princess Hysteria—genius beauty blessed with looks, power, and fortune—also had first-class instincts.
Ordinary people had hunches. But Arcana Mages, connected to the Weave, had spirit sense.
Hysteria's sharp spirit sense was one of the main reasons she'd survived the treacherous Flame Rose palace this long.
The instant a sibling so much as thought of harming her—she blasted them with fire.
Even this study-abroad trip, though mostly due to her siblings ganging up on her, was partly her spirit sense steering her away.
And sure enough, she'd made her very first true friend here—Elena.
As for Linen, that annoying pest? Just collateral.
But just now, her spirit sense had screamed to her with precision: Linen was nine chances out of ten definitely seeing someone behind their backs.
And the moment she thought it—someone showed up through Teacher Milian to call for him. Too much of a coincidence.
Not that Hysteria really cared. She told herself it was for Elena's sake.
As group leader, she couldn't just let some shady woman seduce one of her members away!
"Fine, if you're dead set on following, I'll go too. Otherwise you'll just do something reckless."
Elena sighed helplessly.
It was break time. The hallways were crowded. Linen and Milian never even noticed the two little shadows tailing them.
The pair up front just chatted idly:
"Milian-sensei, may I at least know who's looking for me? I'd like to be mentally prepared."
Milian's face showed awkwardness.
"Ah… sorry, Linen-kun. It's not that I don't want to tell you—I just arrived from the provinces recently. I'm not familiar with the capital's nobility. I can only say—it's a rather stern-looking middle-aged man."
Running through the possibilities in his head, Linen looked faintly disappointed, muttering under his breath:
"A man? …I thought it might be Novy."
"Novy?"
Milian tilted her head.
"Oh, nothing. Just the leader of my Black Stockings Maid Corps. Great taste in clothes, though still lacking experience. I could introduce you sometime—you'd probably have a lot to talk about."
"Ah, no need for that…"
She turned her face away awkwardly.
Linen had long seen through her succubus secret—but if it ever came out that her "experience count" was still zero, she'd socially die in every sense.
"But seeing you look so expectant, Linen-kun… seems this Novy isn't ordinary to you."
"Heh. It's nothing."
He brushed it off lightly.
Listening, Hysteria felt reassured… and stuck her tongue out in disdain.
So he was meeting a man. That meant no problem. This little tailing trip had been pointless.
"Black Stockings Maid Corps? As expected of a pervert prince. Let's head ba—eh? Elena?"
Turning her head, she jumped. Elena's face was expressionless, her gaze blank, fixed on the two figures ahead.
Only after Hysteria called did she snap back to normal.
"Hysia, I don't think this is right."
"I—I'm sorry! Then let's stop. We'll go back, okay?"
Hysteria thought she was angry.
"No, that's not what I mean,"
Elena shook her head mechanically.
"If we're following, we should do it properly. Staying this far back, we can't hear anything—that's ridiculous."
"Huh? W-wait, we're just checking he's not meeting anyone weird, right? Eavesdropping properly is going too far—"
Hysteria was rattled, but Elena ignored her. After sensing the magic flow nearby, she murmured:
"The reception office isn't in the teaching zone, so there's no anti-magic restriction. I'll cloak us in Illusion. Let's get closer."
Her tone sounded like a suggestion—but gave no room for refusal. She cast her spell and, face set, pulled a very-regretful Hysteria along.
Even if it had nothing to do with her… who was this Novy? She couldn't stop caring.
…
Soon, two invisible girls stood outside the reception door. Linen and Milian went inside. Elena had wanted to follow them in, but Hysteria clung in terror, and so they settled for eavesdropping.
Inside, Linen inclined his head slightly.
"As I thought—it's you, Uncle Traor."
"Yes. Long time no see, Your Highness Linen."
Wearing a black suit, monocle gleaming, hair slicked neat—the man on the sofa answered without the slightest sense of impropriety.
Neither did Linen feel it amiss.
"His attitude's arrogant. I don't like him. How does the pest put up with it?"
Hysteria grumbled through the door crack. Elena frowned, puzzling—there was no "Traor" among the great noble families she knew.
In truth, he wasn't a renowned noble, nor a powerful Arcana Mage. He could be summed up in five words:
The Empress's right hand.
For the Red Dragon Empress, Tivira Norton, that title alone was enough to make anyone in the empire give way.
Seeing things calm, Milian exhaled.
"If you two have no issue, I'll step out—"
"That won't be necessary,"
Traor raised a hand,
"This will be brief. Please wait a moment."
So she stayed, and Linen sat across from him.
The man's brows creased faintly at that, clearly disliking the casualness.
Of Tivira's three heirs, even Quinn at least put on a show. Only Linen—the one without talent—never bothered, and many palace elders despised it.
But Linen was long used to old men disliking him. So long as they didn't meddle.
"So, what business brings you, Uncle Traor?"
"Yes. I come on behalf of Her Majesty, to deliver commendation."
His little frown smoothed over.
"Your conduct at the academy pleased Her Majesty. But given the sensitivity, and for the empire's image and your safety, your achievement must remain hidden for now. We ask your understanding."
"Of course."
Linen had no objection.
Empty reputation meant nothing—and he had no desire, as a mere second-ring, to have the Tower's wrath fix squarely on him. Not when he was even hiding Teresia in his own room.
He knew Tivira's character. If she concealed his merits publicly, she'd compensate in other ways.
Sure enough, Traor continued:
"To make up for it, Her Majesty sends you reward."
Just as expected—bring it out already.
But Traor didn't move. He only stared.
"Something wrong?"
"A small matter,"
Traor's voice was cool.
"Why have you not knelt?"
A faint pressure rolled out, laden with malice. Milian's heart lurched—she glanced at Linen, who sat like nothing was happening, and exhaled. She hurried to smooth things over.
"Sir Traor, perhaps a misunderstanding—"
"No. Her Majesty's glory blazes. When receiving her grace, kneeling is natural."
Milian froze. She caught the implication instantly.
Among the three here: an emissary of the Empress, the Empress's son… and herself. Who else could be called "subject"?
If she'd left earlier, this would have just been mother to son—a gift, no need for ceremony.
But with her present, the context twisted.
So that's why Traor had stopped her leaving—using her as leverage to force Linen down!
Increasing the pressure when Linen still didn't flinch, Traor frowned, realizing it wasn't working.
Linen chuckled.
"Heh. Uncle Traor, you must be thinking—this useless prince, with no Arcana talent, no dragon blood, probably juiced himself to first-ring with potions. The moment you unleash your mighty fourth-rank Knight's aura, he'll piss himself, right?"
"Your Highness, don't spout nonsense. I act impartially—no personal feelings."
But his anger slipped through as he forced the pressure higher, bony hand gripping his cane until veins stood out. Linen, unfazed, calmly poured him tea.
"Stop trying. In your decrepit body, still having third-rank strength is decent enough. Your aura won't crush me."
He paused, then added kindly:
"But you—pushing yourself like that, if you suffocate, how could I explain to Tivira?"
"You—!"
Fury at him calling the Empress by name flickered across Traor's face, but he suppressed it quickly.
"Your Highness, please don't invent falsehoods. I am only executing my duty."
"Fine. Then straight to business."
Linen leaned back.
"My knees don't bend. Not even if Tivira herself walked in would I kneel. Leave the reward and go."
At that, Traor's eyes gleamed with triumph. He shook his head with mock-regret.
"Pity. In that case, no reward."
"Oh?"
For the first time, Linen's brows rose.
"Her Majesty's command included not just reward but assessment. If you failed, the reward could be withdrawn."
Cold voice.
"Your attitude is regrettable. No reverence for Her Majesty. No need for further assessment."
Inside, Linen sneered. So this was the trick. He'd underestimated these old foxes.
But was it really Tivira's will—or Traor's?
Before he could retort, Traor already wore victory's smile, rising to leave.
"I'll report today's conduct faithfully to Her Majesty. Take care."
"But out of loyalty, I'll offer advice."
"There are no walls that do not leak. Your behavior has already offended those you cannot afford to offend. Your talent may be greater than shown, but you are still unripe."
"Until you mature—"
He smirked.
"The only shield you have is your surname. Your family. To gain its aid, the first thing you must learn is reverence for your mother."
...
Outside the door, Elena and Hysteria grew worried.
So even Linen, who always seemed invincible, bore such a burden.
But just as they thought it ended there, Traor went further:
"Killing Ken, saving the artificer exam—that pleased Her Majesty. But your attitude displeases her. Think, besides your family, who would stand for you? Who would risk life to fight the Tower at your side? No one."
"Even if the family has erred, you must understand—the family is all."
Elena's eyes widened.
Before, they'd only guessed. Linen never admitted. They could never ask.
Now, confirmed from Traor's own mouth—
That day, the one who saved them, who slew Ken—was Linen-kun.
Back then, when she'd faced death, it was Linen who saved her. Now he was being humiliated—how could she sit still?
"Hysia, we have to—"
But before she could finish, Hysteria had already shoved the door open.
"Who says no one?!"
Traor scowled at the two intruding girls.
"Where did these ill-mannered brats—wait. …Princess Hysteria?!"
He'd just insulted the Flame Rose princess?
His face went pale as he shot Linen a furious glare.
So this was it. The waste prince, handsome-faced, had risen so quickly, even foiling the Tower—because he'd latched onto the Flame Rose princess!
Was that also part of your calculations?
Linen, seeing Traor's pale face, only covered his own with one hand, chuckling low.
Ah, my dear Uncle Traor…
Are you puzzled?
Confused?
Suffering?
Then know this—
My suffering still stands above yours.