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Smiling slyly, Duke Nikitin, seated in his chair, stared at the firmly closed door of the drawing room before asking in a lowered voice.
“So, Valentin. If there were ‘something’ with a far greater effect than alcohol, wouldn't you be somewhat interested?”
“……Something?”
“Don't be so repulsed. It's not the kind of low-grade substance you're thinking of. We call it the Messiah. It is precious, rare, and its effects tend to last quite a while. Viscount Pedro has also been receiving the help of this Messiah for some time now. It's been a while since he started appearing at banquets and gatherings again.”
Duke Nikitin's demeanor was utterly relaxed as he lit a cigar. Valentin took a seat in the opposite chair with a look of utter discomfort, but inwardly, he was considerably agitated.
The Messiah.
It was clear what that expression referred to. There was no better means for trading untraceable money.
Furthermore, if someone of the status of the head of the Nikitin family was proposing it, it likely wasn't just a means of exchanging funds, but a way to gather capital and connections to expand one's influence.
‘There is no doubt. The owner of that drug is Prince Ivan.’
If so, should he assume that Duke Nikitin had joined hands with Prince Ivan? Valentin asked, still unable to hide his suspicious expression.
“Through what channel is it obtained?”
As if in response, Duke Nikitin's expression and tone became even more leisurely.
“As I said… since it is so expensive and in high demand, it is sold via auction. Well, occasionally, a few sets are set aside for distinguished guests like yourself.”
“…….”
“Not everyone uses the Messiah. There are quite a few friends who regain their vitality simply by enjoying table games at these modest social gatherings. There are many friends similar to you. People like that overcome it together.”
Duke Nikitin seemed quite accustomed to coaxing his opponents.
‘Gambling is included as well.’
Anyone suffering from psychological pressure and depression might have their heart swayed by Duke Nikitin's empathy.
“I will think about it.”
“Good, very good! It's not just the Messiah. Contact me whenever you need help. There could be nothing more rewarding than helping the only son of a precious old friend.”
To dare add the expression 'precious' after throwing a trap to plunge him into a mire. Valentin swallowed a sneer. The moment of his family's ruin still came back to him so vividly; if Duke Nikitin had helped sharpen that blade, he could never forgive him.
Rising lightly, the other man left one final request before exiting the drawing room.
“Ah, just in case, let's keep the Messiah a secret between the two of us. Your biological father… is rather rigid, so he would feel suspicious of my goodwill.”
A few days later, a messenger arrived from Duke Nikitin.
A man who appeared to be a butler handed Valentin an invitation containing the date and time of the auction, the address of the auction house, and a list of essential precautions to follow. Only after burning the letter in front of him was Valentin able to be alone again.
And finally, the day of the auction arrived.
Dressing in the black suit required by the dress code, Valentin recalled the precautions written in the letter until the very last moment before leaving the mansion.
Especially one of them.
<Since His Highness Prince Ivan will be attending, you must certainly show proper courtesy.>
The fact that Prince Ivan had lowered his guard and turned toward conciliation was a good thing for him as well.
Though the active approach was somewhat suspicious, one must grab the horns to catch a raging bull. Valentin steadied his heart and headed toward the auction house.
The address pointed to a townhouse near the slums within Makhachkala. Since it was located in a place where one had to enter an alley reeking of filth, he had to get out of the carriage and walk, dragging his uncomfortable leg.
As he struggled through a few more steps, he suddenly realized that the surroundings were unnervingly quiet.
“…….”
Stopping in his tracks, Valentin recalled the invitation that had been buried among fragrant flowers.
No matter how clandestine a transaction was, nobles still cared about their prestige. How could an auction for such a precious drug take place in such a shabby alleyway?
He turned around to go back.
Valentin ran as hard as he could with his limping leg. He was out of breath, but his leg remained slow. Cold sweat poured down his forehead, but his leg remained slow.
“Damn it!”
The moment he bit his lip in frustration, a blow that rattled his brain struck the back of his head.
……Ah.
After that, his senses blurred, and the entire world felt muffled, as if submerged beneath the surface of the water.
Endlessly muffled.
And then muffled again…….
As he was dragged along like a piece of luggage, a man whispered a greeting in his ear.
“Welcome, Valentin.”
It was the voice of Duke Libertan.
“Your complexion is indeed good. Contrary to the floating rumors, I am well aware that you have been living very diligently at the mansion. A letter arrives from the Dmitriev mansion every week.”
Valentin struggled to open his eyes. Something damp flowed down his forehead and obscured his vision, making it difficult to see the other's face.
“Hmm. The invitation was the last chance I gave you. A chance to run away with your tail between your legs. And yet, to think you'd actually come… Your loyalty to Vasily is impressive. I'm almost jealous.”
The invitation was a trap.
Lamenting his own late realization, Valentin let out a groan stained with pain. The source of the searing, burning pain was not the back of his head where he had been struck, but his twisted ankle. That still-slow, utterly useless ankle…….
“I thought you had become a bit wiser. Why would a cripple poke around Prince Ivan's surroundings, especially one who cannot even support his own body?”
“…….”
“My memories of you remain as a not-so-bad impression……. It's a pity. It would have been better if you had continued to play ignorant. Your life would have been longer than it is now.”
“…….”
“Ah, don't worry about your family. I'll send Duke Dmitriev, your only blood relative, to join you soon. It won't take very long.”
“……Why.”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“Why would you do such a thing…….”
A long silence followed. Valentin clenched his teeth, clinging to his rapidly scattering consciousness. In the final moments of his reason, regret surged late.
Was it a game that could not be overturned after all?
Is the future something I cannot change alone?
If so… if so, if, just if, I were given one more chance.
If only I could get the chance to turn everything back.
“Well, Valentin. Wouldn't every parent want their child to ascend the throne?”
If only I could…….
Having finished the story, Valentin asked me.
“What do you think, Your Highness. Do you feel you can now make a correct judgment regarding me and Prince Ivan?”
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