Ophelia set down her fork, thought for a moment, and spoke. “Actually, it is Klein who has been busy all this time. What I can do is limited, and I have actually caused him quite a bit of trouble.”
Ophelia did not lie.
The Emperor glanced at her and then turned his gaze back to Klein.
This time, he stared for a bit longer.
He had previously thought about investigating Klein—after Ophelia was married off, he had originally intended to have someone look into him. However, before anything could be uncovered, he had been stopped by a certain Sage with a single sentence: “There is no need.”
It was just that Augustus never truly let go of things the Sage deemed unnecessary.
Now that the man himself was sitting across from him, Augustus rested his hand on the table and asked, “I heard from Diancie that you are very confident in your alchemy?”
Klein cut a small corner of the milk crisp. He wasn't in a hurry to answer, only speaking after he had finished chewing.
He gave a slight smile, his tone carrying little weight. “Of course. If I were to be modest in this regard, it would be an insult to every scholar in the world.”
Augustus froze for half a breath.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't a polite, superficial smile; he genuinely found it interesting. His laughter was hearty, carrying a force that almost made him want to slap the table—several surrounding tables turned their heads to look.
Diancie’s face stiffened instantly, and she quietly nudged her father with her elbow.
Augustus coughed twice, stifling his laughter. He straightened himself and said, “Good. You certainly have confidence.”
Klein didn't respond to that. He cut a second corner of the milk crisp and pushed the plate toward Ophelia.
Ophelia didn't look at him, but her fingers naturally took the plate, and she took a bite with her fork.
Augustus picked up his teacup again and took a sip.
He had seen many confident people in his life, but most of them hid something—hidden flattery, hidden calculations, or thoughts of wanting to take something from him.
This man had none of that.
He shut his mouth as soon as he finished that sentence, his gaze falling back to the table as he focused on dealing with the dessert. His directness was so clean it was almost unsettling.
It was hard to describe. It didn't seem like a forced air of aloofness, nor did it seem like a deliberate attempt to hide his brilliance. Rather, it seemed as if this man truly felt this portion of milk crisps was more interesting than the Emperor sitting before him, yet somehow, he didn't mean it as an offense at all.
And then there was...
The marriage arranged by the Sage.
He used to think this was merely a move by the Sage to settle Ophelia. Now it seemed this chess piece might have more than just that one layer of meaning.
He set down the teacup and spoke in a tone that wasn't heavy. “The capital is in need of someone who understands alchemy. If you are interested, I can—”
“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty.”
Klein cut him off quickly. His tone was gentle, but the moment that “thank you” left his mouth, the meaning behind it was already clear—the second half of Augustus's sentence was left hanging mid-air with nowhere to land.
Augustus paused slightly.
This was uncommon. Most people, even if they were going to refuse such an offer, would first decline politely three times to leave room for back-and-forth. This man had closed the door right after saying thanks; he closed it politely, but he closed it very firmly.
Klein set down his fork and looked up. His attitude wasn't dismissive in the slightest, nor did he have that frantic energy of someone trying to explain themselves after being overwhelmed by favor. He simply said directly, “My ambitions do not lie there. I am walking my own path, and I don't particularly want to take a detour.”
He said this with a slight smile, as if saying, “This path is quite good, so I won't trouble you.”
Augustus looked at him and didn't speak immediately.
Diancie quietly peeked at her father, then quietly peeked at Klein. She slowly stuffed the remaining half of her dessert into her mouth, trying her best to act as if she didn't exist.
Ophelia sat beside Klein. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the tabletop, but her hand moved beneath the table. She lightly rested it on the back of his hand, stayed there for a moment, and then withdrew it.
The movement was small and fast, hidden by the tablecloth, and unnoticed by others.
Klein didn't react at all. He left his hand where it was, his fingertips curling slightly—it was unclear if that was a response—and continued to look at the Emperor opposite him.
Augustus remained silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke, his tone gaining a certain quality, though that quality was pressed very flat. “Your path... what kind of path is it?”
Klein thought about it.
He didn't answer directly, first asking a question of his own. “Does Your Majesty understand alchemy?”
Augustus paused and replied, “A little, but not much.”
“Then it is a bit difficult to explain.” Klein considered his wording. “It is like describing a tsunami to someone who has never seen the sea—it only takes a few words to say it, but those few words are a completely different thing from actually standing beneath the waves.”
He paused after saying this, as if feeling the analogy might be slightly impolite, and added, “I do not mean to say Your Majesty hasn't seen the sea. It's just that once alchemy reaches a certain stage, language truly becomes insufficient.”
Augustus didn't immediately follow up.
This man had a strange talent in his speech—the content was actually quite blunt, but his tone made it sound like he was chatting about the weather. If someone else had said this, Augustus might have already been displeased. But when Klein said it, it made one feel he was truly thinking about how to explain it, rather than using his status to pressure someone or pretending to be profound.
He had been rebuffed many times in his life, but most of those instances hid something—hidden probing, hidden bargaining. He had never seen one like this, where someone thought seriously for a long time and then seriously told him, “It's no use explaining.”
A carriage passed by outside the window, its wheels grinding a dull thud against the flagstone path. The cups in the shop shook slightly with the vibration.
Augustus picked up his teacup again. He didn't drink, just gripped the sides of the cup and asked, “What, do you perhaps intend to stand shoulder to shoulder with that Sage?”
Klein paused.
He tapped the edge of the plate lightly with his fork, his thoughts unknown.
Beside him, Ophelia didn't turn her head, but her gaze moved from the table to look quietly at Klein's profile.
A moment later, Klein spoke.
“Stand shoulder to shoulder...” He repeated the phrase. There was nothing sharp in his tone; instead, it was as if he were seriously savoring the weight of those words. Then, he gently shook his head. “It's not quite right to say that.”
Augustus raised an eyebrow.
“If you use someone else as a reference, wherever you go, you will always be their shadow.” Klein spoke in a very ordinary tone, as if talking about something he had figured out long ago. “Regardless of whether that person is the Sage or anyone else. Wherever I myself can reach, that is my limit.”
The table fell silent for two seconds.
Diancie’s fork stopped in mid-air. She didn't put it down, staring blankly at Klein and then at her father, as if confirming whether she had misheard.
Augustus set down his teacup and looked him over once more.
“You certainly are...” He bit back half a word and didn't continue. After a pause, he changed his phrasing. “Aren't you afraid I'll think you arrogant for saying such a thing?”
Klein gave a small smile.
“The world is simply like this. To ordinary people, the stars are far away in the high heavens. But to some, the stars are within reach.”
After saying this, he lowered his head to take a sip of water and didn't follow up, as if the matter itself wasn't worth saying much more about.
Beside him, Ophelia speared that corner of milk crisp, took a bite, and let her gaze fall back to the table.
She didn't show any expression of judgment.
But clearly, this former “Sword of the Empire” agreed with Klein's words.
And she believed he was the latter—the one to whom the “stars are within reach.”
Augustus remained silent for a while, then picked up his teacup again and took a sip.
He had seen too many people talk big. After they finished, their eyes would start to wander, waiting for him to nod, waiting for him to give them a reaction.
This man stopped as soon as he finished speaking and lowered his head to deal with his dessert, maintaining a posture that suggested the matter had been explained clearly and there was nothing more to add.
It wasn't exactly the pride of “believe it or not.” It was more like... he was truly just answering a question honestly, and once the answer was given, there was nothing left to say.
As for whether the Emperor believed him or not, that was not within his scope of consideration.
It wasn't that he didn't care; it was that he simply hadn't thought that he needed to care—just as if you told someone you ate noodles today, you wouldn't specifically wait for the other person to confirm, “I believe you did indeed eat noodles.”
Augustus suddenly realized that this attitude might be harder to deal with than any amount of arrogance.
“When the Sage recommended you back then,” Augustus spoke out of the blue, “I always thought it was just to settle Ophelia.”
He paused.
“Now it seems this move was played more deeply than I thought.”
Klein raised his eyes but didn't make a sound. Instead, he reached out to refill Ophelia's teacup. His movements were casual, just as if they were at home.
Ophelia didn't say thank you. She took a sip and set it down.
The tacit understanding between the two of them wasn't in any lines of dialogue; it was right there in these meaningless little gestures.
Diancie whispered a small complaint from the side, “They're actually displaying their affection in front of Father,” but after a sweep of her father's gaze, she immediately swallowed the rest of her sentence and focused on her dessert, putting on an expression as if none of this concerned her.
Augustus ultimately just set down his teacup, not asking further where the source of Klein's confidence lay.
Asking such things would only make it seem like he had lost the upper hand.
Furthermore, he had a faint feeling—this confidence might truly not be the kind that was just for show.
As for what kind of confidence it was exactly, he didn't need to know for the time being.
Regardless, this man had already rejected a position in the capital. Letting him stay by Ophelia's side was perhaps more appropriate than placing him in the capital.
The light outside slanted, moving from the edge of the table onto the crumbs of the almond milk crisps.
This thing did indeed taste quite good.
Ophelia was eating quite happily—she was no longer the girl who wasn't used to eating sweets.
Elsewhere, in a world where the starry river hung inverted, a certain girl known as the Sage sneezed and muttered about why people were talking about her again.
She looked down and toyed with the alchemical array disk in front of her, then suddenly gave a laugh for no apparent reason.
“...Forget it.”
She pulled her hood down, hiding those eyes that were exactly like her mother's.
“Let them be.”
Rate on N.U.
