It was definitely a man he had never seen before.
Rumors? Have the twins already started moving?
If that were the case, then this man was the pitiful fish that had taken the bait we had thrown.
Latian hadn’t expected contact to happen this quickly, and though a bit tense, he maintained a calm exterior.
“Yes, that’s me. But what business do you have with me?”
Latian glanced at the man with an air of polite wariness, his eyes subtly rolling as if pleased to see him.
The man, in turn, leisurely scanned Latian’s every movement, deepening the dimple on his cheek as his lips curled into a faint smile.
“There’s no need to worry. I am also an Imperial citizen. I came here on diplomatic business, but I happened to hear an intriguing rumor—about the Ghost Duke of the Northern Kingdom parading around with an Imperial slave.”
“…I see.”
“Ah, my apologies. I was merely stating what the rumors say.”
Perhaps realizing that the term slave might offend him, the man quickly added the clarification.
‘Diplomatic business, he says. Does that mean he holds a ministerial rank?’
Just as Latian pondered over the man’s position, the stranger provided the answer himself.
“I was curious about this Imperial citizen in question, and by chance, I found myself in this situation… Ah, how rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I am Hughman of the Wesley Ducal House, the Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Eastern Continent Empire.”
The man, who introduced himself as Hughman, removed his hat, revealing a strikingly refined face.
Pressing the hat against his chest, he bowed with polite decorum.
Latian mirrored the gesture with a respectful nod, but internally, he was reeling.
The unfamiliar man standing before him was someone Latian already knew—from the original story.
Hughman Wesley.
‘I can’t believe he’s appearing here.’
He was a genius mage of the Empire, one of the Emperor’s most trusted confidants.
This man wasn’t supposed to appear yet.
Things were already diverging significantly from the original plot.
And in that moment, Latian was certain—
This encounter was no coincidence.
He must have been deliberately lurking around, looking for a chance to approach me.
The likelihood was high that Hughman had come to assess whether Latian was an ally or a potential traitor.
Just as expected, Hughman, who had been scrutinizing him, subtly shifted the conversation.
“By any chance, how did you end up with *them*?”
At that, Latian feigned surprise, pretending as though he had just overheard something interesting.
He glanced around cautiously before making a subtle suggestion.
“Shall we move to the terrace first?”
To Hughman, Latian was still an Imperial citizen—one who was, at least partially, a hostage.
That alone made him someone worth utilizing.
As soon as they stepped onto the terrace and Latian closed the door, he immediately switched tactics.
“Duke, please… save me. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will! I had to lie to survive, but even so, Lucas… he’s dead. And I don’t know when I’ll be next.”
Grabbing onto Hughman’s collar, he lowered his head in desperation.
“Tsk. Calm yourself for now.”
Hughman’s voice, though soothing, carried an undeniable hint of amusement.
He was clearly pleased—things were going exactly as he wanted.
Latian lifted his gaze, the corners of his eyes slightly drooping.
Meeting his eyes, Hughman gave a thin, snake-like smile.
“I had already suspected that Lucas might be dead. He was a loyal and honorable man… truly unfortunate. Now then, may I hear your name?”
“Yes, my name is Latian Dimerlos.”
“Dimerlos… I’ve never heard of it. Were you a low-ranking officer?”
“Yes. I assume that’s why the Northern Duke of the Kingdom let his guard down and spared me. Lord Lucas once said he wanted me to be his successor, but… someone like me could never be worthy of such a role.”
“You are more than capable. In the Empire, we do not discriminate based on birth. Loyalty and honor are what matter most.”
Yeah, right.
If anything, the Eastern Continent Empire had an even harsher class divide than the Kingdom of Kesid.
But this exchange confirmed something.
Before Kang Seyeon took over Latian’s body, the original Latian must have been either a commoner or a slave from the Empire.
Lucas had once referred to Latian as a low-ranking officer, but that had been an assumption based on a lack of information, not his actual status.
Hughman, however, had determined Latian’s status simply by hearing his surname—because no noble house named Dimerlos existed in the Empire.
Just then, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Their conversation halted briefly as the presence moved away, and Hughman resumed speaking a beat later.
“There will be a banquet this evening. Will you be attending?”
“Yes. They’re likely bringing me along to keep an eye on me.”
“Well, even so, the Duke of Ocellania will be too busy greeting guests. He despises formal gatherings, so I was quite surprised to hear he would be attending. But that means there will surely be an opportunity for you to slip away. When the time is right, step out of the banquet hall. I will find you then.”
With that, Hughman exited the terrace first.
Leaning against the railing, Latian let the cool breeze wash over him, deep in thought.
What do I do now?
He had come into contact with the Imperial envoy much sooner than anticipated.
He wanted to report this immediately, but there was one concern—
What if he secretly cast a spell on me before leaving?
This was Hughman, after all.
He wasn’t the type to trust others so easily.
Even if he had lowered his guard slightly, there was no way he would be completely careless.
Detection magic—that was one of his favorites.
Detection magic allowed the caster to share the target’s sight and hearing.
A cunning trick, indeed.
And Latian, an ordinary person, wouldn’t even notice if such a spell had been placed on him.
Not to mention, Hughman’s magical skill was so precise that even fellow mages could be deceived.
‘For now, I have the upper hand… but if I speak carelessly and he overhears, it could become my downfall. I need to be cautious.
I have no idea where or how I’m being watched.’
Claude would be fine—he was naturally cold and distant, so it wouldn’t seem odd if he kept his distance.
But the twins… they were mischievous yet affectionate toward Latian.
If they weren’t aware of this covert contact and said something foolish, or even acted too familiar with him, everything could fall apart.
I need to find a way to communicate that I made contact.
Lost in thought, Latian eventually returned to his room.
Before long, a guard arrived to escort him to the banquet.
Stepping into the corridor, he saw Claude and the twins waiting.
Claude led the way behind the guards, while the twins flanked Latian on either side.
“Advisor, are you ready?”
“Advisor, advisor.”
Latian ignored their playful voices.
Sensing something off, Haen tried to draw his attention, reaching out to brush his hair.
At that moment—
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Latian suddenly cowered, dramatically collapsing to the floor.
Raising both arms high, he hunched over, repeatedly pleading in a pitiful voice.
“Please don’t hit me! I beg you!”
The twins, caught off guard, froze in shock.
Even Claude turned around at the commotion.
Seizing the moment, Latian discreetly signaled them with his hands—
Enemy. Eavesdropping risk.
The motion of crossing a clenched fist and an open palm signified danger from an enemy, while grasping the earlobe with the right hand and closing one eye indicated eavesdropping.
The hand signals mentioned in the story were used secretly among the Winter Castle Rangers—so secret that even someone as sharp as Hughman wouldn’t be able to recognize them.
It would be difficult to explain how Latian knew such signals, but… given the situation, there was no other choice.
“!”
For a brief moment, expressions of shock and realization flashed across the three people’s faces.
The escorting soldiers, unaware of the subtle exchange, merely looked on, wondering what the commotion was about.
They had only heard rumors about a slave from the Empire being brought in.
Naturally, they assumed that the delicate-looking young man must be that slave.
“…Here we go again. Didn’t I tell you to stop squawking?”
Sien’s demeanor shifted as she approached, grabbing Latian’s hair.
Though it looked like a rough gesture, her grip was soft—more like a caress than anything painful.
She was merely putting on an act. Seeing this, Haen snickered slyly from behind.
“I’m getting tired of this roleplay with him. Instead of a secretary, how about we make him a dog? A collar and some barking would suit him much better.”
“Enough fooling around. Let’s go.”
Just in time, Claude disrupted the flow of conversation and turned away.
As the escort soldiers moved accordingly, Sien let go of Latian’s hair and forcibly pulled him up by the arm.
Now, a subtle tension flowed between them—things seemed normal, yet something was different.
They had understood the meaning of the hand signal perfectly.
Latian swallowed a breath of relief.
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