In the heavy silence, the air turned awkward.

The aristocratic ladies exchanged tense glances.

Walker Wavril spoke again,

“The seating... how should I put it! It’s very strange, that’s what!”

Her words rippled through the hall like waves.

Even those chatting at a distance turned to look at Walker and Tie.

Every face was stiff—a mix of tension and surprise.

“M-Marquess...”

Unable to endure it, one of the guests stepped forward.

It was Lady Revora, invited by her younger brother, a Holy Knight.

The moment Walker saw her, she broke into a wide smile and spread her free arm, leaning on her cane.

“Revora! It’s been ages!”

They knew each other.

Before Walker had begun to limp, Revora had taught her dancing for several months.

“So many familiar faces today! Thanks to you, I kept going out dancing again and again! If not for you, this leg of mine would’ve stiffened up five years earlier!”

Revora’s expression grew complicated.

Without hesitation, Walker lifted the hem of her luxurious dress, revealing her injured leg.

‘Yes... she’s always been like this...’

Feeling the eyes of the crowd on her, Revora tried to steady herself.

When she raised her head, she met that same bright gaze, now lined with a few more wrinkles.

‘So open... never fixates on trivial things.’

And so it was entirely possible she didn’t even know this reception was being personally overseen by the emperor.

Perhaps she had forgotten a report.

Or mistaken this for another event.

Otherwise, she would never have spoken about the seating arrangement so openly in front of everyone.

Revora opened her mouth to remind her of that crucial fact—

“Marquess, the thing is—”

“Oh, right, Revora! That mercenary group Agavert, the one your brother will be going with! Their leader is this person here.”

But Walker cut her off effortlessly.

She nodded toward the small girl beside her.

Revora awkwardly shifted her gaze.

“Hello!”

The King of the Dead greeted her like an ordinary child.

Revora hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Pleased to meet you...”

After a brief pause, she carefully kissed her on both cheeks.

It was how ladies greeted one another—and outwardly, the King of the Dead still looked like a little girl.

Tie’s eyes widened in surprise, and her cheeks flushed.

While Revora blinked in confusion—

Walker dropped another bomb.

“By the way, Revora. Look for yourself. Isn’t it strange?”

“Is it?”

“A few weeks ago—the mission at the old palace tower! You heard it wasn’t easy, didn’t you?”

The old palace tower... Revora recalled it.

Yes, it had been covered in the society chronicles.

“Well, the most critical contribution there was made by this very person.”

Revora blinked, staring at Tie.

“Really...?”

The chronicles had mostly written about House Luminel.

Agavert had barely been mentioned.

“Exactly. Everyone who was there knows it. But those papers... they should fix that first! If someone doesn’t have a title before their name, it’s as if they did nothing at all.”

From afar, someone suppressed a cough.

It seemed to be an aristocrat who owned a printing house.

But Walker didn’t stop.

“If not for the King of the Dead, how far would those creatures have spread? They would’ve reached the capital! It wasn’t a hundred—it was a thousand!”

“I didn’t count, but there were definitely over a hundred!”

Tie added eagerly, raising her hand.

Walker nodded.

“Exactly! Revora, this person personally took hundreds of heads. And yet the chronicles mention some count’s daughter more often—a girl who only held a wounded man’s hand once!”

This time, the “count’s daughter” herself coughed.

The very one who had made it into the chronicles after a single visit to a healing ward.

Walker shook her head.

“These foolish chronicles... they’ve been irritating me terribly lately. Maybe I should start my own publication. In any case.”

She pointed at Agavert’s table.

“It seems the King of the Dead’s place at this reception is over there. Strange, isn’t it?”

Revora swallowed.

She wanted to quickly explain that this event was under the emperor’s authority—

but Walker didn’t give her a chance to speak.

And besides, Revora was painfully shy and quiet.

Even speaking to someone was difficult for her.

‘And to say something like that... to suggest changing ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) seats... I can’t...’

Her mind began to blank from nerves, cold sweat running down her back—

“Of course! Even if Agavert showed outstanding results in the last mission, you can’t grant them privileges like this! Everyone there risked their lives for the empire!”

Revora’s eyes widened.

Walker clicked her tongue and leaned on her cane as she continued,

“A table set off to the side—so their faces don’t get tanned, heaven forbid.”

“......”

“And an empty table—so if the food doesn’t suit them, they won’t have to eat. Truly enviable treatment.”

Walker sighed, then turned to Tie.

“But still, how thoughtful, wouldn’t you say, King of the Dead?”

Astie lifted her head.

Her large green eyes slowly widened as she processed Walker’s words.

It was as if a giant exclamation mark flashed above her head.

‘That’s it!’

So that’s why her table was empty!

If food was already set out, she would have to eat it out of politeness!

She remembered how it was in Korea.

Once, when she visited a kindergarten friend,

Tie had eaten all the beans the girl’s mother placed on her plate.

Because her grandmother and aunt had taught her—that was the proper thing to do.

‘Every grain of rice carries the farmer’s sweat and labor...!’

Tie’s eyes sparkled.

“So it wasn’t unfair...!”

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been given sweets!

On the contrary—it meant she could eat only what she wanted!

‘I can eat a hundred cakes and not a single carrot!’

Her excitement was so great her whole body wiggled.

Seeing the corners of Tie’s lips lifting, Walker said,

“No, this won’t do, King of the Dead. My skin hasn’t been great lately—too much sun. May I sit with you?”

Tie’s eyes went round.

She nodded quickly.

“Yes! There’s lots of space!”

After all, several seats were still empty—Victor, Allerik, and Ribia hadn’t come.

“Wonderful! Then—”

Walker waved her hand.

A long procession of servants entered the hall.

Each carried a tray covered with a silver dome.

“Place them here.”

At her command, Agavert’s table began to fill with dishes.

Revora watched, half confused, half stunned.

She whispered quietly,

“M-Marquess... bringing food into the ceremony is prohibited... it is, after all, the emperor’s event...”

“It’s allowed.”

“What?”

Walker laughed loudly.

“I asked the prince in advance. Whether I could supplement the banquet a little. He gladly agreed.”

Revora blinked slowly.

If the prince had permitted it, then it had been cleared with the palace.

And yet—it still felt strange.

This wasn’t something that normally happened.

And, as expected—

“...Is the Marquess telling the truth, Fides?”

A low voice sounded from behind.

Startled, Revora turned—

and saw the emperor in a golden cloak.

He stood there with a stone-cold expression, looking at the prince.

Fides stared back at him, flustered.