Chapter 286: curious cat

The east wing study remained quiet.

Eren set down the pen with a theatrical, bone-deep sigh, leaning back on the velvet-padded armchair.

Across the wide mahogany desk, Seraphina looked up from her encrypted border manifests. Her red eyes flickered from the parchment to the idiot’s thoroughly smug expression.

"Don’t tell me you merely managed to doodle another grotesque caricature," Seraphina murmured. "Because if you woke me from my evening strategy draft for petty insolence, Volsver, I will happily test the sharpness of my letter opener on your knuckles."

"Have a little faith in your favorite retainer, Your Highness," Eren replied. He slid the heavy sheet across the wood. "Behold: the fruits of my so-called slacking off. The complete, unvarnished sociopolitical breakdown of our potential faction."

Seraphina’s gaze narrowed skeptically, but she pulled the parchment toward her.

As her eyes scanned the content, her cold, regal demeanor fractured.

It wasn’t just a list of names. It was an intricate, terrifyingly brilliant web of leverage. Eren had charted out seven prominent provincial houses—not through the standard, archaic genealogies that court heralds obsessed over, but through their raw, bleeding pressure points. Grain debt routes, hidden market tariffs run through some nobles’ borders, personal vendettas against the Emperor’s tax marshals, and exact, tailored promises of trade concessions that Crown Princess Seraphina could grant without relinquishing an inch of imperial sovereignty.

It was the work of an apex political architect.

Seraphina swallowed quietly, her throat suddenly dry. While everyone assumed he was simply sleeping off the fatigue of Rujgard, that unhinged, calculating mind of his had been quietly stitching together an entire geopolitical lifeline for her cause.

She carefully set the file down, folding her hands over the edge of the desk. A subtle, rosy warmth dusted hecheeks, her gaze softening as she looked at him sitting there, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I see," Seraphina murmured, her haughty tone betraying a tender, breathless tremor she couldn’t entirely smother. "So you weren’t merely resting your thick skull on my manifests like a useless decorative hound."

"Ouch. Your compliments are as gentle as hammer, Princess," Eren grinned, propping his chin in his palm and letting his eyes linger unabashedly on the soft curve of her lips. "A simple ’thank you, Eren, you are an absolute genius’ would suffice."

Seraphina let out a small, haughty scoff, crossing her arms defensively beneath her bust to steady herself.

"Don’t let flattery rot that arrogant head of yours," she retorted, tilting her chin up with practiced imperial majesty. "Now take yourself out of my sight and go get some rest. We have to face Earl Reodeo tomorrow morning, and I refuse to have my member yawning through diplomacy."

Eren chuckled, slowly pushing himself up from the armchair. He stretched his broad shoulders until the joints let out an easy pop, resting one hand casually on the back of his neck.

"I can sleep anytime, Your Highness," he murmured, his sapphire eyes softening as they lingered on the faint, exhausted shadows beneath her crimson gaze. "You’re the one who desperately needs it. You’ve been running yourself without a single break since Rujgard, waking up at ungodly hours like a paranoid owl. Do your friend a favor and actually close those pretty eyes for six hours. The empire won’t burn down before breakfast."

Seraphina shot him a sharp glare, though the blooming pink on her ears completely ruined any hint of intimidation. "Out, Volsver."

"As you command, Princess," Eren laughed, offering a dramatic, mocking bow before strolling smoothly toward the study door.

The latch clicked shut behind him, leaving Seraphina alone in the room. For a long moment, the imperial princess simply sat there in silence. Then, slowly, a soft, helpless smile broke across her lips. She traced the lines of his tactical ledger, shaking her head at the sheer, miraculous absurdity of the man.

***

Meanwhile, out in the sprawling corridors of the Reedings estate, the house had slipped into complete, dead silence.

Eren walked with lazy, soundless strides. He let out a long, luxurious yawn, raising both arms over his head to stretch out the lingering stiffness from his morning spar with Emma.

"Wonder if the trio already crashed," Eren muttered to himself under his breath. "Emma probably dragged Norelia into a corner and called it a night..."

He rounded the corner past the western wing, heading toward his personal guest quarters. But as he passed the door of Aria’s master suite, his ears twitched.

From behind the door, an airy, melodic giggle drifted into the hallway.

Eren paused mid-step.

A moment later, Norelia’s slurred, squeaky protest leaked through the keyhole, instantly followed by the frantic, mortified sputtering of a certain pink-haired Swordmaster.

Eren raised a single, deeply intrigued brow.

’What on earth are Emma and Norelia doing holed up in Aria’s bedroom at this hour?’

The muffled commotion inside seemed to spike. Another wave of breathless, tipsy laughter resonated through the wood, accompanied by the distinct clink of crystal against crystal. It sounded like an girls’ night out fueled by whiskey.

Under normal, gentlemanly circumstances, a wise man would simply mind his own business, keep walking down the hallway, and let his women enjoy their private gossip in peace.

Unfortunately, curiosity always kills the cat.

And in this time, Eren Volsver was a shameless cat with zero moral hesitation.

A slow, thoroughly wicked smile spread across his lips, his blue eyes gleaming with pure mischief as he leaned in close to the ornate doorway, tilting his head until his ear rested directly against the cold oak to listen.

***

"I asked a completely reasonable question, Captain," Aria’s voice was silky, teasing,. "When are you planning to bear that shameless guy’s child?"

Emma sputtered, her hands twitching against her knees. For all her terrifying reputation as the angel of death, she looked entirely defenseless, her eyes darting wildly as if searching for a tactical retreat.

"I—I mean..." Emma stammered, her voice cracking. "If... if it were entirely up to me... I’d want it right away."

Emma pulled her knees tighter to her chest, ducking her face so only her pink bangs caught the amber glow.

"I grew up as a weapon of Veldora," she muttered, the voice softening into something raw, fragile, and achingly small. "No name, no parents, no hearth. Just blood, iron, and corpses. I... I just want a child. I want to hold something small in my arms, something born from the man I love, and finally understand what a real family connection actually feels like."

She swallowed hard.

"I already told him. Back before the Rujgard chaos... I laid it bare. And that idiot didn’t flinch. Even though he’s barely twenty, he smiled and swore he’d give me that home whenever I asked." A faint, bittersweet curve touched her lips, but then her shoulders sagged, her head drooping low. "B-But... I’ve been thinking. I think I need to hold off. For now."

Aria’s playful, teasing smirk died on the spot.