After Elliot finished speaking, he let out a long, deep sigh.
A slight tinge of fatigue seemed to seep into his face. Was it from talking too much, or was he overwhelmed by strong emotions from the past?
In contrast to Elliot leaning back against the backrest, Bridget had her hands clasped on the table, pressing her entwined hands against her forehead as she hung her head. Her beautiful profile was tense and rigid.
"…What in the world. To think that servant from back then was… Ah, if it's that man, it makes sense that he would share the His Highness' memories… He was always by his side after all."
Her muttering voice grew softer and softer. Bridget covered her eyes with her trembling hands.
"…The real His Highness had already… passed away."
The whispered words that fell were sorrowful.
Although Bridget had vaguely realized that the real Felix was dead, it seems she still couldn't completely let go of hope somewhere deep inside.
She wanted to believe that… the real prince was still alive, merely confined somewhere…
"…And to think he took his own life for that servant's sake…"
As Monica listened to Bridget's anguished murmurs, she gently lowered her eyes.
Monica already knew that the real Felix was dead and that the current Second Prince was his former servant Isaac Walker, who had switched places with the real prince during the fire at the duke's mansion.
However, all Monica knew were the "facts" of what had happened in the past.
She didn't know what Isaac was thinking at the time, or what he had wished for. Unlike Elliot and Bridget, Monica didn't know Isaac from his days as a servant.
… Why does he just go along with what the duke says, I wondered…
The words he had said to her on the night of the school festival resurfaced in Monica's mind.
As he gazed up at the night sky, he had said this:
——"…even in his death, the Hero Ralph still leaves something to us in the brilliant night… and wouldn't it be wonderful if we could leave something like that as well?"
He had wanted to leave his mark in people's memories.
He had discarded his face and name to become the duke's pawn, all so that the name of his master—Felix Ark Ridill, who had died to let Isaac Walker escape—would live on.
The flickers of obsession that sometimes showed in his eyes were all connected to this truth.
As Monica and Bridget fell silent, Elliot shrugged his shoulders with a slight laugh. Although he was laughing, his smile seemed somewhat stiff and awkward, like a failed attempt at humor.
"There's no need to feel regretful for not seeing through his disguise. That bastard's acting was disgustingly perfect… It's ironic, though. He couldn't hide his loathing for me, and as a result, I was the only one who saw through him in the end——the person he hated most."
"Lord Howard… do you still think that man was a fool?"
For Elliot, a staunch classist, a commoner falsely claiming to be a prince was the most abhorrent existence imaginable. Yet Monica couldn't detect any hatred from Elliot.
Elliot himself seemed aware of this. With a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth in self-deprecation, he muttered:
"If only I could think of him as a fool… That would make things easier."
Elliot slouched against the backrest, ruffling his bangs carelessly as he mumbled.
"Ah, that's right. I've come to realize there are those like Cyril and Miss Norton who overcome the barriers of social class through hard work and talent. And I can't easily dismiss such people! Damn, I really do lack resolve… I've always thought that fake prince should just be executed swiftly!"
"…What do you mean?" Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on NovєlFіre.net
The three of them started at the voice coming from the entrance.
The door to the student council room was slightly ajar. Standing there with a deathly pallor was Cyril, with Neil and Claudia behind him.
As Elliot murmured, "You were listening?" Cyril rushed toward him with the speed of a wild animal and grabbed him by the collar.
"What do you mean?! Are you saying the prince was already an imposter when I first met him?!"
Cyril's shout was almost a scream.
Elliot looked at the hysterical Cyril with a pitying gaze.
"If you were listening to the conversation, then you understand. Yes, the prince has been an imposter for the past ten years. By the time you met him in middle school, the switch had already happened."
As Cyril screamed hysterically, Elliot slowly shook his head.
"If you want to believe it's a lie, then go ahead. But the reality is that he's an imposter, and he'll likely be executed as a criminal soon… He must have slipped up and gotten on the duke's bad side, the fool."
Cyril raised his fist toward Elliot. But instead of swinging it down, he started trembling uncontrollably, unable to move.
For Cyril, a commoner by birth, Felix——the one who had acknowledged him——was an absolute existence.
Because Felix had acknowledged him, Cyril was able to hold his head high without becoming servile.
For someone like Cyril, the fact that Felix was an imposter was an unimaginably cruel reality.
Cyril exhaled roughly a few times, "Haah, haah," but eventually released his grip on Elliot and dashed out of the student council room.
Monica hurriedly chased after Cyril's retreating back.
Cyril had just rounded the corner of the hallway, which was a dead end. Despite her sluggish pace, Monica moved her feet desperately to follow him.
At the end of the hallway, Cyril was leaning against the wall, head bowed, punching it with his fist.
Unsure of what to say to console him, Monica hesitated as she approached his back.
The reason Monica didn't want to reveal the truth even though she knew it was because she didn't want Isaac to die and above all, for the sake of those who admired the current Felix Ark Ridill.
——If they knew the Second Prince was an imposter, there would surely be people who would be hurt.
When she had thought that, the first person who came to mind was Cyril.
For him, who took pride in being acknowledged by Felix, having Felix's existence denied would be equivalent to having his own existence denied.
"…It truly is a foolish tale."
Realizing Monica was there, Cyril spoke in a hoarse voice without turning around.
"I once told you to take pride in being chosen by the prince… Yet look at me now."
Back when Monica had just become a student council member when she was trembling at the thought of being unworthy of the position, Cyril had told her not to be servile and to hold her head high.
That they had been chosen by His Highness Felix, he had said proudly.
But now, that pride had been shattered by the cruel truth before them.
Cyril covered his face with both hands. Despite not being cold, his body was trembling.
"If that person is a criminal, then what… what was I? I was discovered by him, got carried away, thought I had become a proper person…"
Beneath his hands, his thin lips twisted into a bitter smile.
It was a servile, distorted smile, utterly unlike the usually haughty and proud Cyril Ashley.
"…I'm nothing but a court jester, am I not?"
For a moment, Monica's mind went blank.
It took her a second to realize that the strong denial had come from her own mouth.
It was a word that had burst forth before she could even think.
"No, no, no! That's not… true…!"
A strong impulse shook Monica's chest. This feeling must be… frustration.
With an almost childish sense of vexation welling up in her chest, Monica shouted,
"Lord Cyril, you're amazing! Unlike me, who only understands numbers, you know so much about so many things, you're great at teaching us our duties, you're always observant of those around you, confident and dignified… That's why… That's why…"
She didn't even know what she was trying to say. This was just incoherent babbling.
And yet, gripped by that impulse, Monica kept moving her mouth.
"…That's why… I don't like it when you speak badly of Lord Cyril, whom I respect…"
Cyril was looking at Monica with an utterly dumbfounded expression.
Feeling awkward, Monica hung her head. It was only now that she realized how childishly she had acted.
Cyril said nothing. When Monica glanced up at him, he quickly averted his gaze. Or was it just her imagination that his profile looked flushed?
As Cyril ruffled his bangs vigorously, he mumbled some indistinct words like "Ah" and "Uh" in his mouth, before letting out an awkward cough.
"…When I entered middle school, being the adopted son of a count, my status was low, and no one would speak to me."
Monica had heard a little from Elliot about Cyril being adopted.
But this was the first time she had heard about Cyril's past from his own mouth.
"The one who spoke to me back then was that person… He said he chose me not because I was from a count's family, but because I was me. I was proud of that… That he acknowledged my own abilities."
Unusually for the eloquent Cyril, he spoke in a rushed, mumbling voice.
When Monica looked at him hesitantly, Cyril lowered the hands covering his face.
"That person saw past my title and chose me. And yet, I was overly disturbed by the change in his title… How shameful."
His long eyelashes, previously lowered, slowly rose. His clear blue eyes gazed straight ahead.
Just like his usual self. Haughty and arrogant.
"Back then, I wanted to be of help to that person. I took the hand he extended to me of my own will. If that's the case, then I should not betray the resolve I had at that time."
His voice was firm, as if convincing himself, and belonged to the usual student council vice president, Cyril Ashley.
"Above all, I have been entrusted with something. To take care of the student council until my term ends… If that is what I have been asked, then I shall fulfill my duties as vice president."
When Monica gave him a teary-eyed smile, remarking that he was back to his usual self, Cyril cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ah, in other words… You saw, quite an unsightly side of me."
"…Well, you two put on quite the unsightly display for each other, isn't that right?"
Cyril's shoulders shuddered.
When Monica turned around, only the right half of Claudia's body was peeking out from the corner of the hallway.
While Claudia was a beautiful lady, her appearance with only half her body revealed was almost eerie enough to wish she would just come out properly.
"…This hallway isn't that far from the student council room… When the door's open, your conversation leaks right through. Did you know that?"
Cyril let out a strangled, "Ugh." Monica pressed her cheeks with both hands and asked:
"D-D-Does that m-m-mean, my v-v-voice was…"
Instead of nodding, Claudia grinned wickedly. That smile said it all.
Apparently, even Monica's childish outbursts had been heard. Most likely by Elliot and the others as well.
"…It's a good thing today is a school holiday, isn't it?"
Cyril and Monica both turned beet red to the tips of their ears.