Enrique couldn’t help but acknowledge it. The fact that he hadn’t properly grasped the Holy Emperor’s children until now.
“Kuhk! Owen! Where on earth have you been all this time!”
Bartoja, freed from his restraints, rushed toward Prince Owen, scattering tears. It seemed that the fear he’d been swallowing inside until now had burst forth all at once.
“Heartless! Were you going to abandon this Bartoja? Did you really think that!”
“Hey, hey. Calm down a bit. By the way, I thought you were doing fine in Regina, so why are you here?”
“Uheuhuhuk!”
That insolent Barsha barbarian, daring to cling to the prince’s hem—astonishingly, Prince Owen just let him be. And that wasn’t all. He even comforted him gently, as if he felt pity!
Enrique was utterly dumbfounded.
‘Isn’t he being too lenient with a mere barbarian?’
No, to begin with, it was absurd that the prince himself looked like a Barsha barbarian.
And what was that earlier? He’s not some clown, yet he put on a breaking demonstration in front of the villagers. Does this prince have no sense of being an imperial family member of the empire?
Even more surprising was Prince Morres. As far as Enrique knew, he was the most fastidious and authoritative figure among the Holy Emperor’s family.
But then—
“Your Highness!”
“Shh! Edith. Don’t call me that. I’m hiding my identity right now.”
“Ah! Yes, yes! But seriously, what’s with this state you’re in? Did you…