Kian’s schedule was quite packed.

After breakfast, there was a royal council meeting; after lunch, another royal council meeting; after that meeting ended, there was training; and after dinner, he would read until falling asleep.

He said that was the time I most wanted to see him.

Nowadays, if I cling to him like in the old days just because I miss him, I’m likely to be mocked as a weak king.

So, I had no choice but to spend only a simple lunch with Kian.

Watching me sit there emptily, like a beast that had lost its young, Sikar frowned.

“I’ll go bring the king over.”

“That’s asking for trouble. He’s no longer a child in your arms.”

“If you know that, why not try to ease your heart a little?”

If the heart were something so easily controlled, I would’ve emptied it long ago.

“It’s not easy.”

“It’ll be much easier to clear your mind if you shift your focus elsewhere.”

“Shift my focus elsewhere?”

Suddenly, Sikar rolled up his sleeves, undid one shirt button, and turned his collar sideways.

“Our child…”

Before Sikar could say more, I pressed my index finger against his lips.

Surprised by my abrupt interruption, Sikar blinked at me, then brushed my hand away.

“My sentence isn’t finished yet…”

If he’d already said “our child,” it was obvious he meant proposing we have children. I pressed my index finger against his lips again and said,

“It’s too soon.”

Perhaps my words got through a little—Sikar nodded as if agreeing, then took my hand that had been pressing his index finger.

“Right. It’s too soon. We haven’t even started the process of having a child yet. So, we should just complete the procedure starting tonight.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean the Blue Sun hasn’t risen yet.”

“Ah. The Blue Sun.”

In the original story, one week after Kian became king, the Blue Sun rose. The Blue Sun was the sun that appeared after the founding king established Recador.

After that, the Blue Sun had never risen again—until Kian, the protagonist, became king, and one week later, the Blue Sun rose over Recador.

Thus, the people praised Kian as the Blue King. The founding king had prophesied that when a virtuous ruler was born in Recador, the Blue Sun would rise again, heralding an era of peace and prosperity.

Therefore, in Recador, the color blue symbolized hope.

But now, more than a week had passed without the Blue Sun appearing, making me slightly uneasy. I couldn’t tell whether it was because Kian was still too young for the sun to rise, or whether the story had changed.

Sikar wore a disagreeable expression.

“What does that have to do with us?”

“I believe parents should wait until their child thrives before thinking of the next. Imagine Kian as your own flesh and blood—you wouldn’t think a second child is urgent at all.”

“Isn’t Kian already thriving?”

“Everything Kian has now is simply following the original plot. We haven’t done anything for him. But if he doesn’t earn the title ‘Blue King,’ that would be our fault.”

Sikar seemed to ponder my words, then nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, Madam. We only helped him find his rightful position slightly sooner. We haven’t actually done anything ourselves. Still, I feel these are separate matters…”

“They’re not separate. We can’t let Kian have a younger sibling before he’s even called the Blue King.”

Sikar, chewing over my words, suddenly scratched his upper lip several times.

“So, you’re saying once the Blue Sun rises, we can immediately have a sibling for him?”

His face, smiling slightly with hopeful anticipation, was adorable.

The way his lips twitched, as if lost in happy imagination, reminded me of a puppy.

By then, I suppose it’ll be fine.

“Probably.”

“I don’t want vague answers. I want a definite one.”

“By then… it won’t be bad.”

Sikar grinned brightly again. I’d rarely seen him smile like that, so his expression seemed so novel I stared blankly for a moment—until he swiftly reverted to his usual indifferent face and said,

“Come in, Vika.”

Ah, Vika was outside. That’s why his expression hardened so quickly.

The moment Sikar finished speaking, Vika entered, scratching his cheek.

“You two were discussing having children so seriously, I thought I shouldn’t interrupt, so I waited.”

The thought that those keen ears had overheard our childbearing plans made me too embarrassed to lift my face.

“Please come in, Master Vika. I’ll make space for you to talk.”

As I tried to leave, Sikar grabbed my arm.

“It’s fine if the Madam stays. Right. What was discussed in the ministerial council?”

No, I do mind!

But these two acted as if my presence meant nothing at all—they didn’t pay me the slightest attention. Since I wasn’t even worth wallpaper-level consideration, instead of making a fuss about leaving, I quietly sat back down.

Listening vaguely, I realized Vika was reporting the ministerial council’s contents to Sikar.

Given that Sikar currently holds full authority, it seems he receives reports like this.

“By the way, they were just discussing the Duke’s second-generation issue during the ministerial council.”

Our second-generation issue?

Sikar must have been surprised too, but I was equally taken aback.

“Why was our second-generation issue brought up in the ministerial council?”

“They said if a second-generation child is born between the two of you, it might threaten the king, so by law, you should leave the palace once you have a child.”

That’s just the ministers speaking out of ignorance. If we were plotting rebellion—or if our child harbored dark intentions to rebel—there’s no way we could deceive Kian, who reads warmth.

If they knew that fact, they wouldn’t dare say such things.

Sikar knew that too, so he didn’t look concerned—but he certainly had no intention of accepting their reasoning.

“We can’t do that. Think how much Kian and Yura miss each other! We can’t separate them again like that. And if our child were truly a threat, the king himself would be the first to sense it! These fools, who can’t see an inch ahead, are trying to trip us up.”

Vika, resting his chin on his hand with a bored gaze, looked at Sikar.

“You seem angry that they’re preventing you from having children until the king matures?”

“Of course I’m angry.”

Seeing Sikar’s hand repeatedly reaching toward his waist then stopping, I knew that if I weren’t here, he’d probably have drawn his sword and stormed straight to the council chamber.

It had been a while since I’d seen him this angry, and I found myself momentarily mesmerized by his imposing figure—hand on waist, face flushed with rage… How could I find that attractive?

Anyway, it wasn’t my place to intervene.

“Who’s saying such things?”

“Count Winter. Count Hamel was also involved.”

“Those rat-like bastards. I suppose I’ll have to kill them.”

Sikar, who had no patience left, stood up as if he couldn’t endure it any longer.

“They must think that without us, they can ride that young king’s back and act as if it’s their own world.”

Of course, Sikar wouldn’t immediately execute the nobles with that sword—but we couldn’t allow nobles to intimidate others recklessly within the palace where Kian reigns as king.

So, I stood up to stop Sikar.

“No. Put that sword down. Talk to them reasonably later.”

“If they were the type to listen to reasonable words, they wouldn’t have said such nonsense. If we don’t establish order now, they’ll seize every opportunity to manipulate the political situation.”

“But swinging a sword won’t be good for the king either. Violence isn’t the way. So, hand me the sword.”

Sikar didn’t immediately hand over the sword, but he didn’t ignore me either. He stood there, seemingly pondering, then said,

“Fine. I won’t swing it—I’ll just hold it.”

“That’s the same thing. Even if you just wear the sword at your side and glare, it’ll look like intimidation.”

“Given the crimes they’ve committed, even me just holding the sword will seem like intimidation.”

“Not now. It’s better to wait for a better opportunity.”

“Opportunity? They don’t deserve any opportunity.”

“It’s not the right time. If you go now and confront them, they’ll just say you’re controlling state affairs while riding your son’s back. Think of the king.”

“Then I’ll just kill all those who say such things.”

Vika, seemingly quite pleased with the idea of killing all such men, smiled slyly.

“That sounds good.”

No matter how the world changes, these people never care about others’ opinions.

“Master Vika, excuse me, could you please give us some space? I have something to discuss with the Duke.”

Satisfied at the chance to escape from people he didn’t want to be around, Vika stood up.

“Since the Madam wishes it, I shall take my leave. Enjoy your pleasant conversation.”

Apparently feeling quite relieved, Vika even bounced a little as he dashed out.

Once Vika left, Sikar looked at me with a cool gaze.

“What did you want to say that made you send Vika away?”

“Listen carefully. Now the king has found his position, and we’ve been able to move into the palace. Everything has gone according to our goals—no, even better. So, there’s no need to be so tense. If a second child is born, as they say, we’ll leave the palace. If it’s for the king’s sake, I can accept that.”

But Sikar, looking at me blankly, replied as if he couldn’t agree.

“Clearing one major obstacle doesn’t mean everything will go smoothly.”

“Of course, it’d be nice if the nobles also celebrated our second child. But you know as well as I do—the royal court doesn’t work that way. If we have to ask them to recognize our child, that’s only possible when we’ve earned sufficient justification. So, for now, we must concede.”

Sikar stared at me blankly again, then sighed deeply and sheathed his sword.

“Right. On that point, your thinking seems wise, Madam.”

At that moment, Sikar seemed quite admirable. He, whose innate personality was impulsive and headstrong, had put away his sword with his own hands after listening to me.

How could I not love someone who listens so well?!

Sikar took my hand, sat down in the chair, and leaned back.

“Strange.”

“What is?”

“After hearing your words, I feel better.”

“Huh? Really?”

He’s the type who never listens to others—yet he felt better after listening to me. What a surprising change.

Closing his eyes tightly, Sikar continued,

“This… I suppose I’m turning into a henpecked husband.”

“A henpecked husband listens to his wife even more than you do.”

“I suppose I’m not entirely without signs of that. But I won’t be completely dominated, so you’d better brace yourself.”

“Really? I like men who are dominated. Then you won’t become a husband loved by me.”

Looking at me with a completely unexpected expression, Sikar cleared his throat and said,

“But, since I’m broad-minded, I’ll let myself be dominated.”