Once the banquet was over, Milton returned to his room all exhausted. 

“Are you alright, My Lord?”

“You look very tired, sir.”

Milton gave his advisors, Viscount Sabian and Jerome, a wry smile at their question.

“Ahh… It’d be much easier to fight on the battlefield.”

Smiling at the meaningless bullshit he had to listen to without getting angry was more tiring and exhausting than he had expected. Milton envied Bianca who had come up with excuses to miss the banquet.

‘I’m really not a politician.’

Queen Leila was much better at this than Milton was. If it was her, she would’ve had the entire banquet in the palm of her hand doing whatever she wanted. Milton was mentally drained and all he wanted to do now was dive into his bed and pass out. But…

“Are you Marquis Milton Forrest?”

A man appeared in the hallway leading to his room.

‘Damn it…’

Seeing Milton greatly annoyed, Viscount Sabian coughed to signal him.

Cough

“…My Lord.”

‘I know, alright, I know…’

This was someone else’s house. I cannot get angry. Why? Because the smart Viscount Sabian said not to be angry. 

Once he had convinced himself, Milton spoke with a smile.

“That’s...