A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

18. A Confrontation in the Gardens

The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Why work so hard?" 

"He was all I knew since I was nine." His voice trembled, and he closed his eyes. He felt his demeanor was shameful, considering his tough words and attitude within the palace walls moments ago.

"Although my position was unfavorable, I stubbornly studied ways I could be of help. Thinking he needed someone to rule the aristocrats, I immersed myself in fashion, jewels, and trends. I listened to gossip and raised his reputation... I tried to be fanciful to accentuate him more."

His words were slow and solemn. He tried many things, believing he was supposed to behave a certain way until it corrupted his mind. But the truth was that there was no genuine affection between them.

Oliver looked down at his hands. "My frustration won out more often than naught. Unfortunately, that was what society has seen... the tantrum-throwing fiance. I accepted this reputation but vowed to be much more than this. So I researched other countries, their trades, and international relations. I memorized every noble household and their contributions to the kingdom. I studied politics and found how to sway the hearts of a mob. I studied Bierze's economy and merchant routes. In the dark nights, I snuck into my library and absorbed military tactics and strategies. I learned how to manage a kingdom. I may not have had the Crown Prince's affection, but I had the means to rule."

Oliver had devoted himself to study in his last life after Piers broke the engagement. He knew more than the advisors of the current King. He could easily step into the role of a ruler without any qualms.

Oliver laughed bitterly. "While I devoted myself to this kingdom and my fiance, the Crown Prince devoted his body to the men who warmed his bed."

A bestial killing intent started to seep from the stranger's body. However, Oliver was not bothered by this because he had entrenched himself in auras like this for decades.  Instead, Oliver examined the pale hand of the stranger, and his fingers traced the lines on his palm, brushing the callouses with tender care.

"But he is no longer my problem. Now that I'm free, it's time to go home to Wynter." A warm smile graced his face.

"You're headed up north?" The man was surprised.

Oliver nodded. "Finally. I have been in this damnable place longer than I wished."

"Most young men love to live in the capital."

"Most young men don't have death looming over them in the capital," Oliver said. "It will only be a matter of time before they march this old ghost through the streets and spill my blood in the middle of the city. I had little choice in how I lived, but I will choose how I die."

"That's a bit morbid."

Oliver laughed. "It is... You're not from Bierze, right?"

The man was silent for a while. "No."

"You're also not a spy," Oliver said. When the man didn't answer, he continued. "A spy wouldn't have let me notice them in the first place. Also, you said you have no intentions to harm the kingdom, which means you're here for something different."

The man sighed. "A prisoner."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I see... then you're really in the wrong place." He pointed towards the eastern tower. "The highest priority prisoner will be placed at the top of the tower. It has one staircase leading straight to the cell. It's narrow, and the risk of being caught is high. You would have to move fast to take down the guards. Anyone else will be underground beneath the tower. There should be more corners to hide in down there, but still dangerous nonetheless."