"…For that reason, I'll have to attend the commemoration next weekend, so I won't be able to visit here."
"A presentation and debate by outstanding students… it sounds wonderful," Victoria said with a small sigh. "I wish I could go too, but unfortunately that seems impossible."
"Didn't His Majesty send you an invitation?"
"He did. But sadly, my dear mother and Sir John Conroy have already decided that I will be ill that day."
Ah.
There it was again.
Victoria's incurable illness—one that appeared whenever a royal event or party was held.
Miraculously, the illness was expected to disappear the moment she became an adult.
Because of that mysterious condition, Victoria rarely attended public events.
And apparently this time would be no different.
"That's unfortunate," I said. "It would have been a valuable experience for you."
"If it's an Eton versus Harrow debate, the competition must be fierce. Have they announced the topic yet?"
"Yes. It seems the subject will be the abolition of slavery. It's a sensitive issue, but since the participants are students, they probably believe it can still be discussed openly."
"Then you'll participate in the debate, Killian?"
That reaction was perfectly normal.
The strange one was Headmaster Keate trying to keep me out.
"No. I think I've attracted enough attention recently, so I decided to sit this one out."
"But if the school's honor is at stake, wouldn't the teachers want their best students participating?"
"Strangely enough, the headmaster seemed relieved when I declined."
"Really? That is odd. When pride is involved, schools usually want as many talented students as possible."
Everyone I had told this story to had responded the same way.
James.
Wellesley.
And now Victoria.
If all of them found it suspicious, then something truly was going on.
The problem was that I still had no idea what.
I had even sent someone to quietly investigate the headmaster's recent meetings.
Nothing unusual appeared.
Aside from Eton's own teachers, the headmaster of Harrow, and several royal officials organizing the event, there were no strange contacts.
Perhaps someone simply thought it would look awkward if Eton's representative were a half-Asian Irish noble.
If that were the reason, I could dismiss the whole matter as paranoia.
But Keate didn't seem like the type to think that way.
Still…
When information is scarce, speculation is dangerous.
Better to prepare for any possibility.
"By the way, Killian," Victoria said, lowering her voice slightly. "Even though I can't attend the event, Sir John Conroy probably will."
"John Conroy?"
Although I had visited Kensington Palace many times, I had rarely encountered the Duchess's secretary in person.
I had exchanged brief greetings with him before, but we had never had a proper conversation.
Not that I particularly wanted one.
"Mother speaks very highly of you," Victoria continued. "He doesn't seem suspicious yet, but I think he'll want to speak with you properly at least once. He might approach you deliberately during the commemoration."
"Thank you for warning me. I'll prepare accordingly."
"To be honest, that man is really—" She stopped herself. "Well… let's just say he's unpleasant. I'm actually curious how you'll deal with him."
Perhaps our growing familiarity was causing her true feelings to slip out more often.
Given the environment she had grown up in, it didn't seem strange to me at all.
Frankly, the fact that she wasn't swearing outright already showed remarkable restraint.
"Well," I said lightly, "after the event you can hear from him personally. I'm sure he'll enthusiastically explain how useful Killian Gore is to Your Highness."
"Oh?" Victoria tilted her head. "Then Sir John might accidentally give me his first accurate piece of advice."
"That would be historic," I replied. "Perhaps we should declare it a national holiday."
Victoria burst into laughter.
"Now that would be a historic event."
Her mood visibly brightened.
"Your Highness," I said gently, "once you become queen, he won't even be allowed to remain in your presence. Whatever nonsense he says now, simply ignore it. And if that's difficult, just imagine how pale his face will turn when that day arrives."
"But if His Majesty's health worsens first," she said quietly, "I'll have to endure that man for six more years."
"His Majesty will endure," I said firmly. "If we had to name the two people who dislike Sir John Conroy the most in the world, the first would be you—and the second would certainly be the king."
Strictly speaking, William probably disliked the Duchess even more.
But mentioning her mother seemed unnecessary.
Still…
Since the king himself would attend the commemoration, it was inevitable that I would meet him sooner or later.
He must already know that I frequently met Victoria.
He might try to test me somehow.
The thought complicated things.
But if I changed my perspective…
This could also be an opportunity.
If I could avoid suspicion in a gathering filled with the kingdom's most powerful figures—
Who could possibly threaten me afterward?
Until the day I stepped openly onto the stage of power, I could remain invisible.
Rather than exhausting myself acting for each person individually…
Perhaps it would be better to perform once before all of them.
To convince them of a simple illusion:
That Killian Gore was nothing more than an insignificant Irish country boy—one who posed absolutely no threat to the foundations of the British establishment.
* * *
The day of the commemoration finally arrived.
And the atmosphere was even more electrifying than expected.
When the carriages carrying students arrived before Buckingham Palace, the massive gates slowly opened.
The students stared in awe.
Royal guards in brilliant scarlet uniforms stepped aside with perfect discipline.
Gasps spread through the crowd.
"Wow… I can't believe I'm actually going inside."
"My father attended a ball here once, but now I finally—"
"Dear God…"
Surprisingly, even the reactions of noble sons were not much different from those of commoners.
Even Robert, the second son of the Duke of Rutland, looked excited.
"Have you never been here before either?" I asked him.
"Of course not," Robert said. "My father has been here countless times, but I've only come for weddings or baptisms. Events inside the palace usually involve nobles, officials, or foreign diplomats. Opportunities like this—where we actually meet His Majesty—are extremely rare."
"So it really is an unusual event."
"Apparently it's meant to show how much the British Empire values future talent."
I nodded quietly.
For a nation ruling the world in the nineteenth century, the scale certainly matched its status.
Even if there were hidden motives behind the event, the fact that such a gathering could exist at all deserved recognition.
Society truly valued scholars and talented students.
Confucian states in Asia also respected students destined to become officials.
But the feeling was different.
No wonder the students were half-intoxicated with excitement.
Soon our carriage stopped before the palace entrance.
We passed fountains and stepped inside.
Golden moldings, elaborate frescoes, and priceless works of art filled the hall.
Everyone stood frozen in awe.
Then a royal herald in a brilliant blue-and-gold uniform unfurled a scroll and shouted:
"Ladies and gentlemen! The representative students of Eton College have arrived!"
The doors of the Grand Hall opened.
Polite applause echoed through the chamber.
"Wow… this is insane," someone whispered. "I don't think I'll sleep tonight."
Even the students who had been stiff with nervousness nodded.
Across the hall, the Harrow students—who had arrived earlier—looked just as frozen.
If I looked too calm here, I might stand out.
Originally I planned to find Gladstone or Wellesley and chat quietly.
But I quickly changed my mind.
I scanned the room, then deliberately stiffened my posture and positioned myself directly behind Robert.
Headmaster Keate, who had accompanied us, began gently patting students on the shoulders.
"Don't be too nervous," he said kindly. "The event hasn't started yet. Some distinguished guests here are also Eton alumni. Come greet them with me."
"Yes, sir!"
Perhaps he wanted to relax the students before the debate.
Whatever the reason, we followed him around greeting various dignitaries.
The atmosphere gradually relaxed.
The students regained their composure.
And just then—
"Killian Gore. May I have a word?"
A tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man approached me through the crowd.
Thanks to Victoria's warning, I wasn't surprised at all.
I nodded politely and stepped away from the group.
"Of course, Sir John. The event hasn't begun yet, so I should have a moment."
"Good," he said with a satisfied smile. "Let's talk somewhere quieter."
He guided me toward a corner of the Grand Hall.
"Honestly, we should have spoken sooner," he said casually. "But there was never a proper opportunity. The Duchess or attendants were always nearby."
"Does the Duchess not trust you completely?" I asked.
"Of course she does. And I trust her as well. But you see…"
He smiled.
"We're both Irishmen, aren't we?"
"I thought perhaps we might understand each other better if we spoke privately."
Ah.
Now I understood why he had never interfered with the Duchess allowing me near Victoria.
He had already built a sense of camaraderie in his mind.
Which meant…
I might as well use it.
"I must confess," I said quietly, "I've secretly admired you for that very reason. You're something of a role model for me."
"Really?" Conroy raised an eyebrow. "Surely there are far more impressive men around you."
"Perhaps. But they're all English."
Conroy laughed bitterly.
"Exactly. Listen carefully, Killian. Even if you become the most brilliant student at Eton and gain the favor of Tory politicians, you'll still end up polishing their boots."
"I assume that's because I'm Irish."
"Precisely."
He chuckled darkly.
"They'll pretend to embrace Ireland. But the moment you rise too high, they'll tear you down. I believed merit alone could earn recognition. I joined the army, graduated from the academy, even served during the Napoleonic Wars."
He scoffed.
"But they never truly accepted me."
Perhaps Conroy was another tragic product of the age.
It wasn't hard to imagine the bitterness of an Irishman trying to climb British society.
"That must have been painful," I said sympathetically. "To fight in the war that defeated Napoleon and still not receive recognition…"
"Indeed. Though… I didn't actually fight at Waterloo."
"Oh. Then perhaps the Peninsular War?"
"Well… circumstances prevented that as well."
"…."
What?
Then where exactly had he served?
Perhaps the reason he never received recognition was because he had somehow managed to avoid every real battlefield.
Of course, I couldn't say that out loud.
So I quickly changed my approach.
"I understand now," I said gravely. "Those vile Englishmen must have deliberately prevented you from reaching decisive battlefields so you could never earn glory."
Conroy blinked.
"…Yes! Exactly! You understand perfectly."
He leaned closer.
"That's why I changed my strategy."
"You mean making the Duchess of Kent the regent?"
"Precisely. Imagine their faces when the man they despised—John Conroy of Ireland—stands behind the queen they worship."
"I must admit," I said solemnly, "that vision is magnificent."
"I knew you would see it that way."
He smiled proudly.
"Once the Duchess becomes regent, I'll guide domestic politics, influence royal appointments… control Buckingham Palace itself."
"…."
That's it?
Was he serious?
I had expected some grand political plan.
Instead—
His ambition was simply to run Buckingham Palace behind the scenes.
"Has any Irishman in history achieved such a feat?" Conroy continued proudly. "To control the monarch of the greatest empire on earth?"
He clapped my shoulder.
"And when that day comes, I'll make sure you receive a title as well. We Irish must support one another."
I nodded politely.
"My lord, your vision truly surpasses my imagination."
Inside my mind, however, only one thought remained.
Small.
His ambitions were painfully small.
If he had sought to build an untouchable power base through Victoria…
If he had planned how to maintain influence even after the regency ended…
I might have respected the ambition.
But all he wanted was petty revenge against English society.
My mouth and thoughts, as usual, moved in completely different directions.
"You truly possess extraordinary insight," I said respectfully.
Conroy laughed.
"Work hard, Killian. Perhaps one day you might even become the Lord Chamberlain of the queen."
I shook his hand politely.
"It would be my honor. From now on, I shall rely entirely on you and the Duchess."
But internally, my conclusion was already decided.
A man whose imagination stopped at becoming the palace's gatekeeper…
Was not someone worth partnering with.
John Conroy.
There will be no place for you in the future British Empire.