The past was built upon collecting unique characteristics.

"For example, could they falsely claim that the royal family has received the latest news that in the distant kingdom of Arcandia, there is a method to restore the 'King's' ethereal state without the need for rituals?"

Morian tapped his fingers lightly on the table and muttered to himself.

He regretted it as soon as he said it.

However, Paul, sitting opposite him, did not immediately refute him.

His grey eyes shifted slightly, and after a few seconds of thought, he gave an approving comment:

"A very good reason, Mr. Thias."

...I just mentioned it casually, and Morian's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

"As you said, if we try to persuade Lady Laurent in the conventional way, she certainly won't agree to leave, but if we do it in the name of helping His Highness the Prince..."

At this point, Paul paused, then concluded with unusual certainty:

"Then she will probably agree to go."

"Alright, let's get back to the more practical matter." Morian raised a hand to his forehead. "On the day of the operation, what legitimate reason do you plan to use to leave the residence with Miss Laurent?"

Paul's grey eyes glanced casually across the doorway, and he lowered his voice slightly as he said:

"Considering that Ms. Laurent has only recently recovered, we intend to request permission to leave the residence under the pretext of going to church for prayer."

"The carriages and guards accompanying you on your trip will all be trusted confidants from His Highness's faction. The special passes will also be personally approved by His Highness. We only need to pay attention to the other secret agents operating behind the scenes within the royal family."

"There's one more crucial question," Morian suddenly realized something and asked hesitantly, "Does His Highness the Second Prince, along with the other two princes, truly approve of holding a ceremony for His Highness Eric?"

……

Faced with this question, Paul fell silent for a moment, his expression complex:

"...I'm afraid that's what they hope for."

"Although His Highness Eric's personality is not suited to ruling, the holder of the 'Princess' Ether is still the top priority heir to the next throne."

"If the holder of the 'Princess' dies unexpectedly during the process, this special ether will be automatically inherited by one of the remaining princes."

Morian frowned repeatedly as he listened, unsure of what to say.

It's no wonder that almost no one stood up to oppose the entire ceremony plan; even His Majesty the King simply closed his eyes and acquiesced.

It's not that no one noticed the cruelty involved, but rather that everyone was calculating gains and losses and had their own considerations.

What's this all about? Has the struggle for the crown prince always been like this?

Feeling both annoyed and amused, he spoke in a deep voice:

"It is said that tomorrow, His Highness the Second Prince will arrive at the White Rose Palace, accompanied by his confidants, to make final preparations for the upcoming ceremony."

"Then we might also need to be wary of how much he values ​​Lady Laurent, and whether he has any suspicions about His Highness Eric's movements?"

"Yes, that definitely needs to be estimated," Paul responded cautiously.

Morian leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the edge of the table, his fingers interlaced against the lower half of his face, lost in thought.

Admittedly, judging from Paul's account, His Highness Eric's preparations seem quite thorough.

But he always felt that, faced with a conspiracy that might involve the kingdom’s highest power, these seemingly meticulous arrangements were exceptionally fragile, and could collapse entirely if he was not careful.

To put it bluntly, their plan was a bit too idealistic, and the reality was unlikely to be that smooth. They needed to prepare for any unforeseen circumstances.

Even if the plan were to succeed by sheer luck, and they helped Diana Laurent escape potential sanctions and retribution from the royal family, would that really be the outcome she truly desired deep down?

In the long years to come, will she constantly regret not having tried her best that day? And who will be held responsible for that "white lie"?

Morian asked himself, if it were him, he would probably rather fight to the last moment for what he values ​​in the most important moment than feel regret every time he looks back in the decades to come.

The reason life is so precious is precisely because, at a certain inescapable juncture, one can bet it without hesitation—this was a line he had read in a literary work.

After letting out a silent sigh, Morian leaned back, deciding to stop thinking about it, and looked up at Paul:

"Perhaps we should develop a few backup plans."

"What kind of backup plan do you think we need?" the serious-looking butler asked solemnly.

"I don't have any specific ideas yet; I need to gather more information before making a decision," Morian said frankly. "Mr. Paul, will I be able to freely enter and leave the palace in the days leading up to the ceremony?"

"sure."

Paul took out a palm-sized, dark brown token from his pocket, which had a rose pattern on it.

"With this, you can enter and exit through the small gate on the west side of the White Rose Palace. The guards will let you through when they see the token, but please be discreet and do not go to sensitive areas."

He paused, then added, "Please also avoid excessive contact with other people. Your role remains His Highness's psychological advisor, and any unnecessary actions could pose a risk."

"Understood, thank you, Mr. Paul." Morian took the token; the object was cool and smooth to the touch.

After watching Paul bow and leave the room, he briefly checked the room and found that there were temporary daily necessities, which meant that he only needed to bring two sets of clothes to change into.

Morian put all the unnecessary odds and ends in the wardrobe, then picked up the token and put it in his pocket, intending to go back to his office on Slan Street first.

……

Saint Crentine, Earl of White's House.

Ika, the secretary, had just returned to her office, put down the last letter that needed her signature, and categorized it into the pile of processed documents.

The female secretary was around thirty years old, dressed neatly and professionally. Her gaze behind her gold-rimmed glasses was calm and collected, but it was fixed on a newspaper on the wooden table.

Her gaze seemed drawn to the headline, and she immediately picked up the newspaper to read it carefully and begin to think about it.

A moment later, she got up and walked to the coffee table in the office, scooped some coffee powder from the tin can and poured it into the teapot.

As hot water was poured in, two cups of coffee quickly appeared on the tea table.

One cup was left on the tea table, while the other was carefully placed on a tray with a small sugar cube and a small silver spoon.

Clearly, this drink was prepared for someone.

Ika steadily lifted the tray, then pushed open the wooden door to the office and walked straight down the corridor.

She didn't knock on the door until she arrived at a study.

"Please come in."

A calm voice came from inside.