Chapter 129: The One Responsible
Gloria had instructed her maids to set aside the gifts handed to her by the guests, but the one item she kept close was the magical lamp. It was a rare piece, one that typically required months of waiting due to overwhelming demand, and to have it crafted so perfectly to her taste made it impossible to part with.
“Lady Vandemir has such impeccable taste,” Gloria said, her voice bright with admiration. “How did she know I love the moon and stars? And to think she made this lamp herself! It feels even more special knowing it carries Frederick’s thoughtfulness too.”
As she subtly flaunted the lamp, someone in the crowd piped up with a suggestion. “Your Highness, why not light the lamp here and now? I’m dying to see how beautiful it looks when it’s glowing.”
“Hmm, shall I?” Gloria replied, her eyes sparkling at the chance to show off her prized gift.
The crowd, eager to curry favor, buzzed with excitement and gathered closer. Gloria reached for the top of the lamp, where a gentle press would activate the luminescent stone, heating it to emit light. With a smile brimming with anticipation, she pressed the button.
The stone began to glow, casting a soft, golden light that mimicked the moon and stars. At the same time, tiny specks of white light clung to the stone, sparkling like fireflies. The glow intensified, swallowing the stone’s light in a dazzling flash that forced the onlookers to squint and briefly close their eyes.
That was when the explosion happened.
Boom!
“Kyaa!”
“Argh!”
A deafening blast tore through the air as the lamp detonated. Screams erupted from every direction, and thick smoke billowed, clouding the room and obscuring all vision. Panic swept through the crowd as people scattered, shoving and tripping over one another in a desperate bid for survival.
“Your Highness!”
Gloria’s maids rushed to her side as she collapsed to the floor. Several nobles lay groaning nearby, but Gloria, who had been holding the lamp, bore the brunt of the explosion. Blood trickled from her wounds as she lay unconscious.
Knights stationed outside, alerted by the suspicious blast, stormed into the hall. Their priority was to protect the imperial family, but they also had to assist the fleeing guests. One by one, they escorted the royals attending the party to safety—except for one. Frederick was nowhere to be found. The knights shouted his name, searching frantically.
“Your Highness! Your Highness, where are you?”
“The Crown Prince is in the lounge! Hurry!” Marquis Grant called out, covering his nose with his arm to avoid inhaling the smoke. He was attending the event in place of the empress.
Following his direction, the knights rushed to the lounge. Pushing past a group of noblewomen huddled near the door, they found Frederick inside with Aracila.
My lamp caused the explosion?
Aracila stood in stunned disbelief as she absorbed Ben Diark’s report. The idea was absurd and bewildering. There was nothing in the magical lamp’s design that could trigger an explosion. The enhanced luminescent stone was engineered to emit stronger light at higher temperatures, dissipating energy naturally. The lamp’s internal heating mechanism didn’t generate extreme heat, and countless tests had never produced an incident like this.
This doesn’t make sense. There’s no way the lamp just exploded. There has to be a reason.
Though the thought gnawed at her, she wisely kept it to herself. Instead, she turned to Ben Diark and asked, “Is Princess Gloria alright?”
“Is Gloria badly hurt?” Frederick added, his voice thick with concern.
Ben Diark’s expression darkened. “She’s being examined by the royal physician. She lost a fair amount of blood and is unconscious, so we don’t yet know the extent of her condition.”
“I see…” Aracila’s face fell.
Regardless of the cause, the explosion had originated from the lamp she’d crafted. If Gloria was seriously injured, Aracila could face severe consequences. The nobles around her were already casting sidelong glances, their whispers growing louder. Word had spread among the guests that the explosion came from the lamp Aracila had presented.
“What kind of lamp did she even make?”
“Tch, how careless do you have to be to craft a gift for Her Highness like that?”
“Surely it wasn’t intentional, was it?”
The accusing stares intensified, pricking at Aracila like needles. She opened her mouth to defend herself but stopped. Without knowing the true cause of the explosion, speaking rashly would only invite more scrutiny.
Frederick seemed to share her caution. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Aracila, it might be best if you head home for now.”
“…Alright.”
As Aracila turned to leave, Ben Diark stepped in front of her, his voice low and measured. “Lady Vandemir, you’ll be summoned to the magistrate’s office for further investigation. Failure to comply could result in consequences.”
“I won’t refuse. Call me whenever you need,” she replied evenly.
“We’ll be in touch.”
Ben Diark gave a slight bow, and Aracila returned the gesture before walking out of the garden. Frederick followed, escorting her personally. As she approached her carriage, she paused and turned to him. “Frederick, about Princess Gloria…”
“Don’t worry,” he said, his smile gentle and reassuring. “I’ll let you know as soon as there’s news about her condition.”
Given that Aracila’s lamp had caused an explosion that injured his sister and disrupted the event, his kindness was no small gesture. Yet, as if sensing her unease, he spoke in a voice twice as soft as usual, his tone almost tender. “I don’t know what caused the accident, but I believe in you. Go home, rest, and leave the rest to me.”
It was a promise to stand by her side, even in her absence. Moments ago, in the lounge, his one-sided declarations had irritated her, but now her heart softened. In the midst of such chaos, his unwavering trust—coming from someone who had once been a close friend—couldn’t help but move her.
“Thank you, truly,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere.
“No need to thank me,” Frederick replied, his ruby-red eyes gazing at her warmly. “You’re someone I hold dear. This is the least I can do.”
His hand reached toward a strand of her hair that had fallen loose, intending to tuck it behind her ear. But Aracila, unaware of his gesture, stepped back, and his hand fell short.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I’ll go now.”
“…Safe travels,” Frederick replied, masking a flicker of regret with a still-warm smile as he waved her off.
The carriage ride home was a tangle of thoughts. The notion that her lamp had caused an explosion felt unreal, and the potential consequences of the day’s events weighed heavily on her. When she arrived home, Damian, unsurprisingly, had not yet returned. She sent him a letter via magical courier, explaining the situation.
I hope this doesn’t spiral out of control and resolves itself quietly, she thought, a heavy sigh escaping her as an ominous foreboding coiled around her.
News of the magical lamp’s explosion at the princess’s birthday party swept through the empire like wildfire. Orders for the lamp, which had been backlogged for months, were canceled overnight. A flood of refund requests poured in for lamps already sold. People began questioning the safety of the lamps installed in public spaces, demanding their removal. The imperial court issued an immediate order to recall all such lamps.
The following day, Frederick contacted Aracila with an update on Gloria’s condition. The princess had suffered a broken shoulder and burns on her arm, but thankfully, her life was not in danger. Still, the incident had nearly cost the life of a royal, and the public’s criticism of Aracila, the lamp’s creator, was unrelenting.
“Turns out it’s a killer lamp! The shocking truth behind the magical lamp!”
“How long must we tolerate the inhumane creations of sorcerers?”
“Aracila Vandemir is a fraud!”
Headlines brazenly vilifying her appeared with alarming frequency. Yet Aracila maintained her composure, even as she read the scathing articles.
Today, she had been summoned to the imperial magistrate’s office for an investigation. Complying without protest, she now sat across from an investigator with a stern expression in a somber interrogation room.
“Good day, Lady Vandemir. I am Kenneth Moore, the investigator assigned to this case. I’ll be asking you a few questions, and I expect you to answer truthfully.”
“Of course,” she replied.
“Did you intentionally present Princess Gloria with a lamp capable of causing an explosion?”
“No,” Aracila said firmly, without hesitation.
She had poured days of effort into crafting the lamp to celebrate Gloria’s birthday. It wasn’t designed to harm anyone, nor was it capable of being used for such a purpose.
“Then were you aware that the lamp could potentially explode?” Kenneth pressed.
“No,” she answered. “My lamps have never caused an accident before. The princess’s birthday party was the first.”
As if she’d sell a dangerous product to the public. Aracila explained that her lamps had undergone rigorous safety testing. “There has to be another reason. The lamp itself couldn’t have been faulty.”
“That’s unlikely,” Kenneth said, his tone laced with cynicism. “The lamp itself caused the explosion. If you wanted to play innocent, you should’ve come up with a more convincing excuse.”
Aracila’s brow twitched at his dismissive response. “So, Sir Moore, you believe I deliberately gave Her Highness a dangerous lamp?”
“Not exactly,” he replied coolly. “I suspect you’re an irresponsible businesswoman unwilling to admit fault for carelessly crafting your product.”
Objectively, Aracila had no motive to harm a royal. So while he didn’t believe she acted with malicious intent, his skepticism about her accountability was clear.
In truth, Kenneth suspected that Aracila had discovered a flaw in the production process but ignored it for her own profit. Such behavior wasn’t unheard of among certain mages.
“That’s absolutely not the case,” Aracila said firmly. “I’ll prove the lamp wasn’t defective myself. Let me see it.”
“That’s not possible,” Kenneth replied. “The lamp is a critical piece of evidence, and we cannot allow you to handle it.”
Aracila let out a frustrated sigh. She had hoped to inspect the lamp herself to uncover the cause, but if they wouldn’t even let her see it, she was at a loss for how to resolve the situation. Kenneth, however, remained resolute, unwilling to risk the possibility of her tampering with the evidence.
“Whether intentional or not, the fact remains that you caused harm to Her Highness,” he said, his voice cold and unyielding.
“You will face appropriate consequences. Furthermore, your other business operations will undergo thorough investigations, so be prepared.”
Aracila bit her lower lip. His words hit her with a sudden clarity: no matter how much she insisted she wasn’t at fault, it wouldn’t matter. The lamp she had created was at the heart of the incident, and even if it was an unforeseen accident, the responsibility fell squarely on her shoulders.
With a shadowed expression, she left the interrogation room. The thought of the repercussions this incident would bring made her head throb. Sighing repeatedly, she stepped out of the magistrate’s office, only to find Frederick waiting for her near the entrance.
“Aracila, are you alright? How did the investigation go?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Oh, Frederick. You came to see me?”
“How could I just sit still when I’m worried about you?”
His tone was softer than usual, his ruby-red eyes brimming with genuine care. With a light sigh, he offered a gentle smile and spoke the words he’d prepared. “I don’t believe for a second that you meant to hurt Gloria. Everyone makes mistakes. One slip doesn’t erase everything you’ve accomplished.”
“What? Frederick, I…” Aracila faltered, her lips moving soundlessly as she struggled to respond.
She still didn’t believe she’d made the lamp incorrectly. But she couldn’t bring herself to say that to Frederick. Knowing he was the one who had commissioned the lamp, putting him in an awkward position, she couldn’t bear to speak only in her own defense.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, Frederick continued in his soothing tone. “It was probably just a defective product by chance. It’s unfortunate that it happened to be Gloria’s, but it’s not like you did it on purpose.”
“…”
His words were touching, yet they left an odd aftertaste. After all, Frederick was speaking under the assumption that she was at fault.
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them with a gentle smile. “If you need my help, just say the word.”
“…Thank you,” Aracila said, her laugh tinged with a sigh. “This is what having a good friend feels like, isn’t it?”
Despite everything—his sister’s injury, the ruined event—Frederick’s willingness to stand by her was something she couldn’t help but be grateful for as a friend.
“Well…”
Suddenly, Frederick reached out, his hand swiftly and gently tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch was tender, his gaze deep and meaningful as he said, “I don’t think we need to limit it to just friends.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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