Evan bowed his head.
Investigating an imperial prince’s body wasn’t something to be done lightly. One misstep could brand you the culprit. Taking such a risk was unthinkable.
“No, it was unavoidable,” I said. “What happened to the body?”
“It’s currently in the Astern estate but will soon be moved to the capital by the emperor’s orders.”
Any prince or princess registered with the imperial family, regardless of where they died, had their funeral held at the palace. The First Prince was no exception. The emperor might have already issued the order upon hearing the news.
“Gather as much information as possible. Please.”
Sleet poured down from the morning sky. People dressed in black streamed into the palace. The weather was poor for a funeral, but the body’s rapid decay left no choice but to proceed.
Despite the cold, the First Prince’s body, transported to the palace by the emperor’s command, was in poor condition. The poison that consumed him was no ordinary one.
Agreria.
Named after a woman who supposedly created it to kill a betrayer, this poison was derived from the Taroth flower, native only to the south. A single drop could kill instantly.
Colorless and odorless, indistinguishable from water, Agreria’s hallmark was its ability to rapidly decompose a body. In summer, this might have gone unnoticed, but in the freezing winter, the cause was unmistakable to anyone familiar with the poison.
“My prince, how could you leave your mother like this!”
The First Prince’s mother, the First Consort, wailed as Sys and the other princes carried his coffin. Beside her, the First Prince’s wife and concubines wept.
Though confined as a sinner, she was still his mother. The emperor had temporarily lifted the restrictions on her and the prince’s wife and concubines for the funeral.
“My prince!”
“Sob, Your Highness…”
“Woe, Your Highness…”
As the coffin was lowered and opened, the First Consort screamed. Despite careful preparation, the body’s condition was grim, a foul odor seeping through thousands of flowers’ fragrance.
Noblewomen feigned grief, covering their noses and mouths with handkerchiefs.
“I’ll never forgive those who did this to my prince!”
“Calm yourself, Your Grace…”
“Your Grace…”
The First Consort clung to the coffin, raging.
The prince’s wife and concubines hovered nearby, hesitant. Though they’d lived closely with him, the decaying corpse repelled them.
Amid her cries, no one stepped forward. A yellow rose fell onto the body.
“Farewell. May you live a full life in the next.”
The emperor, his eyes dark, bid his son farewell with a blessing. Even a man who lived solely as emperor seemed aged by the loss, looking years older.
“It’s your fault, Your Majesty!”
“…”
“If you hadn’t banished him to the north, my son wouldn’t have died so vainly!”
The First Consort glared at the emperor with venomous eyes. He listened to her tirade impassively.
“You killed him!”
The emperor tilted his head to the sky, sleet falling on his face. He closed his eyes briefly, then straightened.
“Enough. Let the prince go, Consort.”
“I won’t! I’ll never let this pass!”
“Consort…”
“I’ll find the culprit, tear them apart, and bury them with him!”
Her bloodshot eyes were fixed on Sys, clearly suspecting him. The emperor sighed softly.
“She’s too distraught. Take her away.”
“Let me go!”
Knights seized her arms. She struggled fiercely but couldn’t overpower them.
“Rest until the funeral ends,” the emperor said, turning away as she was dragged off. His gaze fell on the prince’s wife and concubines, who flinched.
“Say your farewells to the prince.”
After their goodbyes, it was Sys’s turn. He stood before the coffin, expressionless.
“Sys…”
They’d been lifelong rivals, not by choice. In a normal family, they might have supported each other. But born into the ruthless imperial family, they had to claw and fight to survive.
Though they’d battled fiercely, Sys surely hadn’t wanted this end for his brother. They were blood, after all.
He knelt before the coffin. A murmur rippled through the crowd, but Sys remained unshaken.
“May you, in your next life…”
His voice trailed off, inaudible. Rising, he placed a yellow flower on the prince’s chest. Other princes followed, piling yellow blossoms until they nearly covered the body.
“I was waiting for you, my lady,” Evan said as I returned home after the funeral.
“What did you find?”
“The most likely suspect is a servant who attended the First Prince.”
“A servant?”
Nobles typically kept their most trusted allies close, including servants. The First Prince, cunning like his mother, would’ve been especially particular.
“Not one of his confidants?”
“He’d served the prince since his palace days.”
Leaning back on the sofa, I mulled it over. Following the prince from the palace to the Astern estate suggested deep trust.
“Betrayal?”
“We haven’t confirmed that. He’s currently missing, and the palace is searching for him.”
“He might not be the culprit.”
“Exactly.”
His disappearance could mean he’s the killer—or a victim.
In the worst case, he’s been silenced.
The lack of leads was frustrating.
“What’s the mood among the nobles? Are they suspecting His Highness?”
“Yes.”
Though expected, the confirmation left a bitter taste.
Without clear evidence of Sys’s innocence, suspicion would linger. But without proof of guilt, he couldn’t be openly accused either.
Not dire, but far from ideal.
“What about House Garfield?”
“They’ve disclosed their Agreria stock and are staying silent.”
Due to its lethality, Agreria was banned by imperial law. Only the imperial family and House Garfield were known to possess it. After the incident, House Garfield revealed their stock to prove the poison used wasn’t theirs, asserting their innocence.
But the same applies to the imperial family.
If it wasn’t from existing stocks, it was newly made.
Few could produce Agreria—its creation was complex, and storage was difficult. The empire’s tight oversight made clandestine production nearly impossible.
Moreover, the Taroth flower, its main ingredient, had long been extinct.
“Gather more information. I’ll look into it myself, too.”
“You’re getting involved again?”
Evan’s usually calm voice rose. Surprised, I looked at him, and he quickly bowed.
“I apologize for raising my voice. But I wish you wouldn’t involve yourself this time.”
His tone was firm—unlike him.
Has something changed?
I knew he was protective, sworn as a knight to my safety. But lately, his concern felt more intense.
“Did Father say something to you?”
His shift began after a conversation with Father.
