Chapter 20 · Song of the Closed Cage

Leaving the chill air of the underground prison behind and ascending to the surface, the dazzling sunlight pierced mercilessly into Isadel’s vision.

Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, stung sharply.

But before she could even feel the sunlight, Isadel moved on at once.

The place she headed for was one she had turned away from for a long time.

The Empress’s Palace, situated at the easternmost edge of the imperial palace.

That place, which received the brilliant sunlight first, had once been the space Isadel loved most.

Her mother’s residence, and the place where most of her childhood memories remained.

But after her mother passed away, it had become an utterly cold and unfamiliar place.

Because Hildwin, who had been her father’s mistress, had finally seized that seat for herself.

And so Isadel had built a high wall between her own princess’s palace and the Empress’s Palace.

She could not burn to death that sly creature who defiled her mother’s residence, so it was a childish act of defiance to block it completely from her sight at least.

‘Has it been ten years…’

Isadel came to a halt before the massive barrier.

The wall, covered in black moss as if proving the passage of time, was still stubborn, but it was not as overwhelming as it had been in memory.

She could not tell whether the wall had grown lower, or whether she had grown in the meantime.

There were front gates and side paths leading to the Empress’s Palace in any number, but Isadel deliberately chose to climb over this wall.

She wanted to tread upon the wall she herself had built, climb over it, and face directly the past that had been preserved beyond it.

Without hesitation, Isadel gripped the rough crevices of the wall.

Sharp stone dust dug beneath her fingernails and tore at her flesh, but sensation preceded pain.

The muscles carved into her body from training with the knight captain in the past awakened instinctively.

Isadel twisted her body fluidly and began to climb the vertical wall.

The movements defying gravity were precarious.

About halfway up, a stone crumbled powerlessly from the fingertips of her left hand, which could not find strength.

“…!”

For a moment her body tilted backward, nearly plunging into the void.

The dizzying height opened its mouth behind her, but Isadel barely kept her balance and pressed herself tight against the wall.

“Hah, hah…”

Breath rising to the tip of her chin pierced sharply at her lungs.

Beads of sweat on her forehead ran into her eyes and blurred her vision, but she did not stop.

The muscles in her shoulders screamed as if about to burst, and the tips of her ten fingers were already bruised and torn, a mess of blood.

The moment she squeezed out the last of her strength, grabbed the railing, and pulled herself up, a familiar sight unfolded before Isadel’s eyes.

The Empress’s Palace beyond the wall was still majestic.

The lofty spires and splendid gold-leaf ornaments symbolizing the authority of the Rastain imperial house boasted the same dignity as ten years ago.

But that splendor was nothing but a preserved ruin.

The palace, whose master had ceased to visit, lay sunk in a cool stillness.

The marble floor that once shone white had lost its luster and grown dull, and dust had settled layer upon layer atop the statues carved into each pillar.

A space majestic yet lifeless, splendid yet without warmth.

It was no different from a massive tomb.

Isadel narrowed her eyes as if looking at an unfamiliar landscape.

The Empress’s Palace she had known was a paradise where the scent of flowers filled the air throughout the four seasons and laughter never ceased.

But this place now was already dry and dead like an abandoned ruin.

Leaping down from the wall, Isadel landed lightly and moved while suppressing her presence.

Since it was practically a deserted palace, there were no imperial guards on watch, nor attendants coming and going.

That much was fortunate.

She slowly made her way toward the eastern annex of the imperial palace, following the milestones of memory.

With every dusty corridor she passed, memories of childhood brushed past her.

The hallway where she had run about clutching her mother’s skirt hem, the garden where she had played hide-and-seek with Roshe…

And among them, the most vivid was the memory of the terrace on the third floor.

The place where young Isadel, having secretly slipped out of tedious art lessons, had run to first.

Her mother had made a small garden there, in the place where sunlight lingered longest.

Different flowers bloomed with each season, and a subtle breeze seeped through the vines stretching long along the walls.

Young Isadel would sit there reading books, or spend time gazing into the birdcages.

Isadel swallowed the longing rising to the tip of her throat and slowly raised her head.

As she looked up at the third-floor terrace from the garden on the first floor of the annex, a frail sound pierced the stillness and reached her ears.

Chirp, chirp.

“Surely not…”

Her heart dropped with a thud.

Isadel hastily stepped on the broken ornaments of the outer wall and threw herself upward.

Tap, tap-tap.

The moment she landed on the marble floor of the third-floor terrace, a short sigh escaped her.

“…Ah.”

The birdcages hanging all around shone pale in the sunlight.

Incredibly, this place was unchanged from ten years ago.

While the other spaces of the Empress’s Palace had been transformed splendidly and unfamiliarly to Hildwin’s tastes, only this terrace seemed to have been preserved exactly as it was remembered.

She had thought Hildwin would have torn this place apart first to carve out her mother’s traces.

Indeed, the corridors and banquet halls of the Empress’s Palace were filled with the provocative and ostentatious decorations Hildwin favored, rather than her mother’s elegant refinement.

So why was this place alone left as it was?

The plants that should have withered long ago were putting forth fresh green leaves and flaunting their vitality, and the feeding troughs were full of food.

It was a scene that could never exist unless Hildwin had sent people every day to sweep, clean, and maintain this place throughout those long years.

“Hildwin…”

A hot lump surged up in her throat.

She had been certain Hildwin was a bewitching creature who had seduced her father and usurped her mother’s place—so why had she embraced Isadel’s small paradise?

It was as she was puzzling over her stepmother’s goodwill, which could not be calculated by reason.

Chirp.

A frail cry that tore through the momentary stillness drew Isadel back to reality.

As if entranced, she walked toward the source of the sound.

The birds that had sung beneath her mother’s gentle hands ten years ago were still alive, flapping their wings.

Golden-feathered macaws, brilliantly blue birds of paradise, lovebirds with green bodies and rose-colored cheeks…

As if recognizing their master, the birds began to chirp one after another.

Though long years had passed, their cries alone were exactly as in the memories of her childhood.

Isadel reached a trembling hand toward the old birdcage hanging at the innermost side.

She frantically rummaged through the thick layer of fine straw and feathers at the bottom of the cage.

At last, the cold touch of metal caught at her fingertips.

What she carefully drew out was the one and only absolute token proving the authority of the Rastain imperial house.

The golden seal, intricately engraved with the Laertia flower pattern, radiated brilliant light and burned hot in Isadel’s palm.

The imperial seal passed down only to the successor of the Lacent family.

The imperial seal passed down only to the successor of the Lacent family.

To protect this single small piece of gold, her father had died wretchedly, and the Lacent family had been annihilated overnight and vanished into history.

And now it had become the last card she must hand to Erhan to save Roshe.

Isadel clutched the seal tightly in her hand.

The pain of its sharp edges digging into her tender flesh rather cleared her mind.

She turned her gaze to the small birds trembling in the cage.

Pitiful creatures that had spent ten long years trapped behind narrow bars, eating the feed someone filled for them.

Their appearance—having lost their wildness after a life of plentiful captivity—resembled with cruel precision her own predicament, trapped in the vast prison of the imperial palace, unable even to escape on her own feet.

Their appearance—having lost their wildness after a life of plentiful captivity—resembled with cruel precision her own predicament, trapped in the vast prison of the imperial palace, unable even to escape on her own feet.

Isadel slowly began to open the doors of the cages, one by one.

Creeeak.

The rusted hinges screamed as they slowly opened.

“Go. Fly freely.”

As the doors opened, the hesitant birds poked their heads out one by one.

And soon, as if they had been waiting, they soared into the air.

The sight of dozens of birds beating their wings in unison and embroidering the sky was radiant, yet somehow sorrowful.

Freedom.

Without enjoying what she had so desperately craved herself, Isadel blankly watched the birds fly away.

In the middle of the balcony where the empty cages swayed, the hand holding the seal clenched even tighter.

Veins on the back of her hand bulged as if about to burst, and in her eyes pooled a resolve deeper than despair.

“Yes. If this is what you want, I will gladly give it to you. But the price will be far higher than you think.”

The shadow stretching at Isadel’s feet stained the marble floor black, proclaiming the prelude to a new war—not an end.

“Go on, then. Let us see you too be crushed beneath the weight of that cursed throne.”