Chapter 31
She couldn’t ask anything more.
What the hero was like, whether the emperor had ever mentioned the hero afterward, and so on.
Without inquiring further about any of it, Roshanne sent Cheyton away.
Late at night, after the maids had all departed.
Left alone in her bedroom, Roshanne clenched her fists tightly.
“Emperor…”
As she bit down hard on her lip, the delicate skin tore, and blood trickled out.
If Cheyton’s words were true, then ultimately, the countless comrades who had fought alongside the previous Roshanne had likely all been killed by the emperors of their time right after she was sealed.
“That damned brat…”
Unable to contain the rage boiling up like lava, Roshanne slammed her fist down onto a cushion on the bed.
Bang!
With one forceful punch, the cushion burst with a loud noise. The pristine white feathers stuffed inside scattered into the air.
If she had her way, she’d grab the emperor’s face right now and turn it into something like this cushion.
Even as she tried to calm herself, all that filled her flushed, heated mind were the images of her comrades smiling at her.
“…Hah.”
When Roshanne turned her head, she caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror.
A figure doing nothing, simply sitting with hands idle.
She clenched her jaw, and the grinding of her teeth echoed sharply.
Crash! Shatter-!
Roshanne swung her fist at the vanity mirror reflecting her powerless form. With a resounding crash, shards of the broken mirror embedded sharply into the back of her hand.
Thick, crimson blood spread across her pale hand, dripping drop by drop.
A pain unlike any she had ever experienced in her life enveloped Roshanne. But she paid it no mind.
Her fallen comrades must have suffered far worse.
It was then.
Knock, knock.
The sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door reached her.
“Milady. It’s Henry. I have something to report. May I come in for a moment?”
If she opened her mouth now, nothing but curses for the emperor would come out, so Roshanne pressed her lips tightly shut.
Knock, knock.
“Milady.”
Henry knocked on the door again.
“…I heard something breaking inside the bedroom. If there’s no response, I’ll count to five and then enter.”
Henry hurriedly counted to five and flung the bedroom door open.
Then, confronted with the scene before him, he froze in place, startled.
“M-Milady.”
The bedroom was a mess.
Feathers from the burst cushion littered the floor in disarray, and in the midst of the shattered mirror fragments stood Roshanne, precariously.
With a shard of glass embedded in the back of her hand.
Her vacant eyes seemed devoid of any thought, yet at the same time, as if struggling to empty themselves of swirling emotions.
In that precarious and unstable atmosphere, Henry swallowed dryly.
Then, carefully closing the bedroom door with a click to ensure no one else saw the situation.
“Milady.”
At Henry’s call, Roshanne turned her head. As their eyes met, light returned to her gaze, as if her wandering mind had come back from somewhere far away.
“You said you had something to report. Go ahead.”
Roshanne attempted to casually brush back her hair with her hand, still embedded with glass shards and bleeding, but she flinched and furrowed her brow.
All because of the pain from that tiny piece of glass piercing her hand.
“I know it’s presumptuous, but excuse me for a moment.”
Henry stepped over the glass fragments scattered on the bedroom floor and approached Roshanne’s side.
He was wearing shoes, so he should be safe, but still, if he got pricked, it would hurt.
Roshanne watched Henry while entertaining such trivial thoughts.
Coming to her side, Henry wore an expression of resolve, then swiftly lifted Roshanne into his arms in one motion.
“—!! What!”
Roshanne, who had never imagined being lifted so easily by someone—let alone without any resistance—raised her voice in alarm.
To minimize contact with Roshanne’s body, Henry curled his fists as he carried her, moving her to the bed, far from the glass shards.
Without a hint of ulterior motive, Henry immediately set Roshanne down on the bed.
Then, surveying the chaotic bedroom and Roshanne’s hand in detail, he furrowed his brow.
“I’ll clean up the bedroom, but I can’t treat the wound on the back of your hand, so we’ll need to call a doctor.”
Roshanne looked down at her hand, still bleeding.
To think she’d have to see a doctor over such a trivial injury. It was something that never would have happened before.
“Hmm.”
Henry rolled up his sleeves as he surveyed the interior of the bedroom. Then, he picked up the candlestick from the decorative stand, examined it this way and that, and before Roshanne could even ask what he was doing, he hurled it straight at the vanity mirror.
Crash-!!!
The forcefully thrown candlestick collided with the already shattered vanity mirror, producing another sharp shattering sound.
“What are you…”
Roshanne regarded Henry with a bewildered expression. Henry, looking satisfied as if this was sufficient, picked up the candlestick and approached Roshanne.
“If anyone asks, just say you were angry about something. So you threw whatever was at hand.”
Henry placed the candlestick in Roshanne’s hand.
“And it just happened to be the candlestick. And it just happened to hit the vanity mirror.”
“Are you fabricating a story right now?”
Roshanne asked with a wry smile,
“Yes.”
Henry replied without hesitation.
“Even if we silence the doctor, we can’t prevent the fact that he visited your bedroom late at night from getting out.”
“We could just treat it roughly without calling a doctor.”
“That would be even more suspicious. The vanity mirror is already broken, and the maids who clean will naturally find out. It would look like you’re trying to hide something.”
Ah. That could be the case.
Roshanne nodded.
“Wouldn’t it be troublesome if word got out that you punched and shattered the vanity mirror?”
It would be troublesome. Especially now that she knew the Magic Tower was watching her even more closely.
“In situations like this, it’s better to clearly announce it yourself. I’ll take care of the burst cushion. Just say you were angry and happened to throw the candlestick, which happened to break the mirror, and so you happened to injure your hand.”
Having finished speaking, Henry immediately set to work. First, he cleared away the burst cushion, then meticulously picked up each scattered feather one by one.
As if he didn’t mind if his hands got hurt.
Roshanne suddenly thought it was fortunate that she had Henry as one of her own people.
If not, she would have roughly treated the injured hand and denied everything, just as Henry had said.
“…What was it you wanted to report?”
“Ah. It’s about Gerry. The spy sent from the Magic Tower.”
“Yes.”
“He’s dead.”
In that instant, Roshanne’s brow furrowed.
“Did he take his own life?”
“No. Gerry begged for his life, saying he’d tell everything he knew truthfully.”
Henry’s hand trembled slightly, as if recalling that moment.
“And the moment he tried to open his mouth, he exploded.”
“…Exploded?”
“Yes. He burst. One knight who was restraining him nearby was severely injured, and several others suffered burns.”
To think his body exploded the moment he tried to reveal the truth.
“…Magic.”
Roshanne murmured softly.
It was highly likely that someone had cast such a spell on him without his knowledge.
“Now I understand why the Magic Tower ignored the duke’s demand for an investigation. If he died, there’d be no need for an investigation, so they were just buying time.”
Seeing how cleanly they’d cut off the loose ends, it seemed they had no intention of letting it slide halfway.
“Henry.”
“Yes?”
Roshanne rose from her seat.
“You said earlier to tell them that I was angry and happened to throw the candlestick, which happened to break the vanity mirror, and so I happened to injure my hand?”
Henry nodded.
“It’s a good idea, but there’s one thing that’s off.”
“Yes?”
Passing by Henry, Roshanne headed toward the area littered with shards of the broken mirror.
And before he could stop her, she firmly grasped a piece of the shattered glass in her hand.
As the sharp glass cut into her pale, delicate palm, the blood that had just stopped began to flow again.
“Milady!”
The startled Henry rushed over and seized Roshanne’s hand. Then, he snatched away the glass shards she had carelessly gripped and tossed them aside.
“If I happened to injure my hand, how could it only be the back of my hand? It’s not like I’m saying I struck the mirror with the back of my hand.”
Her hand was now in a far worse state than before. Henry quietly gasped in horror.
“If I’m going to say I happened to injure my hand, it has to be at least this much.”
Roshanne murmured calmly as she shook off Henry’s hand.
“Now call the doctor.”
***
Upon returning to the estate, Cheyton pressed his fingers against his eyes, flooded with memories.
‘I didn’t intend to go into such detail.’
Perhaps it was because he had voiced the memories of that day for the first time, memories he had never shared with anyone.
Once spilled, the recollections poured out like sand from a burst bag, impossible to stop.
‘Was she shocked?’
Even as she stepped out of the carriage and entered the estate, Roshanne’s face had been one of profound shock.
She hadn’t worn such an expression even when facing the assassins on the boat.
Cheyton irritably rubbed his face.
She must have been frightened. Encountering assassins alone would have been terrifying, yet she had striven so hard not to show it outwardly.
And then he’d gone and told her about the subjugation squad being annihilated, of all things.
‘What a disaster.’
Cheyton let out a deep sigh.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. With his face still buried in his hands, Cheyton commanded them to enter.
“Your Grace.”
It was his direct subordinate knight, Pabl. Pabl wore a sullen expression, as if dissatisfied about something.
“I heard from the knights. You visited the Railaten estate today and stood waiting at the entrance the whole time.”
People who were alive but whose survival must not be known.
“The Lady of Railaten is quite ruthless. The weather was especially hot today, wasn’t it? You should have just turned back.”
That day.
The day when, except for Cheyton who had safely returned to the imperial palace, it was reported that regrettably, all had perished.
Since the families had sent those deemed expendable, they hadn’t even bothered to search for bodies and had hastily held a joint funeral.
Cheyton had secretly brought his barely clinging-to-life comrades back to the territory and somehow managed to save them.
“…Sir Pabl, I’m sorry.”
He had kept them alive, but in a way that they could never appear before anyone.
He had formed the ‘Black Knights’ under the Barpheus family and officially inducted them, but they always had to evade others in secret.
People who could no longer tell anyone they were alive.
“Huh? Why are you saying that all of a sudden? That’s creepy coming from you… Ugh.”
Sir Pabl rubbed his arms in horror.
“Just because.”
After offering the apology, Cheyton indifferently turned his gaze to the window outside.
“Ah! I knew it… It was you who ate the cherry pie I hid last time, Your Grace! I suspected as much! I had hidden it so carefully, and it vanished without a trace—I was so heartbroken!”
“…Is the Captain still doing well?”
At Cheyton’s question, Pabl, who had been wailing about the cherry pie, paused. With an awkward expression, Pabl approached Cheyton’s side.
“Did something happen with the lady?”
Cheyton shook his head.
Such stray thoughts were best swallowed alone.
“No. It’s just that returning to the capital after so long has left me unsettled.”
“Shall I bring some cherry pie?”
“It’s late at night.”
Cheyton rose from his seat.
I wonder if the lady is sleeping soundly, without any frightening dreams.
He didn’t know why his thoughts had veered in that direction.
Unaware that he was even thinking of someone, Cheyton turned his head.
