In the end, last night’s conversation hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to.
To be more precise, she had gotten the answer she’d originally been looking for — but somehow the whole thing had ended in a state that felt even more unsettled than before.
The reason was…
“Black magic that alters one’s appearance? Then is there a way to find out who is currently under its effect?”
“Hmm, that wasn’t part of your original question. One question, one answer — that’s the rule.”
“You’ll regret it. It might actually be better not to know.”
“Ha. Very funny. Now then — would you care to tell me? Who is the real client?”
Pernoa had smiled faintly and tossed out the answer as if it were nothing at all.
“The Empress.”
And Sion Senuart had gone still. His mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to speak, his voice thick with bewilderment.
“…Pardon? Who did you just say?”
And just like that, the conversation had dissolved into nothing.
Sion had clearly been struck hard by the revelation that the one who commissioned the black magic was the Empress herself.
In the end, the two of them had agreed to meet again at a later time.
How do I get the Tower Master to open his mouth?
Not just open it — she needed a way to make him talk freely, without hesitation.
Riersha sat lost in thought, stroking Yong-yong as the little creature curled in her arms.
He seems careless, but at the critical moment he has no gaps.
That was the impression she’d gotten from her brief exchange with Pernoa the night before.
What made it worse was that she couldn’t even begin to guess what was going on behind that ever-present smile.
They said mages were uniformly impossible to read — apparently, that was the truth.
Dealing with Sion Senuart was not going to be easy.
“Hmm.”
Riersha’s delicate brow was furrowing in concentration when it happened.
Yong-yong, sensing the shift in her mood, snapped open eyes that had been gently closed. Narrow, slitted irises appeared — and then the little creature immediately tilted its head up to look at her.
“Kyyu~ng?”
“Hm?”
“Kyuuu~ng… kyung. Kyng.”
Yong-yong pressed the top of its small head against Riersha’s cheek and nuzzled, and somehow it felt entirely like an attempt to comfort her.
“Are you worrying about me?”
“Kyung.”
“I’m okay. I’ve got a bit of a puzzle on my hands, but it’ll sort itself out soon.”
It didn’t feel entirely hopeless, actually.
Mages were said to be uniformly ruled by curiosity.
If she could just find something to poke at that curiosity, everything after that would fall into place.
Besides — the look on Sion Senuart’s face when I told him the real client was the Empress…
It had been the expression of someone who deeply, thoroughly wished they hadn’t heard what they’d just heard.
Like a person who had cracked open Pandora’s box when every instinct screamed at them not to.
Yong-yong’s antics had lifted her mood at least a little.
“Lady Riersha, I really think it’s time to send Yong-yong back to Haydin.”
“Why?”
“Kyung?”
Riersha and Yong-yong both turned to look at Sona at exactly the same moment.
Sona stared at the demon dragon being called “Yong-yong” with a distinctly unenthusiastic expression.
Fresh in her memory was the image of those massive fangs bared — the creature lunging to bite off Haydin’s head every time he did something irritating.
And now here that same ferocious demon dragon sat in Riersha’s arms, blinking its wide, innocent eyes over and over again in a display of pure guilelessness. It was… deeply unconvincing.
“It’s being so good, though.”
Well. Granted, it did require upward of twenty pieces of raw meat per feeding.
Sona said, with absolute conviction, “I’m certain Haydin is pawning it off on Lady Riersha because he can’t keep up with the food bill.”
…That was, admittedly, one of the things Riersha had been privately suspecting as well.
Demon dragons didn’t technically need to eat to survive — but Yong-yong was a demon dragon that had discovered the joy of eating.
“Kyiing!”
Yong-yong, who understood human speech perfectly well, expressed its displeasure by whipping its thick tail back and forth. Its eyes seemed to have taken on a distinctly triangular shape. Apparently being discussed in terms of its appetite was offensive.
“Let’s not talk about it in terms of food. It seems upset.”
“…Fine. I’ll tell them to prepare raw meat again today. The tender cuts Yong-yong especially likes.”
“Mm.”
“Kyung!”
Yong-yong, which had been bristling with indignation a moment ago, immediately melted back into Riersha’s arms.
“Oh, and what’s that you’re carrying, Sona?”
“This? Oh —”
Sona lifted a bag from a high-end shop, tilting her head slightly.
“…It seems Aska came by this morning but was turned away by the head maid. Apparently she said this was a gift she’d meant to give you, so they accepted it on your behalf.”
“Right. The written oath.”
Riersha recalled the oath Aska had left behind during his last visit. She’d said it wasn’t necessary, but Aska had insisted on leaving it anyway.
“Why was she turned away?”
“I’m not sure. Apparently Oberon gave the head maid instructions directly. …He said she was bothering you and not to let her in.”
…That wasn’t quite how Riersha would have described it.
Did Oberon dislike Aska that strongly?
She couldn’t recall ever seeing him take such an undisguised stance toward anyone before.
Though I suppose she was a little persistent.
Aska had come by every time, asking if there was anything he could do.
Her reward, apparently, was being allowed to feed Riersha pudding.
A legion commander that soft over being fussed over — what were they going to do with her?
“Understood.”
Riersha had no interest in having more cutlery bent out of shape while being spoon-fed dessert.
For the time being, leaving Aska in Oberon’s hands seemed like the sensible choice.
“Yes, ma’am. Then I’ll go quickly and have Yong-yong’s meal brought up. I’ll make sure it’s the tender cuts.”
“Mm.”
“Kyung!”
As Sona left the room, Riersha shifted to sit more properly on the sofa.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror on the table, and for a moment she found herself staring at her own reflection — at the pink hair she no longer minded seeing.
And then, without warning, Sion Senuart’s words drifted back through her mind.
“It’s a very serious matter on our end. If that black magic is being used to tamper with bloodlines in some noble house or in the imperial family… I’d like to resolve it as soon as possible.”
The black magic commissioned by the Empress — it was used discreetly in noble houses and the imperial family to resolve matters of bloodline, wasn’t that what he’d said?
Which meant that someone within the imperial family had a situation that couldn’t be handled through conventional means…
“Could it be… the Crown Prince?”
Riersha murmured it almost involuntarily.
Was it possible that Adrian Declair had a problem with his bloodline?
And if someone’s appearance had been stolen to cover for that…
“…That can’t be right. Then it would mean the original prince doesn’t even exist anymore?”
Riersha shot to her feet in shock.
The sudden motion sent Yong-yong startling and scrambling with a flurry of small limbs.
Just then, Sona returned from the kitchen far sooner than expected.
“I’m back, Lady Riersha. …It seems the head chef has added Yong-yong’s meals to the regular daily schedule now. He said he’d have it ready quickly and bring it up… Where are you going?”
“…Ah, something just came to mind that I need to take care of. I think Yong-yong’s meal will have to wait until I’m back.”
Understanding the exchange between the two humans, Yong-yong settled down and rearranged itself composedly.
Riersha turned her gaze toward the direction of the annex in the main castle grounds where the Tower Master was said to be staying.
He would certainly know by now…
The Tower Master must have noticed something is off.
There had been more than enough time for that.
If that was the case, then…
There was something she needed to confirm before anything else.
“Where’s Oberon right now?”
⁂
Riersha headed straight for the underground prison the moment she summoned Oberon.
Oberon, who had come quickly at her rare call, walked beside her with an expression that grew steadily less pleased the further they went.
“Why have you come here?”
“I have something I need to check on.”
“…This is not a pleasant place for you, my lady.”
Riersha nodded in acknowledgment.
She would have preferred never to come here at all, if she could help it. The atmosphere was grim and cold, the kind of place that made you feel something might be lurking just out of sight.
“You could have told me, and I would have confirmed it for you.”
“I wanted to see it with my own eyes.”
She needed to see it herself to feel certain.
“Then I’ll open it.”
“Please.”
Oberon opened the door to the underground prison, and there was Ian Charlotte — bound to a chair in the center of the room.
He flinched at the sound of footsteps. In the darkness, his eyes opened slowly, and their gaze came into focus with unsettling clarity.
Whether it was admirable or heartbreaking that he had held onto his reason this long, she wasn’t sure.
“…Why has Lady Riersha come to see me?”
Ian’s cracked, hoarse voice echoed off the stone walls.
Riersha winced briefly at how difficult his voice was to listen to, then let her expression smooth back out.
“It’s been a while, Sensei.”
“…”
“I came because I have something to ask you.”
Ian Charlotte, called sensei, said nothing in return.
Instead, his expression shifted — subtle, difficult to read.
Then his eyes found Oberon standing just behind Riersha, and his face went rigid.
“…What is it you want to ask?”
Riersha swallowed, her throat dry without her meaning it to be.
She let the silence stretch, and it was only after a long pause that she finally managed to bring the question forward.
“Is Crown Prince Adrian truly a member of the imperial bloodline?”
