“I came to make a proposal.”
“A proposal?”
Oberon glanced around the performance hall before turning his gaze back to Adil.
“Our young lady has very high hopes for the Kadimo troupe, you see.”
Oberon held out the envelope he had been carrying.
The moment Adil recognized the familiar shape of it, his eyes sharpened to a point.
It was unmistakably a manuscript.
It had barely been any time at all since she had promised not to interfere in the troupe’s performance matters — and already she was trying to break it.
Adil’s mouth twisted.
“I’m sorry, but that isn’t something I’d allow even if the Duke himself showed up, let alone the youngest lady.”
“…”
“I suppose the person who visited last time didn’t pass along the message. Demands like this are not acceptable.”
Adil’s sarcasm landed cleanly, and for just a moment, Oberon’s cool eyes went utterly still. The air around them seemed to drop several degrees.
“I am well aware of that.”
“…”
“In the future, I’d suggest you watch that mouth of yours.”
If you want to live comfortably for a long time.
The last words went unspoken, but Adil understood exactly what Oberon meant. He swallowed dryly.
“I think you’ll find it to your liking.”
Oberon set the envelope down and left.
A moment later, Adil — who had been fully prepared to ignore the manuscript and walk out of the performance hall — raked a hand through his hair in frustration and turned back around.
He read it with absolutely no expectations.
And then, slowly, the expression on his face shifted into something that looked very much like astonishment.
⁂
“Stiww no word?”
Three days had passed since Oberon delivered the manuscript to the Kadimo troupe.
Riersha’s expression hardened when she realized she still hadn’t heard anything from them.
I was so sure they’d be interested.
Three days was more than enough time to read a manuscript from beginning to end — twice over.
Oberon, standing beside her, lowered his head.
“I apologize, Miss Riersha.”
“No, it’ww not Oberon’s fawt.”
Riersha shook her head.
It doesn’t have to be the Kadimo troupe.
Word of mouth would spread more slowly, but with the funds she had available, making a name for herself was well within reach regardless.
I might not be able to keep the promise I made to Sonnet.
Riersha thought of Sonnet, who had been practically glowing with anticipation. A quiet pang of guilt settled in her chest for the girl who was surely still working diligently on polishing the manuscript even now.
“Wook into other troupes.”
“Yes, of course.”
Oberon had just risen from his seat to carry out her instructions when a knock came at the door.
“Miss Riersha, it’s Sona.”
“Again?”
Sona stepped into the room and delivered her news.
“Apparently someone by the name of Adil is causing a commotion at the front gates of the ducal castle, demanding to see you.”
“…Adil?”
The name meant nothing to her.
Riersha’s blank expression made Sona tilt her head slightly.
“He says you’ll know him if he mentions the Kadimo troupe. …Shall I have him quietly removed?”
The Kadimo troupe!
Riersha’s eyes lit up at the news she had been waiting so desperately to hear.
“No! He’s my guest, wet him in!”
“Shall I have the guest shown to the reception room?”
“Yep. Pwease do that.”
With Riersha’s permission granted, Sona smiled brightly and replied.
“Yes, I’ll see to it at once.”
⁂
Outside the front gates of Arachrene Castle.
Damn it — did I come too late?
Adil stood rooted in place, his frustration mounting as he stared at the closed gates.
If he had known it would come to this, he should have tracked down that man — Oberon, or whatever his name was — the very same day he’d read the manuscript.
Of all the times to finally remember that name!
He’d made quite the scene, and now regret was beginning to creep in.
Three full days had already gone by. For all he knew, the manuscript he had been offered was already in someone else’s hands.
But Adil had his reasons.
The moment he’d read the manuscript, he had gone running straight to his troupe members and thrust it in front of them —
“Director, where in the world did this insane manuscript come from?”
“…Are we actually doing this? Oh, this is incredible. I want to do it so badly.”
Every single member had gone wild for it.
And right then and there, they had started debating which character each of them would play, falling into a full-blown meeting — which was why getting back in touch had taken so long.
“Hey, you. Our young lady doesn’t meet with just anyone, so you’d better clear off. I guarantee she has no idea who you are.”
The gatekeeper, thoroughly irritated by Adil’s thirty-minute vigil outside the gates, snapped at him.
Then, from somewhere in the distance, a woman appeared with silver hair woven into a single braid. The gatekeeper immediately snapped to attention and bowed his head.
Adil realized at once that this woman held a very high station.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, Lady Sona.”
“Not at all. What concerns the young lady concerns me as well.”
The woman called Sona smiled pleasantly.
Then she walked slowly toward Adil and, still wearing that same pleasant smile, spoke to him.
“Miss Riersha is expecting you.”
“…!”
“I’ve been instructed to escort you to the reception room. Right this way.”
Adil flinched.
The woman was smiling, but her eyes were not smiling at all.
How dare you make our young lady wait three whole days.
That was precisely what her gaze seemed to say.
⁂
The reception room of Riersha’s castle.
“Miss Riersha, I’ve brought your guest.”
Tea and refreshments had just been laid out when Sona arrived.
Riersha straightened her back where she sat, spine perfectly upright.
“Come in.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The door to the reception room opened, and a man Riersha had never seen before entered alongside Sona.
This was the director of the Kadimo troupe.
“…It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Adil.”
“Yep. Have a seat.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Adil offered a somewhat awkward bow and took the seat across from her.
He was visibly nervous.
“I thought you weren’t coming since I hadn’t heard anything.”
Riersha said it plainly, and Adil shook his head in a fluster.
“Not at all. We absolutely want the Kadimo troupe to be the ones to do this.”
“Oh weally?”
“Yes. If you entrust it to us, we will prepare with our whole hearts.”
Adil declared it with conviction, his voice full of ambition.
But Riersha could not bring herself to nod just yet.
It was true that if the Kadimo troupe handled this well, the outcome would be extraordinarily good.
But…
There was still one matter left unresolved.
She had to know whether the troupe’s enthusiasm would hold even after they heard what she was about to say.
“Can you stiww do it if the manuscript I gave you is real?”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“Exactwy what I said.”
Adil’s expression went rigid.
The manuscript delivered to him through Oberon was an extraordinarily provocative story.
Two imperial princes born in the same month.
Yet one was celebrated and crowned crown prince amid universal rejoicing, while the other was abandoned and left to endure every manner of humiliation throughout his life.
As it turned out, every last bit of it had been orchestrated by the Empress — and before long, the forsaken prince’s existence would be revealed to the world.
And then… the prince would return to the imperial palace to reclaim what was rightfully his.
By the end, he would prove his worth and take not only the title of crown prince, but the imperial throne itself.
And now she was saying it was real?
“Are you telling me that what you showed me actually happened?”
Adil’s voice trembled ever so slightly.
Riersha met his eyes without a flicker of expression, utterly calm.
There is a saying: silence is an answer in itself.
Receiving that wordless affirmation, Adil’s eyes widened with visible shock.
“…What you mean to say is — you intend to use our troupe to reveal the prince’s existence to the world?”
“Yep. That’s right.”
“…!”
“There’s no guarantee anyone invowved in this wiww come out unharmed.”
And that was putting it lightly.
They could very well face threats to their lives at every turn. Once entangled in this, there would be no walking away — whether they wanted to or not.
“…Then the content of that play — is that the direction the Arachrene family is moving in from this point forward?”
“That’s right.”
Again, Riersha answered with easy simplicity.
The implication — that they intended to push aside the current crown prince and champion a new one — left Adil feeling as though the air had been knocked from his lungs.
The Kineart Duchy and the Empress on one side. The Arachrene family on the other.
Adil was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke.
“…I think this is something I’ll need to put to the troupe members again. This is not a decision I can make on my own, my lady.”
“Go ahead.”
“…”
“And if you decide you don’t want to do it, just send the manuscript back.”
