“It’s just that the contents of the report Milia filed a moment ago have been nagging at me.”
“I was under the impression that most things had been sorted out.”
Pernoa gestured for Rosinante to continue and settled onto the sofa. Rosinante set the documents he’d been holding down onto the table.
“It appears that traces of an attempted intrusion by an outsider were discovered at the Charlotte Count’s estate.”
“An outsider?”
Pernoa’s eyes narrowed in an instant.
Who on earth would dare?
Ian Charlotte likely knew who that intruder was.
Anyone willing to risk such danger to slip inside, even knowing that the Arachrene Duchy currently occupied the Charlotte manor, would have to be someone with a reason.
“Ian Charlotte still hasn’t opened his mouth?”
“Don’t even mention it. I’ve never encountered anyone so stubborn in my life.”
Rosinante shook his head, his expression one of pure exasperation.
“I’m genuinely beginning to wonder what possible reason he could have to cooperate with the Empress to this extent.”
“Interesting.”
It was, by any measure, an absolute loyalty.
Pernoa smiled, his expression betraying genuine curiosity.
He had to admit — it intrigued him.
“Was Karla Declair truly capable of inspiring that kind of devotion?”
An unwavering loyalty that didn’t so much as flinch in the face of death? Had Karla won something like that from Ian Charlotte? Or had something passed between the two of them — some event that would explain it?
One thing, at least, was certain: Karla was waiting, with every passing day, for Ian Charlotte to die.
“What do we know about Ian Charlotte’s past conduct?”
“Nothing unusual. It’s almost suspicious how little there is — makes you wonder how he and the Empress ever crossed paths at all.”
Pernoa laughed, slow and languid.
“He made a deliberate effort to bury it. Whatever it is, it must be something that would cause quite a shock if it ever came to light.”
Despite the mountain of questionable dealings that likely lurked somewhere in his history, the investigation had turned up records this clean — which meant someone had gone to great lengths to tidy things up. And that, in itself, was proof that this was something that absolutely could not be discovered.
Pernoa tilted his head back for a moment, as though turning something over in his mind, then spoke.
“Don’t you find it strange, Rosinante? The more I think about it.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“Why was Ian Charlotte so desperate to kill the prince?”
“Well, that’s because—”
Rosinante started to answer as though it were obvious, then paused, tilting his head.
It was, admittedly, a strange point.
“Isierd Declair has no maternal family. It seems his birth mother was dealt with long ago as well.”
“……”
“Even if the boy’s existence became known, it was all but decided that Adrian Declair would be the one to claim the throne…”
Pernoa recalled the words Riersha had said to him earlier that afternoon.
“I twold Ian big-meanie-sir a fib about where Isierd was.”
She had to have known it was a trap. So why had Ian Charlotte gone there without a moment’s hesitation?
If he had simply shown no reaction to Riersha’s words, he could have avoided suspicion far more convincingly. The timing had been perfect for sowing confusion all around. So why?
“He’s desperate to eliminate the prince.”
“Isn’t it almost as if……”
“……”
“Almost as if……”
Rosinante trailed off mid-sentence. He stopped. The expression that crossed his face was almost comical — the look of a man silently pleading that his own thought was wrong.
“……It couldn’t be the Young Lord, could it?”
Pernoa replied, “I’d say it very well could be,” and Rosinante cried out in undisguised horror.
“Are you suggesting that Adrian Declair may not be of the Emperor’s blood?!”
⁂
The Declair Imperial Palace.
A lavish chamber. Outside the tall windows, a torrential rain poured down and lightning split the darkness.
“You’re telling me it failed?”
Karla, who had not slept even as midnight came and went, ground the words out between her teeth, her face set in something cold and dangerous.
“……I have no excuse. It seems one of the women from the investigation team detected the presence before anything could be done.”
“Did I not tell you to send your most capable man?”
Even so, success had never been guaranteed.
Karla’s reply was ice-cold, and the knight flinched, dropping his head.
In truth, the knight could not understand why Karla had given such an order to begin with.
“……Even so, since the person we sent was not one of our own people, they shouldn’t be able to conclude that Your Majesty was behind the approach.”
“And you think that’s something worth saying to me right now?”
Karla’s voice cut like a blade.
The Arachrene Duchy would almost certainly be pointing its suspicions in her direction by now. And by this point, they might already know far more than mere suspicion.
They had to have picked through every corner of the Charlotte estate by now…
It’s only a matter of time before everything comes to light.
Clang!
Unable to contain her fury, Karla snatched a potted plant from the table and hurled it across the room.
The knights and handmaids still present in the room flinched and drew back. In recent days, Karla had been losing control of herself in a way that alarmed even those accustomed to her moods.
Karla regulated her breathing with sharp, irritable effort and clenched her fists.
She had to stop it. By any means necessary.
The truth could not come out. It absolutely could not.
Especially—
His Majesty must never find out.
The moment the Emperor learned of this, it was over.
For now, Duke Willias appeared to be cooperating to keep the Emperor’s ears closed, but……
Crack.
Karla gnawed at her fingernail, her anxiety spilling through the gesture.
“Is there anything I might assist you with, Your Majesty the Empress?”
That serpent of a man — Duke Willias had undoubtedly caught a whiff of something.
What was she to do?
Karla’s thoughts turned to Duke Kineart.
Their relationship had grown distant, but her father — if anyone — might have some way forward.
“As soon as dawn breaks, arrange a meeting with Duke Kineart. See to it immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It will be done.”
Karla’s eyes gleamed.
She had come too far for this.
She would not crumble so easily.
⁂
Riersha stirred beneath the brilliant morning light, burrowing deeper into her blankets.
Even that was not enough to escape the sun entirely, and she was just beginning to scrunch up her face when something settled over her eyes, blocking out the light.
“……Again?”
“You certainly do sleep a long time.”
“……Papa?”
Riersha had been murmuring for Sona in her half-dreaming state, but her eyes flew open wide.
Right there in front of her, lying on his side and looking down at her, was Pernoa.
He looked different from how she usually saw him. This was a version of him she hadn’t been able to see last night, having fallen asleep so early — his relaxed, private self, at ease within the walls of a bedroom.
Riersha blinked at him, too dazed to do anything else.
“Come on, time to get up. You’ve slept well past morning. At this rate, lunch will be your first meal of the day.”
“Why is Papa here?”
Riersha cast a brief glance toward the window and asked.
Surely by this hour, he ought to be seated at his desk in the study?
“It’s my day off.”
“Ohh, I see.”
When Pernoa explained, Riersha nodded as though it all made sense. He did seem to have days off on occasion, and today appeared to be one of them.
Riersha broke into a soft, sleepy smile and tried to tunnel back under the covers.
And that was when Pernoa snatched the blanket away without the slightest mercy.
Riersha pressed her face into the pillow and whimpered.
She pulled the pillow into her arms and buried herself in it, and from above came the faint sound of quiet laughter.
“Hyung.”
“You can lie back down after you’ve eaten.”
“But I’m only in my pajamas.”
She had come over from her own estate already washed and changed into her nightclothes.
Pernoa picked her up as though that were entirely beside the point and carried her out of the bedroom.
It was then that they found, standing directly outside the door with the most pitifully aggrieved expression imaginable, Rosinante.
“Huh?”
Riersha looked up at Pernoa as if to ask why Rosinante was here.
Pernoa sighed and pressed his lips together.
What in the world was this?
Rosinante planted himself in their path with the air of a man prepared to die for a cause, then launched into his grievances at full speed.
“Young Lord, today is the second Monday of the month. The Grand Council meets today. And do you have any idea how many documents have piled up over the weekend — and you’ve put in for a day off?! What exactly am I supposed to tell everyone?!”
“You’re perfectly capable. I even gave you a reason to give them.”
Pernoa answered with complete indifference, and Rosinante began thumping himself on the chest.
“Yes, a reason — sick leave, you said! As if anyone is going to believe that!”
……Sick leave?
“Is Papa sick somewhere?”
Riersha asked, her face creasing with worry, and Rosinante perked up as though this were exactly the opening he needed, nodding vigorously.
“Yes, since Lady Riersha is here, perhaps he’ll tell us the truth. My lord — are you, in fact, unwell?”
“I am.”
“……”
“My daughter is. And when a child is ill, her father ought to be by her side.”
“……”
“If you can’t bring yourself to call it sick leave, tell them it’s something like parental leave.”
Pernoa brushed past Rosinante and then paused, adding as though he’d nearly forgotten.
“And tell anyone with a complaint to come find me directly.”
