129. Looking for Perwyn to Step In for Me
A few hours earlier, when the Hunting Festival was in full swing—
The Emperor and Shylo had returned to the palace, but the Emperor could not remain away from the festival grounds for long.
His beautiful concubine was precious, but his son mattered far more.
Leaving behind a disappointed Shylo, he returned to the arena. Alone, and free from the Emperor’s watchful eyes, Shylo arranged a secret meeting.
Her clandestine partner was none other than Marquis Balton, who had just entered the palace.
“How did it go with the Crown Prince? Did our agents succeed?”
As soon as she dismissed her attendants, the Marquis bombarded her with questions.
Ever since he was pushed out of his position as the kingdom’s envoy to Phyron, Balton had nursed a bitter grudge against both the Emperor and Perwyn.
That green little whelp had dared to steal the credit that should have been his. Whatever it took, he was determined to reclaim what he had lost.
Thus, he had devised a plan to strike at Perwyn during the Hunting Festival, when the security around him would be thinnest.
If Perwyn were to die during the competition, all the better. Even if he only suffered an injury severe enough to hinder his movements, the plan would still count as a success.
But to his fury, Shylo’s answer was hardly encouraging.
“Our agents were wiped out.”
“What?”
“The Crown Prince never moves without his guard. Our spies reported encountering the two of them together, and then all contact was lost.”
“Useless fools…! So the bodyguard stood in the way and your men couldn’t even lay a finger on him?”
When Shylo silently nodded, Balton nearly jumped out of his skin.
“This is why I told you to find proper talent! Instead, you drag in a pack of nobodies and ruin everything!”
He had trusted her because she’d spoken so confidently. Who could have expected she’d end up spoiling everything at the last moment?
Balton was beginning to regret ever joining hands with her.
Shylo’s eyes narrowed. “And whose fault is that? You barely gave me a handful of coins for an advance. What skilled assassin would work for scraps like that?”
“What did you say?”
The Marquis’s face flushed with rage.
Only a few days ago, Shylo had fretted that handling large sums herself would draw the Emperor’s suspicion. The Marquis had generously provided the funds in her stead, and yet now she dared to twist things and put the blame on him.
“And what about your side of the deal? From the way you’re ranting, I take it your part of the plan succeeded without a hitch?”
“Of course! I saw it with my own eyes—the court mage summoned a monster right into the stands.”
His target wasn’t Perwyn alone. He had also marked Roselia for death, arranging for the court mages he’d bribed in advance to be hired as festival staff.
The Emperor, eager to reward Balton’s role in securing relations with Phyron, had gladly accepted his recommendations.
“By now, that young lady and every noble seated near her will have been torn apart. No witnesses, no evidence—everything erased.”
“I even went so far as to feign illness. After that, failure is unthinkable.”
Shylo’s reply was cool, almost dismissive.
Feigning weakness, she had managed to lure the Emperor away from the arena and slip away herself.
“Unthinkable? The Crown Prince is still alive and well! How do you plan on explaining this mess?”
Annoyed by his shouting, Shylo plugged one ear with her finger.
“My, you’re noisy.”
“What?”
“Just wait. Soon enough, you won’t be able to utter a peep.”
By the time twilight stained the sky dark—
The Hunting Festival’s award ceremony was over, and I followed Perwyn into the waiting chamber.
Surrounded by physicians and retainers fussing over him, it was rare to find a moment alone.
But noticing my persistent gaze, Perwyn had led me here, granting me the chance to speak privately.
“What’s troubling you?”
“Well, actually…”
I recounted what had taken place while he was competing: how Lady Shylo had suddenly collapsed with bleeding and left with the Emperor, and how monsters had appeared in the stands, throwing everything into chaos.
“I can’t be certain, but maybe even my sudden teleportation into the arena had something to do with today’s events.”
(Though in truth, it had been the system window’s doing.)
Perwyn listened seriously, nodding along. It was possible—some monsters wielded magic that distorted space or drove foes into confusion.
After explaining the situation, I handed him a small pouch.
“And I also found this at Lady Shylo’s seat.”
“What is it?”
“A blood pack, I think.”
At first, I thought it was simply something stained with blood, but on closer inspection, it looked like a stage prop used in plays.
“No ordinary patient would carry around something like this.”
“…!”
Ever since picking up the pouch, suspicion had gnawed at me.
What if Shylo hadn’t really collapsed? What if she had staged the whole thing with this fake blood?
Why?
What was so important that she’d go as far as pretending illness?
The whole matter reeked of foul play—especially since none of this had happened in the original story.
But confronting Lady Shylo myself would risk drawing the Emperor’s ire. That was something I couldn’t afford.
Better to entrust the matter to the right person.
“She had this with her…”
A cold light flickered in Perwyn’s eyes.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“And one more thing.”
“…?”
After the festival ended—
The Emperor stormed into the Crystal House, his footsteps like thunder.
“Lady Shylo!”
Her maids paled at the sudden intrusion. They pleaded with him to wait while they fetched her, but the enraged Emperor would not listen.
“No need. I’ll see her myself. She’s here, isn’t she?”
“Y-Your Majesty!”
Ignoring their protests, he flung open the inner chamber doors—only to be met by an unexpected face.
“Your Majesty? What brings you here at this hour?”
Marquis Balton, caught in the middle of a private conversation with Shylo, froze in shock.
Sensing the Emperor’s dark mood, he quickly retreated a step.
“Perhaps I should be asking you. What business do you have with Lady Shylo?”
“Well… I wished to discuss an urgent matter concerning my daughter…”
At the mention of her, Evelyn—standing anxiously by the door—stiffened in surprise.
“Convenient timing, that this matter required your presence precisely while I was away at the festival?”
The Emperor was in no mood for excuses. His voice crackled with fury.
Shylo, who had been watching with feigned frailty, let out a soft groan.
“Your Majesty, the Marquis truly came only to discuss Lady Evelyn. I’ve been feeling unwell—please, summon the physician and—”
“Shylo!”
His thunderous roar made her flinch.
“Y-Your Majesty?”
“Do you take me for a fool? After staging that farce at the arena, you’re still pretending to be ill?”
In his hand was the very blood pouch she had dropped.
“H-how did that…”
Shylo was so stunned she forgot to keep up her act and sprang to her feet.
“Lady Roselia picked it up and handed it to me. What a disgrace.”
Shylo’s cheeks flushed crimson, while Balton too could not hide his unease.
“Roselia? You mean that young lady survived?”
Impossible. If monsters had broken into the stands, no one should have come out alive.
At that moment, Shylo dropped to her knees.
“I was wrong, Your Majesty! It was my fault. But I truly hadn’t been feeling well since dawn, I only wanted an excuse to avoid the festival…”
She carefully omitted all mention of her schemes, hoping to pass the matter off as nothing more than a childish lie.
The Emperor she knew was soft enough to forgive such things.
“Silence!”
But this time, his wrath did not fade.
“Because of your absence, the Crown Prince was gravely injured! The physicians were all attending to you, leaving him without proper care.”
“…”
“And now you admit you were faking it just to skip the event? Have you lost your senses?”
The Emperor may have been indulgent in most things, but when it came to his son, he was uncompromising.
Even Shylo could not help but feel a pang of resentment.
No matter what, she always came second to Perwyn. No amount of affection from the Emperor could outweigh his blind devotion to his bloodline.
She had always known this, but now it stung bitterly.
“Your Majesty, this is too cruel. I understand the heir is important, but to treat me so coldly—”
“The Crown Prince may not even be able to attend the diplomatic mission because of his injuries, and you dare speak of cruelty?”
“…What?”
Shylo and Balton exchanged startled looks.
