Chapter 19
The Wish
‘So the truth about Le Mans’ painting being a fake has come out, it seems.’
Zernom, who brought the document, looked bewildered. At his words, Tarahan’s brows arched like mountain peaks. How had Ninia discovered a card he hadn’t even played yet?
When Le Mans was active, a new emperor had ascended the imperial throne and was driving all his enemies into the northern provinces.
Erharf, unrecognized as an artist, presented her lover, Count Rafman Troyd, with The Garden of Heaven, a painting identical to Le Mans’ work.
Later, Erharf left with the Count when he was banished to the north.
The Countess could not withstand the northern cold and died the following year. The Count remarried Erharf, who took a new name and became Countess Alosha Troyd, eventually fading from everyone’s memory.
Tarahan knew these facts because he possessed a letter from the Count of that time.
The Countess had hidden her last painting in a small room, eventually sealing the entrance with bricks so it would appear the room never existed—leaving behind only a single letter revealing the truth of the artwork.
The current Count Troyd discovered the secret room while renovating the building. Reading the letter, he made a shrewder decision than dwelling on his ancestor’s confession: he disguised the fake painting as genuine and presented it to the Empress.
‘If such evidence existed, he should have burned it immediately.’
Obsessed with the painting, the current Count forgot about the incriminating letter, which remained stored for years in the storerooms of Rentus Castle. After the Count fled during the war, Tarahan found it when he seized the castle.
‘I meant to use it later.’
The Empress, whose pride rivaled the heavens, would never spare a Count who dared to deceive her. Since this letter was an undeniable trump card, Tarahan had intended to squeeze every last advantage out of the Count before revealing it—but now his schedule was disrupted.
Tarahan watched Ninia with a measuring gaze. She lowered her eyes with an obedient look.
He understood that the art history of the temple and that of the nobility were worlds apart. She must not have played the helpless doll all those years in the temple. He gave Ninia a brief mental appraisal.
Tarahan had only ordered her to retrieve what the Count owed them; he had not told her how to accomplish it.
Contrary to his expectations, she had truly proven useful—just as she had begged to be.
“Name what you want.”
At his words, Ninia raised her head. Surprise flickered across her snow-pale face, but it quickly returned to its usual calm—neither a smile nor a blank mask. Tarahan suddenly wondered what expression she’d worn before the Count.
“There’s nothing I want.”
Her answer was so empty that Tarahan’s eyes darkened. Ninia lowered her gaze again. Was even this infuriatingly mild demeanor an act taught by the temple? His suspicion of her did not fade.
To Tarahan, Ninia was someone outside his sphere—something he found distasteful to hold yet could not discard, like an unpleasant object he was forced to keep. Granting her a single request was merely a way to keep her quiet, not an act of kindness.
Ninia blinked slowly, uneasy with the silence. That stare again. When Tarahan’s eyes bore into her as if to devour her, she finally spoke.
“Could I… occasionally share a meal like this?”
“What?”
Thinking he’d misheard, Tarahan looked at her. Though she often avoided his eyes, whenever she truly wished to speak she met his gaze head-on.
“I’m always alone.”
Since coming north, this was the first time she had dined with anyone. Rosa always brought her food, but she ate in solitude, and the repeated silence had begun to weigh on her.
She couldn’t simply invite a servant to join her; to them, she was the traitorous “Grand Duchess of the North.”
She wasn’t saying it was pleasant to eat with Tarahan. For Ninia, sharing a meal was less about eating and more about needing another human presence. Even without conversation, a bit of movement and the small sounds of someone nearby would suffice.
Tarahan regarded her, lips sealed, while in front of her the meal lay nearly untouched.
‘What game is this?’
She hadn’t eaten even half of what was served—what sort of “meal” was she asking to share?
‘Well, it hardly matters.’
He abandoned the thought of probing whatever hid behind her harmless mask. Whatever she concealed, she could do nothing within this fortress.
Tarahan drained the last of his strong liquor and rose. Passing by Ninia, he left the banquet hall. She remained alone in the empty room.
‘Was that too much to ask?’
After a moment’s pause, she too stood.
The anxious flutter in her heart settled once more. Her existence had always been for others, never for herself.
The day after the banquet, the steward came to see her. With a disapproving look, Severus handed Ninia a bundle with two keys attached.
“The master instructs that these be given to you: the key to the eastern library and to the Vivanna Tower.”
Caught off guard, Ninia accepted the bundle. The cold metal felt vivid in her palm.
Technically, as Grand Duchess she should have held the originals of every key in the castle. Yet since arriving she had never been properly entrusted with anything, so this small grant of authority felt strangely unfamiliar.
“Please refrain from entering any other areas,” Severus warned again. He obeyed the duke’s order, but the idea of letting this “ghostly duchess” roam freely already irritated him.
“I understand.”
His warning was unnecessary—Ninia had no desire to claim any power.
Still suspicious of her calm reply, the steward gave her a brief once-over before turning to leave. As he reached the door, Ninia spoke quickly.
“Please convey my thanks to His Grace.”
With a perfunctory nod, Severus disappeared into the hallway as if eager to escape her presence.
Ninia quietly gazed at the keys resting in her hand. The brass glimmered faintly gold.
‘Is this meant to replace the request I made?’
Though Tarahan had not granted the wish she voiced, he had rewarded her in another way for her efforts. The chill of the keys stirred a small ripple in her heart.
As a saint, she had performed countless good deeds, yet had never received a proper reward.
Her life had always been built on self-sacrifice; it felt right to accept nothing. But now was different. Perhaps it was all right to ask for something. Summoning her courage, she had spoken to him.
She did not receive what she asked for, but something else came instead. Whatever it meant, it was a first. She held the bundle of keys to her chest with care.
The very next day, Ninia began exploring the places the keys unlocked.
The first space to capture her attention was the library to the east.
It was filled with books made in the north or imported from other lands. Since the Danteor territory had once belonged to Gilprus, many of the volumes were cultural and historical records of what was now the empire’s enemy.
‘Gilprus… I rarely visited there.’
Though some in the Gilprus Empire worshiped the Goddess, they were not monotheists. Gilprus readily embraced diverse cultures. There were even officially recognized magitech engineers and physicians, who were not of low social rank.
The current emperor of Gilprus was highly pioneering, welcoming different cultures and even small minority tribes so long as they benefited the nation.
The temple regarded Gilprus’ acceptance of magitech engineers and physicians with hostility. Although the recent war between the two empires was said to be about trade disputes, the High Pontiff’s influence loomed larger.
The emperor of Piechen was a devout believer and, when still a boy-king, treated the Pontiff’s words as divine law.
The Pontiff urged him to crush Gilprus, calling it a land that nurtured demons, and the emperor agreed.
‘But the outcome was unexpected.’
Piechen was the one trampled first. Gilprus, well-versed in northern terrain and climate, used the land to starve and freeze the Piechen army to death.
Gilprus had magitech engineers and skilled medical staff with vast knowledge. They created magical items to fend off the cold and supported their troops.
The Pontiff ordered the temple to support Piechen, but the priests’ holy power could not save soldiers on the brink of freezing.
Had Tarahan not joined the war, the Piechen Empire would have been completely defeated and forced to cede Danteor to Gilprus.
To purge forces opposed to the Goddess, they had needed the very man they most despised. The temple and the emperor may have planned to use Tarahan and discard him, but he had become the untouchable King of Winter.
He could strangle her at any moment, and yet, compared to the temple, he seemed almost merciful to Ninia.
‘Perhaps he’s more compassionate than he appears.’
Ninia mused as she scanned the shelves. Tarahan had plenty of reasons to dislike her.
‘Shall I read this?’
She tilted her head to look at a book on a high shelf: Basic Medical Knowledge. It was among the hundreds of forbidden texts listed by the temple, but there was no one here to stop her.
She reached up to pull it down. Despite the word “basic,” the book was thick and heavy, and not easy to extract.
Its weight and her short reach made it a struggle. Rising on tiptoe, she tugged at the spine, but the heft made her grip slip.
“Ah…!”
With a dull thunk, the heavy book came free. She instinctively ducked and hunched, expecting it to crash onto her. But no blow landed.
“Trying to get yourself killed by a book?”
Cautiously opening her eyes, she found not pain but a tall, dark shadow pressing close. Slowly lifting her head, she saw the very man who had occupied her thoughts standing before her.
