Chapter 52
“It was truly a pleasure to see Your Highness again after so long. Though of course, the content of our talk wasn’t all that pleasant.”
On the way out, as he escorted himself away, he said this in a lively voice. They had only exchanged a few words, no real solutions had been reached.
“Thank you for coming. It wasn’t as much as I had hoped… but please, do confirm when you might be able to visit again and meet with my father. Let me know.”
Kircann was quite satisfied with the response she had given him, even though in reality their conversation hadn’t led to anything new or useful, just theory and words.
With the carriage right before him, Kircann turned to look at her.
She stood properly, waiting to see him off. Her figure was so graceful that for a brief moment he just stood and gazed at her.
“By the way, back when we met on that bustling street… I thought we’d grown a little closer. Yet on the way here, I felt unusually nervous. Perhaps it was because I was coming to meet the Crown Princess herself?”
His tone, once so formal, felt a little softer now. And as his voice grew easier, so too did Agnes’s gaze, which wandered back toward the memory of that day. Looking into Kircann’s eyes—gentle yet never once wavering away from her—Agnes slowly parted her lips.
“We did talk quite comfortably then. It was a lively street, the scenery before us was beautiful… and unlike certain others, you were calm, gentle, easy to be around. I found it pleasant.”
That day, when she was drowning in needless melancholy and wandering a path of confusion, she met him. He hadn’t done anything special, but spending time together had been strangely valuable. That thought softened the stiffness on Agnes’s face.
“I was glad… thought I had made a good friend that day.”
“A good friend… you say.”
Agnes blinked, taken aback by the sudden word from his mouth. Friend. The word echoed in her mouth before spilling out.
“There’s no law against being friends. Perhaps, because of matters with my father, I may even seek your advice often.”
Distracted, her mind elsewhere, Agnes still let a faint smile bloom as she answered.
No law against being friends… could he possibly mean it?
“Then… is it truly all right, for me to say that I am a close friend of the Crown Princess?”
If he had been any more disappointed, that fragile bond would have collapsed instantly. Like mana deprived of its sustaining force—it would have no meaning without mutual trust, nothing but an empty name.
But Kircann responded as though he truly had been granted permission to call her friend. Agnes could only smile awkwardly at that.
“I’ll take my leave, then. I do hope to receive your message soon.”
Whether that message was as a friend… or something more, she couldn’t tell.
Already leaving? A shame.
Don’t worry. He won’t really serve as a bridge anyway. You can tell just by looking at him, can’t you?
It was then—just as Kircann climbed into the carriage and reached to close the door—that Agnes felt it. The air stirred with a great movement, as if something flowed through it, and then—voices at her ear.
Hearing them again, she nearly collapsed on the spot.
Should I stop him? Should I call out?
But her strength wouldn’t obey her. She had no power to grab or cry out.
Best to just let him go. After all, she’s the Crown Princess!
What? Ah, right. This girl is married, isn’t she? After the wedding, when the two vanished all of a sudden, everyone whispered they had run off to share their love. Heehee.
Staring at the carriage rolling away, Agnes’s eyes went wide. Alongside him, mingling in the shifting air—wind? currents?—were unmistakable voices. They knew the truth.
That’s why. In any case, those two can never be together.
I don’t know… I don’t feel that’s what’s between them.
From two voices, it became three. Each with its own tone. After a few steps more, another joined in.
“Young Lady! Has the guest left?”
Tarin, who had been waiting in the kitchen, seemed unable to hear those strange voices.
Half-dazed, Agnes turned. Tarin approached with a bright smile, adjusting the wrinkles and drooping folds in her mistress’s dress after sitting too long.
Even as Tarin fussed over her, Agnes tilted her head. No—the voices had been real. She hadn’t misheard.
Oh dear, looks like she’s going back inside.
Well, since the Crown Princess is here, we’ll be bringing whispers of the wind to this palace often enough.
We should have come sooner, honestly. I’ve been stuck here fixing this old palace all this time.
Boastful, teasing, familial—it felt like overhearing chatter around a round family table.
But as she followed Tarin inside, the voices slowly faded.
Walking behind Tarin’s small frame, Agnes suddenly stopped in her tracks. Tarin, unaware, kept chattering away as she walked further in.
Something was wrong.
Agnes turned back, retracing her steps to the front gate. As the great doors came into view, she heard them again—low murmurs, a quiet conversation.
Yes. Those voices.
The same ones she’d heard when she pulled a deer out of a pit in the woods, the same fleeting voice when she’d followed Kircann in the bustling street.
“You all! These voices I’m hearing right now—what are you? Are you the wind? Or… something else?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was the strongest cry she could muster, cast into the air.
The Crown Prince’s palace wasn’t crowded with servants. Since leaving Tarin’s back earlier, she hadn’t seen anyone else.
Holding back the breath rising to her throat, she stilled herself. Whoosh— came the sound of wind.
Had they already gone? What were these voices that appeared and vanished without warning? The uncertainty gnawed at her head.
…Wait, what was that just now? Did she hear us?
Her entire body prickled with goosebumps, from her fingertips to her toes. Slowly, she lifted her head. But nothing—no one—was there.
Shh—she looked up. She really can hear us.
“…I can hear you.”
…!!
Though unseen, their shock was palpable.
To think there truly existed beings beyond humans—Agnes was astonished.
In her old world, such things could only be called fantasy. But here…?
“I can hear you. Too clearly. Who are you? Was it you—the wind—who rushed through the forest when I tried to save the deer? Was it you I heard briefly in the city streets?”
Far away, she thought she heard Tarin calling her name.
If there’s a reason you can hear us, you’ll learn it in time.
As long as you don’t become our enemy, that’s enough.
I wish she’d figure it out faster. I’m bored.
Their voices overlapped like a conversation. Serious, playful, kind.
“Young Lady! No—Your Highness!”
Tarin came running around the corner, cheeks flushed. She glanced at Agnes, standing stiff by the gate, and hurried to her side, peering around as if looking for something.
“Your Highness? What’s wrong? Did the guest return?”
Agnes didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Didn’t even look her way. Tarin’s eyes grew uneasy—until Agnes exhaled, a sharp rush of breath. The tension in her shoulders sagged down.
“Tarin.”
“Y-yes?”
Her voice was weak. Like someone who had just finished a grueling climb, or one on the verge of sleep. She called Tarin faintly, and Tarin quickly clutched her arm.
“If we go to the dining hall now… will His Highness the Crown Prince be there?”
Tarin hadn’t been to the hall yet, so she couldn’t know for sure. But with a bold nod, she answered firmly.
“Of course! His Highness has been waiting eagerly for you. He wants to spend as much time with you as possible.”
Hearing that confident, warm voice—so real, so human—Agnes cupped Tarin’s cheek with her hand. This was what voices were supposed to sound like.
But then… what were those voices she had just heard?
Lost in thought, Agnes trudged forward. For now, she only wished to see Theowin.
