CHAPTER 99……………………………………..
“People are lining up to meet you, my lady. Please, take a look at this.”
Pirel spread out a bundle of invitations in front of Chloé.
Even from the glittering crests embossed on the envelopes, she could tell they were all from powerful families.
Chloé, who had been enjoying her tea, gave a mocking shake of her head.
“They’re all provincial nobles, aren’t they? Hardly the sort of people I should be meeting.”
“Ever since you won the bid for the Marquess’s estate, more and more people have been eager to meet you. Requests for interviews from newspapers keep pouring in as well.”
“…How fickle.”
“The Duke of Orlen seems quite pleased, my lady. Everyone says he was wise to entrust you with the business affairs of the merchant guild.”
“Who else could have done it but me?”
As if that sickly girl who couldn’t even tell up from down on her deathbed could have?
The thought of the late Emily made Chloé laugh despite herself.
It had been difficult to approach her in the first place — she was the precious jewel of the ducal family — but once she’d managed that, everything went smoothly.
After all, wasn’t Emily the kind of delicate young lady who wouldn’t even breathe where the air wasn’t pure enough?
Her assumption that such a girl would have no true friends had been exactly right.
Only the weak give up so easily.
People’s biggest misconception was that daughters of wealthy families were too proud and hard to approach.
In truth, that was why they were always starved for real friendship — something you could only understand if you dared to try.
Rich, innocent, and not long for this world.
Emily had been the perfect target.
And since her father, the Duke, was a man of decent character, he wasn’t about to cast out his daughter’s only friend after she died.
Chloé had pressed her advantage time and again.
“I’m really sad we have to part, Emily. I wish I could visit you anytime I wanted.”
“I’d love that. Father and everyone else like you so much. And I can’t tell you how happy I am whenever you come and talk to me.”
“But how could I come and go freely from the ducal estate? I’m not a daughter of this house.”
“…Daughter?”
“Oh, never mind. It’s just that people keep saying I’m getting close to you for selfish reasons. It’s been… a little hard to hear.”
She’d timed her melancholy perfectly.
By now, even the gentlest of young ladies should have flared up in indignation — and people always became easier to handle once you’d made them emotional.
“That’s ridiculous! Chloé, you’ve refused every gift I ever tried to give you. How could anyone think that about you?”
“People always misunderstand others… I just think it’s better to be careful. I was actually going to tell you it might be hard to see each other as often anymore, but I didn’t expect to have to say it like this.”
“No, please don’t say that. You’re all I have.”
Emily had looked so frightened at the thought of losing her one true friend.
But what Chloé truly pitied was not Emily’s loneliness — it was herself, with all her talent yet born into a family that couldn’t support it.
“Chloé, I wish you could come every day.”
“…I wish I could too. I’m so frustrated sometimes I even think I’d like to be a daughter here myself.”
“Oh, that’s…”
“Don’t mind me, I was only joking. I know it could never happen.”
Feigning embarrassment, Chloé waved both hands as if ashamed of what she’d said — though she didn’t forget to subtly plant the idea in Emily’s teary mind.
“Of course, the Duke would never agree to something like that. Unless, of course, it were you, his most beloved daughter, asking him yourself.”
“Chloé… how do you always say things that sound so kind? Everyone says Father hates being bothered when he’s ill… but you don’t think so?”
“Of course not.”
Though, really — what father could refuse the dying wish of his daughter?
Thinking back, she wasn’t much of a challenge.
Chloé tapped the invitations with her fingernail.
Emily had been so naive, so predictable, that it had almost been boring.
Noella, whom she’d met in the South, was different — less predictable, occasionally even terrifying.
Though just as much a pampered noble lady, Emily had never been that intense. For someone with so much to lose, restraint was natural.
“Miss Chloé, what wouldn’t I do for a friend?”
Even now, the memory of Noella’s bandaged hand hiding a smile sent chills down Chloé’s spine.
She’d returned to her angelic face in the next instant, swearing eternal friendship — but from that moment on, Chloé had known.
That girl’s going to be trouble.
Better to cut loose what feels uneasy, before it festers.
Before she’d claimed Emily’s place, it might have been different. But now? Noella was always one step behind — and frankly, her family needed to fall.
Before the Crown Prince reappeared, her in-laws’ influence had to be broken.
I wonder if she’s still alive. Then again, there was no obituary.
She checked the papers, but they were filled only with her own dazzling rise — not a single word about Noella’s death.
Maybe the noblewoman hadn’t actually killed her, but judging from Adelle’s fury that day, she was not the sort to let things go quietly.
She must have realized.
Those proud, imperious eyes — as though she were a queen herself.
Adelle was a nuisance.
Still, she would soon fall. There was no need to rush.
Sharp as she was, Adelle would surely know exactly whom to blame.
Two birds with one stone.
Chloé only needed to wait until the entire South came rolling into her hands.
“My lady, someone’s here to see you again.”
“I’m not receiving guests. Send them away — I’m not giving any interviews either.”
Chloé waved her hand impatiently, unwilling to be disturbed.
But even after some time, Pirel didn’t return.
“Pirel! Who could it possibly be—”
“I’ve come to see the Lady of House Orlen.”
Behind the trembling Pirel, a silver radiance filled the doorway.
It was a man one could recognize at a glance — a man so unique that no other like him could exist in this world.
Chloé immediately rose to her feet.
As Pirel, terrified, shut the door and slipped away, Chloé knelt gracefully.
“…I greet His Highness, the Crown Prince — the sun of the Empire.”
“So, you know who I am.”
His voice was calm and even, but carried unmistakable authority.
The title sounded almost foreign to him now, and Killian’s brows tightened slightly.
“…But you are not someone I know.”
“So you came after all.”
Without waiting for permission, Killian stepped further inside.
It wasn’t arrogance — merely the ingrained habit of someone who’d never needed to ask leave to move.
“Your Highness.”
“Did House Orlen have another daughter?”
Chloé slowly rose at his direct question. She hadn’t expected him to appear so suddenly, but it was a meeting that would have come eventually.
“That is… yes. After Emily’s illness took her, the Duke, out of kindness, adopted me as his foster daughter.”
“And what brings you here, then?”
Killian studied her, concealing his fatigue. The heavy scent of her perfume was quite unlike what he remembered.
“I meant — what business would House Orlen have all the way down in the South?”
“Your Highness, it’s not what you think.”
“…”
“His Highness Prince Aaron was so worried about his missing brother that he personally asked me to look for you — said I was someone you could trust.”
She carefully mentioned the prince, watching for Killian’s reaction.
He wasn’t exactly in a position of strength, after all.
If she played it right, there might even be room for negotiation — and perhaps a hint at her future place.
“I was wondering myself how I might have the honor of meeting you again.”
“Why didn’t you tell Aaron directly?”
“Because I couldn’t know Your Highness’s wishes.”
“…”
“If you did not wish to return, I feared I might act against your will.”
Her emerald eyes gleamed with practiced sincerity.
Killian turned slightly, one hand resting on the window frame as he looked at her.
“My will was made clear the day I left. I have no desire to be tied to that place again. Whatever you choose to do with that knowledge is up to you.”
“Your Highness…”
“And there’s no need to call me that. I am merely the commander of the San Fidelio Knights — a man who married Lady Sergio. Nothing more, nothing less. So let’s not meet again.”
“…”
“Unless, of course, there’s a reason to.”
He was not a man to be trifled with. His indifferent tone, giving her leave to act as she pleased, made Chloé falter.
“Your Highness, I only wished—”
“Then perhaps you can tell me why you interfered in my wife’s affairs.”
His blue eyes suddenly turned to ice.
The casual air from moments ago vanished in an instant.
Chloé bit her lip as she met that piercing gaze.
“There’s been a misunderstanding. The Orlen family had long intended to expand into the South. Surely Your Highness, as the Sergio family’s son-in-law, knows how fertile these lands are.”
“So you chose this moment — when I reappeared — to make your move?”
“That’s not it…”
“Or perhaps the South wasn’t your true target?”
He wasn’t really asking.
Even his faint smile felt sharp enough to freeze the air.
Goosebumps crept up her arms as Killian turned toward the door.
“I believe I’ve heard enough.”
“Wait! This could benefit you too, Your Highness!”
Chloé dropped to her knees, clutching at his step.
It wasn’t the time she’d planned to say it, but the pressure made her desperate.
“Surely there’s something you need as well.”
“…What do you mean?”
Killian paused, hand on the doorknob. His low voice rumbled like thunder.
Chloé felt a flicker of confidence return.
“I can’t believe you left the palace simply because of envy and whispers.”
“Speak plainly.”
“Those who lack the Red Sun shall burn the palace to ash.”
“…”
“A prophecy left by the missing Archmage twenty years ago — and I think I know what it means.”
Chloé smiled, raising her chin.
His faint twitch of the brow confirmed she was right.
Of course he’d be surprised.
He must be wondering how she’d learned of it — though she had no intention of saying.
“So you’re claiming you possess the Red Sun?”
“If my interpretation is correct, yes.”
“I see.”
“Please, sit. I only wish to be of service to Your Highness.”
She gestured gracefully to a chair.
“If you want to be of help, you’d best return where you came from.”
“…What?”
Killian tilted his chin slightly, as if the whole exchange bored him.
She froze — she’d planned to negotiate, piece by piece, but he didn’t seem the least bit interested.
That can’t be right.
If her guess was correct, he should be the desperate one.
She forced herself to calm down, though the urge to play her trump card came early.
“…If that is Your Highness’s wish, then I won’t interfere.”
No need to rush. If he truly was human, he’d come back to her soon enough.
“Good. I’m glad you understand.”
“But my stay here is a matter of business — as heir to the merchant guild. I hope you won’t try to hinder me.”
She couldn’t back down completely.
Killian frowned slightly, and Chloé bent one knee in a courteous bow.
“I am also a daughter of House Orlen, Your Highness. Since I oversee the merchant affairs, competition with your lady wife’s guild is inevitable.”
“You mean to compete with my wife?”
Even though she sensed the mockery in his tone, Chloé pressed on calmly.
“If Your Highness commands it, I’ll obey. But you said yourself you have no interest in that position. In that case, competition between our guilds is a separate matter — it would be unfair to forbid it.”
“Is that so?”
“…Why do you smile, Your Highness?”
His faint, cold smile made her flinch.
Not from fear — simply a primal instinct, like a mouse before a predator.
“You thought I asked you to return merely to take my wife’s side?”
“If not, then…”
“It was, at least, a courtesy — to warn you that nothing good comes from crossing her.”
His hand returned to the silver doorknob.
Know what you’re challenging before you challenge it.
His eyes, sharp with disdain, made Chloé swallow her anger.
“You must trust your wife greatly, Your Highness.”
“Not my wife — her ability.”
“…”
“I’ve warned you. What you do now is your choice. But in these fertile southern lands, I doubt you’ll leave with empty hands.”
His flat, emotionless tone only made her more furious.
Her cheeks stiffened, but she gritted her teeth and bowed.
“Safe travels, Your Highness. I’ll assume your words came only because you don’t yet know me.”
“Perhaps. But I do know this much — you’re not a match for Aaron.”
Thud.
Even after the door closed, his icy presence lingered.
Chloé, who had been holding her breath, rose halfway — then suddenly snatched up her teacup and hurled it.
“My lady!”
Crash!
Shards scattered across the floor.
Pirel came running in alarm, but Chloé only heaved for breath, her fists clenched so tight that blood dripped from her palms.
“…Then I’ll just have to face him — in earnest.”
