Chapter 20
I stood frozen before him, overwhelmed by an indescribable emotion.
“How did you get here?”
But we weren’t the only ones present. I had momentarily forgotten about the others upon seeing Tristan.
When I turned around, Ludwig and Anton were watching me with completely different expressions.
Ludwig looked as calm as if nothing had happened, while Anton once again appeared visibly flustered.
So it really was Tristan that made him panic earlier.
I recalled his reaction when I had asked the Duke about his youngest son’s whereabouts—how he had been unusually startled.
He had clearly known the truth yet pretended ignorance, and even after witnessing the abuse, he had done nothing. Rage flared inside me like wildfire.
“I don’t know from where you’ve been following us.”
My anger toward Ludwig was even greater. The way he spoke so blandly made me want to slap him just like Tristan had been slapped.
But he was the heir to House Aßenbach, the kind who stayed arrogant even before the Emperor. If I acted on impulse, things could spiral beyond my control.
“Is that really what’s important right now?”
I chose my words carefully, then pointed to Tristan, who was crouched behind me.
“I followed because I thought I recognized someone. When I saw it really was a person, I was startled and stepped in, that’s all.”
Even though he must have heard my voice, Tristan gave no reaction. Could he have injured his eardrums? I resisted the urge to take him straight to a doctor.
“Disciplining your younger brother may be an elder brother’s role, but isn’t this just plain violence? On the Emperor’s auspicious birthday of all days, I’d say this is highly inappropriate.”
Ludwig, who had kept his composure until now, could not completely hide his reaction when I mentioned the Emperor. His jaw tightened slightly, and his voice emerged tinged with faint annoyance.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that is not my brother.”
That was utter nonsense.
Anyone could see that Tristan was from House Aßenbach. His black hair, tinged with blue, and golden eyes were the same as Ludwig’s and Anton’s.
Could he be a cousin, or an even more distant relative? But there had been no such detail in the original story. Still, I took a step back.
“If he’s not your brother, does that make it acceptable to beat a child younger than you?”
“I was merely punishing a servant. How I manage my subordinates is none of Your Highness’s concern.”
Ludwig’s tone was firm, clearly unwilling to continue the discussion.
“A servant?”
The words hit me like a blow. I turned to look at Tristan.
Now that I really looked, though his clothes were made of quality fabric, they were plain and undecorated—similar to what the servants in Opal Palace wore.
Tristan… a servant, not the Duke’s youngest son?
I was too shocked to speak. Meanwhile, Ludwig took a step closer to me and leaned down.
“Tell me.”
His upper body loomed over mine, casting a shadow. His golden eyes glimmered in the darkness—the same shade as Tristan’s—and the resemblance made me feel sick.
“Who told you about this boy’s existence?”
His gaze was filled with suspicion and contempt as he studied my face. Then he added one more word:
“Princess.”
The intent to insult me was obvious.
This was the heir of House Aßenbach, a man who had stood defiant even before the Emperor. To him, the Seventeenth Princess must have seemed less than an ordinary noblewoman.
But I’d suffered far too many insults to shrink back from something like this.
“I don’t think my private affairs are any of your business, my lord.”
I spoke clearly.
“I already said I mistook him for someone I knew. And frankly, anyone who saw a child being beaten would intervene. The way you’re reacting only makes me more curious about who he really is.”
This time, I’d definitely struck a nerve. That perfectly sculpted face twisted with anger he could no longer suppress.
“If you don’t speak plainly, I’ll—”
“My lord!”
Anton’s voice rang out.
Both Ludwig and I turned toward him. I don’t know about Ludwig, but when I saw him, I almost screamed.
On Anton’s shoulder perched a pitch-black crow—large as a human head. Its eyes glowed with yellow light, giving it the appearance of a demonic messenger from hell.
“The Duke is summoning you,” Anton said in a trembling voice.
I stared dumbly between the crow and Anton. Was that… was that the Duke of Aßenbach on his shoulder?
“Very well, Your Highness. Let’s do this.”
Ludwig looked at the crow, sighed wearily, and spoke. For a moment, I saw Tristan’s sullen features overlap with his.
They really are disgustingly alike.
I scowled.
“If you promise to forget what you saw here, I’ll promise to forget that I met you here as well.”
I’d been expecting more nonsense, but instead, it was a surprisingly reasonable proposal.
For my part, there was nothing to gain from letting it be known I’d argued with the young duke. And it seemed Ludwig, too, didn’t want anyone to find out about this situation.
Whether that “situation” was Tristan himself, the fact that he was beating him, or simply that I had witnessed it—I didn’t know. But one thing was certain.
The person he didn’t want finding out was none other than his father, the Duke of Aßenbach.
“Fair enough.”
I nodded.
Ludwig gave a slight bow and headed back toward the center of the garden where the party was being held. Anton gave me the barest nod before following his brother.
Then, behind me, Tristan slowly got to his feet.
“Ah…!”
I had momentarily forgotten about him. I reached out to stop him, but he silently walked past me—as if I were invisible.
The three of them disappeared, leaving me alone in a dark corner of the garden.
“Ah…”
I collapsed where I stood. After sitting dazed for some time, I placed my hand on the ground and tried using Stella.
Nothing happened.
*
Tristan Aßenbach had been born the youngest son of the Duke of Aßenbach.
His father was strict in matters of work but warm at home. His mother was bright and cheerful, and their household was always filled with laughter.
Both of his elder brothers grew into fine young men, inheriting their parents’ good looks and upright character, and they adored their youngest brother.
The political power struggles common in noble families were unheard of in House Aßenbach. The Duke had already decided to pass the title to his eldest son, and the younger brothers held no resentment. The three brothers grew up loving and respecting one another.
There was nothing lacking in Tristan’s life.
But perhaps someone had envied that happiness.
House Aßenbach was branded with a terrible accusation, ending centuries of history in disgrace.
Treason.
It was an absurd fabrication. The Duke had cried himself hoarse proclaiming his innocence. Anyone who knew him would have believed it.
But the conspiracy had been in motion for a long time, and by the time the noose tightened around the “Black Lion of the Northeast,” there was no escape.
The plot was thorough and relentless. Evidence surfaced without end. The Duchess died under torture, and upon hearing the news, the Duke gave up completely.
House Aßenbach was destroyed.
As with all traitors, every member of the family was sentenced to death—not only the eldest son and immediate family, but also relatives and even the servants who had worked in the ducal residence.
Yet the Emperor spared the youngest, Tristan.
It was not mercy. It was humiliation.
Instead of killing him, the Emperor made him a slave.
Imperial law did not recognize slavery. To enslave and trade people was illegal—except for one case: criminals branded by the Imperial Seal for grave offenses.
The moment such a brand was burned into someone’s flesh, they lost all human rights and were treated as property, forced to spend the rest of their lives doing whatever their owner commanded. The tasks were usually too horrific to speak of.
Branding the youngest son of a noble house was a deliberate act meant to annihilate House Aßenbach’s dignity completely.
Tristan, proud son of a ducal house, tried to end his own life. But his attempts failed. Eventually, bound and gagged, he appeared at the New Year’s slave auction.
And that was where Imelda found him.
*
“This is where the story begins…”
I muttered in disbelief.
It was the morning after the Emperor’s birthday celebration. I had tossed and turned until late last night and awoke still feeling exhausted.
But my mind was too tangled for me to simply rest, so I sat at my desk, writing down everything I remembered about Tristan’s backstory from the original novel.
I reread what I had written.
I didn’t recall the exact wording, and some details might have been wrong. But the background about Tristan’s family—of that I was certain.
That setting was central to the male lead.
A man who had once held a status second only to the royal family, brought low. And the heroine who extended a hand to save him—only to be the daughter of the man who destroyed him.
Their poignant, tension-filled romance was the heart of the story.
There might have been politics and intrigue, but at its core, The 13th Princess was a romance. The backstories of the male and female leads, and the love that blossomed despite them, were what mattered most.
And yet, Tristan, the male lead, wasn’t the Duke’s son but… a servant?
“A servant…”
I frowned, deep in thought.
Tristan was clearly of Aßenbach blood. His hair and eye color alone proved it, and his features and aura bore a subtle resemblance to Ludwig’s.
“He’s too close in age to be Ludwig’s hidden child…”
Muttering to myself, I suddenly froze as a shocking possibility struck me.
A boy of Aßenbach blood whose father denied him, living like a servant and suffering beatings from his brothers.
There was only one explanation for their relationship.
“Tristan’s illegitimate.”
That would explain everything.
In the Esperusa Empire, illegitimacy carried a heavy stigma. A child born out of wedlock was seen as proof of debauchery and a stain upon a family’s honor.
Noble families generally handled illegitimate children in one of two ways:
First, pass them off as the legitimate spouse’s child and add them to the family register. This was easy enough for a noblewoman; for a nobleman, it might cause gossip, but with his wife’s agreement, it was possible.
Second, deny their existence entirely. The more “generous” would give them some money and send them away. It wasn’t uncommon for both the child and the mother to be killed for the sake of the family’s honor.
It seemed the Duke had chosen the second route. But instead of killing Tristan or sending him far away, he kept him in the ducal estate as a servant.
And that was the strangest part.
“None of this was in the original story…”
Just what was the original story I thought I knew?
