CHAPTER 51
The day of reckoning had finally arrived.
Ilia swallowed nervously and came to drape a robe over me. Mullin leaned in and whispered:
“Sir Checil has been told that the First Princess will remain inside her rooms all day.”
“Good. If it takes long, give the maids small tasks, have them bring tea… and you, Ilia, come to my room occasionally to eat with me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Then let’s go.”
With that, Ilia and I strode swiftly to the terrace window. I pulled out the magical artifact from my robes—its small groove activated with a fingertip trickle of mana. As I released power, it hummed and shimmered. Suddenly, we floated and descended beyond the terrace rail.
Once our feet touched the lawn, Ilia’s eyes lit up with amazement.
“This is incredible—this is my first time moon‑jumping from the imperial terrace. I might be the first maid to do it!”
“Few would dare—especially not within the palace. Let’s hurry to the main gate.”
We raced across gardens and paths until we reached the imperial front gate.
Two palace guards were conversing:
“Isn’t that Baron Barshen’s carriage at the gate?”
“They said one maid from the Princess’s quarters filed leave—probably sent her family’s carriage.”
“Lucky her… we guards never get such privileges.”
Nearby, a woman in a brown robe staggered toward that carriage. With each step she wobbled, drawing the guards’ curious gazes. As she neared, a groom sprang forward to open the carriage door.
Suddenly, a voice called out:
“Wait!”
The groom and the woman turned. Then a third woman—Blemie—emerged from the gates, flanked by a dozen or more armed knights bearing the Empress’s insignia.
Blemie grinned crookedly:
“May I remove the robe?”
The woman—shocked—backed up. Blemie seized her hand roughly.
“You’ve been stumbling since earlier, Ilia. Ignoring me too? Aren’t we from the same cohort at court?”
Under her breath, Blemie hissed something. The woman staggered again, apparently the First Princess.
Blemie’s voice rose:
“She’s the First Princess! She’s deserting the palace…!”
At that moment, coughing broke through the commotion:
“Ahem, hey! Lee! What are you babbling about?”
Everyone’s heads snapped toward the sound. There was Ilia, visibly flushed, coughing awkwardly.
“I’ve been hoarse from a sore throat! On the contrary, the First Princess declared she would stay indoors all day since yesterday. Are you deliberately making this up?”
Blemie stammered:
“But—Mullin said…”
“Mullin said what?”
As Ilia pulled free, Blemie seemed bewildered. Ilia thought:
“Oh no… the First Princess is at the back gate right now…”
I silently watched that chaos unfold from afar. As expected, Blemie had played her part.
Two-tiered spy deception—brilliant.
Two weeks ago, Ilia, Mullin, and I devised a plan: Mullin would provoke Blemie and involve palace knights to “capture” the First Princess and carry her before the Emperor—diverting attention for my escape.
In the confusion, I found the hidden passage I knew—left behind and abandoned—slid through it, and dashed toward a borrowed common carriage at the back of the palace.
Suddenly… “Ah!”
A strong hand gripped my waist; I stumbled—but a young boy steadied me. I froze, staring through the folds of a black robe.
It was Richard.
“Young Marquis?”
“Good morning, First Princess. I trust your night was peaceful?”
“W‑What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at your family estate?”
“I received your letter. I couldn’t sit still—worried about you, I hurried. Looks like I timed it right.”
“You… came just so I wouldn’t be alone?”
He only smiled and nodded:
“Shall we go? A plain carriage is waiting behind the palace. You’ll have more comfort than with the baron’s.”
He offered his hand. I allowed a reluctant sigh and placed my bare hand in his.
Not being caught… that’s enough escort.
He pulled me along. Suddenly, I tripped—then his hand caught mine, steadying my balance.
“Seemingly wise to accept an escort after all.”
“…You’re annoying.”
He laughed softly. I let my free hand rest lightly over his. He guided me swiftly to the awaiting carriage.
Once inside, the curtains closed. Richard shrugged out of his robe. I glimpsed his face—more handsome than ever—and surprised myself with an inner sigh.
If I thought I’d outdone the Emperor and Prince Dimitri in grace—Richard has his own kind of presence.
I mustered a firm voice:
“Did the Emperor consent to your request, Marquis?”
He shrugged:
“Surprisingly… His reply took six days. Concealing your identity may have made him hesitate.”
“And… why bring up Count Epsilard?”
I leaned my head against the carriage wall.
“My granddaughter wishes to see her grandfather… Does that surprise you?”
“…”
His eyes darkened with concern.
“If something is wrong, please tell me, Your Highness.”
I hid my gaze.
“There is nothing for the Marquis to worry about.”
“You won’t say more?”
“The Marquis and I aren’t… particularly close.”
He raised an eyebrow:
“So if we did become close, you would talk?”
I studied him for a moment.
Why would that even be relevant?
Secrets exist even between friends. Especially where politics runs deep.
“No. That won’t happen.”
“You must not want closeness with me, I see.”
I thought bitterly: if only because you nearly got me poisoned too.
He pursed his lips and glanced away.
“So… do you want to be close to me?”
He sounded curious.
“People you meet—
some you never wish to be near,
others—some you feel you must be close to.”
He looked at me and smiled.
“You remind me of the latter.”
I froze.
“So you’ve always wanted closeness… to serve in my shadow.”
“…Yes.”
He smiled again.
“So… do you still believe we can never get closer?”
Before I could answer—
“We have arrived, Your Highness!”
The coachman broke in. I sprang up and disappeared into the grounds without waiting for Richard to escort me.
From the carriage, he whispered softly:
“In the race of longing, the more desperate always loses.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Once inside, I asked the porter:
“Is the Duke and Duchess not at home?”
“They stepped out on urgent business, Your Highness.”
“Do they know I’ve come?”
“I explained you were visiting as an academy alumna—nothing to worry about.”
Careful, indeed.
Then, guided by quiet servants, I reached the reception room. After what felt like a heartbeat, Richard paused.
“Here… is the place where the person you wished to see waits.”
“…Yes.”
He offered gently:
“If you’re nervous, would you like to hold hands?”
“Do you still see me as a child?”
“At twelve, you still are—aren’t you?”
He smiled, and I shot him a sour glance.
He’s younger than I thought.
Unspoken tension radiated outward. I swallowed and knocked lightly.
Then a sturdy older voice replied:
“Please come in.”
The door opened…
