Chapter 22
Ober, staring at Hera as if piercing through her, spoke in a heavy voice.
“Since you’ve lost your memory, I’ll make this absolutely clear, so you don’t do anything foolish. The Tolin family exists solely as a tool for His Majesty Emperor Jerome and His Highness Crown Prince Ron.”
Like a dictator who would accept no dissent, Ober took an overbearing stance.
He then made a comment close to criticism regarding Larry Wintail.
“Count Wintail is nothing more than a hypocrite pretending to be neutral. I saw with my own eyes how he sided with Meriot Laurent during the wolf hunt. That means the relationship you built with him must be used in the future for the benefit of His Majesty and the Crown Prince. Don’t be swayed by the Count’s pathetic sweet talk. Understood?”
“……”
Hera didn’t want to agree with someone calling her own father a hypocrite.
She bit her lips tightly and her eyes trembled slightly.
“Sister, answer him.”
Cecilia, who stood a step ahead of Hera, turned and whispered.
“…When you say ‘a tool’… what exactly do you mean by that?”
It was something Hera had wanted to ask Ober Tolin from the beginning.
According to what Cecilia had told her, Ober was planning to marry off his daughter Emilia to Meriot.
After hearing what he said now, a red alert began flashing in Hera’s mind.
Was the marriage with Meriot also part of this? Merely a tool for political use?
“Emilia. This is not the place to question your father.”
Before Ober could answer, Julian spoke, stopping Hera.
His tone was colder than usual, and the distance between them felt stark.
It was strange.
In front of Ober, both Cecilia and Julian acted like entirely different people.
As if they weren’t family—but soldiers obeying a commander’s orders.
“Cecilia told me… that you are planning to arrange a marriage between me and Duke Meriot Laurent. Is that also in line with… that same purpose?”
When Hera finally voiced the question she had been holding back, Cecilia reached behind and tugged at Hera’s sleeve.
It was a sign to stop now.
“So you really did lose your memory, Emilia. Asking questions about my plans…”
Displeasure darkened Ober’s face.
That alone showed how deeply the Tolin siblings were expected to obey him.
“Now that Meriot Laurent has arrived in Central, I will not allow him to return alive to Mozheni.”
Ober limped forward toward Hera.
The thump of his cane striking the floor echoed loudly in Hera’s ears.
“That is what I meant. Do you understand?”
Despite his words, Ober wasn’t asking for understanding.
It was a threat—obedience was not optional.
Perhaps this was the rule of the Tolin family.
The four people Hera could never truly understand.
*
‘A tool…’
Even as she lay in bed wearing her nightgown chemise, Ober’s words wouldn’t leave her mind.
Before long, Cecilia entered Hera’s room carrying a pillow.
“Sis, let’s sleep together.”
“Okay.”
“Are you mad?”
“Why?”
Cecilia, sliding shyly into bed beside her sister, spoke in a subdued voice.
“Because I didn’t tell you everything… about Duke Meriot Laurent, too.”
Though it wasn’t her fault, she looked apologetic. Hera raised her hand and gently stroked Cecilia’s hair.
Cecilia brightened and then opened her mouth hesitantly.
And then, out of that sweet mouth, came something Hera could never have imagined.
“Father wants you to assassinate Duke Laurent. That’s why he was so desperate to keep him from coming to Central. But now…”
At the word “assassinate,” Hera felt as if her heart dropped.
Her hand froze mid-stroke over Cecilia’s head.
Hugging her pillow, Cecilia frowned deeply.
She seemed to be battling some painful thoughts.
“Everyone in Arista is greedy. All of them.”
She muttered something ominous, then looked Hera in the eyes again.
Ober’s cruel plan flowed from Cecilia’s lips.
“Father doesn’t want Duke Laurent’s death to look like a power struggle. He wants it to seem like a madwoman from the Tolin family committed a purely personal murder. That way, it won’t burden the Emperor or the Crown Prince.”
After those words, silence fell between the sisters lying face-to-face.
Even without her memory, Emilia was still Emilia.
Before losing her memory, the old Emilia would have come up with a clever plan that would have even surprised Cecilia.
But now, with her sister giving no response, Cecilia hugged her pillow tighter.
Otherwise, she might start crying.
“If it were the old you, I’m sure you would’ve done something…”
Even without her memories, even if she wasn’t the same—Emilia was still the most precious person to Cecilia.
She reached under the covers and grabbed Hera’s hand, speaking as if promising herself:
“Still, don’t worry. I’ll protect you now, just as you are.”
“…Thank you, Cecilia.”
*
A few days later, as usual, Ober Tolin was away from home.
On one peaceful day, when the siblings were enjoying a rare moment of calm, a visitor came to the Tolin estate.
“Captain of the Guard! Is the Captain here?”
Despite his aged body, Duke Antoni shouted loudly as if the Tolin residence were his own house, calling out for Julian.
“Duke Antoni.”
“I know it’s rude to come uninvited, but I’m in a rush. Please forgive me.”
“What brings you here? Please, have a seat.”
Julian, dressed casually since it was a day off, guided him to the salon.
“I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if you could put more effort into recovering the jewel that was stolen from me.”
Sitting on the salon sofa, Duke Antoni didn’t even take off his gloves as he urgently made his request.
“You mean the obsidian?”
“Yes, the Black Tear of Banyole.”
“We are treating this matter with the utmost seriousness. Unfortunately, the thief who stole your treasure is quite elusive, making it difficult to apprehend immediately.”
“It’s quite a valuable item, you see…”
The tea hadn’t even arrived yet.
Julian found the duke’s haste strange.
With his wealth and title, he could easily obtain another jewel.
The way he clung to a rather ordinary obsidian was suspicious.
Thinking that, Julian tried to reassure him.
“We will catch the thief. Please don’t be too impatient. This particular thief doesn’t sell stolen goods. Once we catch them, your treasure will return to you.”
“Well, of course! It’s not something that can be sold as—!”
Duke Antoni abruptly shut his mouth mid-sentence.
Julian narrowed his eyes and asked,
“What do you mean by that?”
“N-No, it’s nothing. I just meant… while it may not be highly valuable to others, it holds personal meaning for me. In any case, I hope you’ll put more effort into it.”
“…I understand.”
Knowing the true value of the Black Tear of Banyole, Duke Antoni stammered as he stood up.
Then, looking down with distaste at the young Captain of the Guard who didn’t even flinch in the presence of a duke, he thought bitterly:
‘Probably because the Crown Prince uses him like his right hand. Or maybe just because he’s Ober’s son. That man never knew how to show respect to nobles.’
‘What would a lowborn like you do with something like that? Stop dragging your feet and find the thief, you insolent bastard.’
Cursing internally, Duke Antoni left the salon.
Julian escorted him to the front door, then turned toward the stairs.
“Emilia, you can come out now.”
He had noticed that his sister had been hiding and eavesdropping ever since the duke had burst in.
At his words, Hera appeared, looking sheepish.
“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop…”
“Come here.”
He beckoned her toward the salon.
The tea meant for Duke Antoni had finally arrived.
“Have a cup with me.”
*
What Hera learned from living with the Tolin siblings: Julian Tolin was more reserved than she had thought.
Back when she first woke up, he had smiled and talked more than usual—likely because he was overjoyed to see his sister alive. But in truth, he was the quiet type.
Still, Julian didn’t make Hera uncomfortable.
He had a clean and delicate demeanor that made her feel protected whenever she was near him.
For someone like Hera, who had grown up alone without siblings, this was a strange and unfamiliar happiness.
“How much of your memory has returned?”
As she neared the end of her tea, Julian finally spoke.
Hera lowered her gaze and answered.
These questions always filled her with guilt.
There was no Emilia Tolin inside this body anymore, but she couldn’t say the truth.
“…I’m sorry.”
Even though she knew he wasn’t scolding her, she couldn’t lift her head.
Julian poured more tea into her cup and asked,
“Why don’t you ask anything about yourself?”
“Sorry?”
“People who’ve lost their memories usually try hard to get them back.”
The amber-colored tea rippled in the cup as it filled.
Julian spoke quietly, like someone reading a dull novel.
“Normally, they want to know what kind of person they were, what they liked, who they were close to. But you’ve never asked about any of that.”
