Chapter 113
“No, it’s fine! Have a safe trip!”
Ibi waved her little hand once more.
The sight made the faces of those around her soften into warm smiles.
It had only been five days since Ibi arrived.
Yet in that short time, the atmosphere of the Caelan Ducal House had changed drastically.
The biggest change was that laughter never ceased at the breakfast table.
Originally, breakfast in the ducal household was always quiet and composed.
Of the three children of the Duke and Duchess, two were already adults and lived elsewhere, leaving only Arcel at home—and he was very reserved.
It wasn’t that the family was distant. The Duke and Duchess were still affectionate as ever, and while Arcel wasn’t openly warm, he always respected his parents deeply. Conversation between them never ceased.
The problem was, that was the extent of it.
Even extended relatives who occasionally visited were quiet, reserved people.
For the servants, that was convenient. But sometimes, when children from the village ran past the manor chattering loudly, the Duke’s residence would feel all the more silent in comparison.
But not anymore.
“And this morning, we went to cut roses together. These roses here, Arcel and I cut them ourselves!”
Ibi proudly pointed to the vase full of pink roses on the table.
Still jeweled with morning dew, the flowers bloomed fresh and fragrant.
“Oh my, what if our Ibi’s little hands get hurt?”
The Duchess looked at the small hands holding a fork with concern.
“It’s fine! The gardener gave me special gloves, so even if I touch thorns, it doesn’t hurt at all. Isn’t that right, Arcel?”
“Yeah. Even when you grip them tightly, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
Sitting beside her, Arcel agreed and picked the ripest grape from the bunch on the table, popping it gently into Ibi’s mouth.
After chewing and swallowing, Ibi went on to chatter about yesterday.
“And also, we went to the stream and caught fish. There was even one with a shiny blue belly—it was amazing…”
It wasn’t anything particularly extraordinary, but everyone in the ducal family smiled softly as they listened.
Laughter bubbled up here and there, mingling with Ibi’s excited, animated voice.
It was completely unlike the usual quiet breakfast—but no one thought it noisy.
The mansion itself had changed just as much.
Now, all the maids carried colorful ribbons and little combs in their pockets.
Whenever they encountered Ibi, they’d ask with delight if they could redo her hair, saying it had gotten a bit messy.
As a result, Ibi’s hairstyle changed several times a day.
The music room, closed for the school holidays, now had its windows thrown open each morning. Inside, Ibi and Arcel busily organized sheet music and books.
When the tidying was done, the sound of various instruments would spill out.
The melodies, woven together, drifted through the halls, and the people of the household found themselves humming along.
At first, they were simple tunes, but within a few days, the songs had become more difficult.
It was clear Ibi was learning quickly.
Even the Duke himself, who normally left for the palace at dawn, had taken several days off to remain at home.
A man who rarely rested, he now wandered the halls all day, seemingly searching for wherever Ibi and Arcel had gone.
But the person who changed the most was Arcel.
“Ibi! Let’s go play!”
Where had the quiet, reserved, composed young master gone? All that remained was a mischievous boy, eager to spend the day playing.
Arcel, who once wore perfectly pressed clothes without a wrinkle or missing button, now had dirt, grass stains, and dust all over his outfit as he climbed trees with Ibi.
The servants, seeing him act like a boy for the first time since they’d known him, felt an inexplicable lump in their throats.
Yes… our young master really is just a child after all.
After such joyous days, it was no wonder the Duke found it difficult to drag himself back to the palace.
“I’ll be going now.”
“Take care!”
Ibi waved goodbye as he departed.
How many times did he glance back while leaving?
Even after the carriage was far away, Ibi was still waving her hand.
Watching her, the Duke thought:
“What if my guess is wrong?”
And truthfully, the chances it was wrong were overwhelming.
That a child from a distant city’s orphanage could be Princess Ivienne? What were the odds of that?
The only things he had to go on were that Ibi was said to be seven years old, that she had the same hair and eye color as Clois and Lillian, and that she reminded him so strongly of Lillian.
“Of course, she might not actually be seven.”
Her age was only what the orphanage had claimed.
Even now, though healthier and rounder after eating well, she was still smaller than other children her age.
If she were even a year off, she couldn’t possibly be Princess Ivienne.
“Besides… Empress Lillian really did leap from the walls holding Ivienne.”
The commander of the besieging army at the time was superstitious—he feared the curse of killing a mother and newborn.
And he feared Clois’s vengeance if word got back to him.
So, cowardly, he demanded that Lillian throw herself down instead.
Perhaps he thought sparing himself from personally killing them would ease his conscience.
“A useless choice, in the end.”
Because Clois slaughtered every last soldier in that army with his own hands.
As the Duke neared the palace, the smile that lingered in his home was gone, replaced with deep worry etched on his face.
“The problem is, the only person who confirmed the princess’s corpse was His Majesty.”
Clois himself had carried his wife and child’s decaying bodies back to be buried, not allowing anyone else to touch them.
Even the Duke had only been able to watch from afar.
“So the only way to know the details… is to ask His Majesty directly.”
But even as Clois’s closest friend, he could not summon the courage.
“If I’m mistaken… then I’d only reopen His Majesty’s wounds for nothing.”
Since his coronation, Clois’s condition had only worsened year by year.
But miraculously, this year he had begun to recover—he even smiled occasionally in council meetings.
How long had it been since the Duke last saw such a sight?
But what if, by asking, he forced Clois to recall those dark memories?
Wouldn’t he fall back into despair?
The Duke arrived at the palace still unable to decide.
Then he heard commotion in the outer corridor.
“What do you mean I can’t take him? I came to pick him up!”
“But, Marquis, if you take Elisha, what are we supposed to do? Without Elisha, the other horses won’t listen!”
Turning his head, the Duke saw Marquis Ragselv arguing with a palace staff member.
“Hey, Curtis. Long time no see.”
The Duke greeted his old friend, father of Ruska.
“Oh? Edgar! You’re late today. Got something good hidden at home?”
“Something good, indeed… there’s a very cute child.”
At that, Marquis Ragselv narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“What nonsense are you spouting? Did you eat something bad?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Arcel told me Ibi’s visiting your house in two days. If she’d be an unwelcome guest, tell me—I’ll keep her with me.”
“Don’t talk rubbish.”
The Marquis clicked his tongue.
“I’m here for Elisha, not for any Ibi. Ruska spent all of yesterday throwing himself down the stairs from the third floor to the first unless Elisha was with him. Now tell me, just who is this Ibi kid…”
Despite his grumbling, he kept urging the staff to hurry and fetch Elisha. Clearly, he was preparing to welcome their guest after all.
“Curtis.”
“What now?”
“You still remember Lillian’s face, don’t you?”
At the name Lillian, the Marquis’s expression stiffened.
He waited until the staff member was out of earshot, then spoke in a low voice.
“Of course. How could I forget her?”
He owed his life to Lillian, who had once healed his grave injuries.
That was why, even though she told him to simply call her by name, he always addressed her with respect.
“Then… when Ruska’s friend arrives, keep a close eye on her.”
“What? What are you getting at?”
“I can’t explain now. But when you see her, you’ll understand. And if you don’t, then never mind it.”
“You’re muttering nonsense. Anyway, where are you headed?”
“To His Majesty, of course.”
“That’s unusual. You don’t often meet him.”
The two of them had been Clois’s greatest supporters in his rise to the throne.
But contrary to what people imagined, they didn’t visit him often.
They didn’t want rumors of abusing power through royal favor.
“Is it something important?”
“Yes. Very important. I need to deliver something personally.”
“Oh? Then I’ll come with you. I’ve heard His Majesty has brightened up lately—I’m curious. It’s been a long time since I saw him. What is it you’re delivering?”
“Something tremendous. Enough to make His Majesty leap to his feet.”
The Marquis gave him a puzzled look.
“What, a warrant to execute that traitor Shiren?”
He referred to the one rebel they’d never managed to capture.
“Not that.”
“Then what could it be?”
“Something very cute.”
“…?”
The Marquis finally gave up questioning.
Instead, he clicked his tongue.
“As if something ‘cute’ would make His Majesty leap to his feet.”
But moments later, he saw it with his own eyes.
“Your Majesty, I’ve brought a letter from Ibi Elden.”
“What!”
The moment the Duke produced a dainty envelope, decorated with a clumsy squirrel-like doodle, Clois—who had been sitting expressionless—sprang to his feet like lightning.
