Chapter 42
08. Groping Through the Darkness (3)
Before he was a foreigner, Andrew was a journalist sent to cover the Leán Revolution. According to the official statements released by the revolutionaries, there were supposed to be eight members of the royal family imprisoned in the Eastern Tower. However, when Andrew entered the room with the revolutionaries led by Edmond Lambert just before the execution, only seven awaited them.
One person was missing.
And it was immediately clear who. The Second Prince, Léonard, was gone.
If it had been the Crown Prince’s young children who were missing, Andrew might have understood. He would’ve thought the revolutionaries had chosen to show mercy to the innocent. But the children were still there, trembling with fear, barely clinging to the Crown Princess, who kept her back straight as if to feign composure.
Andrew Leighton bit down hard on his lip.
Does he know?
If he does, why did he ask me to cover this?
Did the exclusive story he granted me include not only the gruesome end of the royals but also the mysterious disappearance of the Second Prince?
He had meant to ask as soon as they came down, but the chaos had distracted him. Now, the thought struck him with a jolt. He exhaled and calmed his nerves. One thing at a time. He had just been offered some answers.
“So, anyway… who were the two who opposed it?” he asked.
“Auguste Germain, and Anaïs Belmartier,” Arianne replied.
For a moment, Andrew wondered if he had misheard her. He blinked at her in disbelief, but Arianne nodded again as if she’d been expecting exactly that reaction.
To be fair, Auguste Germain made sense. According to Andrew’s prior research, the lawyer had long been publicly opposed to the death penalty itself. He’d drawn the ire of royals and nobles alike for his stance, so his opposition was understandable.
It was Anaïs Belmartier who baffled Andrew.
Anaïs Belmartier had lost her family at the hands of Crown Prince Henri and had narrowly escaped execution herself. Based on everything he had uncovered, no one among the revolutionary leadership had more reason to despise the royal family. She had practically become the symbol of the revolution’s cry to topple the monarchy. And yet she voted against the execution? While everyone else voted in favor?
Then, suddenly, Andrew recalled the silver-haired woman he had seen sitting beside Charlotte Bernard in the corridor at the top of the tower, face buried in her hands.
Could that woman have been Anaïs Belmartier?
Andrew cursed inwardly. Of course, given he had entered under a concealment barrier, there was no way he could have interviewed her—but still, the thought of missing the chance to see her with his own eyes gnawed at him. Among all the famous revolutionaries in Leán, she was the one he had always been most curious about.
“Why… why did she oppose it? Anaïs Belmartier, I mean.”
“That’s your homework,” Arianne replied smoothly.
“So, you’re saying you don’t want to tell me,” Andrew said dryly.
“You don’t think it’s a little too greedy to expect me to spoon-feed you everything?” she retorted, tapping her folded arms with one finger. Her golden eyes gleamed mischievously.
⚜ ⚜ ⚜
The townhouse where the three of them lived was in a good part of town, close enough to the commercial district that even walking with a child wasn’t too burdensome.
Anaïs had heard both Marin’s grumbling—that rent would’ve been double in normal times—and Stefania’s relief that rent was cheap precisely because of these turbulent days. As she walked along the neatly paved roadside holding Marie’s hand, Anaïs found herself thinking about those “turbulent times.”
For nearly a hundred years, the southern region of Leán had been at peace. Once, it had been a troubled area due to constant skirmishes along the border—hence the fortress where Count Basbourg now resided—but no one remembered those times anymore. And yet here they were, suddenly caught in the fires of a brutal civil war.
Anaïs wondered which era the people here would find more painful: the reign of Antoine XIII, or this current period of revolution and war.
A time when they starved, were exploited, and lived in fear of sudden violence in their own neighborhoods… versus a time when they still starved but now also had bombs raining from the sky.
Perhaps people found the latter more agonizing—precisely because it was the result of rising up to change the former. To watch the world they believed would transform begin to crumble around them—what kind of despair was that?
“To say nothing has changed” was an expression that left Anaïs hollow.
It shouldn’t be the same.
It shouldn’t be worse.
She bit her lower lip without realizing. That was when Marie looked up at her.
“Miss Anaïs?”
“Y-yes, Marie?”
“You look like you’re about to cry.”
About to cry.
In truth, she didn’t even have the strength left to cry. Feeling guilty for worrying the child, Anaïs forced a smile and used her free hand to gently stroke Marie’s head.
By the time they reached the commercial district of Saint-Cordé, finding an open clothing store was not too difficult. Most of the shops that were closed specialized in custom-made luxury fashion, but the ready-to-wear stores were mostly still open.
Anaïs took a stroll down a small street lined with boutique shops, observing which storefront held Marie’s gaze the longest. On their second pass, she entered that very shop first. Marie’s face brightened slightly, and Anaïs smiled to herself—though she didn’t realize she had.
“Welcome, ma’am!”
“I’m here to look at some winter clothes for the child,” Anaïs said.
The shop owner, clearly excited—perhaps it had been a while since a real customer came in—quickly led them to the children’s section. Marie had an excellent eye. Even Anaïs, who had no fashion sense to speak of, could tell that the clothes were not only beautiful but sturdy. With flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Marie began carefully examining one piece after another. Anaïs stood silently, content just watching her.
“You’re not her mother, are you? Sisters, perhaps?” the owner asked casually.
“Oh, no. She’s my friend’s younger sister. I’m just looking after her for a bit.”
“Then… would you not mind if I said she’s absolutely adorable?”
“Not at all.”
“I thought so. You seem to care for her deeply.”
Is that so? Anaïs chuckled awkwardly, and the shopkeeper nodded enthusiastically before continuing.
“We also have beautiful and warm women’s wear, including custom options. While the young lady browses, you might take a look around yourself.”
Anaïs hesitated. “Uh… okay…” she said vaguely, clearly not intending to shop for herself. She already had enough winter clothes, left safely in the townhouse when she’d been hiding in Dunant. She wasn’t the type to buy clothes often. The shopkeeper, catching on to her lack of enthusiasm, chuckled and teased, “That sounded so lifeless.”
Just then—
“Miss Anaïs! Marie!”
The now-familiar cheerful voice chimed in, accompanied by the jingle of the shop’s doorbell. Anaïs spun around, and Marie poked her head toward the sound too. A stylishly dressed woman with flowing chocolate-brown hair tied back strode quickly up to them.
“Well, fancy meeting you here! Out shopping?”
“For Marie’s winter clothes. It’s getting cold.”
“Only Marie’s? What about yours?”
The voice belonged to none other than Stefania Valli, the journalist from the Kingdom of Plana. She looked genuinely disappointed. The shopkeeper, not missing a beat, immediately chimed in, complimenting Anaïs’s beauty and figure, urging her to pick at least one outfit as a treat for herself. The praise was fluent, practiced, and entirely overwhelming.
“I-I really don’t need anything. I already have plenty of winter clothes,” Anaïs stammered.
“Miss Anaïs,” Stefania said solemnly, “where I come from, living under the same roof with an attractive man and not buying at least one new outfit per season is considered a crime against civilization. Do you have any idea how rare someone like Monsieur Serdieu is? I’ve never seen a man that handsome in my life.”
And just like that, the topic shifted—seamlessly—to Léonard.
