Chapter 52
Maia quickly hid the statue and Hyperion’s reply under her pillow and blanket.
“Yes.”
Creak—
Light spilled into the dim room that had been relying solely on the faint starlight.
An elderly lady, her fine silver hair neatly pinned up, slowly stepped inside.
“You left the window open.”
“…Yes.”
Trying to mask her awkwardness, Maia closed the window as she replied.
The old lady, Lady Hansberg, gazed quietly at her granddaughter before speaking.
“There’s a letter from your mother.”
“…Mother?”
Maia’s fingers pressed together at the sudden question.
“Yes. From your mother in the capital. …My dear, you might be a little surprised, but hear me out.”
Lady Hansberg sat down on the edge of the bed and clasped Maia’s small shoulders with her wrinkled hands.
Her sky-blue eyes, unable to hide their unease, met Maia’s as she spoke in a low voice.
“His Majesty the Emperor wishes to meet you.”
Maia couldn’t muster any reaction.
Seeing her granddaughter frozen like a statue, Lady Hansberg’s expression softened with pity as she continued.
“You know that His Majesty holds your mother in high regard. This time, he has expressed a wish to see you in person. It is not something we can refuse… So Maia, when your mother arrives in two weeks, you’ll go up to the capital together.”
“Why… why?”
Fear and confusion surged through Maia’s mind like a storm.
The Emperor’s illegitimate child. The daughter of his mistress.
None of it had ever been confirmed, yet the whispers had made it impossible for young Maia to tell what was truth and what was rumor.
But why… why now, of all times?
“If I don’t go…”
Her lips trembled as she barely managed to speak.
“What nonsense is that? Absolutely not!”
Lady Hansberg’s firm grip on her shoulders made Maia fall silent.
“Maia, you’re too young to understand, but this is His Majesty’s command. We cannot go against his will.”
Her voice softened belatedly, trying to soothe her. Maia lowered her pale face slowly.
That day too, Hyperion entered the forest path to meet Maia.
But what greeted him was the sight of her quietly sobbing.
“Are you afraid?”
He repeated the vague word she had murmured through her tears.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Maia replied,
“They say I have to go to the capital. That I have to meet His Majesty in person. …I’m scared, I don’t want to go.”
Ah. Hyperion’s expression hardened.
“Maia.”
“He… with my mother… my mother…”
Her words broke apart into hiccuping sobs. Hyperion looked down at the little girl, a tangle of emotions twisting inside him.
…That bastard.
He thought of the Emperor, Sahar, and his golden eyes glinted sharply.
But what could he do? For now…
He bent one knee. Sensing his movement, Maia lifted her face from where she’d buried it in her arms.
Her small, pale face was blotched with tears.
Hyperion opened his mouth, but then changed what he’d meant to say.
“Of course you’re scared. It’s only natural. I understand.”
Then, he pulled her into his arms.
It was an impulsive gesture.
“…Rih?”
Her crying paused in surprise as she whispered in a voice barely audible.
Hyperion silently tightened his hold on the small child.
His own calm voice seemed to echo in his ears.
“But if you don’t go, your mother will be put in a difficult position.”
Maia blinked, her eyes brimming with tears.
Mother.
Just the name alone always brought distance, and a pang of sorrow.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t love her.
In truth, Maia loved her mother more than anyone in the world.
“Mother? …I don’t want that.”
“Right?”
Hearing that pure answer—born not from reasoning, but from a child’s instinctive love—Hyperion gave a faint, wry smile.
He turned to look at her, a small twig of flowers suddenly in his hand.
“…You can’t avoid going. So instead, I’ll give you a gift. Here, a magic branch.”
At the word “magic,” Maia’s eyes lit up. She took the branch and examined it closely.
Then she frowned.
“This is just a hawthorn twig.”
It was nothing special—an ordinary bit of branch. She muttered the words with disappointment.
Hyperion’s bittersweet, almost sorrowful smile shifted into a teasing grin.
“You just can’t see what’s special about it because you’re a fool. It’s not like any ordinary branch.”
Fool?
Maia puffed out her cheeks and glared at him, like a squirrel with its mouth full of berries.
Hyperion poked one of her soft cheeks lightly, letting the air out.
“Ow…”
Rubbing her cheek in mock pain, Maia heard him say,
“So take that with you and have a good trip.”
She stopped rubbing her cheek and looked at him.
He met her gaze and said,
“It’s enchanted with magic that will make all your fear disappear. It will help you.”
“…Really…?”
She asked skeptically, unsure if she could believe him.
In truth, no magic had been cast at all. But for children at her age, belief was more important than magic.
Belief in him.
Hyperion answered with deliberate confidence.
“Has my magic ever failed before?”
“…No.”
“Then don’t tremble like a rabbit before the Emperor. Go with the pride of a young lion.”
From what he’d seen, Maia’s trust in herself was fragile—so delicate it could shatter at a single word or look.
And one who cannot trust themselves can never summon courage.
He had no real way to strengthen that self-belief right now.
But if she could face hardship believing in “magic” and overcome it herself, then that would become her own source of confidence.
Hyperion smiled with boyish confidence.
She would grow stronger one day. Even if it took a long time.
“…Thank you.”
Maia murmured, her eyes darting slightly.
Looking at her face, Hyperion was seized by a strange feeling.
Why was he going this far for her? He didn’t know.
Hyperion thought back to what he knew about the current Emperor, Sahar.
“Yes, Tower Master.”
…Aside from seeing him at the coronation, there wasn’t much else.
Tch, if I’d known, I might have paid more attention to the brat when he was young.
Hyperion felt an unusual twinge of regret for the past.
“…So that’s her.”
Perched in the branches of the dense trees lining the Hansberg estate’s main gate, he peered down.
A carriage rolled to a gentle stop.
He focused on the movement inside, then caught sight of her as she stepped out into the clear morning sunlight—and was struck.
Short, silvery-white hair swayed over her shoulders, scattering fine glimmers of light.
Her sharply balanced features, tightly pressed lips, and deep eyes framed by fluttering lashes were beautiful enough to captivate any onlooker completely.
Her eyes—like melted lilac petals—must have come from her mother.
Hyperion studied them closely.
She was a stunning beauty.
And so much like her daughter that no one could mistake their relation.
If Maia’s black, straight hair—likely inherited from her father—gave her a serene and reserved air, then Lavina radiated a dazzling, aristocratic aura that commanded attention.
“Lavina.”
“It’s been a long time, Mother. Have you been well?”
Unlike Maia, who often trembled with teary eyes but could also smile brightly, Lavina wore a perfectly cold, rational mask.
Her voice held no trace of emotion, cool as ice.
Hyperion arched an eyebrow.
Well, that’s unexpected. Was Sahar into that sort of woman?
