Chapter: 02
Entrusting the Prince
The Empress made up her mind and looked at Iana. The woman who had relentlessly chased after Karl until recently now entered the room with a completely indifferent expression, as if nothing had ever happened. Even at the last banquet, her intense eyes and flushed cheeks had been overwhelming, even to the Empress herself. Now, the Empress found herself wishing for those moments back, and she couldn’t help but purse her lips in mild regret.
“But, Princess, do you truly have no interest in Karl anymore?”
“Yes. Not at all.”
The answer was so decisively blunt that it bordered on embarrassing. Clearing her throat, the Empress spoke again.
“Very well. As you said, we will lay the railway from the duchy to Colmar. I entrust Karl to you.”
No, that’s not right. Iana frowned slightly. How could the Empress respond “Very well” to an answer meant to reject her? Iana, who had been expecting a furious outburst and to be sent away, gathered herself and spoke once more.
“Your Majesty, I do not believe this is a decision you can make alone. Once you have His Majesty the Emperor’s permission and all the necessary imperial documents, please contact me again.”
It was true that the Emperor’s permission was required. No emperor with a shred of sense would allow a railway from the duchy to Colmar to be built openly on imperial land. Iana thought this time, the Empress would finally show some discomfort and voice her refusal. However…
“Do as you say. We will prepare it within a few days.”
The Empress nodded, acquiescing without resistance. Iana looked on, a bit taken aback that all her demands had been accepted so easily. This time, she turned her gaze to Karl and spoke.
“Colmar is a resort, not a sanatorium or treatment facility. I will say it again—I am not a therapist. His Highness in that condition will obviously need several attendants. You may not know, but Colmar limits the number of servants allowed.”
“Even so, the dignity of royalty must be maintained. Shouldn’t at least dozens of attendants accompany him?”
The Empress’s annoyed remark drew a satisfied smile to Iana’s face.
“Even for royalty, only three attendants are allowed. Two for the royal family, one for nobility. Commoners are not permitted any attendants. Therefore, I must inform you that someone in His Highness’s current condition will be difficult to accommodate in Colmar.”
After Iana said, “Please only send him after he can move and manage daily life on his own,” the Empress unconsciously gripped the armrests of her chair. For royalty, even in perfect health, it was customary to have dozens of attendants—what nonsense was this? Moreover, if Karl hadn’t been ill, there would have been no reason to send him all the way to Colmar in the first place.
Everything she had endured and conceded so far had been for Karl. But didn’t Iana Marseille seem to increasingly reject Karl? How dare she! Furious, the Empress was about to throw the teacup in front of her at Iana when a warm hand gently grasped hers.
“Mother.”
The Empress’s eyes widened. The face that had seemed sickly just moments ago was now gone, replaced by a slightly thinner but otherwise familiar Karl. The bluish tint of his complexion and the loose shirt clearly indicated he was not yet fully recovered, but the sharpness of his eyes and, above all, the voice calling her “Mother” brought tears she could not hold back. Karl—her Karl—was back.
The astrologer had been right. Iana Marseille was undoubtedly the savior who could heal Karl. Simply being in the same room was enough to show such restorative power, and after a brief stay in Colmar with some rest and treatment, he would return to his original self.
The Empress sprang to her feet. The sudden movement caused the table to shift, sending the teacup she had been about to throw rolling to the floor.
“Young lady… you… you’ve seen Karl, haven’t you?”
The Empress grasped Iana’s hands, pressing them to her own forehead in gratitude, unaware of Iana’s rather sullen expression.
“Karl stood up and spoke. He looked at me and said, ‘Mother.’ It’s a miracle. Whatever you ask, I will grant it. Just say it. Just say it.”
It seemed the sly Prince Karl would inevitably end up in Colmar. Iana tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. The attendants, moved to tears, covered their mouths, while a few dashed outside to spread the news. By evening, the front page of the newspaper would likely read:
“Miracle! Iana Marseille Heals Prince Karl!”
The Empire would go wild over an article, completely untrue but thrilling and sensational. Her own dream of a peaceful, leisurely life would be blown far away.
Karl, secretly, sent Iana a cheeky smile.
“That brat!”
His first impression had clearly been misleading. The charming and kind Prince Frederick Karl Gosling had turned out to be a complete con. Iana felt a slight headache coming on.
Iana Marseille was no longer Iana Marseille. Even she could not fully explain how this had happened.
How had 87-year-old Marquis Alice Lemax suddenly become the 18-year-old Iana Marseille?
She had simply been enjoying the banquet.
“Your Grace, which designs do you think will be popular this fall?”
“Every fall, subtly colored silk dresses trend, don’t they? Nothing new there.”
Alice had recently purchased a large quantity of bamboo silk from the eastern continent. Now, as prototypes were being made, the fabric wasn’t widely known yet, but it could be dyed in sophisticated shades. Though slightly coarse, it was preferable in the chilly fall to fabrics that clung or sagged. While Alice silently smiled, a discussion about this season’s popular fall fabrics began nearby.
‘I could just ask the wives at home; they’d know far better than here.’
Word of mouth had already begun circulating among noblewomen, so asking her own wife or daughter would yield better insight. Alice surveyed the men around her, as if considering herself their golden ticket to wealth. She scoffed internally.
Since becoming the head of the Lemax family at 18, Alice had accomplished much, but she had never considered herself remarkable. Most of her successes came from observing what idle noblewomen at home liked and cared about. Knowing their tastes and interests was crucial.
Alice, enduring her uncomfortable body, came to these tedious banquets not for fun but to overhear noblewomen’s interests and imperial policies. Yet today, a far more entertaining spectacle drew her attention.
“So, Your Grace, if you would show just a little interest in our business…”
Ignoring the conversation around her, Alice’s gaze lingered on the children’s romantic antics nearby.
‘How cute they are!’
Fresh, lively, in the prime of youth. She had once been that age too, though her work had made the years fly by unnoticed. Occasionally regretful, Alice would have acted the same way in that situation, even if she could return to those days. Perhaps with supportive parents and a decent household like theirs, she might have chosen differently.
Shaking her head to rid herself of unnecessary thoughts, Alice focused once more on the romantic skirmish near the terrace.
On the terrace, Prince Karl glared at Iana Marseille with contempt. Alice clicked her tongue.
‘Oh, he likes her, so at least be a little gentle.’
It seemed Alice herself favored the dark hair and arrogant violet eyes. She found Princess Vivienne of Toulouse’s trembling reliance on Karl despicable and enjoyed seeing Iana Marseille look slightly more aggrieved.
Iana bit her lip, glaring at Princess Vivienne, and Karl, as if to protect Vivienne, stepped forward, hiding her behind himself. Alice clicked her tongue and shook her head.
“Ugh, what a clueless brat.”
The surrounding nobles, clearly not expecting such words directed at the imperial prince, looked bewildered. Alice, unconcerned, sipped her champagne. The normally sweet drink tasted bitter today—not because of the petty romantic drama, but genuinely bitter. She frowned, taking her eyes off Prince Karl.
“What the hell is this?”
She held the glass to the light. The clear yellow liquid had floating white powder along with bubbles. Sensing danger, Alice searched for Melen, who had handed her the glass. Just moments ago, he had been there, but now there was no trace.
“Where the hell did that brat run off to now?”
Alice ground her teeth. Since she was unmarried, the Lemax family had no heir. At the time she became the marquis, the family had been collapsing, so no one had paid attention. But as she built her business and expanded, the Lemax family became one of the Empire’s pillars. Relatives she had never seen began appearing almost daily, claiming to be her blood.
Alice initially scoffed but, after 40 years of endless interference, finally gave up.
“Just pick one of the decent Lemax boys and go with him.”
Thus, Melen became Alice’s heir. Outwardly, he seemed fine—handsome, diligent, with no bad habits in drinking, smoking, gambling, or drugs. Alice, however, considered him greedy for his abilities and tangled in complicated relationships with women.
