Chapter 13
I never thought the fact that I always stayed home at the ducal estate and rarely attended social gatherings would come back to bite me like this.
These days, I have no idea what the nobles do for fun.
Since I’ve come out after so long, maybe I should use this chance to gather some information — about the Eastern Front, or perhaps rumors about the Saint.
If it’s Damian, he might know a good place. So I asked him honestly,
“I’d like to go somewhere relaxing, maybe where people chat casually. Would you happen to know a place like that?”
Damian rested his chin on his hand, tilting his head slightly as if in thought.
“As it happens, Countess Loren is hosting a salon today.”
“Ah.”
I’d heard about her from the maids — they said she was a cheerful, sociable woman.
However, she was known to have anti-imperial tendencies. Not exactly a pure aristocrat, since she was also friendly toward commoners.
“Wouldn’t people be uncomfortable if we showed up?”
Those who feel uncomfortable tend to hold their tongues, which would make it hard to relax. But at my words, Damian’s lips curled into a smile.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Rose. How else do you think I knew Countess Loren’s salon was being held today?”
Come to think of it—how did he know? I looked at him, startled.
“Don’t tell me you’re the actual owner?”
If so, that would explain why he’d pretend to be anti-imperial — a clever disguise.
The words burst out in surprise, but Damian only shook his head.
“Nothing like that. I’m just a sponsor under someone else’s name. It’s quite an interesting salon, actually.”
I hadn’t expected Damian to be interested in sponsoring something that supported commoners. Perhaps it was mere curiosity, but still…
The thought amused me, yet unease crept in. If that’s the case, my plan to flee later and assume a false identity through the salon might have to be scrapped.
Still, just in case…
I clung to the faint hope that he wasn’t involved in running it directly.
“Have you ever been there yourself?”
Damian nodded.
“I have. But to warn you in advance, there I’m not the Crown Prince — I’m Baron Wijes.”
Ah. Then I definitely shouldn’t consider Countess Loren’s salon as a place to hide in the future.
A pity.
I really thought Damian would be more of an authoritarian and greedy type…
I murmured blankly,
“Then I suppose I’ll be Baroness Wijes there.”
Using an alias wasn’t particularly difficult.
It wouldn’t earn me any social advantage, but it would make it easier to hear rumors about the Eastern Front and the Saint.
Without the burden of my real identity, mingling with people would be much easier.
I steadied myself again. If I used a false identity from the start, I might even build useful connections here.
But he must’ve already prepared for our disguises, right? I glanced sideways at Damian. His cheeks were faintly flushed as he smiled.
Countess Loren’s mansion was far from the luxurious estates surrounding the Imperial Palace.
We stopped by a villa to change clothes and sent the imperial carriage away, switching to a private one — fitting for a baron and his wife too poor to own a family carriage.
When we stated our purpose at the gate, a servant came to escort us inside.
His clothes weren’t made of expensive fabric, but the collar was crisply starched, and his bright expression said much about how the Countess treated her staff.
“Please, this way to the drawing room.”
The mansion was pleasantly cool and airy, with large windows showcasing a beautifully maintained garden.
There were no rare plants, but the green lawn and wildflowers blended harmoniously.
The drawing room door was wide open — no need to knock. The servant stepped forward and announced,
“Baron and Baroness Wijes have arrived.”
The red-tinged carpet and sofas filled the room with warmth.
People lounging or chatting cheerfully all turned their gazes toward us — or more precisely, toward me.
My palms grew damp. It was the first time in this life I’d faced such a large, casual crowd.
Would I be able to handle this?
Just as tension began to stiffen my shoulders, a woman standing before a canvas walked over to us.
Her hair was elegantly pinned up, and despite the summer season, she wore a dark green dress that covered her neck.
Her eyes, lowered slightly, were a misty gray like early morning fog.
She addressed Damian first.
“It’s been a while, Baron Wijes.”
“Indeed, Countess Loren.”
Damian gave a polite bow. I quickly followed, gripping my skirt and bending slightly.
So this was Countess Loren. Contrary to rumors of her being bold and cheerful, she looked rather stern in person.
Then her gaze shifted to me.
“And this lady with you is…?”
“Lona Wijes, my wife.”
Damian lied smoothly, without the slightest hesitation.
Had he planned to bring me here all along? He even seemed to have prepared my name in advance.
“Ah-ha!”
The Countess snapped her fingers — the description of her being vivacious fit perfectly. Her voice rang like a chime.
“So you’re the wife I’ve heard about! I was wondering who you’d bring, since you’re always so devoted to her.”
Countess Loren grinned broadly, her earlier stiffness vanishing into playfulness.
“You may call me Charlotte, dear. Come in, I have a marvelous guest I’d like you to meet.”
Charlotte strode ahead energetically, while others greeted Damian warmly.
“Baron! Long time no see!”
“Now I understand why you never brought your wife before! With someone like her, I’d be protective too— oh dear, forgive me, don’t look at me like that!”
What kind of look was that supposed to be? I tried to peek at his face, but Damian was already wearing that usual, unreadable smile.
As we walked further in, I saw a table set up for card games.
An old man seated at the far end raised his hand when he saw Damian.
“Baron Wijes! We’re starting a poker game soon. Care to join?”
Judging by his address, he was definitely a noble, though his attire suggested he was no higher than a viscount.
I was startled by the casual tone, but Damian responded smoothly.
“After how badly you lost last time? Perhaps you should restrain yourself today.”
The old man chuckled, tugging at his beard.
“Ah, must you bring that up again!”
“Come now, old friend,” a middle-aged woman across from him teased. “You should try to win back a few coins this time — don’t let him take everything like before.”
Judging by her finer dress, she was probably of higher rank — perhaps a countess.
If she was so open with people of lower titles, she might be someone worth knowing later.
For now, though, I had to keep my head down and stay cautious; someone here might recognize me.
Thankfully, Charlotte soon called for us.
“Over here! There’s something I’d like to show you!”
She led us to the far corner of the drawing room, separated from the others by a few partitions and thick dark curtains.
Inside stood a glass display case.
The atmosphere shifted immediately — the curtains made the space feel almost isolated from the rest.
Charlotte turned to face us, then bowed slightly.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince, Lady Moore — it’s an honor.”
So she had recognized us. I wasn’t even surprised. A countess not recognizing the Crown Prince would’ve been absurd.
But judging from her earlier behavior, she must’ve guessed my identity based on Damian’s conduct.
Damian raised a hand.
“There are many people here, Countess. Please, act naturally for now.”
Then he gestured toward the display case.
“You said you had something to show us, did you not?”
Charlotte nodded and placed her hand atop the case.
“As I mentioned in my letter, a remarkable item has recently come into my possession.”
A letter? So this was why Damian had suggested coming here?
Her tone carried excitement as she stepped aside to let us see clearly.
I couldn’t see much because Damian stood protectively in front of me, but then he leaned closer to inspect it.
“What is this?” he asked.
Curiosity prickled. I stepped forward to see—
And froze.
Behind the shining glass was an object far too familiar to mistake.
Why is that here…?
A dark crimson leather-bound book, embossed with strange, intricate markings along its edge.
It was identical in design to my diary.
Though thinner and more worn — as if some pages were missing — it was unmistakably the same.
Charlotte spoke proudly.
“We obtained it from a village near Vaut.”
Vaut — a city bordering the Land of Death in the Empire’s south-central region.
Shock rendered me speechless.
Damian, noticing my silence, asked casually,
“Then you acquired it through treasure hunters?”
And he reached out, placing his hand lightly on the glass.
