IOMB 80

CHAPTER 80…………………..

“If it’s someone you’re looking for, then without a doubt it must be by His Majesty the King’s order. And if you, as His Majesty’s close aide, have been dispatched yourself, that would mean the matter is a fairly serious one, wouldn’t it?”

Cordelia, counting off on her fingers as she struck every point, suddenly grinned and declared on her own:

“Fine, I’ll help you. You should feel honored.”

I knew this would happen. Tylein pressed his forehead as a sudden headache surged.

“Absolutely not!”

“Eh, why? Don’t you want the information I have? I probably know society circles better than you do.”

Of course she did. Unlike Kalia, who rarely visited the capital after becoming a countess, Cordelia had always been a leading figure in high society. For a moment, her bright smile almost tempted him, but Tylein shook his head firmly.

“No means no. I cannot involve someone who has nothing to do with this.”

His stiff, formal tone carried his determination to separate public duty from personal ties, but Cordelia unhesitatingly drove to the heart of it.

“That sounds strange. Isn’t it the opposite? It’s because I’m connected to Noah that you can’t leave me out.”

Tylein, struck speechless, could only stare back. Cordelia, in turn, gazed at him steadily.

“I don’t plan on stepping into anything too dangerous. I’ll help only as much as I can, and then I’ll wash my hands of it.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to return home right now? The person who pushed you down the stairs is likely still in your estate.”

“Which is exactly why I should stay. Mutual aid—it’s such a beautiful phrase, isn’t it?”

Though he could guess her real intentions easily enough, Tylein listened in silence.

“Either way, the culprit who pushed me down the stairs has to be caught. Two people searching are better than one.”

“So, you’re saying you want me to let you assist with that? And in return, you’ll provide information about the person I’m looking for?”

“You catch on quick.”

Resting her chin in her hands and smiling sweetly, Cordelia watched him. Tylein rubbed the back of his neck.

“My nephew must be very resilient to have endured you for so long.”

Unlike the occasional polite exchanges in social gatherings, actually getting to know her made him realize just how headstrong and willful she truly was.

Leaving everything else aside—was she not afraid? Any ordinary noblewoman would be too shaken after nearly dying, or leave such matters to her servants, instead of investigating the incident herself.

Independent, or more like a wild colt—how could she be so completely opposite in temperament from his nephew?

“Noah amazes me too. He’s so kind, I thought I’d have him wrapped around my finger in no time… but he’s stubborn as an ox.”

“He’s always been the sort to think of others before himself.”

At the mention of Noah, Tylein’s navy-blue eyes softened with warmth. Cordelia, noticing the look, opened her mouth.

“Right, since I met you, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the one who arranged for Noah to work as a painter, aren’t you?”

She could understand that Noah liked painting. But he could have painted inside the mansion just as well. It was unimaginable that Noah, with his temperament, would ever want fame, and even more absurd that he’d insist on going outside while under confinement.

Someone must have intervened.

“You told me once, didn’t you? That your relationship with Noah was like Lora and the Lion.”

Lora and the Lion was a story included in a children’s anthology, adapted from old folk tales by an aristocratic writer. It told of Lora, a girl abandoned by her parents, who was discovered by a limping lion.

Instead of eating her, the lion cared for her and returned her to her village. But her impoverished parents tried to kill her again. The lion killed them to save her, only to be betrayed in the end—Lora lured it into a trap and killed it, then wept over its body.

Cordelia remembered reading it as a child and recoiling, thinking, What kind of story is this?

“Do you feel guilty, then?”

If Tylein was the lion, that interpretation made sense.

“If he’s that talented, he’s bound to be noticed. And that only increases the chance his identity will be exposed. If Noah’s secret is revealed, the one who suffers most is you. So why go so far?”

Tylein sighed knowingly.

“It seems you’ve been to see the mural at the Grand Temple.”

You’ve come, Sir Tylein?

Even after mother and son had been confined, Tylein occasionally visited their mansion under the pretext of surveillance.

Unlike Iren, who always refused to meet him, Noah at least showed his face. But Tylein knew that was only out of fear of the power he held over their lives. That was why he carefully managed how often he visited—not too frequently, but not so rarely that the servants might start neglecting them.

That day, as usual, he headed to Noah’s workshop on the first floor. The butler Gerald had reported that Noah spent all his time there lately. Judging from how much he liked the supplies prepared for him, it had been worth the effort.

For a knight to prepare such materials had cost Tylein no small amount of thought. He’d had no trouble with Iren’s tastes, but for Noah, without Irens’s advice, he wouldn’t have made it in time.

Opening the door, he was stunned.

There was Noah, sitting on the floor before a massive canvas that dwarfed him. White sunlight streamed in through the window.

The canvas was filled with greenery—flowers and trees crowded every inch, as though the garden itself had been transposed onto it. The rough brushstrokes made the flowers seem to sway in an invisible breeze.

In the center, a table stood with teacups, a teapot, and pretty cookies.

No people were depicted, but three animals wandered nearby: a rabbit in a black hat, a squirrel clutching a jeweled hairpin, and a white crow with a paintbrush in its beak.

The use of light was breathtaking: golden sunlight slanted from the upper right, spilling across the scene. Nature bathed in that light looked achingly beautiful.

Why was it, then—though loneliness lingered in the painting, it was strangely warm, even comforting? He had never thought of himself as sentimental, yet this picture moved him deeply.

When Noah turned at the sound of his steps and greeted him, Tylein, uncharacteristically, stammered.

“Th–this painting…”

“Oh, I wanted to try working big just once, so I used a lot of cloth. Does it look all right? I only just finished it.”

“More than all right…”

In that instant, Tylein thought: What a waste.

That he alone could see this painting—that was the waste. He had known Noah liked painting, but he had never thought about his talent.

“Thank goodness.”

“What do you mean?”

“That you don’t think the canvas was wasted.”

Smiling proudly, Noah’s reply left Tylein speechless. At just seventeen, without a proper teacher, to create something like this—it was anything but ordinary.

With such talent, why do you look so unsure of yourself?

“It’s magnificent. I’d buy it myself if I could.”

Even praising him was hard. Tylein, who had never been called inarticulate, found his tongue tied only at times like this.

But Noah only waved his hand lightly.

“Huh? It’s fine, if you want it you can just have it.”

“That won’t do.”

“What use do I have for money? It would only add to my danger.”

He valued his own life with chilling accuracy. No longer calling him “uncle,” Noah spoke politely, rejecting even the idea of owning wealth.

He was leaving no room for suspicion, showing himself harmless.

It was absurd and unjust—that an innocent boy had to bear such a burden.

“Then, if not payment… may I ask a favor instead?”

“What is it?”

“Mother stays indoors too much. Even if guarded by soldiers, could you allow her just one outing?”

He added that he himself would remain behind. Seeing him, so careful and fearful, made Tylein’s heart ache. Clenching his fists, he silently rebuked himself.

He had known their relationship might warp, but all he could do was hide his grief. He had no right to these feelings. Yet he could not stand by and do nothing.

“As I promised, should anything happen, I will take full responsibility. Please grant this request.”

Tylein had pleaded with His Majesty for days, even showing him the paintings. Persuading such a rational man had been difficult.

In the end, it was the Queen who tipped the scales. With her support, the King reluctantly agreed.

“The mansion may be restrictive, but it is safe. If he goes outside, he will face more malice than he ever did as a prince. Are you certain his wishes and your intentions align?”

Tylein calmly answered the sharp rebuke.

“Choice is only possible when one has experienced something. I wish to give him at least a little more opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”

“Yes.”

The King looked down at him for a long moment, then scoffed.

“You are pitiably small-minded.”

A rare cutting remark, from a man who rarely judged others. Tylein could only smile awkwardly.

“I know.”

“So let us say it was guilt.”

Summing up his feelings with brevity, Tylein shrugged.

“Did you know? Ian resembles my mother very much.”

Cordelia tilted her head at his sudden, random remark.