~Chapter 17~
“Ah, I—I apologize, Your Majesty.”
Startled, Aisha bowed her head deeply. The emperor laughed. She hadn’t changed a bit.
She’d been a candidate for empress, so he’d seen her often even before coming of age.
She never hid her feelings when they met. That honesty had never seemed unpleasant to him.
“Just a joke. Come, sit down. I think you liked tart fruit tea, didn’t you? It’s been three years since I last poured you tea, so my memory’s a little hazy. Am I right?”
“…Yes.”
Her pretty lips curved with a shy happiness that he remembered. Terius couldn’t help but smile.
Aisha asked,
“By the way, Your Majesty, was something happening at the palace? The maids and the whole atmosphere seemed restless.”
“Ah, that. Don’t worry—a very clever young lady helped resolve it all.”
“…A young lady?”
“Yes. Her name is Rachel Ingrave. Have you heard of her?”
Aisha murmured as she lifted her teacup.
“I’ve heard the name… She’s called the Jewel of Olsher, I think…”
“Oh? Now that you mention it—”
The emperor recalled what he’d forgotten: if Aisha Rayblin was called the Flower of Olsher, then before her engagement to the impostor, Rachel Ingrave had once been called the Jewel of Olsher.
“No wonder her name sounded so familiar.”
As he nodded, Aisha quietly gazed at him. Then her head tilted ever so slightly.
Her orange eyes gleamed oddly for a moment.
Her lips curled in a subtle, enigmatic way. While the emperor changed the subject, he caught her expression and looked at her.
“My lady?”
“Oh! Forgive me, I was distracted for a moment…”
He waved it off, repeating his question.
“It’s fine. I was just wondering how your time in the Mage Tower was.”
“…Ah…”
Aisha recalled her memories with a happy expression. The emperor smiled, thinking even her rare, unfamiliar expressions hadn’t changed.
That day, Aisha Rayblin spent a long time in conversation with the emperor, then returned to the Rayblin ducal residence. The return of the Flower of the Empire—a story that should have shaken the capital—quickly faded in the shadow of the false Valencia prince’s scandal.
No one realized it yet.
But it was the start of true change.
Now, the court and the entire social world boiled with the scandal of the fake prince.
The Duke of Valencia’s request for annulment had been granted.
All the crimes and deceptions of the former Duchess—Kahe Sabarnio—were laid bare with evidence.
The Sabarnio house was rumored to be desperately searching for ways to lessen their punishment, as they faced not only enormous compensation but also demotion in rank and the confiscation of their lands.
There were even rumors that the Mercenary King Nathan, as the Duke’s true son and with imperial sanction, had ordered the execution of Kahe Sabarnio, her lover Sir Wayne, and Paris Valencia.
The only truly quiet place was Rachel’s room. House Ingrave, once branded the family of the impostor’s fiancée but now hailed as Valencia’s savior, was busy embellishing both their own and Rachel’s merits for social gain.
“My lady.”
But every story ends.
Rachel stared down at the letter Becky handed her.
The Valencia family’s crest was stamped in red wax.
The rumors of sentencing had apparently been true. Rachel broke the seal and read the contents, then gave Becky a command.
“Prepare for an outing.”
“Are you going to the Valencia estate?”
“Yes. I’ll go right now.”
All eyes were on her, but this was necessary. It was a kind of revenge, a reckoning with her regrets from before, and an essential process before she could truly start a new life.
‘I also need to check the Record.’
She’d always defined the Record as containing past, present, and future—but so far, she’d moved based on memory alone. It was time to verify it herself.
Rachel boarded a carriage with its insignia concealed. Her platinum hair was wound under a hat, and her face hidden behind a heavy veil.
Becky and the knights also hid their badges.
Soon, the Valencia estate came into view. The gates and walls were guarded more heavily than usual.
A knight approached the carriage.
“Forgive me, but—”
“It’s me.”
Rachel lifted her veil. Even when Sir Hoffman subtly showed the Ingrave crest, the knights did not step aside—until they recognized her and bowed deeply.
“Welcome. We’ll open the gates right away.”
Clang—
The tightly closed gates swung open. Rachel rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the changed scene.
The garden had been completely razed.
Where there had once been lavish flowers and trees, there was now only the manor and a few outbuildings.
Whatever Kahe Sabarnio had touched had been cleared away.
“….”
Arriving at the main house, Rachel stepped down. A butler she’d never met hurried out to greet her.
“Welcome, Lady Ingrave.”
“….”
“My lady?”
Rachel looked quietly around before she spoke.
“Where is he?”
“I’ll take you there myself. This way.”
She followed the stranger, feeling a strange, unfamiliar emotion. She’d never thought the estate would change so much.
And yet, some things had not changed. This was a path she had walked once before—when she’d been dragged, arms bound, before her sentencing.
At the end of that path stood the building she remembered.
One of the knights on guard stepped forward. The butler bowed and spoke.
“I’m not permitted beyond this point. I’ll wait here, my lady.”
“From here, I’ll guide you, my lady.”
The knight was perfectly polite and gestured behind them.
“You’ll have to leave your maid and guards here. Will that be all right?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
Rachel signaled to Becky and her guards not to follow, and entered alone.
Torches on the rough stone walls illuminated the darkness, reminding her of the past. Rachel breathed a little faster.
Just a little farther—there it was.
Belowground, with a palm-sized window near the ceiling that let in wind and rain.
Fate’s joke.
The room where the knight stopped was exactly where Rachel had been imprisoned before her return.
He dispelled the security magic, drew out a key ring, and opened the heavy door.
“There’s a magic seal—you can speak freely here.”
Creak—
The iron door scraped the floor.
In the now-familiar room—
Paris, sitting on the bare floor, scrambled to his feet.
Light from the tiny window kept the room from being too dark.
“You—how did you get here…?”
“….”
Maybe it was a mercy that the weather was fine today.
She glanced at the floor—still damp, though not wet—then turned to the knight.
“I want to speak with him alone.”
“…Understood.”
The knight hesitated, then retreated to the end of the hall. Rachel stepped inside.
She left the door slightly ajar. The room was sealed with magic in case the prisoner tried anything, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Paris, teeth clenched, demanded,
“Why are you here? Isn’t it enough that you reported me? Did you come to enjoy my downfall?”
Rachel looked at the magic shackle on his ankle before replying.
“At least you have a magic shackle. I got an iron one.”
“…What?”
