Chapter 54
Ivan stepped over the threshold leading to the West Palace.
The chamberlain, unable to conceal his worry, followed close behind. He had just sent a servant to Rodan with an urgent message: Prince Ivan was heading to the West Palace—come at once.
“Your Majesty?”
Suddenly, Ivan stopped in his tracks. The chamberlain looked up at him, puzzled.
“The child’s room… it’s the first one on the west side of the second floor, correct?”
“Y-Yes, that is my understanding.”
The chamberlain glanced at the servants around them, trying to gauge their reactions before answering. Truthfully, neither he nor Ivan had ever paid much attention to Ian.
“….”
In fact, Ivan already knew where Ian’s room was. He’d once locked eyes with Amelia from a window there—it wasn’t difficult to deduce. Asking the chamberlain was merely a way to confirm if anything had changed.
Ivan remained where he stood, silently gazing up at the presumed window to Ian’s room. The window leading to the terrace was shut tightly. Through the thick curtains, a faint glow of light seeped out.
But something… something set his instincts on edge.
“Everyone, hold still.”
Ivan gave a quiet order. Though he hadn’t told them to lower their voices, the staff instinctively fell silent, frozen in place. Ivan glanced once more toward the terrace of Ian’s room.
There was no sign of movement. No child that small, unable to even crawl yet, would be left alone.
This wasn’t right.
Then he heard it—a faint rustle, like dry leaves being stepped on.
The sound came from the garden behind the West Palace, near the artificial pond and the pavilion built for resting.
Ivan didn’t hesitate. He moved immediately, though his footsteps were curiously cautious—silent.
“So quiet, aren’t we?”
As he arrived in the garden, he spotted one of Amelia’s assigned maids. In her arms, she cradled a bundle no larger than a doll—it was Ian.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Except that the one caring for Ian… wasn’t Madam Howard.
“….”
Madam Howard was not someone who left the child unattended. And even if she had to step away, it would only be for a moment. She never allowed others to carry Ian about. It was precisely because of this that Ivan had trusted her with his son.
“Keep sleeping, okay?”
Ivan remained hidden in the shadows as the maid perched on the pavilion railing and pressed a kiss to Ian’s forehead.
Then she released him.
“…!”
Ian’s tiny body plummeted in an instant. Without thinking, Ivan bolted from the shadows.
“Ahhh!”
The maid shrieked when she saw him. Her scream alerted the others, and the servants who had followed behind Ivan rushed forward in alarm. Ivan didn’t even spare a thought to shout for them to seize the maid. He dove headfirst into the pond, uncaring of the dirty water.
The artificial pond was no deeper than an adult man’s shoulders. Shallow enough for a woman to swim out unaided—but deep enough to drown a helpless infant wrapped in swaddling cloth, unable to thrash or cry out.
“Ian.”
The child stared up in stunned silence, not even blinking. So shocked that he couldn’t even cry.
Did he hit his head? Had water entered his lungs?
Ivan called out his son’s name for the first time ever, a strange anxiety welling up in his chest.
“U-uhweh…”
Finally, Ian’s face twisted, and he burst into tears. He coughed, retching water, then wailed—loud, sharp, and full of terror.
“It’s all right.”
Ivan clumsily patted the small back, soothing the child as he waded out of the pond. His white shirt and trousers were soaked and muddy, water dripping from every step he took.
His fury toward the staff, who had failed to protect a child too young to move, was equally drenched.
“Your Majesty, we’ve apprehended the girl.”
The chamberlain must have taken the initiative—one of the maids had been caught and now knelt trembling before them.
“And the child…?”
“He’s soaked. Bring a blanket.”
Ian was still crying, as if begging his father to understand his fear. Perhaps that was why Ivan found himself unable to let the child go.
“Your Majesty, the blanket—”
“Ian!”
Just then, a woman arrived—one whose expression was closer to despair than anything this evening could muster. Amelia.
“Oh, God…”
Seeing Ian wailing in Ivan’s arms, Amelia went deathly pale and began to tremble. Her hands reached toward Ian but hovered uselessly in the air, too unsteady to touch him.
“Dress him first. You can cry after.”
Ivan let out a quiet sigh as he spoke. Amelia began stripping Ian of his wet clothes, wrapping him in the warm blanket. She looked as pale as death, as if she might faint at any moment.
“….”
Was she about to stop breathing? He genuinely wondered.
“Summon the royal physician. I want the child examined immediately.”
Ivan gave the order, turning toward the servants. The fastest among them bolted from the West Palace to carry it out.
“And you—stop crying and get inside. Wait for the physician.”
Without turning back, Ivan addressed Amelia. Though she didn’t reply, the sound of her receding footsteps confirmed she had obeyed.
Now Ivan’s eyes settled on the kneeling maid. Her eyes flickered in panic—clearly, his visit had not been expected.
“How brave you are.”
Ivan quietly shrugged off his soaked coat. The heavy fabric, meant for the chill of evening, now clung damply to him. A servant reached out to take it.
“…?”
But Ivan didn’t hand it over.
Instead, he strode to the maid and stuffed the wet coat into her mouth.
“Mmph—!”
She gagged and struggled, but he didn’t bat an eye.
“You dared, within the walls of my palace, to harm a guest under my protection?”
Ivan smiled.
It was not the expression of a man angry—but that in itself was telling. Ivan was not the kind to smile when pleased.
“You’re mumbling something, but I can’t hear you.”
The maid moved her mouth as if to explain, but the coat gagged her words.
“Not answering your master? How impudent.”
As if she were choosing not to respond, Ivan made a show of being offended.
“Should I hang your severed head on the palace wall?”
“…”
“Or maybe light a fire and let the flames eat you from the feet up? No… perhaps I should drown you, the same way you tried to drown the child.”
Ivan mused aloud, gently slapping her cheek. His touch was light, but the threat lingered—he could strike at any moment.
“I was being merciful, and still you don’t answer. Very well, I’ll decide your punishment later.”
His tone was serene—like that of a priest. So gentle and kind, it made one forget just how cruel his words truly were.
“Take her away. Lock her in the dungeons. And gag her, so she can’t bite her tongue.”
Ivan stood and gave the order.
So that’s why he’d stuffed her mouth with the coat. The chamberlain, finally catching on, nodded.
Guards seized the maid like a sack of flour and dragged her away.
“Your Majesty, please—at least change out of your wet clothes before you catch a chill…”
“Did you notify the physician?”
The chamberlain had been about to insist on dry clothes, but his words died in his throat. At the mention of the physician, Ivan spun on his heel and strode swiftly back to the West Palace.
The distance between him and the servants grew with each powerful step.
Just as before, the chamberlain hastened to follow.
“What a day… what madness…”
But even he couldn’t barge into Ian’s room unannounced. He stopped before the closed door, stunned by the events of the evening.
The floor was wet.
No need to ask where the water had come from.
“You two—go fetch a fresh change of clothes for His Majesty.”
He sighed as he issued the command. The maids scurried off, and the chamberlain cast one more glance along the floor.
“Wipe it up.”
Water droplets—shed from Ivan’s clothes—formed a trail from the entrance all the way to Ian’s room.
