Chapter 50
“If someone were to interfere with building a levee along the Ver River, what do you think their intention would be?”
At that, Clayton’s expression turned serious.
“Did you hear that someone’s actually trying to interfere?”
“It’s just a hunch. I have a feeling someone might.”
Would you believe me if I said that?
“I see. Well, I believe you, Gracie. So if there’s anything you need, just tell me.”
He said it so easily again that I almost wanted to be petty.
“I could be wrong, though.”
“Then there’s nothing we can do about it. But if you’re suspicious, there must be a reason.”
“Master, I agree. If you’re suspicious, there must be a reason.”
As both of them said that, Francis interrupted with his own opinion.
“Your Highness, Sir Robert is trustworthy. The Brighton family may not be wealthy, but they’re an upright house.”
“Even upright people can still do bad things.”
“That’s true, but when the Ver River flooded, Count Brighton personally helped build the levee to protect the citizens of the capital—and was seriously injured doing so. So I doubt it’s him.”
“Oh, right. I remember that.”
I was relieved that Francis actually had some decent information for once.
Then, it’s fifty-fifty.
“I don’t think we’ll get much more information out of this. Let’s have a little fun instead.”
“Pardon?”
“Sir Francis.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Go fetch all my knights, the maids, and the attendants. Bring them all here. And tell Joshua to dress nicely—no undercover clothes today. Clayton, stay. I want to talk with you.”
“Alright.”
After sending Francis and Joshua away, Clayton quietly took my hand. What was fascinating was that every time—he’d be wearing gloves when I first saw him, but by the time he held my hand, they’d always disappeared. I never caught when he took them off.
“Your arm still hurts, doesn’t it?”
He laced our fingers together and lifted my arm slightly. Following his lead, I saw that the lounge was decorated even more beautifully than last time—it made me smile.
“You had this place prepared like this, as if you knew I’d drop by again?”
“I wanted it ready for you anytime. That way, you’d feel comfortable coming.”
His bashful smile made my heart pound so loudly I thought he might hear it. The thought of this same face twisting in anguish, like in my dream last night, made my chest ache.
“Hey, Clayton.”
“Yeah?”
I sat down, and he took the seat beside me, meeting my gaze.
“I had a dream.”
“Okay.”
“I think it might’ve been a memory, so I wanted to ask.”
He gave a nervous, almost uncertain smile.
“I told you before that I humiliated you and rejected you.”
“Yeah.”
“I think that was the dream. You proposed to me at a banquet, and I threw your family’s ring at you. You were crying. And I was accusing you of something about my sister. Was that a memory… or just a dream?”
His eyes trembled.
“It was a memory, wasn’t it?”
Clayton looked away. For someone who always tried to meet my eyes first, that was strange and uncomfortable to see.
“I’ll tell you when you remember a bit more.”
“What if I remember the wrong thing first and end up misunderstanding you?”
“Then I’ll wait. When your memory’s whole again… only then will my words stop sounding like excuses.”
His voice shook. The low tone echoed like in a cave, and I felt myself waver too.
“…Alright.”
I’d planned to tease and press him, but I couldn’t. He looked like he might actually cry if I did. Then he took my hand and pressed it to his cheek. Since it was my right hand, I didn’t dislike the feeling. It was as if he carried all the weight of that moment himself.
Francis brought my clothes, and I changed. Joshua had returned, and Verdine came back with the knights and Adviser Ander Bills.
“Ah, Your Highness!”
“Adviser Ander Bills.”
I hadn’t summoned him specifically, so why was he here?
“I brought him,” Verdine said. “You said you were looking for a spy. I think I might have an idea who.”
“Then what do you think the motive behind the interference is?”
Clayton smiled, his earlier gentle look back in place. Thankfully, he seemed back to normal.
Maybe… I just didn’t want to see him tangled up with my sister.
The way his sunflower-bright smile might one day be turned only toward her—it made me feel strange.
“I thought about the day you received your audience,” he said. “If your theory’s right—that someone wants to preserve slavery—then we need to think who benefits from it.”
The emperor cherished Adrian, so he was clearly part of the imperial faction. That meant Clayton was probably on the opposite side—the nobles’ faction.
If he was truly helping me find a spy, could that endanger his position?
“Are you sure it’s okay for you to help me?”
“Huh?”
“You know how nobles are. Can you really move without weighing the cost?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered.
“I told you—it doesn’t matter which side I’m on. Everything I’ve achieved was for you. I returned to the capital because I wanted to see you. Even maintaining my title—every bit of effort is so I can stay near you.”
“You—you can’t just say things like that…”
“It’s not reckless. I’m saying it because if we don’t, we’ll only keep misunderstanding each other.”
His bare hand was burning hot against mine. Maybe he really did secretly take off his gloves just to hold my hand. I knew it—and pretended not to.
“The imperial faction doesn’t benefit from keeping slavery alive. Russell helps you because the emperor’s side actually wants to abolish it. But the nobles’ faction… they’re different.”
“The leader of the nobles’ faction would be the empress—my mother.”
“Right.”
“But my mother hasn’t been able to get up from bed for a long time.”
“Yes, exactly. So who do you think leads them now?”
It couldn’t be Clayton—if he were the leader, he wouldn’t have told me all this.
“My sister? Leonil Graham? Or… wait…”
“Her Highness Princess Keira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian is the current head of the nobles’ faction,” Ander Bills suddenly said. “And the reason the Empress has fallen out of favor with His Majesty is precisely because she acted as their front.”
I tapped on the glowing window beside his figure:
Ander Bills
Adviser / Affection toward the Emperor: 50%
▼ Former noble of the Dairid royal line
“Adviser, why do you serve His Majesty?”
Fifty percent affection was high—but was that loyalty, or resentment?
“It happened at the beginning of the war between Bastian and Dairid. I was a frontier marquis, so I fought the imperial army first.”
“…”
“His Majesty offered to spare my people if I took my own life.”
The story made a cold sweat run down my back.
“I was about to do it… but His Majesty saw merit in my resolve and took me in as his adviser instead. He said he valued how deeply I cared for my subjects.”
I couldn’t tell if it was genuine emotion or good acting, but his eyes were wet and red. It fit the emperor’s character—he could be merciful to those he considered loyal.
“In my humble opinion, if there’s a spy among us, Princess Keira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian is the most likely suspect.”
“And Leonil Graham as well, I assume.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The pranks my sister used to pull on me—mixing things in my wash water, poisoning my tea, tormenting Joshua by tampering with his food—
Then, out of Robert, Azelia, and Mentros… the most suspicious one was Mentros.
“Master.”
“Joshua. Don’t eat or drink anything here.”
“Uh—yes, ma’am…”
“I suddenly feel like eating the ration food.”
“Alright.”
Clayton led me over. The change in my outfit made everyone hesitate to approach. There were loaves of bread and soup piled up as before, with warm cuts of meat.
But they were steaming, freshly made—so hot it was almost too much.
“I’ll try it first,” Clayton said with a smile.
“Why?”
“Because I think I know what you’re suspicious of now. If it’s dangerous, I’ll take the risk.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, let me. If you get hurt, I won’t be able to sleep—or do anything at all.”
His sincerity made my chest tighten again. Why does he do this to me?
“It’s fine. Who says I’ll even get sick? And if I do, just make sure you nurse me properly.”
With that, I grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it.
Softer than expected. And the azalea scent from before was gone.
Last time, that scent had been so strong.
“Clayton.”
“Yeah?”
“After you ate with me here that day—did you feel alright?”
“Yeah. But I might not be the best reference. After years on battlefields, I’ve eaten all kinds of things—my body’s not easily affected.”
“Even poison?”
“If it’s a small amount, I might not even feel the effects.”
He spoke so casually about all his suffering—it somehow irritated me.
“You didn’t feel nauseous, or have blurred vision, dizziness, fainting?”
“My breath does get short. But that happens every time I’m with you…”
The way his face flushed crimson up to his ears made it clear I’d asked the wrong question.
And why was my face suddenly so hot, too?
