Chapter 22
“It wasn’t easy living in the palace, being treated like royalty either.”
I sprawled out on the sofa in my room, eyes closed, savoring a sweet rest. Who would’ve thought something as simple as meeting a designer to get a few outfits tailored would take so long? After hours of putting on and taking off clothes, my arms and legs still felt sore.
If I had to guess her MBTI, Lelia was definitely a J. She looked ready to keep going until she’d picked out dozens of outfits that matched both my figure and the atmosphere.
‘This soft yellow one would be perfect for an outdoor spring banquet! And this bluish tone—oh, it matches the colors of the Imperial Palace’s main hall, add it in! Oh, and come to think of it, there’s a welcoming ball soon, the venue is probably—’
‘Wait, who on earth buys clothes ahead of time to match the venue?!’
Maybe it was impossible for me to keep up with noble logic in this world, even after reading a handful of romance fantasy novels. Lelia’s relentless purchasing power was enough to make me dizzy.
It was only after three whole hours that I finally managed to escape. I surrendered, raising both hands and begging her to just choose the rest for me, and she mercifully sent me back to my room. I simply had no energy left to endure the ordeal of picking out jewelry.
I used to envy romance heroines who wore fancy dresses and jewels, but in reality? This was basically torture while standing.
“If I’d had to actually try on all the jewelry too, I’d have passed out, minimum.”
But something else was nagging at me.
‘She did mention a welcoming ball was coming up, didn’t she?’
Right—since the First Prince of the Empire had returned, of course there’d be some kind of event. I’d been too preoccupied with quitting the Magic Tower and worrying about job hunting to think about it, but for Licht and Sepina, their hardships didn’t end with the curse.
“Ugh, I should’ve written everything down when the memories were fresher.”
I never imagined I’d end up in the Imperial Palace, so it hadn’t even crossed my mind to jot down the original plot. Frowning, I tried to recall details. A welcoming ball… the phrase itself felt ominous.
When my brain refused to cooperate, I grabbed a fluffy pillow and rolled back and forth on the wide bed, trying to force my memory to work.
“Ah—ahhh!!!”
Crap. How could I forget this? Am I a goldfish?!
“Oh my god. This wasn’t just anything, this was huge!”
Thankfully, my survival instincts were still alive, sending warning signals through that uneasy feeling I’d gotten earlier.
At that ball—there was a bombing attempt on Licht. Yes, an actual terrorist attack. Who in their right mind would try something like that at a prince’s welcoming ball? But of course, the mastermind was none other than the Empress, the hidden villain of this novel.
“Damn it, she must already be making preparations.”
True to her character, the Empress made use of someone else as her scapegoat—a completely innocent young noblewoman.
I rushed to my desk, snatched up a stack of paper, and thank goodness, there was a feather quill and ink ready.
“Hmm.”
Naturally, I had to write in Korean. Rule number one: always use a language no one else can read. Scribbling away was also just my work habit—I couldn’t get anything done without first organizing things on paper.
“First, that estate. Where was it again?”
Argh, my memory wasn’t sharp enough to recall exact geography! I jumped up and studied the elegant framed map of the Empire hanging on the wall. As expected of the palace, it doubled as both decoration and reference.
“Le…stane… something like that.”
I didn’t remember the exact Western-sounding name, but I did recall roughly where the noble family’s lands were located—the family whose daughter had brought in that cursed magic stone.
‘Because that’s where the massive magic stone mine gets discovered later.’
After the mine’s existence was revealed, Duke Meliz Evgenin, one of the continent’s biggest consumers of magic stones, immediately requested exclusive rights to part of its output. He even argued that exports outside the Empire should be restricted, which proved just how extraordinary the quality of the stones was.
The Bastille family’s new mine would only be discovered later—after the terrorist incident—by none other than Saintess Sepina. I traced my finger westward from the capital. From what I remembered, the estate was about two hours west of the city. With a gate, though, the distance was trivial.
“Oh—this must be it.”
My finger stopped on a place labeled Lestain. The map showed mountains clustered around it, making it seem very plausible for a mine.
“Lestain territory, governed by House Bastille. Yup, that’s it—sounds like French.”
Conveniently, the map also listed the ruling noble houses. Good thing too; I recalled snickering when I’d first read their name in the novel, thinking, “Why does this suddenly sound like a Frenchman showed up?”
This Bastille daughter was the one framed as the terrorist. No trial, no due process—just a swift execution. Ugh, what a terrible way to die.
“She didn’t even know she was being used, and all because of her damned father.”
Of course, every story needs events to keep the plot moving, but being in the novel myself and realizing real people would suffer unjustly left a bitter taste in my mouth.
The poor girl ended up presenting the booby-trapped gift to Licht, pushed into it by her father, Count Bastille—a hopeless gambling addict. Maybe he’d once been sane, but by the time the novel began, he was a total wreck.
The Bastille family had once been wealthy thanks to a gold mine in their lands. Their gold, prized by nobles in the capital for its quality, kept the family afloat even through the Count’s reckless gambling. But once the vein started running dry, things fell apart.
And that was precisely why Empress Elicia had her eyes on them. An old noble house with enough prestige to be invited to palace banquets, but too deep in debt to think straight? Perfect prey.
Just as she expected, Count Bastille couldn’t even recognize that the “deal” he was offered was nothing more than ruin disguised as salvation.
Elicia bribed a loan shark into luring him in.
‘There’s someone wealthy who wants to discreetly gain favor with Prince Licht, but since their family isn’t high-ranking enough to be invited to the banquet, all they need is someone to deliver a gift and a letter. And wouldn’t you know, this generous benefactor will wipe away your debts in exchange!’
‘R-Really?!’
‘Oh, indeed! Truly a savior, isn’t it? Sadly, they can’t reveal their identity just yet, but… well, what will you do?’
Of course, the entire scheme was fabricated by the Empress. Pressured by her father, the poor Bastille daughter had no choice but to carry the suspicious gift to the palace banquet. And then… well.
“Pfft. What kind of scumbag sends his daughter instead of going himself?”
And the reason? Because he’d borrowed from too many creditors who’d also be at the ball! Ridiculous.
The result: the daughter was executed, the Count stripped of his title and sentenced to hard labor.
Only after all this was the new magic stone mine revealed. What awful timing.
“Well, not that he wouldn’t have just gambled it all away anyway.”
Though truthfully, the mine was far too vast for even his gambling to deplete. And magic stones? Everyone wanted them—not just mages, but even ordinary people.
Naturally, the price of pure crystals skyrocketed. It was common knowledge that even with identical skill and power, the quality of the magic stone used in crafting artifacts made all the difference. That was the very first thing taught in any artifact theory book.
“Ughhh. So how do I fix this mess?”
By my estimation, Count Bastille was already a full-blown gambling addict by now, drowning in debt. And the Empress, knowing Licht had returned alive, wouldn’t just sit still. This was the point where I needed to start thinking.
“First off—the key difference now is that Sepina isn’t here in the palace.”
In the novel, when the bombing happened, she’d immediately blocked it with her holy power. All the nobles present had witnessed her abilities firsthand and been stunned. It was also the event that silenced all the criticism of her lowly, commoner background.
“But me…?”
Yeah. No need to spell it out further.
