Episode 21

“Why is that?”

Count Bronte looked at Ariel’s blank face.

“It’s nothing. Could you give me the invitation?”

Count Bronte cast her a doubtful glance, then handed over the invitation. Ariel fiddled with the corner of the card before carefully lifting her eyes.

“I suppose I should go, right?”
“You’re stating the obvious. Do you not want to go? You used to sing about wanting to visit the palace. About wanting to try the royal desserts.”

Ariel flinched.

“You remember that?”

‘I want to go to a royal banquet! How dazzling must it be? There must be so many fascinating things. Did you hear? They say the desserts made by the royal chef are the best on the continent. Ah! They say the sweetest fruit in the world will be there too. It’s called a date. Have you ever tried one? Please take me with you this time!’

That was what young Ariel had chattered beside Count Bronte, who had always discarded the palace’s invitations.

For a fallen noblewoman like Ariel, there were only two ways to attend a royal banquet: marry into a high-ranking family, or be brought along by a patron.

Count Bronte, however, disliked such gatherings. He said they drained his energy, filled with false smiles and empty courtesies, and so he declined most invitations.

Which was why Ariel used to pester him whenever a royal invitation arrived. That too, only when she was very young—before the age of thirteen.

“I have a good memory.”

Count Bronte shrugged. Ariel lowered her head and laughed faintly.

It was true that Count Bronte had a good memory, but the fact that he remembered her childish ramblings—things she herself thought useless—was proof of his affection.

That was always his way.

He truly cherished Ariel, yet acted as though he didn’t. In her previous life, Ariel had thought he only found her bothersome.

How foolish I was. But still, the Count was cruel too. If only he’d shown a little of what he felt…

It wasn’t resentment. Only regret that she had not gotten along with him better.

“You’ve managed to get an invitation without me taking you this time.”

Ariel looked up at him.

“Then… should I not go?”
“It’s your choice.”

With that, Count Bronte dismissed her.

Back in her room, Ariel stared blankly at the air and murmured,

“This is strange.”

“Hm? What is?”

Mila tilted her head. Ariel forced a small smile and shook her head.

“Nothing. Mila, could you bring me a cup of tea?”

She needed time to think. Mila answered cheerfully and left.

Only when Mila’s footsteps faded completely did Ariel drop her smile. She hurriedly stood and snatched the calendar off her desk.

“The date… the date is the same.”

Sebans Calendar, Year 789, October 23rd.

Every year, King Louis held his birthday banquet on that date. This year was no different. Ariel knew that. Yet she checked because something was off.

“I wasn’t invited that year.”

She remembered perfectly.

Because two days before Louis’s banquet, Blake had offered to become her patron.

So Ariel had assumed he would take her to the banquet. But instead, Blake had left her behind and gone alone.

‘His Majesty is very strict. It’s unlikely, but if you were to make a mistake in front of him, something terrible could happen.’

She still remembered his words.

Thus it wasn’t until the following spring that Ariel met Louis. And even then, only after Blake had reshaped her to suit Louis’s tastes.

Ariel bit the inside of her lip.

The future had changed again. Everything was happening faster.

Was that a good sign?

More importantly—was she ready to meet Louis?

She turned to the mirror. A pale woman stared back, trembling in fear.

Ariel lowered her gaze to her shaking hands.

Her mind was dragged back into her past with Louis.

“Ariel, my little bird. Where are you hiding?”

The royal palace, in the secret chamber adjoining Louis’s bedroom.

No one was supposed to enter, no one was allowed. Yet Ariel was there.

Crouched behind a pillar, shivering.

Her thin, white slip was speckled with crimson petals. Not flowers—but blood.

Her neatly braided hair had come undone, spilling wild. Her carefully applied rouge was smeared.

Tear tracks stained her cheeks, her eyes still brimming with unshed tears.

She looked as if she’d been beaten savagely. Yet her bare arms and legs were unmarked.

Her wounds were elsewhere…

“Where are you, Ariel? I can’t seem to find you.”

Louis sang the words playfully.

Ariel pressed her hands together in desperate prayer.

That he would pass by without seeing her.

A futile hope. The chamber was far smaller than his bedroom, and Ariel far too large to overlook.

There were only a few hiding places—the curtains, behind a pillar, inside the wardrobe… places she had hidden many times before. Louis knew them all.

“My little sparrow, Ariel. Come out.”

His pretense of searching was just that—pretend. A cruel act to draw out her fear.

Should she go to him?

If she stepped out with a smile, would it end sooner tonight?

She didn’t have time to decide. A gloved hand slid suddenly beneath her lowered head.

“Found you, Ariel.”

His chilling voice dripped from above. Ariel dared not lift her head. Her eyes fixed on the white glove, spattered with blood.

Her blood.

Tonight would not be an easy night.

She shut her eyes tight.

“Young Lady? Are you sleeping with your eyes open? I’ve brought your tea.”

Mila set the teacup down on the table. Ariel gasped like a drowning woman breaking the surface, dragging herself out of the past.

“Young Lady! Are you unwell? You’re so pale! Should I fetch a physician?”

Startled, Mila fussed over her. Ariel caught her flailing hands.

“I’m fine. Just startled.”

Startled by her own memories. But she brushed it off.

“Startled? By what? There’s nothing in this room to scare you.”

Ariel swallowed.

“A bug.”
“What?”
“There was a bug.”
“A bug? Where? What kind? How many legs? Does it fly? What color? I’ll kill it! Where did you see it?”

Mila rolled up her sleeves, ready to reduce any insect to dust.

“It’s already gone. It had… the right number of legs. Just like a bug should. And its color was…”

As Ariel tried to describe a bug that didn’t exist, her words trailed into hollow laughter.

What am I doing…

She rubbed her face with her thin hands, trying to compose herself. But it wasn’t easy.

I can’t focus on anything. Even finding the revolutionaries will have to wait.

Ariel sighed, glancing at Mila. When their eyes met, Mila smiled.

“Young Lady, you finally have some color back. A moment ago, you looked as though you’d seen a ghost.”

Ariel raised her brows. There was something odd in Mila’s tone. Her fuss earlier now felt deliberate—meant to calm Ariel down.

That must be it.

Mila moved to close the window. “Can’t let bugs get in here.”

She might appear carefree, but Mila was thoughtful and cautious. Above all, she cherished Ariel.

And she had a sixth sense for men who meant Ariel harm.

Mila disliked Blake.

And someone else as well…

Owen Chester. And the men he surrounded himself with.

Then, what about Shumiern?

“Mila, I have a question.”

“Yes, my lady. What is it?”