Chapter 19
Dozens of thoughts flashed through my head in that short span of time.
At one point, I even wondered if one of the two sons of the duke I had just been introduced to was actually a daughter, and I glanced at them again.
But the two who had half-turned toward me were unmistakably male.
The young lord of Achenbach had no expression on his face, perhaps taking after his father, while the younger brother’s discomfort was plain to see.
Yet the one truly embarrassed here was me.
“It seems you’ve made some mistake.”
The one to break the awkward, uneasy silence was Rudolf, his gentle voice sounding like that of a kind older brother. He patted my shoulder and then said to the duke,
“Lucillia is new to high society. She must have confused your family with another, but it’s only a child’s mistake. I hope you can overlook it.”
“My apologies.”
I offered my apology a beat later, feeling guilty that I had caused Rudolf any trouble.
The duke gave no reply, even after hearing my words. He simply stared at me with a displeased expression for a moment longer before turning away—leaving without so much as a farewell.
It was an astonishing display of arrogance. Even setting myself aside, the fact that he could show such an attitude in front of Rudolf spoke volumes about the duke’s standing.
The House of Achenbach was a grand family, owning nearly twenty percent of the Empire’s territory. Naturally, their wealth was immense, and their political influence needed no elaboration.
Moreover, the two ducal houses of the Empire were not titles granted by the Emperor.
During the continent’s unification, they were forces that Espérusa had never managed to conquer—factions that had entered the Empire through negotiation rather than subjugation. Those were today’s ducal houses of Achenbach and Sardina.
Though time had strengthened imperial authority and weakened the nobility’s standing, the prestige of the two ducal houses had not faded so easily.
That was why the disappearance of House Achenbach had been a national event that shook the Empire. Imelda’s achievement in restoring the family and making it her own was truly remarkable.
But without Tristan? Would House Achenbach simply vanish again? And what would happen to Imelda?
My head was spinning from the confusion.
“Lucillia, what’s wrong?”
Once the duke was out of sight, Rudolf turned to me.
He must have been bewildered as well. Until now, I had only ever offered mechanical greetings, yet here I had asked the duke a deeply personal—indeed, impolite—question.
But I had no energy to explain what was going on.
“Brother, I… I need to go rest.”
My voice was weak.
“All right.”
Seeing my condition, Rudolf didn’t press further. He escorted me to the carriages. I staggered inside like someone in a daze.
“Rest well. We can talk in detail another time.”
Even Rudolf’s warm parting words barely registered. I mumbled some vague response, and once he closed the door, I was alone in the carriage.
I slumped forward, resting my forehead against the window.
Night had deepened. Judging by the number of people leaving, I wasn’t the only one heading home. Carriages jammed the road, and two ahead of me had just collided slightly, prompting the coachmen to argue.
The scene outside grew more chaotic, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil in my heart. My eyes were on the street, but nothing I looked at truly entered my mind.
Until I saw them.
Like a corpse suddenly revived, I jerked my head up.
The banquet hall for the Emperor’s birthday overflowed with light thanks to its mana stone decorations, bright even at midnight. The roads and stables weren’t paved with mana stones, but the glow from the hall and the lamps on the carriages lit the surroundings well enough.
So I could see them clearly—the two sons of Duke Achenbach walking with someone else.
The third person was half-hidden behind the tall young lord of Achenbach. All I could tell was that they were shorter than the other two and had black hair.
The moment I thought that black hair looked similar to the duke’s two sons, I flung the carriage door open.
“Your Highness?”
My startled coachman called out, but I ignored him and ran.
Black hair. A much smaller build than the two. And from the trousers, clearly male.
My chest pounded with uneasy urgency.
It was strange. If that person was Tristan—if Tristan Achenbach existed—then I should have been happy, not anxious.
If the male lead existed, then there would be no problem with the original story.
And yet I was anxious. Even while acknowledging the facts, an irrational fear filled my chest so tightly that I could hardly breathe.
Following the three as they headed toward a secluded part of the gardens, I recalled the moments from earlier:
The duke’s face as he held back his anger while saying he had no youngest son.
Rudolf’s demeanor, as if he knew nothing of a youngest son of the Achenbach family.
The second son’s flustered expression, so different from his elder brother’s composure.
And now, those two leading a boy whose black hair seemed ready to melt into the night toward some quiet place.
Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.
I knew I had no evidence. But I still prayed my hunch was wrong—desperately.
The three entered the Emperor’s gardens, moving away from the lively areas toward a secluded corner.
I hurried to the garden entrance. The area near the exit to the carriages was crowded with people leaving the party.
Thankfully, without Rudolf beside me, no one recognized me. Still, moving against the flow of people was no easy task.
And in one unguarded moment, the three vanished from sight.
No!
I broke free of the crowd, but by then they were gone without a trace. I ran toward the last direction I’d seen them.
But the cursed garden was too large, laid out like a maze. The farther I went from the center, the darker it grew. It would be hard to see even if someone moved nearby.
Please.
I ran until my lungs burned, until I could run no more.
My heart thundered in my chest. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, yet my hands still trembled faintly.
I knew I was being irrational. But I couldn’t just dismiss my hunch and turn back.
It felt as though someone was signaling me—telling me that something was wrong, that I needed to know.
I looked around.
I’d come far from the entrance. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Unlike the open lawns and flowerbeds of the central garden, this area had many trees, like a small forest.
The party’s noise was a faint murmur in the distance. All else was silent except for the chirping of insects.
I was alone here.
Certain of that, I sank to the ground and placed my palms on the grass.
Tell me where you are.
I spoke as though in prayer.
I was trying to use Stella.
Until now, I had never used Stella by my own will—it was simply an ability that had already manifested. Without effort, I could navigate forests easily and detect poisonous mushrooms.
Just as no one consciously tries to see with their eyes or hear with their ears, Stella was a natural sense for me.
But that wasn’t enough now.
He has to be nearby. Please.
With my whole soul, I poured strength into my fingertips, not knowing how, only driven by desperation. Blindly, recklessly, I prayed.
Find Tristan.
Suddenly, my whole body felt icy. But the sensation quickly shifted—my palms warmed, and a faint glow spread across my hands and the surrounding grass.
I had barely begun to register this when—
A flood of information crashed into my mind.
Every blade of grass, the air temperature each felt, the texture of the soil, the tiny insects gazing up from the ground, the humidity they felt on their skin, the seeds sleeping beneath them—all the sensations of every living thing connected to the earth beneath my hands.
“Agh…!”
It felt as though my skull would burst. It was far too much for one person to take in. My consciousness wavered—I would faint if this continued.
No!
I bit the inside of my cheek hard. The taste of blood kept me anchored. Forcing myself to focus, I let the torrent of information wash past instead of trying to take it all in.
Don’t take it all. Don’t try to see everything.
Bit by bit, I began to grasp how to handle the power.
I gathered the force radiating from my palms and stretched it out thin and long. What had begun as a tidal wave now felt like spinning fine, delicate threads.
My senses expanded.
The farther the threads reached, the more I sensed—but now I could sift through it, ignoring the irrelevant and following traces that seemed promising. Strands that found nothing returned to me and merged back into the main thread to be sent out again.
Until at last, I found what I sought.
A densely wooded area where shadows layered so thick it was hard to see—there, three figures stood.
The moment I confirmed them, I lifted my hands from the ground and opened my eyes.
Human senses returned—first sight, then hearing, and lastly touch. I lifted my hand to check and saw it was covered in dirt.
I rose and ran toward the place I had seen.
Through dark brush and shadows, I finally caught sight of human shapes. A clear, resonant voice cut through the night air.
“Do you think I’ll believe that?”
Slap!
And then—a sharp, unmistakable sound.
A slap.
I couldn’t see who had been struck, but the sound alone made my heart lurch. Without thinking, I rushed between the one who struck and the one struck.
“Ugh?!”
“…Your Highness?”
The second son, Anton—shorter and with a more irritable look—made a strange noise at the sight of me. His elder brother, Ludwig, was better at controlling his expression, but still looked surprised.
I glared at them both in turn before turning to the figure on the ground.
Dressed in black, his small frame made him look more like a boy than a young man. He didn’t move, even at my arrival.
Had he fainted? Panic jolted through me, and I bent down to look closer.
At that moment, the boy lifted his head. Our eyes met in the air.
I swallowed hard.
Brilliant golden eyes shone at me—so vivid that even in the dark, they were instantly recognizable.
Yet, ironically, within that brilliance lay a deep, dark emptiness.
Though I was reflected in his gaze, he was not truly seeing me. A suffocating abyss stared back from those eyes, then slipped away.
The boy closed his eyes and bowed his head again.
But that was enough. Even in that brief moment, I knew—an arrestingly beautiful face at first glance, yet eyes steeped in resignation, holding nothing of this world.
In a trembling voice, I spoke his name.
“…Tristan.”
