TPJWL 24

Chapter 24

Three days after Rudolf and Richard held their first strategy meeting,

I left the Imperial Palace to meet Tristan.

Not that I was “running away” — it was just a brief outing.

However, going out as a princess would draw too much attention, and since I was only twelve years old, I would have to be accompanied by a guardian, among many other bothersome procedures.

So I decided to disguise myself as a maid.

The number of people working in the palace was staggering. Just counting the servants alone, there were hundreds of them. And if you added the countless outsiders who came and went for various reasons, the number was beyond counting.

So it was practically impossible to thoroughly investigate every single person entering and leaving the palace.

Knowing this well, Rudolf made me a fake ID proving I was a maid of Sapphire Palace. He even added a little bonus.

“It’s enchanted to make your features less noticeable,”

Rudolf said as he handed me the ID.

When I heard that, I looked at Rudolf again — and immediately noticed the effect.

He normally had this halo-like aura behind his head, but with the ID in hand, he suddenly looked like any ordinary man you could find anywhere. In a crowd, you’d never be able to pick him out.

“The effect only works while you’re holding it, so make sure you have it in hand even when showing it to someone. Of course, not many in the palace know your face, but you can never be too careful.”

Rudolf then added in a worried tone:

“Do you really have to go in person?”

I nodded.

“It’s too important to entrust to a subordinate. And my two brothers would draw too much attention.”

“But to go through all this trouble just to persuade one illegitimate child…”

“He’s not just any illegitimate child,” I said firmly.

“He’s the future Duke of Aßenbach. That’s worth the effort.”

Richard, too, had opposed my plan to meet Tristan directly. In fact, his opposition was even stronger than Rudolf’s.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous the outside world is? And you want to go alone?!”

When I told him I planned to go to the sinister Aßenbach household, he nearly exploded.

“What if something happens?!”

Despite his protests, my resolve was unwavering.

In the end, Richard only calmed down after three knights from the Kalia Order were assigned to escort me. Even then, Rudolf insisted on sending a magician along “just in case,” bringing my total escort to four.

Thinking about how over-the-top my brothers were being, I couldn’t help but smile. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about safety.

Since both the knights and the magician were to remain hidden and protect me discreetly, I was alone inside the carriage heading toward the Aßenbach family’s townhouse.

I had thought I wouldn’t set foot outside the palace until I was fifteen. I gazed out at the capital’s scenery through the window.

By mid-May, the capital was in the height of spring, with flowers blooming everywhere the eye could see.

Spring in the capital was dry — hardly any rain until summer. The sky was clear and bright, with lazy white clouds drifting along.

I let myself enjoy the scenery for a while. But as the townhouse came closer, my nerves began to grow.

How could I persuade Tristan?

On the surface, there was nothing for him to lose — exposing the people who abused him would be revenge enough, and on top of that, I was offering to make him a duke. Anyone would be tempted.

But could it really be that easy…?

I thought back to the Tristan from the original story.

When Imelda first met him, Tristan was like a wounded beast.

Burning with hatred and revenge, he distrusted her and spoke harshly, telling her more than once that he’d rather die than be humiliated.

Of course, that could have been because of the original story’s setup — the beloved youngest son of a ducal family meeting the daughter of his enemies would naturally respond with nothing but hatred.

But I now knew that the “original story” was neither entirely true nor entirely false.

The day I met Theodora, she told me about the Aßenbach Duke’s treason plot — a plan that had been in preparation for a long time, and one she predicted would be carried out within three years. Considering the original’s timeline, her prediction fit perfectly.

From that conversation, I became certain:

The novel The 13th Princess was based on truth, but it was laced with cunning lies.

Most of its events matched the world I now lived in.

For example, the depictions of Rudolf and Richard were accurate. I even confirmed with Theo several minor details unrelated to the protagonist — all of them matched.

But the parts about the Aßenbach family — more precisely, about Tristan — were different.

In reality, Tristan was not a beloved youngest son but an abused illegitimate child. And the Duke of Aßenbach was not falsely accused but a genuine traitor.

So who wrote the original story? And why? What was Tristan’s connection to it — and mine?

There were many unanswered questions, but right now, the most important one was this:

If only Tristan’s portrayal in the novel was wrong… what was the real Tristan like?

“My lady, we’ve arrived.”

The coachman’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Shall I wait here until you return?”

He was someone Rudolf had hired and knew nothing of the details — only that he was to obey my instructions.

“Yes, thank you.”

When I stepped down from the carriage, I was greeted by a wide, open field.

This area was slightly removed from the busy streets of the capital, belonging to no one. There was only a gentle hill covered in green grass, dotted with a few scattered trees.

I began walking through the picturesque scene.

The weather was so clear that I could see far into the distance — and there it was, a large mansion.

The Aßenbach townhouse.

Nobles whose lands were far from the capital often kept townhouses there, especially for the social season from April to June.

The Aßenbach townhouse was slightly away from the city center, but its sheer size was overwhelming. The three-story mansion, consisting of two connected buildings, was more lavish than most noble main estates.

I walked toward it, stopping under a large tree.

Soon, Tristan would come out with the horses.

According to Theodora’s investigation, Tristan worked in the stables. While at the townhouse, he would bring the horses here daily to graze and care for them.

After some waiting, I spotted someone approaching from afar with several horses.

Was it Tristan?

My already pounding heart beat even harder.

Stay calm. Don’t act rashly. Show elegance.

I repeated this to myself, lest I run straight toward him.

The horses came closer — and so did their handler.

He was of small build, with dark hair tinged with blue that glinted in the sunlight.

He walked slowly, checking the horses — then lifted his head and saw me.

We weren’t close enough for voices to carry, but it was enough.

I recognized him instantly — that beautiful face that had once been hidden in darkness, now shining under the sun.

I began walking toward him.

I suppressed the urge to run, hoping he wouldn’t bolt.

Fortunately, he stood still, and before long, I was standing right in front of him.

“Hello?”

I greeted him with a smile.

I was sure I had planned something much wittier, something more charming and memorable.

But faced with Tristan, all those thoughts vanished, leaving me with an embarrassingly ordinary greeting.

“Do you remember me?”

Tristan looked at me — and my heart felt like it would burst.

In the afternoon sunlight, his face was beyond beautiful.

His fine features still carried a trace of boyishness, but the sharp jawline and the shadows under his eyes gave him a strangely decadent air, making it hard to guess his age.

He looked like he could be either a young boy or an old man.

That contradictory impression made it hard to speak when you faced him.

While I stared, enchanted, he said nothing. After what felt like forever — though it was only a moment — he finally reacted to my greeting.

He turned his head away and walked toward the nearest horse.

He began brushing its coat with the grooming tools he had brought, as if I weren’t even there.

It was complete and utter disregard.

The moment I realized that…

My heart swelled with joy.

This was the Tristan I knew — wounded, closed-off, bristling at the world, letting no one in. The Tristan who took a whole month to have a proper conversation with the heroine in the original story.

I had told myself over and over not to be disappointed if the real Tristan was different — even if he turned out to be chatty, or tearful, or clumsy. If that was the real him, I had no right to judge.

But here he was — exactly the Tristan I remembered and loved.

Oh no… this is bad.

“…Heh.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

Perhaps hearing me, Tristan flinched slightly, then moved behind the horse, as if to avoid my gaze.

I flushed with embarrassment, but oddly enough, it also freed me from my hesitation.

“Don’t you remember me?”

I decided to take the initiative, walking up to where he was hiding behind the horse. I let my words spill freely.

“We met on the night of the Founding Festival. It was too dark — don’t you remember? Then shall we count this as our first meeting? My name’s Lucillia. I…”