Chapter 83
Julian headed toward the Hall of Light and naturally blended into the crowd.
It was a blessing that the event was a masquerade ball — otherwise, his expression of open disdain toward Zeppelin, who was now on the podium giving an impassioned speech, would have drawn every eye to him.
He swept a quick glance around the hall.
Every influential noble in the Empire seemed to be present.
Among them were both famous and unknown artists.
At the Devonshire Autumn Ball, any artist whose work caught Zeppelin’s eye gained tremendous fame.
Not only would the price of that chosen work skyrocket, but the artist would also receive the honor of exhibiting at the Imperial Exposition in the coming winter.
So it was no wonder that the artists here were staring at Zeppelin with desperate, burning eyes — waiting, hoping that perhaps their work might be the one to earn his applause.
And yet, it wasn’t only artists keeping an eye on Zeppelin.
In recent years, more and more nobles had begun venturing into business.
After Zahidra ascended the throne, the amount of tax revenue that nobles could collect from their lands became limited.
Furthermore, unlike the isolationist policies of previous emperors, Zahidra actively encouraged international trade.
As a result, cheap foreign grain flooded into the Empire, drastically reducing the profits that landowning nobles could earn from their estates.
In the past, one could discreetly offer a bribe and raise taxes at will.
But Zahidra punished such behavior harshly.
Now, the income from their lands was far from enough to sustain the nobles’ extravagant lifestyles.
The era of scorning manual labor had ended; a new age of self-run enterprises had begun.
Zeppelin had been quick to adapt to the times — a pioneer in this new world.
Every business he touched flourished, and many were eager to learn the secret behind his success.
There was no shortage of people hoping to invest in his ventures.
Everyone in the hall was rolling their eyes, calculating what benefits Zeppelin’s enterprises might bring them.
“I hate to admit it, but the man has talent.”
Julian listened to Zeppelin’s confident and dazzling rhetoric, grudgingly impressed.
Still, seeing that smug, handsome face brimming with self-assurance made his stomach twist in irritation.
But then he imagined how that proud face would soon crumble in disgrace — and a satisfied smile curved his lips.
“Julian. Is that you?”
Zahidra had approached without a sound, now standing at Julian’s side.
Julian lifted his shoulders in mock defeat.
“You recognized me, Your Majesty?”
“You’re the only one here glaring daggers at the Earl of Devonshire,” Zahidra replied dryly. “And you’re in disguise again, I see. Is that some sort of hobby for you and your fiancée? Do you two play dress-up even in your free time?”
Julian smirked. “We share hobbies far stranger than that. Would you like to hear about them?”
Zahidra frowned slightly, then let out a small, weary chuckle.
“Enough. I thought you were the only one impertinent enough to speak to me this way, but that woman of yours — Rebecca, was it? — she’s just as bold. No wonder she’s managed to keep you on a leash.”
“So, Your Majesty doesn’t approve of my fiancée?”
“I’m reserving judgment. I’m not one to decide based on first impressions. For now…” Zahidra’s eyes narrowed, as if recalling Rebecca’s face. “She intrigues me. Bring her to the palace soon.”
“I was planning to, actually.”
“You’ve been visiting me quite often these days.”
“Well, it would be rude not to deliver my wedding invitation in person.”
Zahidra gave him a sharp look. “You knew I’d been preparing a match between you and my daughter, Katrine — and yet you mention a wedding invitation? You’re as audacious as ever. My daughter came back to the palace in tears when she heard of your sudden engagement.”
“Oh, dear. I had no idea. Please convey my apologies to Her Highness — it’s not her fault. I’m simply… in love.”
Julian’s mouth curled in a sly smile.
Zahidra, who had been staring past him toward Zeppelin, now turned his gaze squarely on Julian.
“You’ve changed,” the emperor said quietly.
“How do you mean?”
“You were once a man of winter — cold, detached. But now you seem like spring itself. I can’t tell if you’re acting or if it’s real.”
“Is that so?”
Julian fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.
Now that he thought about it, life had indeed become… lighter.
In the past, even opening his eyes in the morning had felt unbearable.
He’d lie in bed for hours, staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering why he bothered to keep living.
He could have gone on like that forever — doing nothing, collecting honors for merely holding a title.
He was a duke, after all, with coffers overflowing and no real duties. Even if he signed a few documents haphazardly, the world would still bow to him.
He’d tried to escape that emptiness — through training, through business, through reckless indulgence — but nothing filled the hollow in his chest.
The more he resisted fate, the deeper the void grew.
Life was dull, meaningless.
But then Rebecca appeared.
Since meeting her, he barely noticed the days passing.
He was constantly busy — too busy to waste time in idleness.
He spent his days handling the tasks she entrusted to him, preparing for the wedding, poring over paperwork late into the night.
And when he finally looked up from his desk, dawn would be breaking.
Whenever he found a spare moment, he would head to the Obellia estate — drawn by the warmth and liveliness that seemed to radiate from her world.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alive, so driven.
Rebecca had changed everything.
She had changed him.
“Julian.”
Lost in thought, Julian looked up at the sound of Zahidra’s deep voice.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“You look well. I hope you stay that way — stay as spring.”
“Pardon?”
“Winter kills,” Zahidra murmured with a faint, knowing smile. “But spring gives life.”
Julian pondered the words, then quietly nodded.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
Zeppelin’s presentation was apparently over — applause rippled through the hall.
Zahidra joined in politely, his face unreadable.
Zeppelin, glowing with satisfaction, continued, “Now, for the true purpose of tonight’s gathering — allow me to unveil our guest of honor!”
The artists tensed, holding their breath.
It was the moment of the year — when the most remarkable work of art would be revealed.
All around, people swallowed nervously.
The identity of the piece had been kept an absolute secret; everyone was burning with curiosity.
Julian glanced up at the second floor.
There, disguised as a servant, stood Croix, leaning casually on the railing.
While everyone’s eyes were fixed on the covered painting behind Zeppelin, Julian alone was watching the balcony.
From his quiet corner, Octavio — one of Zeppelin’s aides — noticed Julian’s line of sight. He followed it upward… and froze.
A servant he hadn’t seen earlier was standing there, untying the white cloth that covered the great painting.
A terrible premonition ran through him.
Octavio quickly tried to signal Zeppelin, but the man, drunk on his own glory, didn’t even glance his way.
Damn it.
Octavio began pushing through the crowd toward the podium, but the sea of bodies was too dense.
Finally, as the audience’s anticipation reached its limit, Zeppelin raised his voice in triumph:
“Behold — a masterpiece for the ages!”
With a loud swish, the enormous drape fell away behind him.
He waited for gasps of admiration.
He even turned slightly to gauge the emperor’s reaction — for this entire event had been arranged, in truth, for Zahidra’s benefit.
A few days earlier, while sorting paintings in the Hall of Light, Zeppelin had suddenly recalled something: the memory of when the emperor had once imprisoned him.
Back then, he hadn’t understood why Zahidra had punished him.
But upon reflection, he realized it had been a test — a kind of taming.
The emperor knew that among all painters, Zeppelin most admired Varinica — and so he had used her to test Zeppelin’s loyalty.
“His Majesty does have a wicked sense of humor,” Zeppelin thought wryly.
He admitted, in hindsight, that he’d been arrogant, even toward the emperor’s faction.
So, to make amends, he had prepared a special gift — a painting dedicated to Zahidra himself.
Surely, this would redeem him.
But as seconds ticked by, no words of praise came.
Instead, the hall filled with stunned silence.
People stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, at the unveiled canvas.
Zeppelin, confused, looked to Zahidra.
The emperor’s expression had hardened into something dark and furious.
“Earl Zeppelin Devonshire! What in blazes is the meaning of this?!”
The thunderous voice echoed across the hall.
Zeppelin spun around.
“Wh—what… how is this here…?”
He gaped at the painting — at the sight that made his blood run cold.
A chilling dread swept through his body from head to toe.
His legs gave out, and his face drained of all color.
He staggered.
“This way.”
After crawling through a small hidden passage, Rebecca emerged into the open and found Grace waiting.
Grace immediately guided her forward.
When she noticed Kanna following behind, she hesitated — but quickly masked her expression and resumed leading the way.
“I’ll return to my post now,” Kanna said, bowing before heading off toward the rear of the mansion.
“Where on earth is that girl going?” Grace asked, suspicion lacing her tone.
Rebecca merely smiled. “That doesn’t concern you. Let’s go inside.”
Grace’s lips parted, as though she had plenty more to say — but she thought better of it. No matter what she asked, Rebecca would never answer honestly.
“This is as far as I go,” Grace said at last. “There are too many eyes beyond this point.”
She pushed aside the thick wall of ivy, revealing a rough wooden door hidden beneath.
From the ring of keys at her waist, Grace selected one with practiced ease and fit it into the lock.
The door creaked and rattled open.
