TRL 49

Chapter 49

In the end, all Gideon could do now was carefully observe Hannah in various ways and test her bit by bit.

“I don’t know the principles behind the return process. If I provoke her wrongly and it fails… that’ll be the end.”

If that happened, the last shred of his sanity might be shattered.

Gideon knew very well what would happen to him if he broke down any further. He already had the perfect example—Pascal.

“First… I’ll check her Ode.”

If what Ethan saw really was magic gunnery, that would mean Hannah had awakened her Ode.

There had been past cases where Ode-related memories returned first, and people began using their powers without knowing what they were. Ollie Pascal had been one of them.

Gideon gestured to Hannah.

“Li… come here for a moment.”

He almost said, “Rita, come here.” Her auburn hair and figure from behind looked too much like Rita’s.

“Y-yes…?”

Hannah replied in a voice that was half-question, half-answer, and approached him timidly. Her pale face trembled.

“She scares easily.”

In that moment, he understood Ethan’s feelings. No matter how vast the difference in their status, this level of fear didn’t feel like Rita Pascal.

“Even without memories, her personality should be intact.”

Everyone who had returned so far had been the same. Just a bit of observation, and you could tell exactly who they were. Trauma or habits from memory loss aside, their core temperament remained unchanged.

Hannah stood in front of him, her tearful face full of fear. When he reached out his hand, she flinched hard.

“A normal maid would react like this.”

But if she were really Rita, it felt far too unfamiliar. No wonder Ethan had been confused—it was like a cruel false hope.

With complicated emotions swirling inside him, Gideon lightly placed his fingertip on Hannah’s forehead. She turned so pale she looked blue, clutching her skirt in terror.

“I just need to check something. Don’t be afraid.”

With a face so much like Rita’s twisted in fear, he couldn’t help but speak gently. Thankfully, he retained enough rationality to sound like a proper crown prince.

Gideon slowly infused a bit of Ode into her body. It was one way to determine whether someone was a Vowed One.

Ethan wouldn’t have known how to do this gently—his Ode, strengthened through his Vow, was full of killing intent, just like him. Precision manipulation like this was impossible for him.

Someone else might have knocked her out, used drugs to test her, or applied force. But Ethan couldn’t bring himself to do such things to someone who might be Rita. If he ever tried, Gideon would’ve half-killed him.

So, this kind of testing had to be done by Gideon.

With sharp focus, he withdrew the Ode after a brief moment and lifted his hand.

“…”

His expression turned subtle. Hannah, stiff as a board, anxiously looked at him.

“Y-Your Highness…?”

“…You may go. Thank you.”

He turned and headed toward the table with his jacket laid over it. As the crown prince walked away, Hannah, still confused, rubbed her forehead and picked up the remaining salt and soda water.

Gideon picked up his wet-sleeved jacket, masking his dismay.

“No trace of Ode. She’s not a Vowed One.”

Then what did Ethan see? Was it not magic gunnery but another kind of magic or technique?

“She didn’t use magic gunnery, her personality is different, and the atmosphere around her is completely different.”

More than anything, his intuition strongly rejected the idea. The countless failures he’d experienced screamed at him—

This woman is not Rita.

Honestly, that noblewoman he saw earlier seemed more like Rita. They looked nothing alike, but her gaze had felt familiar.

“…Not again?”

He had no idea how many times his hopes had been crushed like this. His already fragile mind began to tremble. He could hear Pascal’s laughter ringing in his head.

He gritted his teeth.

“No. There’s still a chance. The resemblance is so strong… If I keep watching…”

Just then, he heard the soft click of a door opening. Hannah was leaving the lounge. At the same moment, his sharp ears picked up a disturbance from the ballroom.

The music had stopped—something unusual was happening.

* * *

People had forgotten to dance and stood still, murmuring in surprise. With the guests frozen, the orchestra had no choice but to stop playing.

Though everyone whispered with noble grace, the hall filled with a loud hum due to the sheer number of excited voices.

The majority of the attendees were in their late teens to early twenties—barely adults. Some girls, who looked barely out of childhood, clutched their cheeks and squealed. A few boys let out inappropriate whistles and were promptly scolded by their parents.

At the center of all those eyes stood the stars of the night: Lady Lillietta del Nysa Laskail, and Joseph del Duyrevog Adicle, heir to the Grand Duchy.

Joseph, with his wavy black hair and dull golden eyes—marks of imperial blood—was kneeling on one knee on the marble floor.

With one hand over his chest and the other raised dramatically, he spoke in a loud, theatrical voice:

“Oh, do you think this is a joke? A descendant of the great Black Dragon would never kneel as a jest! I am speaking from the depths of my heart, Lady Laskail. Please do not doubt my sincerity.”

He was completely absorbed in himself. His eyes were slightly glazed, clouded by desire and ambition, as he looked up at Lillietta.

“Since you suspect a jest, allow me to say it once more. I fell for you at first sight. Therefore, I, Joseph of Adicle, hereby formally propose marriage to Lillietta of Laskail!”

At the debutante ball of Lady Laskail, the heir of Grand Duke Adicle proposed on the spot, claiming love at first sight.

Even a sudden marriage proposal like that would be a story passed down in social circles for years—but considering the lofty status of both parties, and the fact that Lady Laskail had just returned after being missing for ten years, the rumors were endless.

It was a scandal of the highest order.

Young nobles let out gasps, stomped their feet, and applauded. Even their parents’ stern gazes couldn’t stop them—frankly, the adults were too shocked themselves and whispered among one another.

At the center of all those stares, Lillietta thought she would very much like to kick Joseph in the face.

So did Leonhardt, who stood beside her, and Richard, who was a little ways off.

Only the Duke and Duchess of Laskail, still calming their tear-stained eyes, had different thoughts. The Duke wanted to shoot the idiot in the head, and the Duchess wished to pour wine over his head.

Despite their generally kind nature for nobles, the Laskail family had enough poise and dignity to keep those thoughts from becoming actions.

Except for Richard, who had spent years spiraling and was now nearly feral. He was already pushing through the crowd with wild eyes.

Lillietta pressed down on her twitching foot. Thankfully, her dress was voluminous. Also, thankfully, she hadn’t brought her revolver.

“I’m not Rita Pascal here. I’m Lillietta del Nysa Laskail. He’s a civilian, and I’m a noble lady…”

Reciting her etiquette lessons, she barely managed to plaster on a “troubled smile” and spoke:

“Isn’t it a bit early to propose on the very day we met, Your Grace?”

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t dare demand an answer right away. I simply wanted the beautiful Lillietta to know that a suitor has fallen for her at first sight.”

Joseph tried to kiss the back of her hand. Lillietta quickly pulled her hand back and took a step away.

“He’s a civilian. He’s a civilian. If I hit him, he’d die… Wait, with my current strength, maybe he wouldn’t? No, I’m a noble lady… I’m Lady Lillietta…”

While Lillietta took deep breaths, Leonhardt noticed Richard barreling forward a bit too late.

He quickly stepped in front of his brother, blocking his path with a smile and glaring at Joseph.

“Your Grace, it seems you’ve had a bit much to drink. Allow me to escort you to the lounge.”

“Oh yes, I am quite intoxicated—by the lady’s beauty! But young lord, I assure you, my mind is clearer than ever!”

Joseph beamed, straightened his knee, and stood up, throwing his arms wide.

“Of course, I know such a sudden proposal is rude. But I simply could not bear to keep this feeling inside! Ah, I am but a sinner of love, unable to control my burning passion!”

Clutching his chest, he lowered his head—like a scene from an opera.

Lillietta thought, dazed:

Is this some kind of noble trend I don’t know about? Is this normal in the capital’s social circles? Is this how people behave here?