~CHAPTER 21~
Dianu walked out of the banquet hall arm in arm with the Princess.
To anyone watching, it might have looked like two close noble ladies chatting as they strolled.
The attendants guarding the main entrance hurried toward them.
Dianu kept her expression calm.
“Her Highness wished to get some fresh air.”
Since the Princess didn’t deny it, the attendants stepped aside easily.
One of them guided the two ladies toward the rear garden.
Dianu half-dragged the Princess as they walked.
The heavy dress made it hard to move, and by the time they reached a quiet spot, she was nearly out of breath.
Music and laughter from the banquet hall drifted out through the open windows.
Dianu took a deep breath and finally released the Princess’s arm.
The Princess stared at her with slightly parted lips.
Her face was unreadable—shock, anger, or both.
Even so, the night air felt refreshing.
Dianu fanned her flushed cheeks with her hand.
“Are you feeling calmer now?”
Thankfully, the fury she had shown toward Duke Bellua was gone from her face.
The Princess widened her eyes and looked Dianu up and down before speaking in a trembling voice.
“Do you truly have no fear for your life?”
“I apologize for being rude. But it was the only way to get out of that situation.”
“……”
“If I deserve punishment, I’ll accept it.”
Though she said that, Dianu didn’t actually believe she’d be punished.
Even if the Princess ordered her to be thrown into the dungeon, the Emperor would surely take Dianu’s side.
It didn’t feel pleasant to act like a sycophant clinging to higher power, but in the end, this was also for the Princess’s sake.
If she had struck Duke Bellua in the middle of the national founding banquet, her already fragile reputation would have hit rock bottom.
And if the Emperor then punished the Duke to defend her, all the nobles would rise up condemning his tyranny.
The Princess still looked at Dianu as if she couldn’t believe what had happened.
“…Why are you doing this much?”
Dianu tilted her head while fanning her face.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Why do you hover around me and go this far?”
She could have replied with something diplomatic like “Because it’s His Majesty’s order.”
Or she could have avoided the question altogether.
But Dianu didn’t.
At this moment, the Princess wore neither her fiery anger nor her cold composure.
Her expression, confused like someone staring at an unsolvable puzzle, made her look like a real eighteen-year-old girl for the first time.
Dianu felt oddly cheerful as she answered.
“Let’s call it the professional spirit of a tutor.”
“……”
“Your Highness, would you grant me just one chance? I’m confident in my teaching skills. If you attend one lesson and don’t like it, I promise I’ll stop bothering you.”
Of course, the authority to dismiss the tutor rested with the Emperor, not the Princess, but Dianu didn’t bother to mention that.
“Anyway, we should return to the hall now. The attendant who guided us earlier…”
But the attendant was nowhere to be seen.
Dianu looked around in confusion, assuming he had stepped back to give the two ladies privacy.
The Princess opened her mouth to speak, but Dianu never heard her words.
Footsteps and movement came from an unexpected direction.
“Um… Your Highness?”
It was an unfamiliar servant.
Startled, Dianu turned around sharply, still on guard.
Sweat beaded on the young man’s forehead, and he looked nervously between Dianu and the Princess.
“There’s… someone who wishes to see Your Highness.”
The Princess frowned.
Her anger at being addressed so informally in such a place was obvious.
But before she could scold him, the servant hurriedly spoke.
“H-he told me to give you this… and said you’d understand once you saw it.”
His trembling hands extended a single sheet of paper toward her.
Something felt wrong.
Dianu stepped forward and intercepted the note before it reached the Princess.
The servant flinched but didn’t dare take it back.
Instead of reading it, Dianu mimicked the lofty tone of an aristocratic lady.
“What’s your name? Which palace are you from?”
“I… I’m…”
“Who sent this note? I need to know who dared to approach Her Highness without following proper protocol.”
Color drained from the servant’s face.
He began trembling all over like a leaf in the wind.
Dianu narrowed her eyes, waiting for his answer.
“I… I’m sorry. Please forgive me. My family has nothing to do with this! I didn’t want to do it either!”
The voices of Duke Bellua and Ambassador Nixandor flashed through her mind—it couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Now that things have reached this point, our plan must proceed as arranged, Duke.”
“Don’t worry. As long as the materials you provided are genuine.”
And finally, the words she’d overheard as she was forced to leave the courtyard to avoid being discovered.
“Just wait. She’ll never make it to the altar.”
Instinctively, Dianu stepped in front of the Princess.
In the next moment, something flashed in the night air.
“Ah…?”
Dianu stumbled backward.
The warmth of the Princess’s body pressed against her back.
Then she realized she was clutching her stomach.
When she raised her hand, crimson stained her white gloves.
“Wh-what…?”
Leaning against the Princess, Dianu slowly collapsed to the ground.
The note slipped from her grasp and fell soundlessly.
What… just happened?
Before she lost consciousness, the last thing she heard was the Princess’s piercing scream.
* * *
Rision Catalos prided himself on his composure.
Since childhood, he had trained himself never to show fear, sorrow, or anger.
And because the life of an emperor was filled with reasons to feel all three, he had plenty of practice.
For over twenty years, nothing could shake that calm.
Not even when his late parents died, nor when he received the report that Edric Loisen had been assassinated.
Everything was always under his control.
And if it wasn’t, he had to act as if it was.
“Power exists because people believe it does. It’s an illusion—but an illusion that holds the world together. Maintaining that illusion is the ruler’s duty.”
Rision had never forgotten his mentor’s words.
So even when a pale-faced guard burst into the grand banquet hall, even when he heard that Elpenlira had been attacked in the garden, he did not crumble.
“Don’t let a single rat escape.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Marek took command of the soldiers and royal guards, sealing every entrance and exit.
The air thickened with fear and unease.
Rision glanced around the hall, but amid the murmuring crowd, the blue dress was nowhere to be seen.
No… it can’t be.
He forced himself to stay composed.
There were countless reasons a lady might step out during a banquet.
She had seemed tense from the beginning.
Maybe she had a headache or felt faint or her corset was too tight, and she was now resting somewhere with her maids.
That had to be it.
The guard who brought the message led Rision toward the spruce palace garden.
Behind him followed a pale-faced Ellaris and the Countess Ornin.
Once they were away from most eyes, Rision broke into a run.
He reached the garden in one breath—and froze.
It was a dreadful sight.
Elpenlira was sitting on the stone floor, disheveled and pale.
Her discarded gloves rolled near her feet, stained with blood.
But Rision’s gaze didn’t linger on them.
Because the person lying in her arms was someone who should never have been there.
Long hair spilled over her face, her once-rosy cheeks drained of color.
Rision’s trembling eyes dropped to her abdomen, where Elpenlira’s bare hands pressed down on a bleeding wound.
His heart plummeted.
“She… she was stabbed…”
Elpenlira was as white as snow.
She tried to point at the dagger on the ground but flinched and pressed the wound again.
Rision knelt beside them.
He pulled off his formal jacket, not knowing what else to do.
He wasn’t sure whether to touch the wound, or cover her body with his coat, or just stay still.
A deep, suffocating helplessness crawled through his chest—an unfamiliar feeling.
In the end, all he could do was place his hand over Elpenlira’s trembling one, which still pressed the wound.
“She’ll be fine.”
“There’s so much blood…”
“She’s breathing. She’ll be fine.”
“Why… for me—”
Her choked words trailed off as the physician arrived, kneeling beside Dianu.
He gently tried to coax the dazed Princess, but she only shook her head weakly.
Rision had to pull her back himself, placing a hand on her shoulder to move her away.
Supporting his sister’s limp body, he turned to the physician.
It was the question he dreaded most, yet had to ask.
“Is she in danger?”
The doctor examined the wound carefully, then brightened.
“No, Your Majesty. Fortunately, she was wearing several layers of undergarments. The wound isn’t deep. She’ll live.”
“…Is there any chance the blade was poisoned?”
At his signal, a guard handed the bloodstained dagger to the physician.
Rision watched with a tight jaw as the man sniffed the weapon.
The doctor shook his head.
“No trace of poison.”
“Then why hasn’t she regained consciousness?”
“She’s exhausted and in shock from the blood loss. She’ll wake soon.”
Elpenlira still stared at Dianu anxiously.
Rision didn’t offer comforting words.
Instead, he wrapped an arm lightly around her trembling shoulders.
Servants arrived carrying a stretcher.
Rision and Elpenlira stood aside as the guards helped the doctor lift Dianu onto it.
Before they carried her away, Rision gave a single order.
“Save her.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Elpenlira pushed past him to follow.
“I’m going with her.”
“Lira.”
“Assign royal guards to accompany us. There was an attendant who led us here.”
She meant she wanted to see for herself who was involved in the attack.
Rision nodded and ordered four guards to go with her.
That was for the best.
What he needed to do next was not something his young sister should witness.
“Countess Ornin, please go with them.”
The countess bowed silently.
The group carrying the wounded left the garden, their path marked by the scent of blood and fear.
Rision wanted to follow.
But he crushed that irrational urge.
His duty was here.
