Chapter 9
Just as she noticed the man’s eyes turning red, Ibi spoke before she could stop herself.
“Did you cry?”
At her words, the man flinched slightly and slowly stood up.
‘He’s tall.’
The unfamiliar man was tall.
Though not as large as the sailors who occasionally came to help at the orphanage, Ibi felt a much stronger sense of pressure than she had back then.
Yet, she wasn’t scared.
Ibi, staring at the man, remembered how his eyes had been reddened.
She knew when eyes looked like that — when you were so sad you wanted to cry, but had to hold it in.
Still holding the bouquet in one hand, Ibi fumbled in her pocket.
‘There it is!’
Inside was a handkerchief she had received earlier along with her clothes.
It was spotless and neatly embroidered with the insignia of the Academy in one corner. Just seeing it had made her happy, and so she had folded it carefully and kept it deep in her pocket.
Brand new, unused.
She had hidden it so deep so as not to accidentally touch or stain it, but without hesitation, Ibi now held it out to the man.
“……”
“……”
The man simply stared at the handkerchief she offered, saying nothing.
So Ibi had to speak first.
“Please use this.”
“……”
Even though she told him to use it, the man continued to silently stare at her.
So Ibi spoke again.
“I got it new today. It’s clean!”
Long ago, when she was cleaning at a higher school, someone had fallen.
At the time, she had pulled out a handkerchief the orphanage director had made for her to help clean the wound.
But the person had slapped it away, scoffing at how dirty something from an orphanage must be.
Remembering that, Ibi quickly added,
“I’ve really never used it, not even once…”
A large hand reached out and took the handkerchief she held.
Maybe because his hand was so big, he ended up grabbing both the handkerchief and Ibi’s hand at once.
Then, gently, he took only the handkerchief from her hand.
Ibi felt the warmth of his touch linger, and reflexively opened and closed her now empty hand.
“Thank you.”
The man responded briefly in a gruff voice.
It might have sounded angry to someone else, but Ibi wasn’t afraid.
Although he had accepted the handkerchief, the man didn’t wipe his eyes.
Instead, he looked back and forth between the handkerchief and Ibi, and asked,
“But who are you?”
Clois stared at the tiny handkerchief in his hand, feeling a strange sense of absurdity.
So this bold intruder was just a child?
At a glance, he had thought she was five or six years old, but now realized that her clothes were the uniform of the Academy.
That meant she had to be at least seven.
Realizing this, Clois almost clicked his tongue.
Even at seven, the girl was so small.
Unless she was sick, it meant she hadn’t been eating properly.
He briefly considered if she might be ill, but her eyes sparkled with clarity, and her movements weren’t hindered.
‘Who in the world are her parents?’
Clois inwardly cursed the child’s guardians as he examined her.
‘But how did an Academy child even get here?’
There was no way from the Academy to this place.
She would have had to push through thick bushes to come through the forest — yet her clothes were far too clean for that.
And why was an unfamiliar child placing flowers on Lillian’s grave?
At that moment, the child blinked and smiled brightly.
“I’m Ibi Elden.”
Clois stared blankly at her.
He had often imagined the blurred vision of Ebbvien’s face — if she had lived, how would she have smiled, how would she have spoken?
But even after seeing girls of similar age, he had never been able to clearly picture Ebbvien’s appearance.
Yet now, the moment he saw Ibi’s smile, he felt certain.
If Ebbvien were alive, wouldn’t she smile just like this?
Then, realizing the thought, he gave a bitter laugh.
If that child were alive, she would’ve grown up as the Empire’s only princess, receiving all love and care.
Yet here he was, imagining Ebbvien in a small, skinny child like this.
And then it hit him — the name Ibi Elden.
The orphan child he had chosen in a fit of rage.
Now he understood why she was so small and thin, and why she panicked when he didn’t take the handkerchief, fearing it would be seen as dirty.
Clois gripped the handkerchief tightly.
Then Ibi asked,
“Who are you, mister?”
The unfamiliar title struck Clois speechless for a moment.
Mister?
Only then did he remember — he had left his adorned outer robe behind in the palace.
To the child, he probably looked like a palace worker in simple shirt and trousers.
Sure, up close, one might notice the finer quality of his clothes, but it wouldn’t be enough to tell he was the emperor.
‘Not that I plan to tell her.’
He wanted to ask how she’d gotten here from the Academy. But if he said he was the emperor right away, she might be too shocked to answer.
Then Ibi asked again.
“Do you work at the Academy, mister?”
Clois had been unsure what to say, but her question gave him an idea.
Sian Roschen.
The name of the professor currently absent from the Academy, as the Minister of State had mentioned.
He decided to borrow it.
“I’m Sian Roschen. A professor at the Academy.”
At his answer, Ibi’s face lit up. Even if he was just a professor, the fact that he was from the same Academy must have made her feel relieved.
At that moment, a loud bell rang in the distance.
Startled, Ibi turned her head.
The Academy guidebook had said there would be a bell to signal curfew.
When it rang, all students had to return to their dorms, no matter where they were or what they were doing.
“Oh, I have to go now! It’s time to go back!”
Ibi handed the bouquet she had been holding to Clois and quickly picked up her bag from the ground.
After hurriedly slinging it over her shoulder, she politely bowed as instructed in the guidebook, and then dashed off into the bushes where she had come from.
Clois stood there, holding the bouquet she had handed him, staring blankly after her.
Was there really a path there?
Just as he was about to call after her, the girl turned back, smiled, and waved.
“See you next time!”
As he watched her go, Clois felt a sharp pain pierce his chest.
He had to stop her.
His instincts were screaming at him — don’t let her go. Bring her back to his side.
But the rational mind he had built over years as emperor quickly overruled his instinct.
Bring her back for what?
This was the child’s first day in the palace.
She was still young, and thought Clois was just a professor.
If he suddenly brought her back, wouldn’t she be frightened?
While he hesitated, the child disappeared into the bushes.
“……”
Clois recalled the smile on Ibi’s face as she waved to him.
What if she found out he was the emperor?
What if she realized this place was strictly off-limits?
She was smart enough to be admitted to the Academy.
She would quickly understand the gravity of her trespass.
Would she still be able to smile and greet him like that?
His eyes shifted from the bushes to the bouquet in his hand.
Crude, but lovingly arranged — just like the flower crown on Lillian’s grave.
This must have been meant for Ebbvien’s grave.
Yet now, it was in his hands.
“…Ha…”
Clois let out a long sigh and sat down heavily in front of the two graves.
Usually, there would be dry leaves scattered about — but today, the gravestones and burial mounds were spotless.
It was clearly Ibi who had cleaned them.
‘Does she even know whose graves these are?’
