Chapter 49
Of course, Reynold and the Artis Troupe wouldn’t crumble so easily, but making a fuss wouldn’t do any good.
Her light brown eyes, reflected in the teacup, flickered with amusement.
“Of course. I knew a perceptive young lady like you would understand quickly.”
A deepening smile formed at the corners of Emily’s wrinkled lips. For a brief moment, the only sound was the clear chime of the teacups clinking together.
“And there’s one more thing I’d like you to do.”
Emily spoke again, this time less discreetly than before.
“I’d like you to report on the Second Prince’s daily affairs.”
“Huh?”
Hestia blinked her innocent eyes, surprised.
“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I also receive reports on the First Prince’s schedule. I only wish to see if there’s anything lacking for the two princes, and to find ways, as the head lady-in-waiting, to assist. They will be handling important matters ahead, and it’s our duty to serve them to the best of our ability.”
Outwardly, it seemed as though Emily was offering help for Terhan’s sake. Beneath that gentle smile, however, Hestia had long known the face behind it was far from harmless.
“If Miss Werner feels burdened, you don’t have to do it. We can find another lady-in-waiting who will handle it better.”
Hestia’s eyebrows twitched slightly. How far should she tolerate them? Her downward gaze sharpened like a measuring instrument.
Yet, now that she had even taken the glass bottle, reporting daily schedules was nothing.
“Assisting Your Highness is, naturally, the most fundamental duty of a lady-in-waiting. And as for the task you mentioned, it is only proper that I, as the prince’s close aide, undertake it.”
Hestia placed the empty teacup down and offered a bright, innocent smile, putting all her effort into looking harmless.
As if she were prostrating herself before them.
“Indeed, my eyes did not deceive me. I knew Miss Werner would handle the task well.”
Emily smiled at Hestia with satisfaction.
“…Thank you.”
Hestia barely managed to speak. One wrong word, and a smirk might escape her lips.
“It is all thanks to the gracious Empress. You may show your gratitude not with words, but by serving the Second Prince well.”
“I will make sure to repay that grace.”
After all, the leverage they held was false.
Honestly, Hestia didn’t mind if the Empress imposed disadvantages on the Artis Troupe. Above all, she was certain Reynold had already anticipated all of this…
If so, it was better to use them than be used.
“Then, I shall take my leave. I’ve kept the prince’s close aide long enough.”
“Um, if I may, could I ask you just one thing?”
Hestia looked at Emily with perfectly innocent eyes, pretending ignorance.
“Of course.”
Emily looked at her with a gentle smile.
“That painting…”
Hestia slowly raised her hand, pointing to a painting behind Emily, in the office.
It was a painting that seemed oddly out of place in the head lady-in-waiting’s office.
Following Hestia’s hand, Emily turned to look at the painting.
“Oh. That painting was personally bestowed by Her Majesty the Empress. Miss Werner, you have quite an eye for art, it seems.”
Her face beamed with pride. Emily probably wanted to boast about receiving it from the Empress herself, but Hestia’s attention was elsewhere.
“What does that sword signify?”
Hestia raised her finger slightly higher, pointing to the small girl in the painting holding a sword.
It looked as if she were either about to stab someone or worship the sword.
“You’ve probably heard of it. The legendary sword that grants immortality.”
Hestia already knew the story.
A superstition-like legend, passed down by word of mouth through the ages.
“…Take me. Let me reach your end. Then I will cut off everything of yours.”
A sword that even cuts through time.
In other words, it was a legend of a sword that could grant immortality.
But after countless years, Hestia had finally found the erased continuation of the text, which had a slightly different meaning:
“It will grant you eternal rest and cut through even time.”
Eternal rest.
Exactly what Hestia desired.
“…It was just a legend, wasn’t it?”
Her finger trembled as it pointed to the painting. Hestia quickly clenched her hand. Meanwhile, Emily’s gaze returned to its original place.
“Judging by the fact that Her Majesty personally bestowed this painting…”
Hestia’s eyes fixed only on Emily’s lips. The resonance of her heartbeat grew louder.
“Perhaps it’s not just a legend, after all.”
Thump.
Her heart sank to the floor. This was a clue to the conclusion Hestia had desperately sought.
“Ah…”
Her delicate hand trembled uncontrollably.
She had come one step closer to the clue.
The oral legend, once distant and intangible, felt suddenly close to reality.
All the truth lay within this imperial palace.
“Miss Werner?”
Fortunately, Emily’s voice brought her back from her deep thoughts.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I got carried away admiring the painting. I shall take my leave now.”
“Very well. I will send someone to deliver the report, so please pass it along.”
“Yes. Understood.”
Hestia lifted the hem of her skirt in a slight bow, then hurriedly left the head lady-in-waiting’s office and the Empress’s palace.
Once she entered the prince’s palace, her pace slowed, and she soon stopped completely. As expected, no one passed by.
The sun had long passed noon, tilting toward the horizon. Hestia’s shadow stretched long across the corridor, cast over the reddish glow of the sunset.
“Alright, Hestia. It’s only a matter of time. When it comes to time, you’ll inevitably win. Calmly, think calmly. Stay composed, Hestia.”
Hestia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, soothing herself. Her whispered words carried a desperate intensity, like a silent prayer.
“Imperial treasure. Legendary sword that grants immortality. Inaccessible. Unreadable text.”
Recalling the note Reynold had brought, Hestia slowly lifted her gaze.
Combining the clues, the treasure likely existed.
The problem was the sword’s location…
“The Empress…”
If it were the Emperor or Empress, they would likely know the sword’s truth and its location.
Otherwise, why bestow such a painting to the head lady-in-waiting? The painting clearly hinted at a hidden truth.
Then where is the key to this clue? Where is that place?
Even if it’s hard to access, the Emperor or Empress could reach it. Surely, they had exclusive means only the royal family could use.
Ah, perhaps…
“If the prince is difficult, then the crown prince.”
Maybe even the crown prince could access it.
Yes. Step by step, move upward.
If the prince can’t, the crown prince.
If the crown prince can’t, the Empress.
And as a final resort, use everything she had to reach the Emperor.
Her brown eyes reflected the resolute gleam of determination. The light of life, shining for the first time in centuries, a will to survive.
And then someone suddenly filled Hestia’s gaze.
“…Your Highness?”
Far ahead, Terhan was breathing heavily, staring at Hestia.
His lips moved slightly, but she couldn’t hear what he said.
Terhan took brisk steps toward her, stopping three steps away, an unfamiliar urgency in his pace.
“Where are you rushing to—”
“…Please, don’t.”
Hestia’s words cut him off, but he stepped closer.
“Don’t disappear without a word.”
This was not the Terhan she had seen before. His disheveled breath, his trembling gaze, carried a deep earnestness.
Hestia was too taken aback by this unfamiliar side of him to find the right words.
“Stay in front of me. Only where I can see you. That’s all I ask.”
He took another step forward.
“No, I have my duties too…”
Again, Hestia couldn’t finish her sentence.
Terhan leaned closer, tilting his face, so close their scents mingled.
His voice, his eyes, his expression—so desperate that Hestia could not pull away.
Thud.
Terhan rested his forehead on Hestia’s shoulder. His damp hair brushed against her neck.
His intense emotions seemed to reach her, stirring a strange ache in her heart.
“Even if only in words, can you promise me that?”
Please.
Terhan swallowed his desperate words, biting his lower lip.
What memory drove him to feel so intensely?
Hestia, as if entranced, gently placed her hand on Terhan’s back.
At her touch, his muscles twitched slightly, as if surprised.
“Please… don’t run away.”
When she tried to pull back, Terhan held her hand. His emotions, his words, bound her hand with an invisible crimson thread.
When she raised her hand again, his warmth pressed against her palm.
Tap. Tap.
As she patted his back, Hestia felt her heart calm. Neither knew who was comforting whom.
Her hand instinctively stroked his back, not by thought but by instinct, immersed in his emotions.
“Just stay there, in that spot… Didn’t I tell you that?”
She had heard similar words before. That child had surely said something similar…
Hestia felt an unsettling sense of missing something, but now she couldn’t dwell on it.
The wave of Terhan’s raw emotion swept over her entirely.
As the elongated shadow of the corridor deepened into the full orange of sunset, Terhan lifted his head and stepped back slightly.
The warmth that had pressed against her disappeared, leaving a stark emptiness.
His soft dark blue hair swayed gently in the breeze. Behind golden eyes, as if trying to capture her in his gaze, complex emotions intertwined.
