Chapter 33
“Welcome back.”
“Yes, Master.”
As the sun set, so too did the light in Arthas’s eyes.
The room was a damp, dark laboratory.
From a fireplace in the corner, a strange-smelling liquid bubbled. The desk was cluttered with all kinds of experimental tools. Books piled in corners, unidentifiable stains, and carcasses of rats and bugs scattered around.
But among all this, something caught the eye more than anything else.
A portrait of a woman filled one entire wall.
Lush lavender hair. Deep blue eyes. A cold expression—but dazzlingly beautiful.
It was a portrait of Eslyn Bertania.
Arthas abruptly halted.
“Huh?”
“What is it?”
“Master, has this portrait always been here?”
Arthas chuckled, pointing at the lavender hair. He normally never paid any attention to such things.
Tatulan—the man so called—gazed silently at Arthas. He set down the magical circle paper he’d been holding.
“Hmph. Arthas, my puppet. Something must be going on outside, hmm?”
His voice was metallic. He lifted a twig-like, skeletal finger to stroke Arthas’s chin. Arthas simply smiled without answering.
“You feel… different. Mind showing me?”
“Yes, Master. Of course.”
Arthas spoke like a programmed automaton.
Tap. Tatulan touched Arthas’s shoulder to absorb his mana.
Arthas’s large body collapsed instantly, like a marionette with its strings cut.
Zzzzt… zzzzzzt…
Rats began to scurry toward Arthas’s limp body.
“Tch. They really are drawn to corpses like nothing else.”
Tatulan waved them away in annoyance.
Arthas had been a pitiful knight who died from a fever—one left untreated by Tatulan on purpose.
With a sickly grin, Tatulan began probing Arthas Nocturne’s memories using mana.
“Let’s see what you’ve been up to lately that’s made you act so strangely.”
The puppet was Tatulan’s eyes.
By day, Arthas resumed his identity. But when the sun set, he would return to Tatulan.
Then Tatulan would review his memories. Hiding safely, he could spy on the world—especially the royal palace—more conveniently than ever.
“It was tough when Dierian Frey was still the Grand Magician in the palace.”
He gritted his teeth. Fortunately, the current head magician was insignificant.
When he thought of that annoying green-haired man, another name surfaced—one with piercing yellow eyes.
Eslyn Bertania.
Tatulan bared his yellow teeth in a grin.
“You couldn’t have died so easily.”
“That proud and arrogant face is still so vivid to me.”
“Hm?”
Tatulan tilted his head. While scanning Arthas’s memories, something odd appeared.
“Who is this maid…?”
The black mage’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
The Second Prince’s Palace Opens
It was a splendid afternoon. For the first time in ages, the Second Prince’s Palace was bustling with people.
Eslyn was among them—disguised as a maid serving Lady Resilia and Lady Merisa.
“Have you been well, Princess Consort?”
“Young Lord Sebis of Viscount House, long time no see.”
Simple greetings were exchanged among nobles.
“You must be performing today.”
“Yes, I’ll be playing the piano.”
Sebis was one of Erdan’s rare friends and a rising star pianist in high society.
“I’m looking forward to it. But where is Prince Erdan?”
“He should be here soon… Ah, there he is.”
Everyone turned their heads.
A man in a cream-colored ceremonial outfit approached.
It was Erdan Bertania, Second Prince and host of the party.
Eslyn first saw the familiar lavender hair. Beneath it, dark blue eyes, a pale face, and a weary gaze evoked a delicate and melancholic presence.
“Erdan…”
Eslyn gripped her skirt tightly.
“Why do you look so gaunt…?”
He looked two—no, ten—times more withered than in her memory.
Sunken cheeks, shadowed eyes, cracked lips… everything about him hurt to see.
Erdan approached Resilia.
“Sister-in-law, it’s been a while.”
“Yes, I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.”
Erdan gave a faint smile.
“Honestly… I didn’t think you’d come.”
Resilia’s face stiffened subtly.
“Of course I came. You sent an invitation.”
“Ah. The invitation.”
Erdan scratched his forehead with a lopsided grin.
“Well, I couldn’t not send one.”
He clearly hadn’t expected her to actually show up.
“W-what did you say?”
“I’m joking.”
He smiled brightly, but the awkward atmosphere lingered.
“Shall we sit? The music will begin shortly.”
Sebis, trying to defuse the tension, led Erdan away and signaled Merisa to guide Resilia in the opposite direction.
“That idiot…”
Eslyn stealthily followed Erdan, pretending to clean up as she picked up a random plate.
She eavesdropped on the conversation between Sebis and Erdan.
“Your Highness, why are you like this today?”
“I told you I hate parties. And I hate her more.”
Erdan spun an empty wine glass on the table with a sour expression.
“Please don’t pick fights with everyone.”
“Mind your business and play. I didn’t invite you to nag me.”
“Then stay seated until I’m done, alright?”
“Do you not understand the meaning of ‘mind your business’?”
“You’re still recovering. Don’t waste your energy.”
“Fine, stop nagging. Don’t act like Eslyn…”
Erdan suddenly stopped.
His buried emotions surfaced for a moment.
“…”
His hand holding the wine glass trembled slightly.
Sebis patted him on the shoulder and walked to the piano.
Eslyn finally put down the plate she’d wiped a hundred times. She couldn’t see Erdan’s face well from her position.
Then the music began.
It was the perfect melody for the warm spring weather.
“This is wonderful.”
The elegant notes mesmerized the audience.
Eslyn used the moment to approach Erdan.
“Would you like some tea?”
“No, wine.”
He didn’t even glance her way.
“Wine? You’re still sick…”
She placed the tea before him.
“Please enjoy.”
“What is th—”
Their eyes met. Erdan blinked, scanning her lavender hair and eyes.
It was her chance.
She tried to slip him a note with the tea—
“Your Highness!”
A servant interrupted, ruining her plan.
“What is it?”
“The First Prince is here!”
“What nonsense is this?”
“What nonsense is this?”
Erdan growled as his brow furrowed.
“Cardan? Why now?”
He had a hunch—Cardan came to mock him.
“Oh my, dear brother looks dreadfully thin.”
Cardan arrived with a smug tone and a mocking gaze.
“Who let in an uninvited guest?”
Erdan asked bitterly. The servant sweated profusely.
“Brother, how rude of you.”
“Ah, my apologies.”
“I guess recovering from illness has made me tactless.”
Cardan smirked.
“Make sure your head isn’t injured too. Get it checked.”
“Of course.”
Though calm outside, Erdan was boiling within. His hands trembled faintly.
“I should’ve just died instead of hosting this ridiculous tea party.”
But he endured. If not for his mother’s wishes, he wouldn’t have done this.
Cardan dropped into a chair, and his servant barked an order at a nearby maid.
“Bring tea.”
“Yes.”
Eslyn replied politely, wheeling over the trolley. She glanced at Erdan’s frozen profile.
“Hmm…”
The trolley held a variety of tea leaves.
“Maybe I can cheer him up a little.”
She carefully selected the leaves with steady hands.
