Chapter 4
Marien racked her brains.
There was a saying: As long as there is the full moon and the sun, the empire will flourish even more. The “full moon” referred to Cain Blackwood, ruler of the North. As long as he guarded the vast northern lands, no foreign power would dare invade the empire’s territory.
And the “sun” position naturally belonged to the brilliant chancellor, Baileon Beers. If Cain was the empire’s strength, then Baileon was its mind.
From a young age, Baileon had been famous for his extraordinary intellect. Matters that others would let pass without a second thought, once in Baileon’s hands, were thoroughly dissected from an entirely new angle. Marien never expected such a man to quietly go along with her words.
No matter how much she appealed that she was willing to burn herself away to connect him and Odette, Baileon would first doubt the sincerity of a third secretary.
Well, who wouldn’t? A newcomer barely three months into the chancellery suddenly recites the future schedules of important figures. And the information coming from this newcomer’s mouth were things impossible for Marien Didi’s position to know. Suspicious, regardless of whether it was true.
Of course he’d pry.
According to what Marien had found out, before possession, her original self had been a woman of very few words. Not bad at social relationships, but not at all sociable either. A young lady of twenty-two, yet she owned so few belongings that her whole life could be compressed into a single large trunk.
Someone without greed, quiet, and meticulous in recording meeting notes.
At first, her cotton-candy-like hair drew attention, but soon her presence would fade to the point of being as if she wasn’t there at all.
A risk-averse public servant who got into the chancellery only through the connection of her friend’s neighbor’s uncle’s sister’s husband—Secretary Phil.
That was how others saw Marien Didi. But from another perspective, things could be viewed very differently.
Few belongings?
That just means she can flee at a moment’s notice with high mobility.
Quiet?
The less she speaks, the fewer chances for mistakes.
Meticulously recording meetings?
Information leak! Information leak!
When Marien stayed silent too long, Baileon moved on to his next question.
“How did you know about the cleaning schedule for the residence His Highness stayed at?”
“Well, because people go in to clean every Wednesday. You can just see them.”
“The official documents state it’s Tuesday.”
“Oh, really?”
Marien blinked. That was unexpected.
What did I miss? No, I’m sure it was Wednesday. I remember seeing the phrase ‘available any day except Wednesday.’
Maybe she got confused in her obsession with preparing to support Baileon. But she had read The Alliance Marriage until the pages wore thin. Including skim reads, countless times. It clearly said the cleaning day was Wednesday.
Baileon replied without the slightest movement, his gaze toward her carrying a strange light.
“It used to be Tuesday, but due to the cleaner’s circumstances it was moved to Wednesday. Until now one person did it alone, but starting yesterday, three assistants joined in.”
Then I was right. Marien looked up at her superior as if to say, So what’s the problem?
“That change began only yesterday.”
“Hm.”
“This is something only His Highness and I know.”
“Hmm.”
“Secretary Didi, you spent all of yesterday inside the palace. It would be impossible to ‘see’ people entering a residence an hour away by carriage to clean.”
Marien suddenly realized human memory couldn’t be trusted. No matter how many times you read something, no matter how many lines you could recite word-for-word, there was always a catch. Information in the human mind underwent its own editing.
She remembered that the cleaning was on Wednesday. But she forgot when that had started. Maybe the novel never specified it at all? It was hazy. And of all things, it just had to start yesterday. What rotten luck.
“Do you have helpers outside the palace?”
“No.”
“Inside the palace then? Is Secretary Phil involved?”
“Secretary Phil is innocent. He can’t live without you, Sir Beers. Hmm, may I ask a question? Are you perhaps suspecting me of being a spy right now?”
Marien pointed to herself with a finger. She didn’t mean to act cute, but somehow it came off that way.
The reflection she caught in the corridor mirror was, in fact, rather cute—petite, with a high nose bridge, a soft and gentle impression overall. With a pleading “whimper” look, she resembled a floppy-eared rabbit.
Marien Didi. Your looks will be useful.
No one would suspect that inside this soft exterior lurked a madwoman willing to use any means necessary.
“I can’t help it. You spoke of things even I, His Highness’s closest friend and the chancellor of this nation, did not know. Yet you also seem to give information away too easily for a spy. I’ll have to keep watching.”
“Then may I say again that I am moved by Sir Beers?”
This time, Marien clasped her hands over her chest, eyes sparkling. Baileon looked away as if her gaze was burdensome. Then he narrowed his eyes slightly at her.
“You just said it.”
“You suspected me of being a spy, yet your first question was about my health. That was the very first thing you asked.”
“Yes.”
“That means it was most important to you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Sniffle!”
Though it sounded ridiculous, Marien was sincere.
“That! That’s the difference. The northern brute could never match this warmth! A northerner would grab my wrist, slam me against a wall, and only then say his first line. Why? How would I know? He’s been like that since birth!”
Her lips quivered with emotion.
“A kind man.”
“You sound like you hold a grudge against Duke Blackwood.” Baileon continued, “Did whoever incited you say that? That they’d teach you how to take revenge on the duke, and in the process told you to use me and the Fourth Princess as stepping stones?”
“I swear on my hair that I’m not a spy.”
“Why are you so obsessed with your hair…”
Baileon sighed softly, looking confused. His intuition pointed to her innocence. Marien Didi was an extremely odd person, but not a bad one. At least she didn’t seem to be lying. Still, as a politician who had unmasked countless spies, he couldn’t jump to conclusions. Not all spies were villains, after all.
Marien patiently waited for the young chancellor to organize his thoughts. It wasn’t hard; he was so painfully handsome even in confusion that she could wait an hour like this easily.
What pulled her wandering mind back together was Baileon’s next hesitant question:
“But how did you know about my feelings for Her Highness?”
Marien suddenly felt pity for the man before her.
At some point, the palace had adopted an unspoken rule: from the fourth week of September onward, most events were to be held in the sunny southern halls. Before that, regardless of season, the western building was used. That tradition had lasted at least fifty years.
The empire’s workings weren’t much different from the real world. Once a rule had been observed long enough, it wasn’t easily changed. Unless the western building suddenly burned down, royal events had to be held there. Why? Because it had always been so. Anyone asking “why” would earn strange looks.
But five years ago, that changed.
It was Baileon who, with eloquence, established a new rule.
He overcame all the resistance for one reason: Odette. Because Odette was especially sensitive to cold.
Though frail in body, she had immense pride. As a princess, she couldn’t carry a hot-water bottle at events, so she endured in silence, only to fall ill at night.
Baileon, who had given her nothing but the finest since childhood, who would tilt an umbrella to her in the rain and soak one shoulder without complaint, could never simply watch her suffer.
“…Even across the sea, in the Kingdom of Einfel, they probably know of your feelings, Sir Beers.”
Marien answered in a sorrowful voice. It was pitiful, but Baileon had to face reality.
“That’s absurd.”
He muttered in disbelief.
“So everyone knew but pretended not to?”
“Yes, well… something like that.”
“I thought I hid it perfectly.”
It seemed our dear chancellor misunderstood the meaning of “perfectly.” He hadn’t even reached the stage of hiding—it was a failure from the start.
Haah, this isn’t the time.
Marien stood up and suddenly dropped to her knees on the carpet with a loud thud. Baileon flinched in surprise.
Of course, the most surprised was Marien herself. With no control over her strength, her kneecaps throbbed as if they’d cracked. But at least it produced watery eyes that added to her desperate act. She pleaded earnestly:
“Please dye your hair black… please?”
“Secretary Didi, let’s talk after you stand up.”
“Please! Just dye it black! Sob, sob…”
Baileon looked troubled. By now, it seemed it wasn’t about espionage—he simply couldn’t understand Marien as a person. So she pulled out her trump card for the devoted man who had stayed by one woman’s side for over ten years.
“Because Her Highness the Fourth Princess prefers black hair. I heard it with my own ears.”
Well, not “heard,” exactly—she read it. But Marien quickly justified it as being practically the same. She added that it was something Odette said in casual girl talk, so even if Baileon asked her directly, he likely wouldn’t get the same answer.
And guess what this man did?
After a moment of thought—he actually asked someone to bring him hair dye!
