HDBMTD 20

Chapter 20

“This Scar Was Earned in the War Against Cambiata.”

After dropping that bombshell, Padva spoke.

“At the time, Aria fell from a burning building and was directly exposed to the flames… Every time I see her face, I’m reminded of the horror of that day. It breaks my heart.”

Murmurs of sympathy rippled throughout the hall.

Aria raised her hand to cover her mouth. Watching Padva, the very man who had blocked her reconstructive surgery, now fake tears over her injury nearly made her laugh out loud.

“More than just disfigurement, Aria has also lost hearing in her left ear.”

Her shoulders flinched.

That was something only her physician knew.

Aria instinctively scanned the crowd. Shocked faces all around—but her eyes landed first on Prince Lucien, visibly shaken. Nearby stood Minette, also looking conflicted. Why was she even here? Whose partner did she come as?

Finally, she spotted Nocturne in the distance.

His face, too, was stunned. His black eyes were wide—his body stiff like stone.

“The doctors say that losing hearing in one ear reduces spatial and directional perception, and makes it hard to comprehend speech. Since the accident, Aria has been easily startled and often needs things repeated to understand.”

That never happened.

Maybe right after she woke from her coma—but she had quickly adapted.

Now, even if someone who seemed far away spoke next to her, she didn’t flinch. During conversations, she always watched the speaker’s lips.

She could read lips. Losing hearing in one ear was barely an inconvenience.

Padva’s story of her bumbling around in confusion? Completely false. And the fact that even sharp-eyed Nocturne hadn’t noticed proved it. If she could fool a hyper-sensitive S-class combat psychic, no one else had a chance.

“The war left deep scars on us all. But even among the ruins, flowers can bloom. This treaty will be that flower. And to begin, we wish to heal the wounds of the person we all cherish most—Aria.”

Padva’s voice rang out, rich and persuasive.

“I understand that many feel uneasy about Cambiata’s medical technology. The old dilemma: good from evil. But technology itself isn’t evil—people are. If we use Cambiata’s advanced medicine not for harm but to treat the very people it once hurt, wouldn’t that be the truest form of victory? You’ll allow it, won’t you, Aria?”

His green eyes gleamed with righteous conviction as he turned to her.

But Aria saw right through the performance.

So that’s why he never let me get treatment—just to use this moment.

Her next words carried heavy weight.

After all, she was the one who had first exposed Cambiata’s crimes and ultimately destroyed them. Because of her, the world came to know and loathe them.

If she accepted their medicine now, public opinion might shift. Even those who opposed it wouldn’t blame Padva—they’d criticize her instead.

The narrative would spin it as: “She’s just a disabled victim of war.” Her followers would be forced to lean into that.

Padva’s play would simultaneously shift public opinion and lower Aria’s stature to that of a helpless figurehead.

“I…”

She couldn’t reject him outright. Padva believed she was now his puppet. If she refused too strongly, he might sense something was off.

As she hesitated, she saw Nocturne moving toward the stairs—his face hard, his eyes glowing faintly blue as he stared at Padva.

Nocturne didn’t love her. So that fury wasn’t for her sake. But Aria felt a sharp sense of urgency: she needed to calm him down.

Politics sometimes required saying what you absolutely didn’t want to. This was one of those moments.

“As my brother said, war has left me deeply scarred. It took from me six months of my life, my psychic power… and my left ear. When I first opened my eyes again, a line from The Beggar King came to mind.”

Aria quoted Racan, a poet beloved in noble society. Literary references like this always landed well.

“I felt like I had lost everything. But then I wondered—perhaps this is what life is. Maybe life is a process of slowly being stripped of everything you have. We are all beggars, and we are all kings, constantly wavering between lack and abundance.”

Her voice was smooth, like oiled silk.

“So I’ve adapted. My wounds aren’t just symbols of war—they’re personal. And before treatment, I need time to grieve. What I miss more than my hearing are the comrades I’ve lost.”

She didn’t add that many of those comrades had been test subjects tortured by Cambiata.

“What matters more than individual healing is our society’s healing. If this technology can be made equally available to all victims of war, then there would be no reason to refuse. I will walk this road toward peace alongside everyone here.”

She ended with a lofty, abstract vision that prompted applause.

Classic politician’s speech—tugging at emotions to block a rival’s agenda. But… she hadn’t lied once.

Her supporters from Elysia clapped first. Then the imperial nobles, reading the room, followed suit.

Even Padva gave a vague smile and joined in. Perhaps since she hadn’t outright refused, he wasn’t too displeased.

That was exactly the reaction Aria had aimed for: neither helping Padva nor angering him.

She pictured his calculating smile twisting into righteous fury when she finally escaped the palace.

Just imagining it is satisfying.

“Your Highness, that was a magnificent speech!”

“Congratulations on your recovery. A great day for the Empire.”

“It’s truly an honor to meet you.”

As Aria descended the stairs, people flocked around her.

The imperial nobles kept respectful distance—carefully watching Padva’s mood—but the Elysian nobles, uninvolved in court politics, swarmed with sparkling eyes.

“I… I’m part of the Golden Butterfly Faction, Your Highness. I’m so, so glad you woke up…”

One trembling voice even declared allegiance.

Aria offered kind greetings and accepted each handshake gracefully. Her flowing hair covered her scars, and she smiled serenely.

It was flawless.

Of course it was. She was constantly monitoring herself through others’ eyes—reading their thoughts to adjust her every move in real-time.

Her psychic power made her impeccable.

No wonder they called her the Perfect Princess.

After greeting dozens of people, Aria politely excused herself and stepped to the edge of the hall.

“Nocturne.”

“…Your Highness.”

He had been watching her from the start. He just hadn’t approached.

She could feel his gaze land on the hair covering her left ear. Still smiling, she extended her hand.

“Nocturne, won’t you dance the first dance with me?”

Nocturne didn’t take her hand.

She’d expected that. It didn’t hurt.

Once I break the brainwashing, I’ll make sure our first dance is beneath a sky full of fireworks.

That was all. Not even a flicker of hurt.

Still, it was awkward with so many watching.

Padva’s friendliness toward her partly hinged on the assumption that she’d already “tamed” Nocturne.

Aria hesitated, then remembered their walk along the stone path.

Her dress today was long and heavy, and her body still weak.

She took a few steps backward.

“Ah…”

Naturally, she “tripped” over the hem—her body swaying.

Nocturne instinctively reached out and caught her by the waist.

“Oh my.”

“My god… to see it in person…”

Gasps of admiration erupted nearby.

In Nocturne’s broad arms, Aria looked up and beamed sweetly.

“Thank you, Nocturne.”

Nocturne gazed down at her.

As children, he had always seen through her performances. When he did, he would look at her with the same mild scolding expression.

Despite being such a skilled actress, Aria could never fool Nocturne.

And he didn’t even have psychic powers.

How does he always know? Is it… the power of love?