IWTGHFW CHAPTER 52

Episode 52

“If it has nothing to do with the Emperor, then we can move against Bareil through the Ministry of Justice. What about Count Poison?”

“Right now, we’re filtering out the bank employees connected to Count Lev. Once we’ve identified them, we’ll properly investigate who manipulated the ledgers.”

“How long will that take?”

“It won’t take long. A week at most.”

“Then we’ll set Rheinolf’s trial for a week from now. This time, we’ll end it for good. I’ll kick that Finensen or whatever his name is right out of the Order.”

Crack.

The sound of Rosen’s teeth grinding came at the end. At every weekly meeting, he’d had to endure the Emperor’s faction of nobles squawking about disbanding and reorganizing the knight order.

Still feeling those voices buzzing in his ears, Rosen rubbed at them as if trying to dig the noise out, then looked at Yen.

“How’s Aint?”

“His Highness the Second Prince is doing well. He says he needs nothing.”

“Well, if they lay a hand on Mishi, I’d smash Aint to pieces, so I suppose they’ll be careful. Keep in contact with him and keep checking on Mishi’s health.”

“Understood.”

“Marquis, you meet with Ail. Have her dig into that woman named Marian.”

“Yes.”

Given their respective assignments, Yen and Marquis Orion left the office.

Alone in the now-quiet office, Rosen covered his eyes with both hands.

Just one more step to the throne—yet that one step felt farther than all the distance he’d come so far. Was it the anxiety because Mishi was involved?

“I will bring you back, Mishi.”

It was a mutter to himself, but the resolve in those words burned stronger than anything.

Orion had told me Bareil’s threats were all lies and that I should go interrogate Marian again—but I didn’t have to seek her out.

“Let her in. Could you prepare the drawing room?”

“I’ll see to it.”

Marian had come directly to the Metailer estate herself. After asking the butler to make arrangements, I took my coat and headed for the drawing room.

Warm scones and a tea good for sleep at night were prepared. I offered Marian, who sat nervously, a teacup, gesturing for her to drink. She lifted it, but her hand shook so badly the cup rattled against the saucer, and she set it back down.

She hadn’t been the least bit nervous last time—what was it now? The Metailer name? Or Bareil’s lies?

I waited deliberately for her to speak first. Unable to endure the silence, Marian finally opened her mouth.

“What I told you before is all true. I didn’t know that boy was a prince, and I only learned later—so I went to the palace to find him.”

“How did you find out he was a prince?”

“I heard it from the information guild. That Aint was secretly looking for the prince, who had blue hair and blue eyes.”

“So you went for the reward?”

“…”

While you shamelessly played under Bareil’s protection, I wasn’t just sitting idle.

Back then, after being refused by the Emperor to send a delegation, Aint had quietly commissioned the information guild. Anyone who found the prince would receive an enormous reward, Aint citizenship, and a life of luxury there—a tempting offer for any commoner.

And you suddenly grew a conscience after selling the child? Nonsense. You calculated the risk of being exposed against the profit of “finding” him again, and acted accordingly.

At my words, Marian lowered her head. She looked pitiful, but I felt no sympathy.

“Yes. I went for the reward. But that’s not a crime, is it?”

“Whether it’s wrong or not isn’t for me to judge. Why did you leave the palace without finding the prince?”

“Well, I just couldn’t find him—”

“Did Marquis Bareil offer to back you?”

I had no intention of listening to more of her nonsense. The night was long, but I wasn’t going to waste it on her.

At my firm tone, Marian fidgeted with her fingers. Her uneasy gaze wandered in the air before she sighed, as if resigning herself.

“The client who bought the prince told them to kill me. To kill everyone who knew about him. But then… they said they’d let me live if I stayed quiet and went away.”

“Then why tell me about the prince at all? Did Bareil tell you to?”

“Yes. One day, someone from the Marquis’s side came. They told me that if anyone from the palace came, I should tell them everything I knew about the prince. I said I might be killed for that, but they told me not to worry—they could save at least one person like me.”

There were two who sold the prince: Marquis Bareil and Marian. There may have been others, but by the Emperor’s orders, the rest were wiped out—leaving just those two.

Since the client was the Emperor, Bareil must have handled things personally. Marian, without knowing the Emperor’s identity, had likely been in charge of transporting or managing the boy.

But why did Bareil tell Marian to reveal everything? If it came out that he’d touched a foreign prince, he wouldn’t escape unscathed.

No—he’s already not unscathed.

Ah, so that’s it.

With that thought, the tangled situation became clearer.

Once Carrie’s bar was stripped bare, Bareil was ruined and expelled. From high marquis to the very bottom in an instant. When a man hits rock bottom, he stops seeing reason. If he’s going to die either way, he’ll try something.

On one side, he wrote desperate letters to the Emperor to remind him he existed. On the other, he leaked information through Marian to the Crown Prince—hoping the Crown Prince would hound the Emperor until the Emperor had no choice but to save him. If not, then “if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.” A drowning-man tactic. That bastard’s brain still works, at least.

While I pieced this together, Marian anxiously grabbed my hand.

“I—I told you honestly, so please tell your superiors. I truly regret it. I’ll live like I’m dead from now on. I’ll close the shop if I have to. So please…”

Tap.

I pulled my hand from hers.

I’m not a bad person, but I’m not a particularly good one either.

I can think rationally, but I can also dislike someone purely on feeling.

And right now—I just don’t like you. I don’t care what happens to you.

“That’ll be for them to decide. Thank you for coming all this way. You can go now.”

I’d gotten all the information I needed. I understood the situation.

Now all that was left was to find the prince.

I waved my hand like I couldn’t be bothered. Marian tried several more times to cling to me, but I coldly brushed her off each time.

[Special Assignment Dispatch]

In the Kingdom of Aint, Mishi’s daily routine was: eat and draw, wash and draw, walk and draw.

That was all.

Because of this, the estate where he stayed was filling with his paintings every day.

King Illa of Aint often came to the estate to discuss the upcoming exhibition’s details. Soon, a grand exhibition would be held under the royal name. The artist’s identity was unknown, but since the royal family was publicly sponsoring it, the whole kingdom’s anticipation was high.

Today, too, Illa had come to discuss the exhibition, moving from painting to painting, hoping to find new works to display.

Mishi painted landscapes and portraits equally well. Since his subjects were mostly things he had personally seen or experienced, even the Imperial Palace was depicted in meticulous detail.

The Imperial Palace was breathtaking every time—but Illa’s gaze moved on. Sensitive pieces couldn’t be displayed publicly.

Then her steps halted before a particular painting.

“This is…”

“Oh, that’s a scene from the Imperial Knight Order’s entrance trials.”

While preparing tea for Illa, Mishi glanced at the painting she was staring at. It was from the trials he had once watched from afar with the Crown Prince—his most memorable moment.

“The Imperial Knight Order?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No… this boy…”

Illa pointed to one figure in the painting: a young boy with wavy blue hair, carrying an unusual weapon over his shoulder, moving with dazzling skill.

Mishi recalled him—wasn’t his name Naraein? He remembered hearing that Sir Ron was especially fond of the boy.

“He stood out the most at the trials. He was taken on as an apprentice knight.”

“What’s his name?”

“I’m not exactly sure… Naraein? Something like that.”

“Naraein?”

Illa narrowed her eyes.

Naraein—she was sure that was the apprentice knight who had attacked Sir Metailer.

Still staring at the painting, she turned to her attendant.

“Bring me the comms device. Connect me to the Imperial Palace—Cassian line.”

“So in the end, the only way is to get inside the Inner Palace?”

In secret at the Metailer estate, Crown Prince Rosen sighed deeply as he said this.

Bareil was a washed-up man who could be handled through the Ministry of Justice. Marian could simply be tried and punished. That would all proceed according to protocol—no need for his attention.

The real problem was finding the Aint prince. They either had to investigate the Inner Palace directly, or drag the prince’s disappearance into the open to pressure the Emperor. But the latter lacked direct evidence that the Emperor had taken him—and that kind of accusation could backfire hard.

Thus, the best way was to search the Inner Palace, find the prince, shut the Emperor’s faction up, and leave the Emperor with no escape.

“Not easy.”

At Rosen’s words, Ron—now able to sit again—nodded. I nodded along as well.