IWTGHFW CHAPTER 58

Of course, a prestigious family like that wouldn’t go bankrupt just because they spent a little on something like this.
Still, when you’re spending someone else’s money, you can’t help but feel a bit guilty—unless it’s company money.
If it’s company money, you can spend freely.

“Please wait a moment. Oh, by the way, the report you requested last time on the missing child has also been organized. Should I give it to you together?”

Missing child?

Ah, that thing—when I followed after the valet of Barail and blurted out some random request.

Since I’d already paid for it anyway, I told them to hand it over together. The staff asked me to wait a moment, then came back holding two stones and a stack of documents.

Judging from the bluish glow, the two stones looked like magic stones.
I stared at the guild member with a ‘I asked for information, so why are you giving me magic stones?’ expression.
The guild member handed me the stones and said:

“If you speak the activation word, the information stored inside will play. And this is the material on the missing child. How would you like to pay?”

Ah, so instead of giving it on paper, they give high-grade information like this.
Kind of like a USB stick.

While I was examining the magic stones with curiosity, the guild member called to me again.
I took out the Metailer family’s seal from my pocket and declared confidently:

“Charge it to the Metailer family account. I’ll write you a promissory note.”

So this is something you can only buy using a noble family’s promissory note—what kind of information could it be?

As soon as I entered my room, I activated the first magic stone, feeling both anticipation and unease.
Watching the blue glow spread, I instinctively glanced around the room.

Even though I knew no one was there, I still scanned the place for a long while before finally relaxing.
By then, an image had begun to form over the glowing stone.

“Oh, it’s a video sphere.”

I’d used a video sphere once before, back when I’d infiltrated Carrie’s Bar.
I set the magic stone down on the table as the image floated in the air.

The quality wasn’t great, but it was definitely easier to understand than reading.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I quietly watched the video being projected.

The footage showed a crowd of people—men, women, and children—disembarking from a ship and heading somewhere.

“Wait a second.”

I paused the sphere and rewound to the moment just before.

The people disembarking were lined up and walking in rows.
I froze the frame and examined it more closely.
The resolution was poor, but I could just barely make something out.

“Those look like handcuffs.”

Their movements weren’t free—something was restraining their hands.

Marching people in chains?
That had a very familiar stink to it.

“No way… slaves again?”

After the fiasco with Carrie’s Bar, you’d think they’d have had enough, but here they were, buying slaves again?

I muttered in disbelief, but the longer I watched, the more convinced I became.
The short clip only showed chained people being led away.
If that was all, it wouldn’t be worthy of an S-rank information rating.
The important part was that the ship’s hull was clearly captured in one frame.

Pesillian Trading Company.

Even in the low-quality video, the name “Pesillian” stood out clearly.

After finishing the first video, I clenched my trembling hands into fists.

The Emperor really had gone mad.
Completely lost his mind.

Even with a video sphere showing the Emperor’s own face entering Carrie’s Bar in the Crown Prince’s hands, he was still doing this.
You’d think losing Barail—his right-hand man—would have been enough.
Yet here he was again, using the Pesillian Trading Company to continue the same vile business.

Suppressing the surge of anger, I activated the second magic stone.
If this one turned out to be slave-related too, I might just throw reason aside and demand Ron go kill the Emperor immediately.

Thankfully—or perhaps not—the second video had nothing to do with slaves.

“Huh? Who’s this?”

The scene seemed to be inside some kind of office, filmed from a hidden angle.
Two men were sitting together, clearly engaged in some shady deal.
They passed documents back and forth, signed things, muttered to each other—and then the footage ended.

Without sound, it was frustrating.
It would’ve been even better if the resolution was higher or I could zoom in.

I sighed, thinking that once Narrein was freed, maybe I should try making a proper camera using a magic stone.
I told myself not to think about Narrein, but his name kept forcing its way into my head.

Shaking off the thought, I picked up the second video sphere and left my room.

【 The Missing Prince Has Finally Been Found 】

The normally quiet Kingdom of Aint was suddenly abuzz with excitement.
The reason? An exhibition by a newly debuted painter.
The royal family had promised large-scale sponsorship and promotion, drawing a flood of nobles eager to learn the artist’s identity.

“Wow… this painting looks so real.”

“And what’s this pattern here? I’ve never seen it before.”

The paintings were all so vivid it felt like you could step into them.
Breathtaking landscapes.
Buildings of unique styles not found in Aint.
People who seemed almost alive within the scenes.

Even nobles who came only out of curiosity were left staring in awe.

Among them, one painting drew the most attention.

“But who is this person?”

“What a beautiful figure… do they even exist in real life?”

“If the prince returned, I imagine he’d look exactly like this…”

“Shh! What if His Majesty hears you?”

Nobles gathered before the portrait whispered and speculated about the person in the painting.
Then, as if they’d said something forbidden, they lowered their voices and glanced nervously at the King standing behind them.

Illa, watching them from the side, hid a faint smile.

The portrait of Narrein, specially requested from the Second Prince and painted on a massive canvas, was impossible to ignore.

Hair the color of water—not just blue, but a shade no existing name could describe.
Eyes of a mysterious, oceanic hue.
Still bearing traces of youth, yet with a beauty that hinted at the breathtaking man he would become.

Everyone’s steps slowed before it, their eyes drawn into the boy’s image.

Who is he? Does he exist?

Clad in the ceremonial garb of Aint’s royalty, the boy in the painting stole every gaze.
People murmured that if the missing prince returned, he would surely look just like this.
They wouldn’t say it loudly in Illa’s presence, but she heard every word.

Her lips curled into a sly smile.

“The groundwork is laid.”

Once the exhibition ended, those who returned home would talk about the boy in the painting—and naturally, the long-forgotten prince would be brought up alongside him.

It had been ten years since the prince’s disappearance.
Even with a confirmed bloodline, it would take time for the people to accept Narrein as the true heir.

There was no better way to make the unfamiliar familiar than through art.

Seeing the exhibition go exactly as planned, Illa left early.
Boarding a waiting carriage, she looked at the young man seated across from her.

“How do you feel?”

“Good. More people came than I expected.”

“Of course. You’re a painter sponsored by the royal family.”

Mishi nodded, gazing out the window.
The smile on his face showed just how pleased he was with the turnout.

The carriage moved forward slowly—carrying with it the hope that art would bring the missing prince back into the people’s hearts.

“Count Lev and Viscount Pesillian.”

“Count Lev—as in the Emperor’s lapdog I’m investigating right now?”

“Uh… yeah. Honestly, you might be the only person who’d dare call a count that to his face.”

Ron cleared his throat, but admitted I wasn’t wrong.

I replayed the video sphere for him.

So this one was Count Lev.
And the other was Viscount Pesillian.
I committed their faces to memory in case I ran into them later.

“This video will work to prove their connection. What about this one? I’ve already told Marquis Orion.”

I held up the sphere with the slave footage.
Ron’s face twisted into a grimace.

“What the hell is that man doing holed up in the inner palace all the time—oh, sorry. Forget you heard that, Ayle.”

“Well, seeing injustice does call for a little swearing.”

Ron looked apologetic for using foul language in front of me.
But I was a soul well past thirty years old.
If I stacked all the curses I’d hurled at my bosses back in Korea, I could build a tower.

Anyway, that wasn’t the point.

If you weren’t royalty, you couldn’t enter the inner palace—made investigating extremely tricky.
In historical dramas, the king always had court ladies around, and some were used as spies.

Hmm?

Wait a second—does that mean the Emperor bathes alone, eats alone, and… goes to the bathroom alone?

That’s impossible.

“Captain, you said no one but royalty can enter the inner palace, right?”

“That’s right.”

“What about the ladies-in-waiting? They can’t enter either?”

“Of course they can. What I meant was, people like us can’t…”

Ron trailed off, realizing the same thing I had.

Damn it—why didn’t we think of this sooner?

Here, social class determines everything.

When they said ‘no one’ but royalty could enter, that ‘no one’ didn’t include ladies-in-waiting, attendants, or servants.
The rule existed to keep palace staff and nobles from undermining royal authority.

Servants could enter the inner palace all they liked—their presence didn’t tarnish the royalty’s dignity in the slightest.