Chapter 1: Rewinding the Pendulum of Time (3)
Fernciana slowly rose to her feet, dazed. The sound of birds chirping and the sunlight streaming through the window felt almost too loud. It was close to noon. She touched her eyes gently—swollen again. She must have cried in her sleep.
“I need to find a carriage first…”
Information brokers or not, it was difficult to get anything done in a rural backwater like this. The best course of action was to head toward the capital.
Still sitting blankly, basking in the sunlight for a long time, Fernciana finally felt hunger creep in. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t eaten properly since she buried Serlim.
After a quick wash, she went downstairs and ordered food. While adjusting her now-short hair, she glanced around the inn. It was a bit too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so the place wasn’t crowded.
“Big bro? Are you looking for something?”
A boy, at least a head shorter than her, placed a dish in front of her and asked. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Fernciana touched her cheek. Big bro? With her short hair and bundled clothes, she must have looked like a man.
“Ah, just… someone who knows a whole lot of things? Do you know anyone like that?”
“Huh? Yeah!”
Fernciana had assumed he was asking about something material and expected the answer to be a no. Surprised, she paused mid-bite and looked up. The boy pointed outside the inn with his finger.
“He’s out there now… What was his name again…?”
“There’s someone? What does he do?”
“He said he knows the most in the capital!”
“Aha…”
What would someone who supposedly knows the most in the capital be doing in a remote village like Ronen? Fernciana thought as she continued nibbling on her bread. She figured if the boy remembered the name, she’d at least check the person out.
“Ugh, the name’s really hard to remember…”
“You don’t remember?”
“Mu…”
“Mu?”
“Mu-jeong…”
“Mu-jeong?”
“Mu-jeong-chwi!”
“Someone’s name is Mujeongchwi?!”
Well, with a name that bizarre, it was understandable he’d forget. Fernciana dipped her bread into the soup and looked at the boy, who wore a proud expression.
“What does he look like?”
“His hair’s like milk cream… and his eyes are black.”
“I see…”
Fernciana rummaged through her pocket, pulled out a coin, and handed it to the boy, who grinned and ran off. She sipped her soup, rolled up a pancake to keep the syrup off her hands, and stood up, picking up her teacup.
A bit of tea splashed out, but she emptied the cup anyway, pushed the plate aside, and headed out.
“Mujeongchwi…?”
She looked around. As much as she wanted to believe the boy, the name still sounded ridiculous. But she didn’t have to walk far to find the person he meant—and the name was definitely not Mujeongchwi.
“…”
“…”
A man with soft beige hair and pitch-black eyes stood there. He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. Tall enough that Fernciana had to crane her neck to look at him. He just stood there vacantly, as if he had lost everything in the world. Inside a coffin.
With a sign around his neck that read: “Dined and dashed.”
“Mujeongchwi…”
“…What?”
The boy had clearly read the sign. As she repeated the strange name, the man glanced at her. His sharp eyes, slightly upturned, gave off a chilling aura. And the moment their eyes met, Fernciana couldn’t hide her shock.
“You’re the one who supposedly knows the most in the capital?”
“…Something like that.”
Even as he turned his head away, he didn’t deny it.
A wave of dryness swept through Fernciana’s throat. She took a deep breath to calm herself. That face—she remembered it. Though it looked younger than in her memory, she knew it well.
This was the man who had reached out toward her even as he was falling from a balcony. The bright cream-colored hair, the pitch-black eyes—both rare. But even rarer was the look beyond his gaze.
Ilias Seyren!
In her “dream,” he had appeared in his mid-twenties as if dropped from the sky, earned great merit, was granted a title, and became the Crown Prince’s closest aide. His intelligence was so overwhelming that people joked—or believed—that he might know everything about the Empire. He had become the backbone of the Crown Prince, who had lost his mother and lacked support.
Even in the “dream,” he had repeatedly obstructed her attempts to infiltrate the palace. In the end, he had caught her…
Why is this man here?!
Standing in a coffin with a dine-and-dash sign around his neck in some rural village—how did that happen?
As Fernciana stood speechless in disbelief, the man’s eyes narrowed. She quickly cleared her throat and changed the subject.
“The man who knows the most in the capital… dined and dashed?”
“…I won so much at card games in the capital that no one wanted to play anymore.”
“So you came to a rural village, gambled, lost everything, and couldn’t pay for your food, so now you’re stuck here?”
“…”
Apparently, she’d hit the nail on the head. He stayed silent. After a brief pause, Fernciana straightened her back, looked him in the eye, and asked:
“Do you know when I can catch a carriage to the capital?”
“You can’t go directly. Two days from now, there’s a trade wagon to a nearby city that runs weekly. From there, you can transfer to another that goes to the capital every five days.”
“Oh, you really do know your stuff…”
“…Wait, were you testing me?”
He’s the real deal!
Fernciana swallowed dryly. No doubt about it—this was truly Ilias Seyren.
“You really run an information guild or something?”
“You just called me ‘you’? Watch your mouth with your elder—”
“Do you or don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll get you out of this coffin, but you have to find out some things for me.”
“No spying on specific individuals, no murder-for-hire, no bribery on behalf of clients, no tracking, no academic research—those are off-limits.”
Fernciana’s eyes widened. As she stared in disbelief, the man sighed and lightly bumped his head against the coffin wall.
“What? Don’t tell me it’s one of those?”
“No, not exactly… Well, let’s call it a deal.”
Having confirmed what she wanted to ask, Fernciana headed to the restaurant that had likely confined him.
The owner ranted about how city folk couldn’t be trusted, but upon receiving money from her, he let the man go. As soon as he was free, the man stretched and grinned shamelessly.
“Wow, that could’ve been really embarrassing.”
“Wasn’t it already?”
“Quiet. So, what do you want to know? I always deliver.”
“Well… I want the imperial family tree. Even illegitimate branches, if they exist. And information about the Emerald Tabula.”
“Why? Planning a rebellion?”
He slung an arm around her shoulder and asked as casually as someone inquiring if she’d had lunch. Fernciana frowned and shook him off. He shrugged and spoke as they walked back toward the inn.
“Far as I know, there aren’t any hidden illegitimate heirs in the imperial family right now… You heard there are?”
“I’m not sure, that’s why I’m asking.”
“I can tell you about the family tree. For the illegitimates, I’d need to do some digging… That might be—”
“Too much? If you can’t do it, that’s fine.”
She opened the inn door, sounding indifferent. His eyebrow twitched at her response.
“Who said I can’t?”
“Really?”
“Hey, by the way, how long are you gonna keep calling me ‘hey’? What’s your name?”
He sat down at the bar like nothing happened and ordered food. Fernciana looked at him incredulously.
“What about you? And how are you ordering food after getting busted for not paying?”
“You’re buying. I’m Ilias.”
“What?! I bailed you out, and now I have to feed you too?”
“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, does it? I mean, finding possible illegitimate heirs? A meal’s a bargain.”
He really was Ilias Seyren…
While Fernciana tried to act natural, her mind raced over what this meant. This man—one day known as the Empire’s ultimate informant—might already be capable of finding everything she wanted.
“So what’s your name?”
“Fernci… Faeyrun.”
She paused mid-sentence, then changed it to a nickname. In the dream, the second prince had called her Terenciana. Something about that name made her feel it was safer to hide it.
“Faeyrun?”
As she thought “Wow, I haven’t heard that name in forever,” Ilias echoed it back, and she blinked at him. His expression changed, and only then did she realize she had started to cry.
“Ah, hey… Faeyrun. What’s… what’s with the tears?”
After her mother vanished, and Serlim died, no one had called her Faeyrun. In the years since, she’d lived only for revenge, with no one left to speak her name. Since then, she’d only gone by meaningless aliases.
It had been years since she heard someone say her nickname. Her heart must have reacted instinctively. She quickly wiped her eyes. Luckily, only a few tears had fallen.
“Just… brought back old memories.”
“You’re seriously tearing up just because I ordered food? That’s a new one. What a tiny thing you are.”
“It’s not like that! I’ll buy, so shut up and eat. Then spit out the info.”
Fernciana wiped her tears and glared. Ilias teased her with a smug “Yeees, yeees,” but fell silent as soon as the food arrived, diving into it.
His eating was so clean but shockingly fast that Fernciana stared, wide-eyed. In a blink, half the food was gone, and he sipped his soup.
“I haven’t eaten since last night.”
Before she could even respond, he went right back to eating. Fernciana sighed and ordered another serving for him before his plate was empty.
