Chapter 12
The news that the Great Magus Trisha Ram Binz, long presumed missing after defeating the Evil God, was still alive spread throughout the Empire in an instant.
The rumor—“The Crown Prince has found the Great Magus and is treating her within the Imperial Palace”—was sensational enough to capture everyone’s attention.
Among young noble ladies who adored romantic tales, it was whispered about as a budding love story.
Among high-ranking nobles involved in politics, it stirred wary speculation—would the politically neutral Great Magus now become a pillar of support for the Crown Prince?
Even those who were neither romantics nor politicians found themselves intrigued.
For most, the sentiment was simple: joy that a national hero had survived.
But while warmth and sympathy for Trisha flourished, the same could not be said for the newly adopted daughter of House Binz.
People were curious—what would happen to the child who had been sitting in another’s place when the true owner of that place returned?
The nickname “replacement,” which had begun to fade as the Binz couple showed sincere affection for their adoptive daughter, returned in full force.
“She’ll be thrown out sooner or later, won’t she? Once Lady Trisha comes back.”
“Well, the marquis and marchioness are known to be kind. Maybe they’ll just say they have two daughters.”
“As if! Do you really think Lady Trisha would tolerate that? A fake daughter sitting in her seat while she was gone?”
The fate of the adopted daughter, Ishas, was the talk of the Empire.
Even inside the Binz mansion, the interest was no different.
Most of the household felt sorry for the child who had become the target of gossip and mockery—but whenever a crowd gathers, there are always a few who think otherwise.
“We don’t actually know if she’s the real daughter or not, do we? It’ll be a sight to see when Lady Trisha returns and says she isn’t.”
“A thousand riks that she isn’t the daughter!”
Some even made tasteless bets about it.
Nise, who happened to overhear their crude chatter while on break, frowned and quickly returned to Trisha’s side.
In a room filled with sunlight, Trisha sat lazily in a chair, gazing out the window.
An open book rested across her knees—the same page she’d been stuck on for a long time.
She must be upset by the rumors going around.
Nise pitied the young girl deeply. She wanted to comfort her somehow.
But she had guessed entirely wrong.
Trisha had no interest in the gossip circulating inside the mansion.
Or rather—it wasn’t that she didn’t care, but that she didn’t have time to care.
Her mind was consumed with something far more pressing—yesterday’s revelation.
Just who exactly is this “Trisha” they say they found?
At the very least, she must look identical.
After all, neither her parents nor her colleagues—people who had known Trisha for years—had even doubted that the woman they saw was her.
When Trisha had said she wanted to see the woman herself, her adoptive parents had looked stricken.
She remembered their conversation clearly.
“I want to see her too.”
Her parents had exchanged troubled glances.
They couldn’t even imagine what their daughter might feel—or how deeply she might be hurt—when faced with a woman who could be her real mother.
“We’ll… ask His Highness the Crown Prince for permission.”
After much hesitation, the couple could only give a vague answer and end the discussion there.
They’re hiding something from me.
Her parents didn’t want her to meet the woman the Crown Prince had brought back.
Why? Because she’ll return home soon anyway, once her healing is complete?
But how could she sit quietly and wait when she didn’t even know who—or what—that woman was?
They said she’s being treated in the Imperial Palace, right?
The palace, then.
Trisha blinked slowly, deep in thought.
Even if her parents refused permission, there were other ways.
“Lady Ishas.”
Nise’s careful voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Trisha turned her gaze toward her.
“Oh, yes?”
“You must be feeling very troubled. Please don’t lose heart.”
“…Huh?”
Even after hearing the words of comfort, Trisha didn’t immediately understand why Nise was saying them.
Seeing the confusion in her young mistress’s face, Nise only felt more sorry for her.
After a long moment—under Nise’s worried gaze—Trisha finally realized why she was being comforted.
Ah. She thinks I’m upset about the rumors going around the mansion.
“I’m all right, Nise.”
Trisha reassured her gently, though her expression lacked conviction.
Seeing that, Trisha realized she couldn’t quite bring herself to correct the misunderstanding.
Instead, she decided to change the subject.
“…Nise, I have a favor to ask.”
“Yes?”
Nise’s eyes widened in surprise.
The young lady’s first personal request!
Had the little mistress finally opened her heart to her?
The thought made Nise emotional—but also worried.
Once Lady Trisha returns, I’ll have to go back to her side…
Now that the young mistress was beginning to trust her, what would happen when she suddenly lost her maid again?
Still, she couldn’t abandon her lifelong loyalty to the true Trisha.
At least while I’m here, I’ll do my very best.
Determined, Nise clenched her fists.
“Whatever it is, please tell me, my lady!”
Trisha, unable to fathom why her maid suddenly looked so passionate, decided not to question it.
She slid something across the table toward her—a cufflink.
“What’s this, my lady?”
Nise’s eyes widened.
It was clearly a man’s cufflink—not an adult’s, but the kind worn by young noblemen.
Everything the young lady owned was a gift from the marquis and marchioness.
And Nise was sure they had never bought her anything like this.
Meaning—this item didn’t belong to her.
Before Nise could speak, Trisha continued.
“I want to find out who this cufflink belongs to—which family, and to whom.”
“Oh…”
“You can help me, right?”
For a moment, Nise was struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu.
Lady Trisha?
It was common for nobles to ask personal favors of their maids.
And the real Trisha had often done so.
Every time she had asked, she’d used those same words—
“You can do it, right?”
This child, who looked so much like her lost mistress, even spoke with her mannerisms.
Could that really be a coincidence?
Ah… I see now.
This girl must be Lady Trisha’s daughter.
She inherited her mother’s tone of voice.
Tears welled up in Nise’s eyes, and she quickly bowed her head to hide them.
She wished Lady Trisha would return soon.
Then all those vile tongues mocking and insulting this child would finally be silenced.
Steadying her voice, Nise spoke again.
“The craftsmanship looks custom-made rather than store-bought. I can find out.”
“Good. I’ll trust you.”
“Please do, my lady!”
With renewed determination, Nise took the cufflink and left the room.
Trisha watched her go, recognizing the strange misunderstanding she’d just caused.
“……”
That’s not what you think.
She’d never even properly held a man’s hand before—yet now she was being mistaken for… whatever this was.
With a wry smile, she turned back to the window.
It should take a day or two, maybe.
Nise was always quick with such errands.
This time would be no different—Trisha was sure of it.
But three days passed. Then five.
Still, Nise brought no answer.
On the sixth day, she finally appeared—her head bowed low.
“My lady, I’m so sorry…”
Nise looked utterly dejected.
“You haven’t found out yet?”
It was the first time Nise had failed at something like this.
Trisha sighed and nodded in quiet understanding.
“There’s one place left to try,” Nise said quickly. “One of the servants has contacts at a jeweler’s. I thought I’d ask them to check there. Just a little longer, please…”
“Ah, all right. I understand.”
Seeing Trisha accept it so calmly, Nise looked relieved—and, growing a bit bolder, leaned closer with a conspiratorial smile.
“But, my lady… where did you get such an expensive cufflink?”
“Hm?”
“Come on, it wasn’t among the things the marquis and marchioness gave you! And it’s men’s jewelry. Did some charming young gentleman give it to you? Something romantic at a ball, perhaps?”
Her eyes gleamed with curiosity and excitement.
“Nothing like that.”
“Oh, but it looked so expensive!”
“True, it did.”
That’s why she had thought it would be easy to trace.
“And that gemstone in the center was beautiful! Especially the color—”
“Yes, that deep crimson…”
“No, that pale pinkish red…”
Their words overlapped and faltered mid-sentence.
Trisha and Nise locked eyes.
