Chapter 50

What caught Esadien’s attention were the items that Lapheche Celeste carried back and forth from the Mage’s Quarter.  

From the start, Esadien had a clear understanding of his own limitations.  

He had no real talent for prying information out of people through idle chatter or casual bonding. Silent surveillance suited him far better.  

So, during the day, he trailed behind Lapheche like a dutiful servant, and at night, he infiltrated the Viscount’s manor in search of clues.  

The Viscount, however, was far more thorough than Esadien had been led to believe. Letters were burned immediately after being read, and every drawer was secured with a lock.  

It was an exhausting effort—like trying to grasp the shape of something lurking just beyond the fog.  

Yet what made this mission truly difficult wasn’t the secrecy.  

It was longing.  

‘Minuelle.’  

Before he even realized it, Minuelle had become a quiet comfort nestled deep in Esadien’s heart.  

Whenever he missed her, he would press gently against the letter she had written, tucked securely in the inner pocket of his coat.  

It had taken less than a week for any moment not spent thinking of Minuelle—even while near Lapheche—to disappear entirely.  

The longer this went on, the more it felt like thirst. He missed her desperately.  

‘She’ll wait.’  

She said she would wait. He believed that completely. Even if he couldn’t be with her now, he was sure she’d understand once he explained everything.  

Then, one day, a conversation reached his ears that made them perk up.  

“She never takes her gloves off?”  

“That’s the only strange thing I noticed when I was visiting the Grand Duke’s residence…”  

‘They’re talking about Minuelle.’  

Esadien had always found it odd, too—how Minuelle never took off her gloves.  

He still remembered the way she had looked so happy to receive a pair as a gift, only to refuse to wear them in front of him. That had stuck with him.  

“If ‘He’ was right, then there should be traces left behind from contact.”  

“Traces?”  

“Yes. A mark—some sort of symbol, or spot!”  

Who is ‘He’? And what is ‘it’?  

His frustration only mounted. He wanted nothing more than to march in with a battalion of knights and turn the Viscount’s office inside out, just like he had at the Mage’s Quarter.  

“Would you take off your gloves and show me your hands?”  

“It’s just… too sudden. Maybe later… Not right now…”  

Even when Minuelle visited him herself and he made the request, she refused.  

Esadien was in a hurry to uncover whatever the Viscount had mentioned, but he tried to be understanding.  

Especially when Minuelle had been so agitated she was practically bleeding—he couldn’t push her further.  

But the moment he saw Ramande sitting comfortably in her carriage, something surged uncontrollably inside him.  

‘That priest must know everything—even what she’s hiding under those gloves.’  

The thought made him act emotionally, without even realizing what he was feeling.  

In the end, it was a terrible mistake.  

His relationship with Minuelle soured. His investigation into Lapheche stalled.  

Just as Lapheche’s previously erratic shopping patterns had started to settle on one specific item, the purchases ceased entirely—as if they’d never happened.  

The item in question: a plant that didn’t grow in warm regions—Yoshicho.  

Its purpose wasn’t commonly known, which made identifying its use even more difficult.  

‘They say it’s used to restore the power of nature.’

It was a plant sown when the fertility of long-cultivated land diminished.

But what Lapheche had bought wasn’t the plant—it was powdered form.  

The shopkeeper, who had only recently inherited the business, simply claimed he’d sold it off as leftover stock. He had no idea what it was used for.  

After that, Lapheche acted as though she’d never even set foot in the Mage’s Quarter.  

She threw herself into social gatherings instead.  

“If the Third Prince is seen escorting you, then it’s not entirely hopeless. If we can distance him from Karnian, we might draw him to our side. Though ‘He’ wasn’t particularly fond of the idea…”  

It had been a grueling stretch of time, but hearing the Viscount give Lapheche instructions reminded Esadien that all his efforts hadn’t been for nothing.

Esadien had barely taken a moment to catch his breath when he was once again forced to face Minuelle—and keep his distance.  

‘If only she would wait, I’d explain everything.’ 

Just a little longer, and it would all be over.  

She’d promised to wait. Yet Minuelle acted as though she’d completely forgotten that promise. At this rate, even the love she claimed to feel… was it really something he could believe in?  

“You liked me. Or—at the very least, you were fond of me. Weren’t you?”  

“I don’t know,” he answered.  

Because of that, he couldn’t give her a clear answer.  

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it.  

The day before the coming-of-age ceremony, word reached him: Viscount Celeste had purchased a field of Yoshicho.  

Celeste was a capital noble without any land holdings. For a man who only ran a trade company to suddenly buy Yoshicho by the field—it had to mean something.  

Esadien could no longer afford to wait and keep his head down.  

If he gave them any more time, “that one” would surely give new orders—and after that, all traces would be erased in an instant.  

That night, Esadien spent the hours drafting an arrest plan for Viscount Celeste.  

‘So it’s finally come to this.’ 

He already knew Lapheche had drugged the tea she prepared for herself.  

She had hesitated for a long time, her hands trembling as she added the powder—anyone with eyes would have noticed.  

More than that, Esadien had heard the Viscount himself instruct her when he handed over the drug:  

“Do whatever it takes to get the Prince to come to our side faster.”

Those had been his exact words.  

Esadien had already discovered that many of the new attendants were connected to the Viscount.  

‘I had hoped for a bigger catch…’

It was disappointing, but he couldn’t afford to hold back any longer. A card unused when it’s needed becomes discarded.  

At daybreak, Esadien issued an arrest warrant to the knights and attended the coming-of-age ceremony himself to take Lapheche into custody.  

Since the ceremonies were conducted separately by gender, he was able to catch up to her the moment it ended.  

“What orders has the Viscount given you?”  

“I don’t know what you mean…”  

“The Viscount has just been detained.”  

“…”  

“You don’t understand? You’re no more than a kite with its string cut. I know you’ve been used under the pretense of being an adopted daughter. Cooperate with the investigation and you’ll be treated leniently.”  

Lapheche hesitated, her face dark, as if torn between speaking or staying silent—then finally raised her hand.  

“My dressing room is just one floor up. Come there in an hour. I’ll tell you everything I know.”  

‘An hour from now?’

There was something oddly specific about that timing.  

Still, guards had been stationed at every entrance. If she tried to leave, they would report it.  

Assuming he could keep her in check, Esadien agreed.  

—One hour later.  

Esadien frowned the moment he saw Lapheche.  

“You’re here. Could you tighten this for me? I don’t know where the maid went.”  

She wore nothing but a corset over her undergarments.  

“Are you…”  

“If you won’t help, I won’t talk.”  

“You dare mock a royal. If you’re not seeking mercy, then so be it.”  

It was clear she was trying to seduce him. Esadien turned to leave.  

Then—  

“Come here, my dear Dien.”  

His steps halted. His eyes widened to their limits.  

That was the voice—no, the tone—of the late Empress Maya.  

“Lapheche Celeste. How do you know…?”  

The face that resembled his mother so exactly suddenly seemed to burn into his eyes.  

Her knowing smile, like she had expected him to return—it twisted instantly into rage.  

“Speak. Who’s behind this? Tell me. Now!”  

He no longer cared whether she was in a corset or wore nothing at all.  

He seized her slender neck and began his interrogation.  

But Lapheche remained silent.  

Instead of resisting, she let her body go limp, almost as if inviting him to do his worst.  

Esadien’s vision darkened with rage. He squeezed her throat harder.  

The only thing that came out of her mouth was—  

“Lady Minuelle!”  

What?  

The sudden name threw him off. For a moment, his heart plummeted, thinking Minuelle had been behind all of this.  

But then he saw Lapheche’s gaze.  

It wasn’t on him. It was locked, sharp and certain, behind his back.  

“Minuelle?”  

Esadien turned—and from that moment, time seemed to slow.  

Her wide sky-colored eyes trembled, about to spill over—then hardened into ice.  

That frozen gaze. Only the corners of her lips curled upward in a chilling smile.

And then—the moment she pulled off the gloves he had gifted her and flung them aside as if challenging him to a duel.

It was that image, more than the cryptic words, more than the sting of being metaphorically slapped with a glove, that branded itself into his mind.

More painful than any of it was the brief glimpse of the scar on Minuelle’s hand.

An old burn mark on her palm.

She must have insisted on wearing gloves all this time to hide that scar. And yet he…

It felt like something deep inside him came crashing down in an avalanche. But when he looked around, he realized the sound was just in his head.

By the time he managed to gather himself, Minuelle was already gone. Lapheche, slumped on the floor with an exhausted face, was sneering at him.

“You really should’ve picked a side, Your Highness.”

That line overlapped in his mind with Minuelle’s earlier voice, the one that had asked him to be clear about his heart.

“I…”

Esadien still hadn’t recovered from the shock. But there was one thing he was certain of—he couldn’t just let Minuelle walk away.

That one conviction gave him the strength to rise and steady himself.  

But when he saw her again in the banquet hall, she felt like a completely different person.

“You told me you loved me… didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“You said it wouldn’t change.”

“Well, wine changes when the cork is left off too long, you know”

At her words, Esadien felt unmistakable betrayal. Realizing he felt that betrayal—hit him harder than anything else.

‘Minuelle will wait for me. She said she loved me.’

Without realizing it, he had come to rely on that idea—he had clung to a feeling he’d claimed not to trust.

He was still wallowing in self-loathing, left alone in a hollowed-out palace from which even his attendants had been dragged away, when a letter arrived from House Karnian.

A formal notice of annulment.

Reality had arrived, no longer abstract but in the form of a single sheet of paper.

‘Minuelle really has…’

…let him go.

At last, Esadien was forced to accept it.

This engagement he had endured as repayment for a debt? The supposed pity he’d felt for someone so fragile, unable to turn her away?

All of it was just an excuse—a mask to avoid facing his true feelings.

“I don’t want to lose her.”

Why would he be so drawn to someone he was supposedly forcing himself to tolerate? Why would he miss her this much?

Even when she was covered in dust and sneezing, he found her endearing.

He even felt jealous of the priest by her side!

Once, Minuelle’s confessions of love had felt like a burden. But now, those words soaked into the barren desert of his heart like rain.

“…Love.”

Esadien murmured the word as he lay not on his bed, but on a long green couch, gently brushing his hand over the tapestry Minuelle had gifted him with so much care.

This couch had once been proof of the days Minuelle used to come flying into his arms.

Ever since Lapheche started frequenting his quarters, he’d disliked the idea of anyone else sitting where Minuelle had sat, and had moved the couch into his bedroom.

Ever since receiving the annulment, he found himself sleeping on it more often than in his bed.