Chapter 33
“Y-Yes, sir!”
At Wighill’s command, the soldiers, who had been standing dazed, began to move in a frantic rush.
Some of them bowed their heads deeply as they passed in front of Ian.
“Phew…”
Ian bit his lip, gripping his arm where blood was seeping through.
‘Now that Wighill has caught me at the scene, the Empress will surely use this to harass me.’
It wasn’t difficult for Ian to picture what would happen next.
The Empress’s side would undoubtedly demand to know why he was at the festival and interrogate him on whether he was plotting something behind their backs.
“Count Wighill, let’s tend to Bolton first.”
Just thinking about it gave him a headache, but dealing with Bolton’s matter was the immediate priority.
It was also a way to divert Wighill’s attention for the moment.
“There are things I need to look into regarding his death. The Imperial Army will take over the interrogation personally.”
“Yes, Your Highness. As you wish. We shall move the Duke’s body first.”
Even if his movements had been exposed, Ian could not leave Bolton’s matter in Wighill’s hands.
Wighill hesitated for a moment before bowing his head.
“Recover the Duke’s body and move these men.”
“Yes, sir!”
At Wighill’s nod, soldiers brought over a stretcher and loaded Bolton onto it.
Even the guards from the City Guard clicked their tongues and shook their heads at the sight of Bolton’s gruesome remains.
Others were busy arresting the fallen assailants one by one.
Still unconscious, the men lay limp, appearing to have no strength left to resist.
Wighill, who had been watching the scene with a sharp gaze, turned his eyes back toward Ian.
“By the way, Your Highness, what brings you to a place like this?”
“…….”
Ian remained silent at Wighill’s question.
Since any answer would likely arouse suspicion at this point, it was better to give him no opening at all.
Before long, a fleet-footed soldier came running back, panting, with bandages in hand.
“Y-Your Highness! I’ve brought the bandages! I’ll tend to you immediately!”
“Mm.”
Ian nodded and offered his arm to the soldier.
“…….”
Wighill watched in silence as the bandages were wrapped around Ian’s arm.
However, there wasn’t a trace of concern for Ian in his eyes.
Instead, he was scrutinizing Ian with a piercing, calculating look.
‘He’s avoiding the question about why he came to the festival.’
Of course, it wasn’t strange for Ian to enjoy the Spring Festival.
…The problem was who he had been with.
If it were his usual aide, Duke Raven, there would be no reason to hide it.
‘Then, is it a woman after all?’
Wighill’s suspicion instantly turned into a conviction.
It felt as though he could finally grasp the weakness he had been searching for if he just reached out.
If the woman was a lady from a prestigious family, he could find fault with the Crown Prince’s foolishness for putting her in danger.
If she was from an ordinary family or a commoner, he could emphasize the Crown Prince’s promiscuous lifestyle.
‘I must report this to Her Majesty the Empress immediately upon my return.’
His eyes glittered with a sinister light.
‘Is Ian Heriet going to be okay?’
Just as Ian had instructed, Lobelin headed home after parting ways with the City Guard at the plaza, but she couldn’t help but keep looking back.
Only a few hours ago, they had been enjoying the festival.
Now, the boisterous atmosphere of the celebration felt like something from another world.
Lobelin felt as though her heart was still lingering in that dark, dangerous alleyway.
‘Ian is probably still there, isn’t he?’
Unlike her, who was practically fleeing the scene.
Lobelin sighed, finding her own situation somewhat pathetic.
“Haa…”
To think the only thing she could do right now was sneak back home.
In the original novel, the villainess Lobelin at least had the capability to run around and handle things herself.
Right now, she felt like nothing more than a burden.
Lobelin ruffled her hair in frustration.
She couldn’t guess whether people had realized Ian was the Crown Prince by now, or if he was being questioned under his fake identity.
‘The investigation is one thing, but he needs treatment first. The wound looked much more serious than I thought.’
The image of red blood flowing down Ian’s shirt sleeve wouldn’t leave her mind.
She had only encountered such injuries through descriptions in novels; this was the first time she had seen one with her own eyes.
And yet, Ian had been more distressed over her scraped finger.
‘Look at this. You hurt your hand.’
Recalling those blue eyes that couldn’t look away from her hand, Lobelin felt an even stranger sensation in her chest.
It was just a tiny scrape.
‘He’s such a fool. He should have been looking at his own arm. This is no time to worry about others.’
Lobelin grumbled to herself.
The way back was well-lit by streetlamps and filled with people coming and going from the festival, making it safe.
Nevertheless, Lobelin’s heart was heavy with anxiety and worry.
If Ian weren’t the Crown Prince, she could have at least promised to meet him again soon.
“…….”
Suddenly, Lobelin realized she had been pacing in the same spot for a while.
She flinched, becoming conscious of how she kept looking back toward the festival grounds.
‘Good grief, Lobelin. Who are you worrying about? Ian is the Crown Prince!’
Lobelin slapped her cheeks lightly with both hands.
Unlike her, who didn’t even have a resident physician at home, Ian would surely receive the best medical care.
Anywhere he went, the moment he revealed he was the Crown Prince, everyone would treat him with the utmost respect.
In a situation like this, who was she to worry about him?
‘I-It’s just because I’m worried. It’s only natural to worry when someone gets hurt. Ian did the same… for me.’
Lobelin unconsciously squeezed her right hand with her left.
But her pounding heart wouldn’t easily calm down.
In the end, Lobelin didn’t stop looking back until she reached home.
As if doing so would allow her to confirm that Ian was safe.
Fortunately, it seemed Ian’s injury wasn’t as severe as Lobelin had feared.
Not long after they parted at the festival, Ian sent a letter to Lobelin in secret.
[Hello, Lobelin.
How have you been feeling since that day? I hope you aren’t hurt anywhere.
Since you’re likely losing sleep worrying about me, I’ll get straight to the point: my wound has been treated successfully, and I am currently conducting an investigation into the matter.
I’ll be quite busy for a while and might not be able to reach out, so I’m sending this letter in advance.
I will handle this matter one way or another, so do not worry.
—Sent by the nameless Count from Newerie.]
“W-Who’s losing sleep?! Honestly!”
Lobelin set the letter down, her face flushing red.
It felt as though she could hear Ian’s voice in her ear.
‘He’s definitely misunderstanding something.’
He was convinced she liked him just from watching the fireworks, and now this.
Lobelin fanned her burning cheeks with her hand.
Seeing this, Sarah’s eyes went wide.
“My lady, is something the matter? Is it bad news?”
Sarah asked in a worried voice.
When the letter first arrived, Lobelin’s face had brightened as if she were in a great mood.
At Sarah’s question, Lobelin seemed to realize for the first time that the maid was there.
“Oh, no. It’s nothing. You may go now.”
Lobelin hurriedly composed her expression and voice.
Sarah still looked puzzled but left the room without asking further.
Once the door closed, Lobelin picked up the letter to read it again.
There was a postscript at the end of Ian’s letter.
[P.S.
About the marksmanship I taught you—why don’t you keep practicing on your own?
There’s no guarantee that something like last time won’t happen again.
A crossbow will be much safer than that crude box.
I’ll send over a crossbow made by an imperial craftsman soon.
I’ll check your progress the next time we meet, so make sure to practice properly.]
“…What is this? The postscript is longer than the actual letter.”
Lobelin muttered, looking at the back of the page with even more disbelief.
However, a faint smile had found its way onto her lips.
It was clear that Ian wanted to act proud about teaching her how to shoot.
The transparency of his intentions was amusing, yet it made her heart feel strangely fluttery.
“Haha…”
But then Lobelin’s expression darkened again.
Next to the letter she had set down lay a newspaper.
<‘Devil of Fernin’ Revealed as Cause of Duke Bolton’s Death; Public in Shock.>
The Imperial Family tried to strictly limit information regarding the Bolton incident, but the media had already caught the scent and were racing to report on it.
The fact that a Duke had died a horrific death in the heart of the capital left everyone in a state of shock.
With newspapers selling like wildfire every time a new detail emerged, every media outlet reported on it competitively.
As the atmosphere grew more heated, the public’s anxiety grew along with it.
“Goodness, the ‘Devil of Fernin’… I’ve only heard the name. Has it really made its way into Centerfield?”
“I heard it’s being distributed heavily around 6th Street. These are truly dark times.”
The greatest source of this anxiety was, of course, the ‘Devil of Fernin’ that caused Bolton’s death.
People were terrified by the fact that a poisonous herb they had considered someone else’s problem was now right before their eyes.
And as time passed, their suspicions began to converge on one point.
