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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Miscalculations
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Chapter 45
“I’m telling you, I’ll expose the contents of that diary to the police. Or I’ll leak it to the papers.”
“I can’t just give it to you.”
“Even if I shatter your family’s honor?”
Eric’s red eyes shone calmly. He spoke with a troubled expression.
“Don’t do that, Madam Helena.”
“W-Who gave you the right…”
“You and Philip will be the only ones hurt if you do that. I assure you. It won’t be enough to damage the House of Orleans in the slightest.”
Helena stared in confusion at Eric, completely immune to her threats.
Just as Imeline had said, threats didn’t work on Eric at all.
But…
But!
“Then why are you lending me the money?”
Eric, seeing the look in Helena’s eyes, let out a small laugh.
“Because you said you need it. Even if you hadn’t resorted to threats, if you had just said you needed it, that it was urgent, I would have lent it to you.”
Helena felt at a loss for words.
*He’s an honest and good person.*
It was as if Imeline’s handwriting was floating in the air.
Even so…
*Can someone really trust another’s goodwill so recklessly?*
“What if I take the money and run?”
“Well… then there’s nothing I can do. It would be a shame, but I won’t exactly die without that money.”
Helena’s expression, which had been slightly touched by his words, hardened.
*Ah, I take it back.*
*He doesn’t trust in goodwill; he trusts in his own wealth.*
Helena gritted her teeth.
“You…”
✵ ✵ ✵
Heading to the dark basement of the west tower, Ella paused before reaching the bottom of the stairs.
In the west tower’s basement, there was a space enclosed by iron bars.
Moonlight streamed through a small, hole-like window in the prison cell.
There was only one candle in the dark basement, making even the faint moonlight seem bright.
Bathed in that moonlight, a silver-haired boy was huddled up.
Ella quietly stared at his hair, shimmering in the moonlight.
The boy exuded a sensual allure without doing anything.
A line from the pulp novel she had just been reading came to mind.
*Could there be anyone who fits that phrase so perfectly?*
*‘His build is a little different, though. Is he about seventeen now?’*
To get the attention of the boy, who was staring blankly at the ground, Ella tapped the wall. Hearing the sound, the boy quickly looked up.
Recognizing her, perhaps, the boy shot up from his spot and clung to the iron bars.
*I heard he fainted.*
The attendant following Ella scowled and hurried down the stairs. He brought a long iron rod and pushed the boy back.
Ella stared intently at the boy’s face, contorted in pain.
She descended the rest of the stairs and snatched the rod from the attendant.
“Princess.”
“I’ll handle the interrogation. Get out.”
The attendant looked at Ella with anxious eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re disobeying my orders…?”
“N-No, of course not.”
The attendant hastily left.
Ella watched him go, then sat on an old chair in the basement. Dust puffed up from the filthy chair. Seeing the cloud of dust, Ella’s face wrinkled in disgust.
“Ugh…”
*These people. I know it’s just for prisoners, but can’t they keep it a little cleaner?*
Ella, who had no qualms about torturing people, was surprisingly concerned with the cleanliness of the cell. Torturing an enemy to find the truth was a necessary tactic, but everyone deserved to sleep in a clean place.
Ella crossed her legs, trying to minimize contact with the chair. Then she struck the iron bars with the rod she’d taken from the attendant.
*Clang!* A clear metallic sound rang out. The boy, terrified, retreated to a corner.
“Ooh. Louder than I thought…”
“...”
“You, name…”
Ella stopped herself and shook her head. She couldn’t get a name out of him. She needed to ask a question he could answer with a gesture or a nod.
“How old are you?”
The boy trembled as he lifted his head.
She had to wait a long time for an answer.
The boy, who didn’t seem to understand her question at first, finally held up two fingers after a while.
Ella stared at him, then tilted her head.
“Two?”
“...”
The boy shook his head.
“Then what, twelve? You’re pretty big for a twelve-year-old.”
Ella scratched the bridge of her nose.
*And here I thought he was about seventeen…*
“...”
The boy shook his head again.
It took Ella a long while to realize the boy was twenty.
“You’re twenty?”
Shocked, Ella’s mouth fell open. The boy, even more intimidated, curled himself into a smaller ball.
Ella watched him fold himself up like a piece of paper, then turned her gaze to the tray the attendant had brought.
It was a soup with carrots in it. Ella stood up, picked up the soup bowl, and pushed it through the food slot in the iron bars.
“Eat. I heard you collapsed because you weren’t eating.”
Ella noticed about three similar bowls already sitting inside the food slot. All of them were full.
*Is that why he’s so skinny for a twenty-year-old? The North sent a spy who’s not only bone-thin but also has such striking looks? Something’s not right…*
With that thought, she irritably banged the food slot with the rod.
“I said, eat.”
*You have to eat before I can decide whether to torture you or let you go.*
Humans tended to cling to a state of warmth and satiety, not wanting to lose it. That was another reason Ella was so displeased with the filthy state of this prison.
With terrified eyes, the boy watched Ella strike the bars.
Trembling, he went to the food slot and picked up the bowl of soup.
“The spoon…”
Ella picked up the spoon from the tray, but by then, the boy had already lifted the bowl and was gulping down the soup.
Ella furrowed her brow.
“…Are you an animal?”
Just then.
After finishing the soup, the boy started to wheeze and dropped the bowl. There was little soup left in the fallen bowl.
He clawed frantically at his throat, as if he were choking.
“...?”
Ella frowned.
*Did someone poison the soup?*
Ella banged on the door with the iron rod to call the attendant. He came rushing down.
“I-Is something wrong…?”
“Hey! What’s wrong with him? His eyes are rolling back in his head!”
Despite her urgent tone, Ella stood by and did nothing. Meanwhile, the attendant called for someone. It seemed he had a court physician on standby.
The court physician, who must have had a long day, came down with a tired look on his face.
The attendant opened the cell, and the physician entered without hesitation. He supported the boy’s body, cleared his airway, and said,
“It’s an allergy. He’s allergic to the carrot soup…!”
Hearing this, Ella looked dumbfounded.
*A carrot allergy?*
She looked at the untouched soup bowls. They were all carrot soup.
“Then why didn’t he say anything?”
When Ella asked, the attendant answered with a flustered expression.
“…Because he can’t speak?”
Ella quietly looked down at the gasping boy.
*How foolish.*
*And being foolish means…*
*‘That’s a good thing.’*
*It means he’ll have a hard time escaping.*
Ella pointed at the pale-faced boy—no, young man—and said,
“Him. Clean him up and bring him to me.”
“T-To where…”
“My bedchamber, where else?”
Ella answered as if annoyed and started back up the stairs. Then she stopped and added,
“If you can’t save him, don’t bother bringing him. I have no desire to see a corpse.”
Ella glanced at the boy, who was trembling like a rabbit.
*Whether he lives or dies, his fate will decide.*
Just then, the attendant hurried up the stairs after Ella.
“By the way, Princess. That mithril identification tag… didn’t you say the name engraved on it was in the Northern tongue?”
“I did. Why?”
*But why did the attendant do something I didn’t ask? I never told him to have a physician ready.*
“I had the name on the tag checked, and it was Kai Gerda.”
*Kai Gerda?*
Ella, who had been about to continue up the stairs, froze.
A chill ran down her spine as she glared at the boy beyond the iron bars.
She could see the physician urgently feeding him a potion.
When Ella didn’t answer, the attendant looked troubled. Ella let out a hollow laugh.
“So you’re telling me he’s some relative of the Archduke Gerda?”
“The name of the second son, known to be sickly, is said to be Kai… so it seems…”
“Ah, damn it all.”
✵ ✵ ✵
I was walking.
Inside the princess’s palace…
For a long time…
Only after walking—
“This damn princess’s palace is ridiculously huge!”
I found myself lost and wandering.
Why is it so big! Why! It’s a palace for just one princess!
Already frustrated with a situation that wasn’t getting any better, I placed my hands on my waist.
My waist fit perfectly in my two hands.
*That’s strange. Why? Why do I feel like I’ve forgotten something?*
A sense of foreboding crept over me.
Then it hit me.
“...?”
The diary!
I fumbled at my waist. But the object that should have been firmly attached to my waistband was nowhere to be found.
The diary was gone.
I covered my mouth.
*Oh, for crying out loud…*
*You’ve finally gone and done it.*
*And it’s a huge disaster!*
Depending on where it ended up, this could get very complicated…
Just as I was thinking that, I turned around. I saw a man standing at the top of the stairs.
He was shrouded in the dim indoor lighting, but I could clearly tell it was a man I knew.
In his hand was the very diary I was looking for.
Eric Orleans.
The moment I saw him, I froze.
“…Looking for this?”
