<Episode 29>
In my past life's memories, Mom's expression would darken whenever she drew the green or blue flag.
I didn't know the actual meanings of the flags well, but I realized that if I didn't assign meanings in advance while doing fortune-telling, I'd get confused and it would be even harder.
Flag fortune-telling was flashy, so it would be performed in front of people often, and if the meanings changed every time, problems would arise.
So, I assigned meanings similar to what Mom did.
Green and blue were bad omens, for starters.
[Lady Agatha, green one.]
So before the Duke drew, I told Agatha. It meant to suppress the presence of all but the green flag.
And the flag the Duke drew was green, as intended.
"We lost something?"
The Duke asked with a flustered face.
[Both are thinking of Ridge. And they're suspicious of Dorothy. Even the Duke, who believed you were the Saintess. Moreover, Cayden... is angry.]
As expected. Cayden, who had lifted his head, had hostility in his eyes. This was far better than complete indifference.
At this point, it was better to ease off the gas and gently apply the brakes rather than accelerating. I needed to dispel the suspicion first.
I calmly changed the subject.
"It would be good to go through a process of finding out what that is."
"Is there a separate process?"
"Yes. The gods don't reveal things easily."
Not the gods of that world, but the gods of this world told me everything from beginning to end right away.
I deliberately benchmarked the gods from that world. It made them seem much more mysterious and kept the other party in agony.
Come to think of it, maybe the gods from my past life had studied marketing.
To make people cling like that... impressive.
"Your Grace, may I ask for your birthdate?"
"Born on July 4th, 937."
After hearing the Duke's birth year from Agatha, she recalled memories from that time and told me various stories.
She said those born then would have grown up without major issues.
This time, I took the rattle bell in hand.
The Duke was now looking at me with the eyes of someone beholding an eccentric.
I fiddled with the rattle bell and closed my eyes, as if receiving something from the heavens.
In the meantime, I also asked Ephrosyne to pour on abundant blessings to make me appear as holy as possible.
"It seems Your Grace had no major hardships or trials in your childhood. Is that right?"
"The Saintess has piercing insight. In my view as well, there were no great hardships in my youth."
The words I laid out for the Duke were commonplace.
The Duke responded shrewdly and calmly without surprise. Even without fully dispelling suspicion, her courteous reception showed her years as a dignified noble.
So, now was the time.
I snapped my eyes open.
The Duke, who had been staring intently at me, flinched and trembled in surprise at my sudden movement.
"But after becoming family head, you went through something very painful."
The startled Duke tried to compose herself and replied.
"No, it was merely my duty—"
I swung the rattle bell needlessly before she could finish.
"......?"
It was a bit tiring ignoring the Duke's bewildered expression.
As the tinkling sound echoed hollowly, I spoke in a sympathetic voice.
"A skin condition...!"
"Pardon?"
"During those days of overwork, how painful it must have been to suddenly break out in rashes."
"......How did you."
The Duke's chronic illness was top secret.
No benefit in publicizing her illness.
I had the god of medicine, Iason.
Iason, who had examined the Duke, told me her body suffered from itchy rashes and occasional shingles.
Iason pinpointed the cause as the scented oil she slathered on after baths.
"Your mind must have been greatly unsettled."
The Duke's eyes shook violently.
"You need rest due to the illness, yet every day is torment."
"Heavens, Saintess...!"
I glanced at Cayden. His eyes, filled with suspicion, were also shaking.
Hitting a secret no one knew was so effective.
"Can you heal me?"
"Regrettably, I lack healing powers. But in my view, your current skincare method... doesn't suit you, Your Grace."
"Pardon? But I've heard that for bad skin, one should apply plenty of scented oils..."
"No. Avoid oily products like scented oils—"
I recited the prescription exactly as Iason had instructed.
"—Do this, and it should improve somewhat."
"Yes, I'll try that."
The Duke nodded eagerly.
"But an illness isn't something to call what the ducal house 'lost,' is it."
I returned to the main topic.
"Indeed."
"The gods say peace will return to the ducal house only when that precious thing is recovered."
"Precious thing..."
"I can't see exactly what the ducal house lost from Your Grace... To see more clearly—"
I turned my eyes to Cayden.
"......Oh my."
And murmured in surprise.
"What is it, Saintess."
"The gods are pointing to the Young Lord."
"Pardon?"
"I think the Young Lord has lost something."
Silence descended on the reception room at once.
"......Saintess. Aren't you misunderstanding something? I have no such..."
Cayden said through gritted teeth.
Startled by accurately guessing the Duke's secret illness, he was shaken by my words.
But he couldn't hold hope now. No, he didn't want to.
Eight years had passed. For him, unable to find his daughter, it was time confirming he could only give up.
I said 'recover.' That would sound to him like Ridge was alive.
Thus, he would reject hope even more.
Holding and releasing hope, desperation again would be his greatest torment.
"The gods are precisely pointing to Berardi's second Young Lord."
"If this is nonsense—"
"Cayden."
The Duke rebuked Cayden as his voice began to boil.
Cayden shut his mouth, but anger welled in his eyes. He looked far more human than before.
"Would you like to draw one?"
I held out the flags to him.
The Duke prodded him, but Cayden didn't budge.
"Young Lord. This isn't futile."
I faced his anger head-on. Complex turmoil swirled in his eyes.
He was silent for a while.
"......If I do this, can I go?"
Judging quick escape best, Cayden asked in a weary voice.
"Yes. Of course."
As I thought my flag-holding arm ached, Cayden reached out.
"Blue."
"What does it mean?"
"Disaster... to the family."
I asked with maximum puzzlement.
"Did you... lose family?"
At my question, Cayden gripped the flag tightly. His fingers turned red, then purple under the pressure.
"Not a difficult story. Did you hear of my daughter's death late? So you're stirring up the ducal house—"
"I've already heard your daughter passed. That's why I'm asking. Because it's different from what I knew."
"......"
"What the gods indicated wasn't death, but disappearance."
"......Pardon?"
"Was there a family member who went missing?"
Cayden froze. He worked his mouth, then closed it. The Duke was in a similar state.
After I waited briefly, Cayden spoke again.
"How, how— how."
Without this process, blurting 'missing daughter' would have gotten no such reaction.
Now, just create a fateful reunion, and paternity confirmation would take a backseat as belief sets in.
Crying 'heaven's gift.'
Only I, with gods as my backing, could do this.
'Hahaha!'
I cheered inwardly.
* * *
'Lord Horte, protector of children, loves moonlit nights very much. You've heard the legend that on full moon nights, He descends to dance with children.'
Cayden recalled the Saintess's words echoing in his mind.
He had heard such a legend. Though it was from a very young age.
An insignificant tale he'd brushed off with 'I see.'
'On full moon nights when Lord Horte's energy strengthens... go west, west.'
'To which place west?'
'A small... river appears. With a small stone bridge over it... I don't know the Capital City well, but is there a river west?'
'There's a stream.'
'When the full moon rises, go there. You'll find it.'
It couldn't make sense.
Yet why was he out here tonight, truly? Had he been bewitched?
But the Saintess had accurately guessed his mother's chronic illness and even his daughter's disappearance.
For eight years, the daughter's disappearance was perfectly concealed. Even top information guilds couldn't uncover it when investigating the ducal house. No rumors even circulated.
What couldn't the Empire's four great ducal houses do? The money and threats for perfect silence yielded natural results.
Cayden sighed at those thoughts and looked up at the sky. Amid the clear, blue heavens, a large moon hung.
The time he'd held her could be counted on fingers. Her clear face like the moon was still vivid.
"Juliette......"
The name he'd given but barely called. Cayden gripped the baby handkerchief tightly. The embroidered 'Juliette' crumpled.
Two hours waiting since the moon rose.
"......Fooled, truly... like a fool."
As three hours passed, faint hopes sank. Night deepened.
At this hour with fewer people, what child would come here?
No child resembling Juliette among those passing since evening.
Cayden gave a hollow laugh and straightened from leaning on the bridge.
He wanted to keep waiting, but futility overwhelmed.
He'd thought he'd given up. Apparently not. Somehow—
"Mister! Ho, uh, by any chance! Did a girl named Ridge pass by here?"
A childish voice, trying to correct slipping pronunciation, cut his thoughts.
Cayden turned toward the source. Far below, a small boy looked up at him.
