RAMHM Chapter 37

Passing the First Checkpoint

"My lady, what has you so busy from the crack of dawn?"

"It's nothing."

Early in the morning, I was using a letter that had arrived by carrier pigeon as kindling. A letter from Novian.

「Refuse the position as Crown Princess's lady-in-waiting.」

No explanation. No request for understanding. Just that single line, stark and commanding.

"Someone who'll do great things in the future! You should leave these trivial matters to us!"

Marge snatched the poker from my hand and scraped together every scrap of charred paper, shoving it deep into the fireplace. Ever since I'd told her the news about becoming the Crown Princess's lady-in-waiting, Marge had been more excited about my entering the palace than I was.

"My lady—Madame Leblais has arrived."

Yona entered the drawing room, her face flushed with excitement. I glanced once more at Novian's letter disappearing into the flames, then left the estate to pass Doris's first checkpoint.

Inside the carriage, Madame Leblais wore a subtly strained expression the entire way. Only when we reached the Imperial Palace did she finally speak, her voice weighted with reluctance.

"Madam, I'll meet with Her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess because you asked... but—"

"I know, Madame. I've told you several times already."

Though Madame was fundamentally a businesswoman, she styled herself an artist—the stubborn sort who would rather die than do work she didn't want to do. She could afford such principles because she was a noblewoman from the Catarinan Principality, not from Ronteaux.

"Ever since I opened my atelier in Ronteaux, I've observed Her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess from a distance for quite some time, and truly! Not even a spark! Not a single thread of inspiration comes to me. She was the quintessential Ronteaux noble lady then, and now that she's the future Empress, nothing has changed. I already declined politely before, so why would you put me in such a difficult position when you, Madam, know perfectly well that you are my muse..."

"Her Imperial Highness didn't specifically request you—I'm bringing you along because I trust you. Baroness Giusetta has an eye for people, it seems. As I understand it, Her Highness didn't directly command that any particular person be brought."

Madame pursed her lips, but when I praised her in this roundabout way, she sighed as if she couldn't help herself. According to Madame, Nora had gone to considerable effort trying to introduce her to the Crown Princess, but the Crown Princess had refused each time.

"If she'd asked me to work for the Baroness, I would've done it readily enough. But if I'm forced to make something for Her Imperial Highness and the result turns out poorly... won't I face severe punishment?"

"Don't worry about the result. Design for me, not for Her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess."

"...Pardon?"

Before we knew it, our carriage had arrived before the imposing Crown Princess's Palace. A waiting knight opened the door, but neither of us rose.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. Right now, she doesn't want a style that's uniquely hers."

"Then... what?"

Madame asked, genuinely bewildered. I shrugged slightly, a touch awkward.

"She wants to steal what I have and drape it over herself as if it were her own."

Madame's eyes, which had been wavering wildly, suddenly sharpened with understanding.

"...The type I despise most."

Then, clenching her fist with determination, she leaped from the carriage without even accepting the knight's escort.

"Since I didn't mention any subject, surely it won't be considered disrespectful?"

"Thank you for helping me."

I smiled as I answered.

When we entered the breathtakingly ornate audience chamber, Doris, Nora, and a young lady I'd never seen before were waiting.

"Today's interview is merely a formality, so just think of it as teatime. Consider this a time to introduce yourselves to the other ladies-in-waiting."

Nora reintroduced herself as Baroness Giusetta, and the unfamiliar young lady introduced herself as Lady Syscamythn. The teatime proceeded quite smoothly. Lady Syscamythn graciously permitted us to call her Irene, though Baroness Giusetta did not extend the same courtesy with her own name—a minor power play. Throughout the tea, I observed not only Doris but also Baroness Giusetta without missing a detail.

She's just like me.

I recalled the look on Baroness Giusetta's face yesterday when her group had scrutinized me so intently. That expression of wanting desperately to ask about everything I wore but refusing out of sheer pride.

The dress with its subtly altered touches—I immediately recognized it as a copy of the gown Madame Leblais had designed for me. The same went for Doris. The loosely pinned hairstyle, the earrings, the necklace—every single piece bore an uncanny resemblance to what I'd worn yesterday. Too similar to dismiss as coincidence. I turned my attention to Doris, who was merely toying with her teacup, and spoke quietly.

"Your Highness, about the matter you entrusted to me before."

"...Ah, yes, that's right. When might I meet this creative talent?"

The moment I opened my mouth, Nora's gaze latched onto me. Doris's eyes, too, sparkled with interest.

"There are many famous designers in the capital, but among them, do you know Madame Leblais?"

"Oh my, Madam! Of course we know her! To wear a Madame Leblais gown, you must book at least six months in advance! Your Highness, surely you know of her as well?"

As Irene began to gush, Nora's face grew increasingly rigid.

"I've certainly heard the name. So, must I also wait about six months?"

Knowing Madame Leblais's stubbornness, Doris answered with a faint smile.

"She entered the palace with me today. Would you like to meet her?"

"!"

I rose abruptly, showed proper courtesy, and reopened the audience chamber doors. When Madame Leblais entered with the polished expression of a seasoned businesswoman, Nora's face turned completely ashen, and Irene rose slowly, rubbing her eyes before covering her mouth.

"I finally have the honor of meeting the Star of the Empire, Your Imperial Highness the Crown Princess. I am Madame Leblais."

Though Madame's eyes wavered sharply when she saw Doris and Nora's attire, she concealed her reaction with the skill of an experienced professional.

"What do you think, Your Highness?"

I asked, smiling shyly at Doris. Doris, who had been smiling faintly, looked Madame Leblais up and down before answering with a satisfied expression.

"Even a Grand Duke cannot ignore sincere desire to keep capable talent close. Isn't that right?"

By then, Doris was already leafing through Madame's design portfolio with rapt attention.

"Congratulations, Madam. From today, you are officially my lady-in-waiting—you deserve to be congratulated."

After Madame Leblais departed with promises to meet again, it was quite some time before Doris, her face wreathed in smiles, finally spoke.

"Ah, the reason I called you all here today was partly for Countess Acacia's interview as a formality, but also to inform you of something important."

"What is it, Your Highness?"

"Soon, Grand Duke Trovika must leave the capital on business with Ellaconia. I know it doesn't look good to assign work to someone in mourning, but what can be done? This country doesn't have such an abundance of talent."

Doris's face showed she didn't believe her own words in the slightest.

"Oh my, then who will receive the mourners visiting the Trovika Grand Ducal Estate or the cemetery?"

"Irene, you've hit upon it exactly. That's precisely why the Imperial Family will temporarily send someone."

Representing the Imperial Family at imperial occasions—it was undoubtedly an honorable duty. Judging by how Nora, whose face had been ashen all along, now looked at Doris with burning eyes, clearly desperate for the assignment. Unfortunately, Doris didn't even glance in her direction.

"So, Madam."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I intend to recommend you to Her Imperial Majesty the Empress and send you there."

"!"

"Just one week. You'll receive mourners at the Trovika Grand Ducal Estate and oversee the management of the residence."

Nora's face turned to stone, and Irene's shocked expression registered in turn. Baroness Giusetta held the social intelligence network, while Irene Syscamythn wielded factional power.

What did Doris want from Bliea Acacia? As I looked at Doris smiling so warmly at me, I felt I was slowly beginning to understand what pleased her.

"Have you gotten any sense of it?"

"What sense do you mean?"

At Rhodness's insolent reply, Emperor Julius's expression hardened. How long had it been since he'd seen his son, who had so stubbornly avoided private audiences with his father in the capital? This was their first private meeting since that flushed confrontation at the party hall, and the Emperor had been glad to see him. Contrary to his own feelings of welcome, shallow contempt swept across Rhodness's face. The Emperor swallowed his discomfort and continued.

"The missing women. You're the only one I can trust with this matter."

"Then why do you pay salaries to the Captain of the Capital Guard and the Commander of the Imperial Knights?"

"Rhoan."

"I need rest as well."

When he uttered the word "rest"—something he rarely spoke of—the Emperor's mouth closed. As Rhodness himself said, he needed rest. At such a young age, he'd gone to the battlefield and never once returned to the capital, thrown from one campaign to the next.

His sole purpose—his first love—had married his uncle and was no longer even in this world. Knowing these circumstances intimately, the Emperor looked at his son with something like apology. But Rhodness avoided that gaze. His sculpted, beautiful profile was full of loneliness and futility.

The Emperor understood that feeling better than anyone. It was the same emotion he'd once felt after Empress Letina—his first and last love—had died.

"And lately, I've been hearing things that offend my ears."

"......"

"People are spreading gossip that the victim in that case you keep begging me to investigate—Baroness Kuroseida—is actually your mistress. I was about to rip out every last tongue, but I thought I should ask you directly first. That's why I came."

Rhodness already knew the truth through his own investigation, but he spoke to his father this way nonetheless. The Emperor sat at his office desk, watching him in silence.

"I'm asking you."

"It's a disgrace to the Imperial Family."

"Rhoan."

"Mother must be weeping in her grave."

"Someday, you too will understand a father's heart."

The Emperor spoke in a voice steeped in regret. But no matter how Rhodness thought about it, he was certain he would never understand his father.

"The dead are dead. The living must live. I realized this too late, and I wronged Baroness Kuroseida terribly."

That regret-laden voice wasn't directed at his mother, Empress Letina. It was clearly meant for that "mistress" he'd secretly asked to be found.

"Loss and wounds caused by people can only be healed by other people—I realized this far too late."

Unable to suppress the sudden surge of anger, Rhodness opened his mouth.

"The dead aren't some illness that needs to be cured."

"Rhoan."

"Something that cannot be replaced by anyone else—isn't that what love is?"

"......"

"You never loved Mother."

The aged Emperor's face visibly crumbled, and thick tears rolled down his cheeks. Turning away from him, Rhodness looked at the portrait of Baroness Kuroseida on the table and twisted his face even further. Glittering golden hair. An impression similar to his mother, Empress Letina, who had been as beautiful as a fairy. Rough breaths burst through his clenched teeth in succession, his chest heaving.

'The real one dies. And you find comfort in a substitute.'

But did he have any right to condemn that? Suddenly, he felt as if he were falling into an endless abyss.

"...I loved Letina. And Baroness Kuroseida, too—"

"...I don't want to hear it."

Rhodness finally stood abruptly. Though the Emperor marveled at his son's grown stature, he couldn't bear how that face—so like Letina's—looked at him full of reproach and contempt, and he lowered his head.

"Rhoan. Someday, you too will understand this father."

In the end, Rhodness stormed out. He walked the long corridor, walked and walked. Rage felt like it would split his head open. Everyone living in this Empire had lost their minds—every single one of them.

As Rhodness poured silent condemnation onto these nameless masses, he finally stopped at the end of a deserted corridor where not even servants passed. The figure of Bliea Acacia suddenly rose in his mind, choking off his breath.

'Why... why in the world... do you look like Adrienne to my eyes?'

The memory of having said such a thing so recently turned his mind to pulp. Rhodness lifted his head where he'd stopped.

Coincidentally, at the end of the corridor hung a portrait of his mother, the late Empress Letina. When Letina's benevolently smiling eyes met his, unbearable shame rose within him. And then—

"...Your Highness?"

As if it were a lie, he encountered Bliea Acacia right there.