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“He’s just not the type to be flashy. He probably judged that there was nothing to gain by riding the fame of being the Imperial Princess's savior. He truly is cautious. Though, as a candidate for your husband, he’s a zero.”
To think Valentin was the Count who saved me. And when I was only six, practically a flying squirrel... Moreover, he didn't brag about it; he even hid it right in front of me, the person involved...
I recalled the moment I first met him—no, the moment I accidentally ran into him while hiding here and there in the Imperial Palace. What was he thinking when he saw me then?
‘He couldn't have thought that he saved me for nothing, right?’
[You should never have been born.]
It was hard to be certain that he hadn't recalled those words. What on earth was young Valentin thinking when he spat those words at me?
“Your Majesty.”
It was then. The Chamberlain, who I didn't know had left, hurriedly opened the door and entered. Wondering if twenty minutes had already passed, I returned to my seat with a feeling of languid exhaustion. However, the Chamberlain didn't even glance my way and approached my mother to whisper in her ear.
“...Is that true?”
“Yes, it is a matter I have just received from His Imperial Majesty the Emperor.”
What is it? My mother's gaze, cast downward as if lost in thought, was calm and still. Observing her expression, Tatyana quietly spoke.
“What is it, Mother? Has Father's condition worsened?”
Lifting her head, my mother answered her question.
“Count Valentin has seen the future of the Novarov Imperial Family. He intends to deliver a prophecy to us at tomorrow night's banquet. Publicly, in front of everyone.”
Seeing the future.
What does it mean to see the future? This was a question I had included in the tenth letter I sent to Valentin.
<How do you see the future? I wonder if specific scenes are captured before your eyes like photographs, or if you belong there as if dreaming. If it's neither, is it abstract, like reading a novel?>
Because it was a secret, I didn't receive a definitive answer, but I remember a very short response being written. It was a reply so concise that one might miss it if they only skimmed through.
<It is as if I am dreaming.>
If so, what kind of dream did Valentin have this time? The doubt was short-lived. I was already half-convinced. Perhaps Valentin hadn't seen a new future, but was intending to reveal a future he had already seen.
And that future was surely the future of Vasily and Tatyana.
“How fascinating. Unlike the prophets in history, they say Count Valentin's prophecies are always spot on. I wonder what future he saw?”
Tatyana's cheeks were flushed with faint interest. After stroking her chin for a moment, my mother answered her.
“Count Valentin is not impulsive, nor does he harbor any particular hostility toward our Imperial Family. He likely doesn't intend to create a negative atmosphere, so you may be at ease.”
“Hearing you say that makes me even more curious. Was this agreed upon with Father?”
“Either way, it doesn't seem to be a situation we can dwell on right now. Chamberlain, open the doors again. We cannot keep the ladies waiting any longer.”
“Yes.”
The small talk ended there.
As the firmly closed doors opened, the seventy-first woman stepped onto the carpet and walked into the audience chamber. Dozens of daughters of powerful noble families offered their greetings after that, but they didn't even register in my eyes. My mind was filled with only one goal, numb and still as if submerged in water.
‘I have to stop Valentin.’
I cannot let him reveal Vasily's future in front of everyone.
‘I must stop him. I have to do something.’
With an anxious heart, I waited for this long, drawn-out social debut to end. And finally, the moment the 114th and final woman introduced herself and stepped back.
“That is all for this year, Your Imperial Majesty the Empress.”
“Certainly more than last year.”
My eyes darted around, and the moment my mother rose from her seat, I stood up right behind her.
“Can I go to Father? I want to see him. A question has come to mind that's driving me crazy with curiosity, and only Father can answer it.”
“Our Lara is anxious again over something only she knows.”
“But she endured until the very end. Truly commendable. It seems the little kitten has already grown up.”
My mother gently pushed my back.
“Go on. But you must mind your manners.”
“Don't worry.”
I slinked away from my mother, and the moment I left the audience chamber, I bolted. The corridor, which had been packed with lines of women and noble ladies, was now empty as if it had never been full.
The corridor, bathed in the quiet light of the sunset, was so unnervingly silent that it felt as though I had visited another world for a brief moment, making it hard to believe it was the same path I had passed this morning.
The place I headed to was the second-floor drawing room. This drawing room, which had a somewhat enclosed structure, served as a combined temporary study and gallery, and was a space where the sons of powerful families who had reached adulthood exchanged greetings with the Emperor and high-ranking nobles.
The atmosphere here also seemed to be nearing its end, as the heavy double doors were wide open, exuding a relatively relaxed vibe.
There was no place in the Imperial Palace I couldn't go, but it was customary to respect the spirit of areas traditionally forbidden to men or women. However, since I was only thirteen, no one seemed to care. Long live the thirteen-year-old!
As I hesitated to enter and lingered around, Count Pushkin, who recognized my face, excused himself from his conversation partner and approached.
“Princess Larisa?”
“Count Pushkin.”
“Have you come to see His Imperial Majesty the Emperor...?”
“No, I didn't come to see Father. Where is Count Valentin? I need to meet him right now; where can I find him? Has he perhaps already left?”
“If it is Count Valentin.”
After glancing around for a moment, he raised his right hand and pointed toward the window not far from the entrance of the drawing room. Valentin was standing there. With his hands behind his back in a polite posture, he was focusing on the remarks of a middle-aged noble with graying hair.
Whenever he spoke, gentlemen of all ages gathered around him to listen. Even at a glance, the atmosphere wasn't stiff. Standing among the adults, Valentin truly looked like an adult.
“He seems busy at the moment. Is it an urgent matter?”
Of course it's urgent! But if I were to crawl in among those men and forcibly drag Valentin away, I would surely receive a great scolding from my mother and Vasily later. A way not to get scolded. A way not to get scolded... I didn't need to worry about such things.
Because my eyes met Valentin's.
He stared intently at my face for a moment, then asked the gentlemen for their understanding and slowly turned away. Facing him head-on, Valentin's silver hair, which had partially covered his forehead, was now neatly swept back without a single strand left.
Clad in a black tailcoat with a subtle deep-blue sheen, his appearance was nothing short of the prince from a fairy tale, the envy of all princesses. Walking toward me as if flowing like water, he gave a thin smile—not to me, but to Count Pushkin.
“Is there a problem?”
“This is perfect, Count Valentin. It seems Princess Larisa has business with you.”
Fearing that Valentin might run away, I grabbed his wrist firmly.
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