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“My, I believe I know what this is about. You must be referring to that promise regarding your favorite steed, Lara, right? The day I agreed to assist Your Highness with your riding. Let’s see. Today seems difficult, so when would be best… Ah, thank you, Count Pushkin. I shall escort the Princess.”
Valentin took my hand and led me away with a movement so natural, it was as if he were my own flesh-and-blood brother, Vasily.
Count Pushkin, wearing a warm smile at the friendly attitude one might show a niece, turned away from me. Valentin, likewise turning his back, walked in a direction far from the drawing room. Once I confirmed that the eyes watching us had gradually receded, I quickly spoke up.
“I have something to tell you.”
Keeping his gaze fixed forward, he let out a short laugh, his face suggesting he already knew exactly what it was.
“Shall I try to guess what it is?”
“No! Don’t guess, I’ll say it first.”
Tucked into Valentin’s side as he gave a small nod, I took a moment to catch my breath. Then, I spoke in a voice as calm and clear as possible.
“Please don’t reveal Vasily’s prophecy to the others.”
“Is that an order?”
“No… it’s a request. How could I call something like this an order?”
Valentin came to a dead stop. He sat me down on a small sofa in front of a bay window and leaned against the windowsill, positioning himself at a slightly higher vantage point. This was the place where I, at thirteen, had first met Valentin.
“Did you come to me because you feared I might disclose the future Prince Vasily will face seventeen years from now to everyone, in order to devise more definitive countermeasures?”
It was a question that hit the nail on the head. Valentin’s eyes narrowed meaningfully.
“For instance, pushing for Prince Ivan or Princess Tatyana to become Emperor instead of Prince Vasily.”
“I don’t think it’s my business who you push for the throne. I just want Vasily’s prophecy to remain a secret known only to us, as it is now.”
He gazed intently at my face for a moment before murmuring as if to himself.
“Sometimes, Your Highness does not feel like someone of your age.”
Well, obviously.
“I know I’m smart. I’m my mother’s joy and the pride of the Imperial Family.”
“If I were the Empress, I don’t think I would be that joyful.”
“No, you're wrong. She would be! So, are you saying I'm right or not—”
“Have you recited On Heaven?”
“…Recited?”
For a moment, I was speechless.
It was partly because Valentin had skillfully evaded my question to ask something completely random, but also because On Heaven was the title of the book I had mentioned in the letter I sent him a few days ago. Valentin replied in a tone that suggested he was asking something obvious.
“The secret mission I requested. The very first mission you mentioned among the five.”
Seized by a strange feeling, I couldn't answer immediately.
Five secret missions, the first of which.
To recite On Heaven in Vasily’s bedroom every night.
On Heaven was… a book very faithful to its title, describing the world that gabrielism claims as the land of dead souls: Heaven. This land, a paradise created by God, can only be stepped upon by those who have committed no sin or those whose sins have been forgiven.
It might be simplistic thinking, but the reason I designated the recitation of On Heaven as the first mission was less about a grand desire for Vasily to feel a repulsion toward the act of sinning, and more about a hope that he would move away from becoming a tyrant through a form of immersive education.
[Vasily, they say souls who cannot go to Heaven fall into Hell and must live as slaves to an evil dragon called Guarsalov for a thousand years.
On the other hand, if you ascend to Heaven, you can eat cloud candy that smells sweeter and more ecstatic than chocolate. I definitely want to taste that after I die, so let’s go up together. Okay?]
And to some extent, I had a sly hope that Vasily would notice my intentions.
I asked in a voice that barely escaped my lips.
“Did you read it?”
Out of embarrassment, I omitted the subject—the letter—but Valentin understood perfectly.
“Would I not read it? Especially when it is a letter from the Princess. If I ignored it this time, my head might actually be shaved, might it not? I am not quite that bold.”
“You… you also thought that was a g-good method?”
“It is a cute method.”
He didn't say it was good. Is he subtly criticizing me to seek a better way?
Just as I was scrutinizing Valentin’s expression with a sharp, meticulous gaze, he suddenly reached out. A hand that was white and delicate like Tatyana’s, yet possessed prominent knuckles that hinted at an underlying firmness, stroked my head. The fine hairs on the nape of my neck prickled, and my heart skipped a beat.
The moment I thought, Why is this man suddenly touching my head… he fiddled with my hairpin a few times and then pulled his hand away.
Heat rushed to my face, and I had the illusion that the world before my eyes was exploding. Valentin wasn't stroking my head. He had simply put my apple blossom hairpin, which had gone crooked from my running, back into its original place.
‘Do I have a really stupid look on my face right now?’
Valentin’s eyes seemed fixed precisely on my eyelashes, which were fluttering with internal anxiety.
“Will you be attending the banquet tomorrow?”
Just as I had during our first meeting, I suppressed the urge to hide behind a curtain and answered.
“Me? How could a thirteen-year-old Princess attend a banquet? Unless it’s Tatyana, who becomes an adult next year.”
“Hmm. Now that I think about it, I failed to consider that part.”
Consider?
Valentin’s gaze left me and returned to the end of the corridor we had walked down. Count Pushkin, standing in the middle of the path, was gesturing slightly toward him. Valentin’s back slowly detached from the glass window.
“I must be going now. I am more popular than I look.”
Realizing I had missed my chance, I hurriedly asked.
“Wait. So what’s your answer? You won’t talk about Vasily’s prophecy, right? If Vasily’s future is revealed to people, surely…”
“Well. I don’t know how far your imagination goes… but I am not such a scoundrel as to entrust a partner with a grave mission and then play dumb.”
Glancing down at my face, Valentin passed me and headed toward Count Pushkin. Can I relax now? It must mean I don't need to worry, right? Watching him turn away so nonchalantly, I felt as if I were the only one who had been frightened and overreacting.
But did he just say partner?
The secret partner performing the secret missions?
“Sigh.”
Honestly, really. He thinks of a child like me as a partner? Scary, truly scary. I’m starting to become terrified of my own competence.
Being too smart at a young age is a problem. Even a man who has just become an adult tries to treat me as an equal seventeen-year-old person. I shook my head and stood up, only to remember an important fact.
[You should never have been born.]
Ah. I should have asked about the intent behind those words!
Because my attention had been entirely focused on Vasily, I had completely forgotten. But Valentin had already gone too far. I would have to wait for the next opportunity.
“…By the way, what is a ‘scoundrel’? Is it the child of a man named Scoundrel?”
I’ll have to ask Tatyana who Scoundrel is.
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