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“I was staring because the real thing is worlds apart from the portrait. I thought it was a different person.”
“Just how different is he that you'd actually say such a thing, brother?”
“The jaw is roughly twice the size. The hair is about a quarter of what's shown. Even the strawberry nose was painted far too sleekly.”
“They painted his hair four times thicker than it actually is? What a scammer. Father, we're going to need actual photographs of everyone here, not portraits. What era is this, playing tricks with portraits?”
My mother, who had been standing quietly, asked me.
“How about it? Is there a prince who catches your eye?”
I decided to answer honestly.
“I can't tell what kind of people they are just by looking at portraits. I think I'll only know after meeting them and having a conversation. Unless, of course, Father and Mother intend to demand an arranged marriage from me.”
Once born as a member of the Imperial Family, there are a few obligations that are difficult to avoid. One of those is an arranged marriage.
In particular, the Novarov Imperial Family had traditionally pursued arranged marriages for princesses only in positions where a Queen Consort was expected. Since daughters were rare by tradition, it was uncommon for two princesses to be born in the same era, and it was almost unheard of for both of them to marry men other than the Crown Prince.
The reason I referred to 'two princesses' here was... because I figured I wouldn't be marrying the Crown Prince either?
'This is all thanks to having great siblings.'
Because my older siblings were more than faithful to their respective roles, I could enjoy this kind of freedom. Long live the youngest princess.
“In that case, the period after the coming-of-age ceremony will be important. Since my daughter is so prudent, she will surely choose a good partner. Don't you agree?”
“Hmm.”
Fortunately, Father and Mother didn't seem to have any intention of forcing an arranged marriage on me. This truly is the luxury of being the youngest. Long live the youngest.
“That's great. I have a list of unmarried men in Ohala that I secretly obtained from Duchess Illyn; it'll come in very handy.”
“Tanya, when did you prepare such a thing?”
“You're interested too, aren't you, Mother? I'll show it to you after tennis today. Duchess Illyn is remarkably meticulous.”
“Are my brother's and my names on that list as well? How dreadful.”
“There are far more dreadful candidates, so don't worry unnecessarily.”
Father approached quietly and spoke, affectionately stroking my hair.
“Lara, I will ask you one last time. Is there truly nothing more than friendship between you and Young Duke Valentin Dmitriev?”
“Are you perhaps coveting Valentin? If that's why you keep asking, I wouldn't mind marrying him even if there's nothing more than friendship. I know all too well that a partner as wonderful as Valentin is rare.”
Father seemed a bit surprised by my blunt answer.
However, he soon just stroked my hair with a fresh look of wonder, as if he hadn't been surprised at all. No matter how I looked at it, his face seemed to say, 'When did this little thing grow up so much?' So, does this ultimately mean an arranged marriage isn't necessary?
After Father left, it was Ivan's turn.
“You've seemed distracted since earlier. Is something bad happening?”
I kept my mouth shut for a moment before letting out a sigh.
“Nothing bad is happening. And the fact that nothing bad is happening is the problem.”
“Why speak in riddles? Trying to act like an adult when you're so tiny?”
But in my own way, it really was a problem. For days, Valentin's presence had not left my mind.
“Then there's no point spending more time here. Count Mikhail, take down all the portraits. It's been a while since I've seen my daughters swing their rackets.”
“Understood.”
Under Father's lead, we had to enjoy tennis for nearly three hours under the guise of a family meeting. Needless to say, after being thoroughly beaten by Father, Mother, Vasily, Tatyana, and Ivan in turn, I felt like I was dying when I returned to my bedroom. I was sprawled on the bed, unable to move an inch.
“Your Highness, I have brought the book you were looking for this morning. Would you like to check it now?”
I glanced over to check the book placed on the desk.
Heavy, large, and cumbersome with hanging chains, that ancient tome was one of the treasures of gabhilism held by Ohala.
There was only one reason I had brought this ancient book—whose exact contents I didn't even fully know—into my room. It was because Valentin's reaction regarding the Statue of Roo three days ago had been weighing on my mind. According to the schedule, I should have been scouring that book starting today to find detailed information about the Statue of Roo, but...
“No. Forget it, later.”
“Then I'll place it on the bookshelf. Please check it when you need it.”
I'm too tired because I hit the balls too hard.
And I wanted to shake off any thoughts related to Valentin if possible. I didn't like the feeling of being swayed by something so insignificant. Especially that day's...
[I agree.]
[I wonder why they did that.]
I covered my face and wailed.
“Please get out of my head! Let me do my own work!”
“...Your Highness? Are you alright?”
I'm not. I'm not alright, but I don't want to take my frustration out on Fedora. That would be too childish. I'm an adult now.
And so, time flew by, and the day of my seventeenth coming-of-age ceremony drew near.
Late at night the following day.
The windowpanes rattled in the eerie night wind, sounding like the moans of a ghost. Vasily, who had been sitting quietly listening to the noise, turned his head at the sudden arrival of disconcerting information.
“Kotecha Opera Hall? Is that information certain?”
The guest sitting opposite him, Valentin, gave a quiet nod. It was a firm affirmation that required no further questioning. Vasily, who had been dumping sugar into his lukewarm black tea, froze with the cup still in his hand.
“...Astonishing. To think they were hidden right beneath the heart of Makhachkala. And the Kotecha Opera Hall of all places. It's a location I never would have imagined.”
“It connects to the basement of the Yuriyeski Hotel. There's likely a massive bunker and a passage leading outside Makhachkala in that basement.”
“I never thought I'd use the phrase 'it was right under my nose' in a situation like this...”
“It's dark and predictable. Those who consider themselves refined tend to have refined hideouts.”
After a long silence, Vasily drank his tea and asked quietly.
“The plan?”
There were four rebel strongholds located in Makhachkala.
Over the past few years, Valentin had used every means at his disposal to locate three of them.
If it were up to him, he would have stormed in and razed them to the ground immediately, but according to testimonies consistently gathered through torture and persuasion, Libertan moved between these four strongholds without a set pattern, and only the Praetorian Guard knew their exact locations.
Furthermore, some strongholds were connected underground like ant tunnels, meaning there was a chance Libertan would escape unless all four were attacked simultaneously. Since Valentin's goal was to hunt Libertan while completely eliminating all variables, he did not rush and tightened the noose step by step.
Soon...
'Really, it's almost time.'
Valentin spoke while looking down at the vivid crimson black tea.
“I need a little more time. The exact location of the last remaining place is not yet—”
It was then.
At a sudden knock, Vasily stood up. Assuming it was either Ivan or Tatyana, Valentin had been ignoring it, but then a name he hadn't expected reached his ears.
“Lara.”
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