.jpg)
The moment I opened my eyes, I could feel the bustling atmosphere of the Imperial Palace.
With eyes still heavy from sleep, I gazed at the guards standing like walls inside my bedroom before turning my head toward the hazy sky beyond the wide-open window.
The current time was 9:00 AM. This was a time I had never woken up at, unless I was suffering from a terrible cold. To think Fedora had only come to wake me this late.
‘I guess yesterday's shooting incident wasn't a dream.’
I clearly remembered stabbing that rebel's eyeball with my high heel and then flying back with Vasily on my back... That part must have been a dream, right?
Having woken from my slumber and accurately distinguished dream from reality, I asked Fedora in a raspy voice if she had ever heard of the Horgan Unit.
“The Horgan Unit. Hmm. That's a name I've never heard before either.”
“Ho, ho.” Fedora blew gently on the meat stew before sliding the spoon into my lips. Then, after carefully observing the way I slowly chewed, she continued.
“From what Your Highness says, it doesn't sound like an ordinary unit... If that's the case, it would be even harder for employees like us to know about it. There's a high probability it was organized to carry out special missions.”
The Horgan Unit.
According to Vasily's mention, the group the strange man who protected us belonged to was a unit called Horgan.
“Why on earth did they use Valentin as the password?”
“If that man really belongs to a special forces unit, it would be easy for him to know that Your Highness and Count Nariyan have a close relationship. Perhaps he even knows about my biological mother? I've heard that those who engage in such dangerous and secret missions have no information they don't know.”
Fedora's claim made sense. However...
‘Considering the incident at the Illin ball, it's certain that Valentin and this Horgan-whatever are closely connected.’
Of course, this was just my intuition and couldn't be seen as a highly credible deduction. Think about it. What on earth would Valentin—a great prophet and the heir to the House of Duke Dmitriev—be lacking that would make him enlist in a special forces unit?
‘But at the Illin ball, he really looked like he was carrying out a secret mission. That's a clear fact, isn't it?’
So why? Why exactly?
Why would someone like Valentin Vladimirovich Dmitriev not shy away from such dangerous work? Why does he keep saving me whenever I fall into crisis? Why, and how, from the time I was a child sleeping in a cradle until today...
‘...Until today?’
Could it be that Valentin had been protecting me even during the years I didn't know him?
‘N-no. I just went too far.’
He said he had been abroad for a long time, and besides, recalling our first meeting, that wouldn't make any sense.
“Your Highness? Where are you going?”
“The study.”
“What? Why so suddenly to the study, a place you never set foot in? Please just rest! You're sick! You said your body felt heavy, which is why I brought the stew...”
“I lied. Actually, I'm not sick at all. I just put up a smoke screen so I wouldn't be bothered after yesterday's events.”
With a look of absurdity, Fedora set down the tableware and followed closely behind me, clutching her cardigan.
“But it was that dangerous, wasn't it? Even if it's a bit bothersome, you have to endure it. You're an adult now.”
“I am seventeen-year-old Larisa. A sensitive princess who wants to be alone just for today...”
“Sigh.”
After entering the study with a bold stride, I looked up at the large portraits hanging in the small inner room one by one.
On the left was my father, and on the right was my mother.
Below them were four relatively smaller frames. From the left, they were portraits of Vasily, Tatyana, Ivan, and myself.
If one turned counter-clockwise from the position of facing these perfect members of the Imperial Family, smaller frames caught the eye. A total of sixteen portraits were hung in a row, forming the family tree of the Novarov Imperial Family descending from my great-great-grandfather's time.
And in the fourth row, third column of this family tree, there was a vacant spot, as if a hole had been punched through it. It was a place that should have been occupied by one of my father's siblings.
“Originally, Duke Libertan's portrait should be here.”
To that, Fedora replied in a voice that sounded quite dismissive.
“You mean the face of that shameless man who attacked Your Highness twice?”
“Yes. When I was young, every time I saw this empty space, I wondered why they left the hole alone, why it was left so that the alignment was off, and if we couldn't just shove the last frame in to fix it. But now, I think I know the reason.”
“...It's so you wouldn't forget. The meaning of this vacancy.”
Fedora was right.
This hole was intentionally left empty. Because it was a position not worth filling.
“But I haven't seen it in so long that I've forgotten what he looks like. Fedora, is there anywhere in the Imperial Palace where I can check Duke Libertan's face?”
“Yes, there is one remaining in the west drawing room on the top floor. Although it's in a... somewhat gloomy form.”
The west drawing room on the 5th floor.
‘Hmm... right, I think there was such a drawing room.’
There are over a hundred rooms used as drawing rooms in this castle alone. In particular, the west wing of the 5th floor was a space where the air felt musty in many ways, save for the lack of dust, so I hadn't set foot there for several years.
I led Fedora and the guards straight to the 5th floor.
After crossing a corridor that felt unfamiliar, a wide hall, as silent as another world, greeted us. Furniture that had the charm of age but was somewhat tacky and outdated was fitted here and there like mismatched puzzle pieces.
And the ‘gloomy form of the rebel leader’ Fedora mentioned was located right above the fireplace, the heart of the drawing room.
“...That sword driven into the heart. Do you know who drove it in?”
“I'm not sure. I've heard rumors, but I'm not certain...”
Tilting her head, Fedora looked back at the guard standing at the entrance of the drawing room. The guard, who had been watching us with a blunt expression, quietly spoke.
“It was Crown Prince Vasily, Your Highness.”
At those words, my gaze turned toward the top of the fireplace once again.
The portrait of Duke Libertan, standing in a dignified attire. However, the man in the painting was half-slashed. A dust-covered silver sword had sliced through the paper and pierced his heart.
“When was it ruined?”
“...I believe it has been quite a while. I'm not certain, but it was about seven years ago.”
“Do you remember the season?”
“Yes, it was summer.”
The summer of seven years ago.
If it was that season of that year, I too had a memory that I could never forget in my life.
[If you become the Emperor of Ohala, only red blood made of corpses will flow in the rivers of the Empire. I will never... a blood-crazed person like you...!]
[A servant tried to strangle me to death. Fortunately, Vasily and Ivan found me... they killed the servant to save me... Vasily did nothing wrong.]
.jpg)