There was always something in his gaze that made me feel ashamed and irritated.
A look that made me want to confide my deepest thoughts, as if he would definitely help—an expression only those born pure and whose kindness was accepted unconditionally could have.
I avoided his eyes.
“What good would that do? You don’t want to get involved with my family either, right? So let’s just keep it clean and remain strangers. If you want, I can take a few pictures of me kissing some random guy and give them to you.”
Eric’s face twisted in shock as he crossed himself repeatedly. Only after muttering a short prayer did he seem to calm enough to speak.
“Why are you trying to break your mother’s marriage? Why now, after all this time?”
I bit my lip.
Though days had passed, I could still vividly see it—
My mother and Philip’s corpses.
The only people in my life who ever loved me, and whom I loved in return.
The ones who accepted me without conditions in this wretched world.
“Do you want to be my daughter too?”
My mother’s voice echoed clearly in my ear.
“You idiot. What are you doing? If someone tries to hit you, you hit first. Like this!”
Philip’s voice too.
Even if this plan fails, I will never run alone again.
“Family sticks together—no matter if we love or hate each other. Through life and death.”
I thought this as I looked at Eric.
Would he think the same? That family is family, through love or hate?
Even if his father is a psycho? Even if that psycho killed his mother?
But my mother always said family isn’t born—it’s forged and protected.
If I were Eric, I’d never choose such a psycho father.
“Your father is a psycho,” I said firmly.
Eric’s expression deflated instantly, like the fire in a furnace suddenly dying out.
I stared at him resolutely, but he shook his head wearily.
“Emelline Wedgewood, you’re mistaken. Even if my father sided with Prince Robert, that alone isn’t enough to question his character.”
“But when you see the twenty million gold worth of items purchased, it’s enough to suspect preparation for rebellion.”
I pointed to the expenses for priestly weapons on the ledger.
Eric brushed off my words easily.
“Whether it’s preparation for rebellion or not is for the royal investigation to determine. Such equipment isn’t unusual for mercenaries stationed across the duchies.”
His words were textbook—talking about proper procedure even in front of suspicious secret-ink ledgers. Should I call him naive… or just foolish?
What words would make this green young master understand the world?
I picked up the documents and said,
“What if this isn’t the whole ledger? What if there’s a back page? And that back page contains proof that the Duke of Orléans is a psycho? If that fell into the hands of the princess or the royal family, the duke’s house would be completely destroyed…”
“There was nothing else in the study.”
“Then why is there a half-stamp on the back page? Clearly indicating there should be another half?”
I pointed to the back of the paper.
The reverse side of the document bore a crease from being folded, and in translucent ink—revealed when I applied fire yesterday—was a partial stamp.
Eric clenched his fists tightly. He must have realized this wasn’t the end of the ledger but was refusing to admit it.
The seals on the restraints clicked sharply, as if ready to snap—though they were said to be too expensive and magically reinforced for human strength to break.
I quickly rose to my feet.
“I can’t give you much time. You have one day—exactly. If you don’t break off the marriage between my mother and the Duke of Orléans by tomorrow, this document will be handed to the princess…”
I pulled the film reel from the safe.
“…and this little reel will go straight to the city’s news sect. The House of Orléans will face disgrace, and the engagement will be shattered. If you want someone to shoulder the scandal, better to pin it on me—since I’m offering.”
Eric frowned, watching me from where I now perched on the window frame.
“Where are you going? The door’s that way. Emelline Wedgwood—this isn’t even the second floor, it’s the
fifth
!”
I scoffed. Was he… worried about me?
“So what?”
Thump!
As I leapt with the documents and the film, I heard his restraints
snap
behind me.
Crack!
‘That thing was expensive!’
I hurled myself toward the iron maintenance stairs clinging to the outer wall of the inn. The narrow railing wobbled wildly as I landed and fought to regain my balance—just in time to see Eric’s head poking out the window.
Our eyes met. Eric exhaled sharply in relief.
Unlike the pampered nobles staying comfortably in such lofty towers, I knew well that even the highest buildings required regular cleaning and repainting. Without these service ladders, how else would a servant scale them? Fly?
Still, was he truly a blade cultivator? Could he catch me?
I grit my teeth, glancing down at the shattered cuffs dangling from Eric’s wrist.
Was it possible… that those bindings had been useless from the beginning? Could he have broken them easily if he wanted to?
The thought chilled me. I shook my head.
No—no way.
Clutching my skirts, I readied myself to descend. I was scared—terrified, actually—that Eric might leap after me and seize me midair.
But then, he said in a low voice—
“Don’t jump. I won’t chase you.”
I paused, still scanning the alley below for a safe landing, and looked back up at him.
Was he…
asking
me not to jump?
I stared, dumbfounded. “Why not?”
“It’s dangerous.”
His crimson eyes stared at me, calm and unwavering.
In that moment, I tightened my grip on the sun-warmed railing.
I wasn’t sure whether it was the heat of the metal—or the heat that had started to rise inside of me.
Maybe it was from embarrassment.
Or maybe…
Maybe?
I swallowed the heat and said, “Want some advice? Don’t dig too deep.”
Like, say… the back page of
that
document.
The one I saw in my dream. The complete version.
There were more secrets—like the truth behind the coastal land transfers… and why the Duchess of Orléans, Eric’s own mother, had died.
“Why not?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
I gave him a playful smile.
“Because if every kindhearted soul turns to darkness, who’ll be left to protect love and justice?”
And with that, I did exactly what Eric told me to do—I took the stairs.
The metal groaned, threatening to crumble beneath me.
Only once I made it down did I realize—I’d left my glass slipper on the windowsill.
✵
✵
✵
Back in the now-empty hotel room, Eric stood staring out the window.
Behind him, a shadow loomed.
Eric turned around.
“Young Lord.”
It was Lily.
“You heard everything too, didn’t you?”
Lily gave a small nod.
Eric had already regained consciousness at dawn. Seizing the moment when Emelline had stepped out to purchase supplies, he made contact with Lily, who had been in seclusion in the neighboring room, waiting for his orders.
The reason Eric had pretended to remain bound was simple—
To uncover just how much more Emelline knew.
Emelline, who recognized the presence of spiritual ink that even Eric, Lily, and Ella hadn’t detected, most likely knew even deeper secrets.
And Eric’s act had yielded results.
He recalled the names and figures scrawled across the documents Emelline had taken with her—
Robert von Denik. 20 million gold.
There was no mistaking it—it was the signature of Prince Robert.
Eric turned to Lily and asked calmly,
“Have you reported to the Princess?”
“Not yet. I stayed nearby through the night in case anything happened…”
Her bloodshot eyes were proof of her vigilance.
Eric asked,
“Will you report it now?”
Lily flinched slightly.
What she had overheard tonight held secrets that could shake the very foundation of the House of Orléans—
For instance—
"Judging by the items bought for 20 million gold, it’s enough to suspect preparations for rebellion."
Words like
rebellion
.
Eric read the hesitation in her expression.
“You should’ve answered with ‘I’ll report it’ right away.”
“But…”
“My clan’s safety is mine to protect. Your loyalty isn’t sworn to me—but to Her Highness.”
Classic Eric.
And precisely why Lily felt conflicted.
If he was named the son of a traitor, Eric’s status wouldn’t simply fall—it would be obliterated.
Though Princess Ella valued loyalty, she was not one to trust lightly. That was why she had ordered Lily to keep a close watch even on someone like Eric.
But what if rebellion had indeed taken root within his household?
Would Ella still trust Eric?
And even if she trusted him, would she shield him?
No matter how much she valued loyalty, Ella was the Crown Princess—
A cultivator of royal blood who had long been prepared to sacrifice anything for the throne.
Even someone like Eric.
Chapter 17