“What kind of nonsense are you spouting with such sincerity…?”
Philip was muttering to himself when the chamber door suddenly burst open.
Without hesitation, I kicked Philip off the bed and buried myself under the quilt, concealing my presence. I had to hide my feet—bare and caked with dirt from running around without shoes.
“Argh!”
Philip let out a shriek as he fell flat onto the floor after my strike landed squarely on his back.
There he lay, sprawled like a fallen cultivator after a failed breakthrough, while I stayed tucked under the bedcovers like a hermit in closed-door meditation.
The maid from the House of Duke Orléans, Lily, stepped through the doorway and took in the chaotic scene before her. Her expression faltered for a mere breath’s time.
“…Oh my. Young Master Philip, you were here as well?”
Lily skillfully veiled her surprise with practiced composure.
Philip shot me a glare but nodded in response.
“Well… yes…”
“Lady Emelline has overslept, I see.”
Lily cast me a knowing gaze, one that seemed to pierce through the veil of appearances.
“Yes, something like that… I was hoping to rest a bit more. Could you perhaps wait outside for a moment?”
In truth, I was just about to enter a deep cultivation of rest. Last night had drained both my body and spirit—I hadn’t had a single proper moment of rest. My spiritual energy was depleted. I truly needed this.
I looked at Lily with weary eyes, hoping she’d grant me this brief reprieve. But before she could respond, my mother stormed in like a raging tempest.
“You’re still lying around?! Get up! We’ve been summoned to the royal gathering tonight! Do you think this is the time to be lounging around in seclusion?!”
She scolded us with a gleaming face, layered thick with some “mystical cream” she’d surely been promoting since dawn. Honestly, for someone who lives by deception, she herself was surprisingly easy prey for snake oil remedies.
The royal banquet…
That’s right. It was scheduled two days before my mother’s wedding.
According to the visions granted me in dream-realm, we’d be dragged into that event only to suffer the disdain of every noble present.
Why? Because Vivian Cavendish would publicly reveal that all of my mother’s previous husbands had met untimely deaths.
My mother had stormed out in tears—not because she was truly grief-stricken, but because she couldn’t very well defend herself by saying,
“They all deserved to die.”
The tears were a facade, a smokescreen to avoid condemnation.
The Duke had chased after her. And there, in the royal garden under the starlight, he knelt and made a grand proposal before all the watching nobles:
“Until the end of our lives, let our fates be entwined as one.”
So he declared.
And nine days later, he truly took her life.
Disgusted by the memory, I shook my head and slipped back under the covers.
“Ugh… Can I not go? I’m not in the mood to smile at a royal gathering right now.”
Who knows when Eric Orléans might reach out again? I still needed to develop the hidden film I stashed away in the closet. And those confidential documents—those too needed to be hidden in a more secure location.
“Do you think a smile is born of mood? A smile is the work of facial muscles, Emelline!”
Of course, such excuses held no weight against my mother’s iron will.
I poked my head out cautiously.
She sat down on my bed, her expression softening into an affectionate smile.
“And besides, today is the day the Duke and I finally receive His Majesty’s divine decree of marriage. Once the Sovereign gives his blessing, our union will be absolute…”
She nearly burst with excitement before remembering Lily’s presence. Casting her a sidelong glance, my mother cleared her throat and reverted to a more elegant demeanor.
“In other words, today is a day of great honor for your mother. Yet here my children lie about like spiritless beasts in retreat! And you, Philip… Why do you reek of alcohol? Ugh! Didn’t I tell you not to go to that debauched tavern—‘The Night-Blooming Rose’ or whatever it was?!”
She cast a cold glare at Philip, who winced under her gaze.
I let out a long sigh.
Yes. The imperial decree of marriage…
Once that was granted, everything would become far more complicated. The Duke and Mother’s union would then be under the royal family’s protection, and I would lose what little leverage remained.
That’s why I had given Eric exactly one day.
Just one day—until the Duke returned from his overnight stay at the palace, the traditional rite before the decree was handed down by the sovereign. Before dawn tomorrow, all had to be resolved.
Move, Eric…! Hurry and move!
As I anxiously thought about Eric of House Orléans, my mother and Phillip left the room. Despite getting smacked on the back by her, Phillip mouthed at me with exaggerated menace:
“I’ll kill you for this.”
Lily stayed behind to tidy up. I didn’t have the strength to get up from the bed, so I just waved my hand weakly.
“Uh… just leave it. I’ll clean up myself.”
“No, I should—”
That was when Lily’s hand reached for the wardrobe door.
No, no, not there…!
I immediately sprang up and grabbed her hand before she could open it.
“I said I’ll do it myself.”
Lily froze with my hand gripping hers. Her eyes slowly drifted down—from my face, no doubt looking terrifying—to my feet, which were still filthy with dirt.
Ah… crap.
A chill ran down my back as I stared at Lily.
But strangely, she didn’t look the least bit surprised.
Maybe she was just a seasoned maid—probably used to the many debauched nobles that fill highborn houses.
I forced a clumsy smile.
“The truth is, I snuck out last night. You know how it is—let’s just keep this between us. You’re not going to go running to Eric of Orléans like last time, right?”
There was a subtle threat in my voice. Lily flinched.
“Of… of course not…”
As long as she didn’t go blabbing to my mother, I could live with it.
I shot her a hard glare, making sure the so-called traitor got the message. She glanced down at her hand still held in mine and looked uncomfortable.
Only then did I realize I’d been gripping it far too long. I let go.
With a shrug, I made a show of pushing the wardrobe door shut again—maybe a little too firmly—before returning to the bed. Lily finally looked away from the wardrobe and stepped back.
“You’re really nothing like the rumors, Lady Emelline.”
“People always look different up close than they do from afar. Isn’t that true for Young Lord Eric as well?”
The moment I said
Eric of Orléans,
Lily’s expression changed.
It was hard to describe—like a swordsman preparing to face death head-on.
Not a face you'd expect from a typical maid.
While I blinked in confusion, Lily quickly masked her expression and smiled brightly.
“Of course not. Young Lord Eric is exactly the same on the outside as he is within. I’ve watched him for many years. I know.”
Her voice returned to that of a trained servant, but something in me stirred.
I couldn’t shake the look I’d just seen on her face.
So she believed Eric was exactly as he appeared…
I clicked my tongue, remembering the scroll Eric had been holding.
Everyone knew Eric of Orléans had once been a favored protector of the Princess during his time in the imperial guard.
Back then, the North had been its own iron fortress—so politically entrenched that people joked: “The Hellenia continent belongs to the king, but the North belongs to the Duke of Gerda.”
It was Eric who had accompanied the Princess during that expedition, when she faced down the lords of the North and managed to claim part of their mythril mines for the royal family. That sealed her position as the Crown’s first heir. The royal court had voiced some objections, but she’d won the king’s full confidence.
The North was brutal. A place of betrayals and secret blades, where even a prince could die in an “accidental avalanche.”
Robert, the other prince, had never dared to step foot there for that very reason.
But Eric had gone—and he had protected the Princess through it all.
It was only natural that rumors spread afterward. Pair the wild gossip about the Princess’s amorous habits with her close guard, and the nobles started whispering.
Whether or not there was truth to those rumors, one thing was certain:
Eric of Orléans had offered up his life to shield the Princess—deep in that ruthless northern land.
But Duke Orléans, Eric’s father, has pledged allegiance to Prince Robert… and Eric confirmed it with his own eyes through those documents...
So, where would Eric be headed now?
Would he really betray his father and remain loyal to the Princess? Even if he does, once his clan falls, what’s left?
That’s not the kind of loyalty that makes sense in the cultivation world.
No—Eric would have no choice but to come to the table and negotiate with me, for the sake of his clan.
It was better for me too. If I kept fanning rumors of a romantic entanglement with him, it’d turn the psycho Duke against me—something I’d rather avoid at all costs. And if I handed those documents over to the Princess…
What if she turns out to be just as unhinged as the Duke? Royal blood or not, those who wield power all end up the same…
I glanced at Lily as that thought crossed my mind.
“No matter how righteous someone seems, when the time comes, they always find a way to save their own skin. Don’t you think Young Lord Eric will do the same?”
I smiled faintly as I said it. Lily looked at me with a strange expression.
“…That would be good. I hope he does.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
I got the feeling Lily might be a little
too
emotionally invested in her young master. That probably explained her earlier solemn expression.
As soon as Lily left the room, I opened the wardrobe.
Beneath a mess of crushed and crumpled dresses lay the documents and the film.
That’s right. Just this one job, and I’ll turn over a new leaf. Start walking the righteous path, like those honorable cultivators in the stories.
I gathered the scrolls and the film.
Looks like sleep won’t be coming tonight after all.
Chapter 19