After Ilian left, Franz headed to his bedroom.
It was still too early for bed, but no one dared to point it out.
In the palace of the second prince, he was the rule and the law.
When he opens his eyes, it's morning.
And when he closes them, night comes.
“No one is coming in.
I need to rest my eyes.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Lucius bowed respectfully and inspected the stove.
After making sure it was full of firewood, he left the room.
Franz stared at the door, exhaustion clearly written on his face.
He looked as if he would collapse at any moment, yet he did not lie down directly on the bed.
Instead, he sank into the sofa at the end of the bed, closed his eyes, and let out a slow, weak sigh.
A few minutes passed.
Amid the sound of burning wood, the sound of soft, steady breathing filled the room.
Franz, who seemed to be asleep, slowly raised his eyelids.
His long eyelashes cast shadows on his pale cheeks.
With half-closed eyes, he stared at the stove.
As he looked at the crimson flame, a faint smile appeared on his lips...which carried a hidden sadness.
As his gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames, a shadow appeared behind him.
The black ghost that had been lying on the carpet rose silently.
As soon as he took on a fully human form, the sound of cloth flying faded, and the shadow disappeared.
In an instant, he transformed into the form of a man wearing a cloak.
“What weighs your heart so heavy?”
“…Haroun”
Franz slowly turned his gaze to the man who appeared next to him.
Despite his sudden appearance out of nowhere, Franz did not show any surprise.
The man, who was called Haroun, bowed briefly in respect, then pulled back his hood.
His fresh green hair shook, and his gray eyes sparkled.
Despite his suspicious entrance, his features gave off a strangely pure impression.
“You were summoned in a great hurry.
I thought something big had happened.
And you were just staring at the fire?”
Haroun crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow.
His behavior may seem rude towards a member of the royal family, but it was not insulting.
Franz's lips parted slightly at the sight of familiar friendliness.
“Is that complaining?”
“Who am I to complain, my lord?”
Aaron placed his hand on his chest and bowed in an exaggerated bow, as if he was inviting Franz to a dance.
Franz laughed quietly.
“Chief Mage—what an honor.”
“If this seems like a lot, may I call you Mr.
Dike Trading Company instead?”
Haroun shrugged playfully.
Franz motioned for him to sit, and spoke with dry lips:
“Call me both if you like.
But at this moment, I prefer to be your master informant.”
“Then I will answer you as an informant.”
At Franz's gentle tone, Haroun scratched the back of his head, then became serious.
“I checked everything you asked.
And as you said, nothing unusual came up.”
Franz straightened up in his seat and stared sharply.
Haroun returned his seriousness.
“It seems that Mademoiselle has been subjected to a lot of abuse.
Those in the Ambrose household say that it is a miracle that she became a princess.
If it were not for that, she would have taken Marquis Barquin as a second wife.”
“Isn’t Barquin sixty years old?”
Franz's face constricted in disgust.
Haroun pursed his lips and shrugged again.
“The Baroness saw it as good luck.
She was clearly keen to get rid of it after the previous Baron’s death.”
“What next?”
“I sent a message after the missus entered the palace.”
“What kind of message?”
Aaron furrowed his brow as he recalled its content.
“Of of the usual kind.
The Baroness seemed eager to take advantage of her—she ordered her to seduce the prince, demanded the royal dowry, demanded that the baron be given the title of count...
She was full of the most contemptible demands.”
“How did Elisia respond?”
Franz stared hard, but Aaron's face lit up.
He smiled broadly.
“I love this lady—HH the Second Princess.
She has determination.”
Franz was a little confused.
Haroun continued, smiling: “I burned the letter.”
Haroun winked and raised his thumb, as if Elisia was in front of him.
"And I ordered the servants to throw away any future letters from the Baroness.
The Ambrose house must be mad now."
"If they realize the messages aren't working, they might try something else.
Watch them closely."
"naturally."
Aaron answered immediately, then turned his gaze to the window towards which Franz was looking.
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
“But why did Your Highness suddenly ask for a fountain to be installed?
It’s not a jewel, for example.”
Franz did not answer.
Rather, he just looked silently at the fountain outside, then looked away from it.
It seemed that Haroun was accustomed to his silence, so he continued speaking normally:
“Anyway, today she invited the Duchess of Schuyler and her daughter.
She didn’t talk much—just discussed the flower arrangements for the party.”
“But why did you invite the little girl?
She’s so young, I can’t even have a real talk.”
"How would I know?
I'm not a mind reader.
I'm just gathering information."
Haroun scratched his head and muttered.
“Maybe she just likes kids.”
"… maybe."
“You gave her a basket of cookies when you left, didn't you?
That's what I heard.”
Franz's face darkened at that.
He lowered his gaze and sighed deeply.
“She's four years old, isn't she?”
“Yes, almost.
The age when childhood is infinitely magical.”
"Okay."
Franz covered his eyes with his hand.
He stayed like that for a while, as if he was trying to suppress something inside him.
Haroun watched him silently, then spoke in a low tone: “Excuse me, but...
Did you not intend to produce an heir from Her Highness the Princess?”
It was a careful question.
Franz slowly lowered his hand.
He stared into the fire, his eyes full of pain, and his lips curled.
“I'm not even sure if I should.”
His words were vague.
Aaron blinked several times, then fell silent.
Lately, his master has been saying things that are more and more difficult to understand.
But its interpretation is none of his business.
His only role is to be the prince's hands and feet inside the palace.
They will solve it themselves.
Haroun silenced his curiosity and retrieved the picture of Lady Ambrose.
She looked nice and friendly as she bid farewell to Natalia's mother and daughter.
It was only when she looked at Franz that her gaze became cold—it was strange, but it was not his duty to worry about it.
“Ma’am...”
Elisia was reviewing the list of guests for the wedding when Sarah called her hesitantly.
Sarah was holding a letter in her hand, and she seemed hesitant.
Her strange behavior made Elisia stop.
“What's going on, Sarah?”
“I...I wasn't sure if I should give this to you.”
Only then did Elisia notice the envelope in her hand, sealed with a red rose.
As soon as she saw it, her face froze.
She asked quietly, her eyes staring at the seal:
“Is it from the Ambrose house?”
“Yes...but...”
Sara rubbed the corner of the envelope and looked at Elisia's face nervously.
“It's not from the Baroness.
It's from someone else.”
"from?"
Elysia tilted her head in confusion.
There was no one in the Ambrose household she could think of but Patricia.
Nothing else crossed her mind.
When asked, Sarah extended the envelope towards her.
Elisia took it without much thought—until her eyes suddenly widened in surprise.
The sender was someone she never expected to write to her.
The only person from the Ambrose family who was ever by her side.
“...Caleb?”
Caleb.
He sent her a message.
He's never done that before.
Elisia's heart skipped a beat as she opened the envelope and unfolded the carefully folded paper inside.