“Rémy Ivry left for Amiens while he is alive.
He will not be allowed to enter the capital.”
“Really?
You can leave now.”
The man responded coldly to his assistant's report.
The man took the small box on the desk, took out a cigar and lit it.
The room was soon filled with the strong smell of cigars.
The profile of the man smoking a cigar looked carefree.
But even that seemed artistic.
Governess Relania Sculpture Statue.
That was the name given when referring to Dennis Gramoire.
The eldest son of the Kingdom of Valois, and the legitimate heir par excellence.
He was famous for his eloquence, sense of humor, political insight, and many other things, but what he was most famous for was his appearance.
The look that was said to have been sculpted by beauty queen Relania.
Wavy blue-black hair, and green eyes that sometimes looked blue and sometimes fresh green under the light.
The Valois Romantic poet, Stephane Apollinaire, had once written a devotional poem praising its beauty.
In fact, the phrase “the statue of the ruler Relania is a sculpture” came from the words of that poem.
The poem, which begins with “Ah, radiant beauty” and ends with “The Treasure of Valois,” was detested by Denis himself, calling it a trivial folly.
But even if the opinion of the person concerned was negative, the popular collection in which the poem was published was sold as if it were on fire.
The reason was that it contained a miniature drawing of him.
It was a poor miniature, no larger than the palm of a hand, but still, the women of Valois carried those medicines on their chests.
Can anyone meet him without turning around?
It was the kind of appearance that even if you didn't dare to look at him directly, you were bound to catch a glimpse.
After Dennis kept tapping his fingertips on the desk for a while while he was immersed in his thoughts, he flicked out the ash from his cigar and extinguished the ember, then returned to focusing on the papers piled up in front of him.
Squeak squeak, the sound of the pen scraping against the paper continued for a long time without stopping.
After an unknown amount of time, Dennis rubbed his neck, took off the glasses he was wearing, and placed them on the desk.
Leaning his head back against the back of the chair, he glanced at the wall clock.
Between one and two.
It's too late.
He realized that the night was getting deep.
After arranging the papers he had finished processing neatly on the side of the desk, he left the work room in which he had spent all day.
The hallway was silent.
His regular, flawless steps betrayed a deliberate nature.
When he left the workroom, his destination was predetermined.
His sanctuary that gives him a good night's sleep, and at the same time, the source of his insomnia that resides there.
“I see you are no longer knocking, Your Highness.”
When he opened the door, he heard a woman's voice.
The landlady was twirling a wine glass in her hand.
As if she knew who the visitor was at this time of night, she did not even look at the direction in which he was standing.
“Knock knock.”
Dennis made a tapping sound with his mouth in front of her and smiled an attractive smile that was almost irresistible to anyone.
But the woman continued to stare out the window while holding the glass of wine, as if contemplating something in the garden.
Through the slightly open balcony window, the moonlight was flooding the place.
It was full.
The curtain was rippling like sea waves when the wind blew.
With every swing of the curtain, the scent of the night seeped inside.
The smell of grass and wind that can only be smelled in the deep hours of dawn.
He sat lazily on the chair opposite her.
“The night view from my wife’s room is the most magnificent in the entire palace.”
His appearance, abandoning all etiquette, seemed indescribably at ease as he sat in that place.
“You're waiting for me like this, aren't you?”
He nodded with his eyes.
On the table in front of where he was sitting, there was an empty wine glass.
He took the bottle of wine and read the label.
“Chateau Mouton Rothschild.”
He put down the bottle of wine, grinning widely.
His expression was full of amusement.
“Your taste has become like that of an old woman.
This is something that Duke Theofere might like.”
“Because it was a gift given to me at my birthday party, someone who does not know the deep and mysterious taste of Rothschild cannot say he understands wine.”
The woman replied dryly, as if she was stating something obvious, and then she brought the glass of wine closer to her mouth.
“Well, I don't know.”
He agreed easily.
The woman raised her eyebrows slightly as if surprised by his agreement, then lowered them.
But that was only for a moment.
She continued to drink wine for a long time as if there was no one in front of her.
The man kept watching her as she emptied the glass of wine, sitting in a relaxed, almost reclining position.
Without even taking a single sip.
“But why don't you ask something?”
He asked her as he saw her holding the wine bottle again.
"What do you mean?"
The woman looked directly at Denise for the first time.
"Wasn't Remy Avery one of your henchmen?
I got rid of him and was wondering if you had a comment."
“That's how it was.”
Dennis waited for her response.
“All day, I haven’t left my palace suite, so what could I know?
Besides, I have no special connection to Count Evry’s family.”
"impossible."
Dennis scoffed at her response.
"Didn't you sit still and get rid of the other candidates for the princess's throne?
Amelie to the scandal, and Hashlar to death.
Wasn't it Remy Avery who did those dirty deeds on your behalf?
Or am I wrong?"
“Despicable maneuvers, you must have learned them at the Marquis Engelger’s house and that is why you became a princess, right?”
He said that sarcastically.
But the woman looked at him with a face that did not show any disturbance at his words.
Dennis greatly detested the expressionlessness of that woman's face.
If only he could break that mask.
“My wife is really great in her behavior, her manners, and even her lying, isn’t she?”
Deliberately poking her with harsh words might provoke a reaction in her.
At the word “lie,” her eyebrows furrowed slightly.
But soon she returned to her cold, polite expression.
“I have nothing more to say.
My family and I have never harmed Miss Matcher.”
“You never hurt her.”
Denise was about to laugh at her lie.
It had already been verified that the Amelie scandal started with Remy Avery.
He also had evidence that Remy Avery was frequently meeting with the woman in front of him.
The woman stood up, swaying slightly.
Her cold face showed no trace of emotion.
I looked at Denise and gave the order to end the visit.
“…It seems I have a headache.
You had better leave now, Your Highness.”
"To where?"
“To your bedroom, Your Highness, the night is getting late.”
“My bedroom?”
Dennis asked her again as if he was hearing the word for the first time in his life.
“His Engelger.”
He said her name and got up.
The chair made an annoying squeaking sound as it scraped against the floor.
Eeeek.
The two fell together.
Dennis, who was looking at her from below, was now looking at her from above.
A night breeze passed between them.
Their gazes met.
“I can't sleep.
Isn't it the same for you, wife?”
Dennis stood blankly in front of Haze, looked down at her and whispered sweetly:
“So, my wife should help me sleep, right?”
Dennis ran his hand over her side-swept hair that snaked behind her ear.
The woman's hair was as thin as silk, and would fly around with the slightest friction, causing electrical charges.
Pass the hand over the hair.
I knew very well what that sign meant.
“Haze, help me sleep.”
Haze stared at Denise's chest.
Above his left chest where his heart should be, there was a tattoo.
Portrait of Lady Knight, ruler of the Kingdom of Valois, with writing.
“The Governor is watching.”
Haze extended her hand towards his tattoo.
I clearly felt the heartbeat under the skin.
Whether from excitement or otherwise, his heart was beating violently.
She grabbed his left chest tightly and said sarcastically:
“You don't even believe in God.
Who would imagine that a prince has a tattoo on his body?”
“Despite my appearance, I am a fairly devout believer.”
After he said that and closed his eyes, he looked noble at first glance.
But then his smiling face with a broad smile was deceiving.
But she couldn't really hate him.
“And because people can’t imagine, can’t I do whatever I want?”
He raised his waist again.
Haze swallowed her scream and laughed evilly like a man.
“You are a fraud, Your Highness.”
“Thank you for the compliment.
This is an honor coming from a strong authority in this field, so I have mixed feelings.”
Haze didn't wake up until late in the morning.
After she washed herself and gathered her strength, she realized that the visitor who had come at dawn had already disappeared.
She ran her hand over where he was lying.
She didn't feel any warmth.
'Looks like you didn't sleep last night either.'
Haze grabbed her head.
Dennis suffered from severe insomnia.
Only three people knew this fact: his personal doctor, his personal assistant Sylvain, and her.
Although he had been suffering from mild insomnia symptoms since his childhood, they worsened after the escalation of the hidden war over the throne between him and the Second Prince Fabrice.
It was common for him not to sleep for a day, and if he did not sleep for three or four days, he would become extremely desperate for sleep.
Although she was not at Denise's level, Hayes also suffered from insomnia.
Her nerves were sensitive, and she would often toss and turn in bed if anything disturbing happened and would stay awake all night.
If yesterday had not come, she would have stayed up all night like any other day.
Remy Avery.
The second son of the Count of Evry.
As Dennis said, he was one of Haze's henchmen she used
And now he has been implicated in a fraud charge.
Of course, it wasn't Remy Avery who actually committed the crime.
But Dennis got rid of him as an example, just because Remy helped Haze with her business.
To show it to Hayes.
Maybe this was the reason.
A warning to her not to interfere in his affairs.
But still, Haze couldn't let go of her hand.
Because Dennis must become the next king at any cost.
To put Denis on the throne, you must become an Engelger.
Haze began quietly arranging what she should do in her mind.
“You don’t have any special appointments this afternoon, and tomorrow afternoon you have an appointment with Jacques Remier.”
The woman standing in front of Hayes, sitting in the workroom, finished her report.
“You can leave now.”
Hayes said, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
There was no important news.
Rain continues for a few days in the Neuve Chapelle region, new technologies to be demonstrated at the World's Fair, a farmer harvesting a palm-sized peach, a brawl in a social club.
Haze enjoyed the coffee.
She had heard her doctor's advice that coffee was bad for insomnia.
But still, there was nothing like coffee to keep the mind clear and alert.
Haze put down the newspaper and stared out the window in amazement.
As the night visitor said, the view outside her room was really beautiful.
Her beautiful bedroom was on the same floor as the workroom.
The palace garden, wet with morning dew, was clearly visible.
Gardeners were pruning the garden's geometrically shaped trees.
Live fresh green plants.
That fresh color looked like the eyes of someone she knew well, she thought.
The infidel, the pessimist, and the deceiver who pretends to be sweet.
And...the person who hates her.
Haze brought her consciousness, which had been drowning in emotion, to the surface.
It's time to work again.