The maids pinched Saya's cheeks affectionately, cooing over how adorable she was, and pressed sweets into her hands.
"Have you ever tried macaroons? They're heavenly!"
As soon as word spread about how Saya had come to follow the Princess, the fierce territorial instincts among the staff began to noticeably fade.
She was small, quick, and never hesitated to take on the most difficult tasks.
Within days, Saya had carved out a place for herself in the Princess's palace.
"Your Highness, is it wise to let her speak so freely?"
Neril asked, concerned.
She worried Saya might provide ammunition to those watching for any misstep.
"It's fine. She's a clever child."
Saya had approached Medea first, after all.
"Your Highness, may I address you informally in certain situations? Would that be acceptable?"
Of course, she'd requested permission in advance.
But she'd also read Medea's unspoken intentions perfectly and moved swiftly to execute them.
"Sister Medea! You promised to attend the Marquis's tea party with me today—oh my, what?!"
"Oh dear, what should I do? I'm so sorry, Miss. I'm still so clumsy."
There had been a moment when Medea deflected Birna's unwanted attention by feigning ignorance of court etiquette.
Saya had picked up on it immediately.
"I believe Your Highness finds Miss Birna's company... uncomfortable. Did I read that wrong?"
"Saya, you should address her as Lady Claudio. I taught you proper etiquette."
Neril corrected gently.
"I apologize, Neril. But Miss Birna calls Her Highness 'sister.' Where is the courtesy in that?"
Even Neril couldn't help but laugh at the light-hearted yet razor-sharp critique.
Before long, rumors spread throughout the palace.
"Duke Claudio's daughter knows less about etiquette than a street child who just entered the court."
"Your Highness, I know you didn't shield me from that blade out of pity. You stood in front of me without hesitation."
Saya's voice was steady, serious.
"I will never forget the grace that saved my life."
She had lived alone in the slums for nearly three years.
Unconditional protection—something she couldn't even expect from her own brother.
Medea would never forget the moment Saya, small and delicate as she was, stood in front of her without hesitation.
"How can I be of help to Her Highness?"
Saya constantly pondered this question.
Once she understood the palace dynamics, she quickly befriended maids in other quarters.
Information flowed through her like water.
"I heard you rescued a poor child. Well done. A Princess should know how to care for her people."
The Queen Mother said approvingly.
Medea was genuinely surprised when even the Queen Mother brought up Saya unprompted.
After that, no one questioned the street girl's presence.
Instead, Medea's reputation flourished—generous, warm, compassionate.
Theo's brilliance—the same mind that made him the rebellion's strategist in my past life—clearly runs in his twin sister's veins.
The Investigation
"Your Highness, regarding the day you brought Saya to the palace..."
Neril began carefully.
When Medea said nothing, she continued.
"I asked Tom to search for that strange old woman again."
Medea looked up.
"He discovered something unusual. Mercenaries from Façade were in that district the same day we were."
"Façade?"
Medea's brow furrowed.
"Yes. Tom tried to learn more about their activities, but their operatives were sharp—they detected him and chased him off."
Neril paused.
"It seems a high-ranking officer from Façade was present. They completely sealed off the street. After some time, they vanished without a trace."
Medea's frown deepened.
What business would a continental arms dealer have in the slums of this small kingdom?
In my past life, Façade never surfaced—not until much later.
This is a new variable.
"They may prove useful in suppressing the Empire eventually."
"But after that, I'll need to find an excuse to expel them."
"Understood. Did Tom find the old woman?"
Neril shook her head.
"But Your Highness... those strange things she said that day—do you believe them?"
"What? That my future is full of chaos?"
Medea asked teasingly.
Neril looked embarrassed.
"No—your future will be brighter than the sun. I meant... the Dawn's Droplet."
She hesitated.
"I wondered if it might somehow help Your Highness."
Medea said nothing.
"The old woman said you're the only person who can find it. That the blood of the Sage flows through you—and that you carry the will of the Goddess."
"Hmm. The conditions don't quite fit. My father was certainly a Sage, but calling him 'the best on the continent' might be a stretch."
Medea paused mid-thought.
"Once, the Sage of the continent..."
Sage.
And Valdina—the kingdom protected by the Philosopher's Stone.
Perhaps the reason Valdina managed to obtain the Philosopher's Stone—defeating even the continent's great powers—was because its creator was Valdina's ancestor?
"Your Highness...?"
"Wait. I need to go somewhere."
Medea rose abruptly, a thought crystallizing in her mind.
The Royal Altar
Medea's shadow fell long across the stone wall.
Cool air embraced her as she descended.
The Philosopher's Stone hovered above the central altar, pulsing with gentle blue light.
"The blood of the Sage... and the bearer of the Goddess's will..."
She murmured.
The former might apply if her father had been a Sage.
But the latter remained shrouded in mystery.
Conveying the will of the Goddess?
Medea's mother had been a dancer—her homeland destroyed long ago, leaving her adrift and stateless.
She was far from divine.
Medea reached out, feeling slightly uncertain.
"Ancestor of Valdina..."
A familiar cold sensation wrapped around her fingertips.
She held the Philosopher's Stone with both hands.
"Please, tell me. Is there something you wish to convey? What should I do—"
Sting!
Sudden pain shot through her fingertip.
There was a sharp, unpolished edge at the base of the stone.
A shallow cut opened on her index finger.
A single drop of blood welled up and fell onto the stone.
CRACK
The stone split in half.
Brilliant white light poured forth.
Medea had witnessed many strange phenomena during her expeditions.
Even now, though her heart raced, she maintained her composure.
Anyone else would have fainted at such a miracle.
The blinding light that filled the chamber slowly receded.
Medea blinked away the afterimages and examined what lay within.
Inside the split Philosopher's Stone lay a small cylinder—no larger than a finger.
When Medea lifted it, the stone sealed itself instantly.
The cracks vanished without a trace, as though nothing had happened.
If not for the cut on her hand, she might have thought it all a dream.
Medea examined the cylinder closely.
A goddess statue was engraved at the top.
A delicate droplet pattern spiraled down its surface.
"Droplet...?"
As if answering her question, the silver liquid inside the cylinder flowed—defying gravity, shimmering with ethereal light.
The Dawn's Droplet
The Shaman had spoken truth.
District 1 — Opera House
On a bright, sunny afternoon at the District 1 Opera House—
"Your Highness, how did you enjoy the performance?"
Catherine asked, dressed as brilliantly as a blooming rose.
Birna stood beside her, as always.
Duke Claudio's mother and daughter frequently escorted Medea on outings throughout the capital.
"You must feel suffocated, having spent your entire life confined to the palace. Look—the world outside is so free and beautiful."
The world they showed her was refreshing and safe.
Like a gilded cage for a captive bird.
"I remembered you loved this opera, so I commissioned a new orchestra and hired fresh actors just for you."
Once again, Catherine seemed intent on melting her niece's heart with these calculated "efforts."
Medea looked at her aunt, who clearly expected an emotional, grateful response.
"I see. That explains why it grated on my ears. The soprano screeched, and the tempo was rushed."
Catherine's smile froze.
"Do you have any idea how much that performance cost?!"
Rage simmered beneath her practiced smile.
But she swallowed her fury.
"Oh dear. The quality was lacking, and I failed to please you. I should have chosen more carefully."
Catherine's eyebrows drooped with feigned concern.
She stepped closer, clasping Medea's hand firmly between both of hers.
"But you won't be disappointed tonight."
"Tonight?"
Catherine's smile widened, eyes glittering.
She had been waiting for this moment.
A relic uncovered.
A trap refined.
And tonight—the stage is set.
Chapter 43 Complete
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