For someone who had always complied with even the most absurd demands, his hesitation this time was surprising. The reason for his reluctance wasn’t anything serious—it was simply embarrassment. Avoiding her gaze, Banther seemed to wrestle with his thoughts before finally stepping closer to Riela.

‘Does he have ulterior motives?’ Rose briefly entertained suspicion. However, Banther didn’t touch Riela. He merely leaned closer to whisper something in her ear.

For reasons unknown, the onlookers instinctively held their breath. The whispered words were brief, and Banther quickly returned to his original distance. Despite the short duration, there had been an undeniable sense of tension in the air.

Riela nodded after hearing his words.

“So, it’s a secret? You spoke so quietly.”

“…Yes, something like that.”

Banther couldn’t quite understand why he had chosen to be honest instead of making something up. Feeling uncharacteristically perplexed, he watched as Riela grasped the coin firmly, her expression now much clearer.

“Now I just throw it, right?”

Riela’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the fountain. It seemed she simply wanted to toss the coin. Drawing her arm back, she launched the coin into the air.

The copper coin flew in a high arc before landing in the fountain with a soft plop. It reached the far edge of the fountain. Mac, who had been silently worrying that the coin might miss the fountain entirely, felt a wave of relief. The fountain’s size had saved them.

“Did you see that?” Riela exclaimed.

“It was perfect,” Rose complimented her as if it were second nature. Riela then turned to Banther.

“You saw it too, right?”

“Yes. I also thought it was a perfect throw.”

“Everything will go well now,” she said brightly.

Her confident tone carried an almost divine assurance. Banther found her voice oddly comforting, as if it were a message from a goddess of fortune. Her radiant smile, as vibrant as a blooming flower, filled his vision.

Before he could fully process his feelings, Riela tugged at his sleeve. He allowed himself to be pulled closer. Just as he had whispered to her, she now leaned toward his ear and spoke softly.

“I’m having a hard time too. My father.”

She left those words behind and moved away. Banther stood frozen, unable to move. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down.

“Hey, Mail!”

“What is it?”

“The moon’s out,” Riela said, pointing.

Following her gesture, Mail tilted her head back. Sure enough, the moon hung in the sky. It was a full moon, round and luminous, scattering a soft glow. The water’s surface and the surrounding foliage glittered in the moonlight. Mail marveled at the scene, feeling a strong urge to revisit this place.

“It looks even better than yesterday,” Rose remarked.

Mac, who had finally recovered his composure, stepped closer and added that although they had visited this spot several times before at night, the moon seemed particularly beautiful tonight.

Riela seemed excited to witness the scenery she had anticipated, her face unable to hide the joy that filled it.

The mood among the group grew livelier. Handing her gloves to Rose, Riela reached out toward the fountain.

The moon reflected on the surface of the water. She touched it with her fingers, causing ripples, then cupped her hands to scoop up the water. Instead of the moon’s reflection, fragments of moonlight remained in the water she held.

Riela laughed like a child, and Mail followed her lead, dipping her hands into the water. The water was cold but not freezing, so there was no need to worry about catching a chill.

Relieved of one concern, Mail splashed playfully at the water’s surface. Riela watched him for a moment, then joined in.

Banther stood by, silently observing them. He recalled the words he had whispered to her earlier.

“I’m going to meet my father. He’s always been a difficult person, so I’m a little… concerned.”

She must have thought it was a secret. That was why she had leaned in to whisper back, 

“I’m having a hard time too. My father.”

It was an unexpected gesture of consideration. He hadn’t expected her to do such a thing. If he had been her caretaker, he might have felt pride at this moment.

It was strange. His heartbeat seemed louder and clearer than usual. Feeling unsettled, Banther blinked his eyes shut and open again.

***

Morning had arrived. The marquis slammed his hands down on his desk in frustration after receiving unpleasant news.

“…Is that true?”

“Yes, my lord. We have confirmed it.”

Marquis Bolthen’s eyes twitched, his mustache quivering as though moving in unison. He glared down at the innocent desk as if it were to blame and let out a groan.

“Count Dailsis. Viscount Exte. Former Marquis Flood.”

These were the names of three nobles the marquis silently recited. They shared a common trait: all had been absent from the capital for decades by the late emperor’s decree and had now suddenly been summoned by the current emperor. Why those three? The marquis was convinced this was no coincidence.

“During the council, the emperor showed no unusual behavior.”

Bolthen drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. A moment later, he spoke again.

“Why were they summoned? Have you found out?”

“It was at the request of Lady Mail von Vizeat.”

“What?”

The marquis paused. His aide, bowing, elaborated further.

“The purpose of their audience at the palace was not to meet His Majesty but rather to see Lady Vizeat. This has been verified through our sources.”

“Why would that woman…?”

Something suddenly came to mind. Marquis Bolthen recalled recent events involving Mail von Vizeat, a name that had begun to irritate him following the Ormil incident.

He had attempted to discreetly harm her to gauge the emperor’s reaction, but the plan had failed. Then, as luck would have it, the emperor had left the palace shortly afterward, and he had abandoned further attempts. Now, he could only laugh bitterly.

“So that’s why she’s been bothering me.”

She was proving to be an obstacle after all. Leaning back in his chair, the marquis deliberated.

Not much time remained. Soon, the second selection would take place, reducing the number of candidates in the palace to about twenty. It might be a little early, but by then, Iseline would be revealed, and a scapegoat chosen. Until the scapegoat served its purpose, there could be no unexpected changes in the emperor’s condition.

“Whatever scent she may have caught, I can’t allow her to act freely.”

The marquis’s contemplation continued. How could he eliminate her without leaving evidence? Recklessly employing someone for the task would not be wise. Any hint that the culprit had been hired would ruin everything.

“If she were a citizen of the empire, I could exploit a personal grudge… Wait, a grudge?”

His decision made, the marquis’s gaze returned to his aide. He issued his order.

“Ormil Petten—or rather, just Ormil now. Confirm whether she’s still alive. If she is, secure her.”

“It shall be done.”

The aide answered faithfully and disappeared. Despite planning harm against another, there wasn’t a trace of guilt on the marquis’s face.

***

The Duchy of Mohaim was situated in the vast agricultural heartland of the southern regions. Banther had not visited his family’s territory in quite some time.

After exchanging brief greetings with the gate guards, who recognized him and reacted with excitement, he stepped into the estate. The sights before him stirred a sense of nostalgia, though nothing seemed significantly different from his memories.

“It’s been a while.”

The duke received his visitor in the study. Despite his words, his expression and tone remained unchanged. Banther couldn’t help but think that even if he had gone missing for ten years, his father would have reacted the same way. His father had always been a steady and unchanging figure.

“He’s not a cold man, but…”

“It has been some time,” Banther replied respectfully.

The Duke of Mohaim had been a warrior. In his youth—now a distant memory—he had led the vanguard in countless campaigns, both large and small. He was a born soldier.

Perhaps because of this, he had raised his children with a firm hand. The three siblings, who had endured a strict upbringing, now possessed resilience unmatched elsewhere.

“There was never any favoritism.”

A flood of childhood memories overtook Banther, briefly immersing him in reflection. His father had treated all three children equally, and as a result, the siblings had shared their closest bonds during their youth. Often, they had banded together to endure their shared struggles.

In those days, as they faced their stern father, they often suspected he might be a stepfather. However, with time, they came to understand that all his strictness was a manifestation of his affection. This realization likely applied to Telia as well, who once went beyond mere thoughts and directly asked their father if they had been adopted. Now that they were grown, the siblings understood their father and loved him in their own way.

“So, what brings you here?”

Even so, the relationship was still challenging. While Telia had a slightly easier rapport with their father, Banther still found him a daunting figure. Looking his unyielding father in the eye, Banther spoke.

“I came to ask you something.”

“It must be important to have traveled such a distance.”

“Depending on your response, I may need to take something with me.”

Banther had come to retrieve the key to the tower—if it indeed existed. The duke stared at his son for a moment before offering a quip.

“Are you here to announce that you’re ready to inherit the title? It’s too soon. Get married first.”

“Pardon?”

“Once you have a spouse, I’ll hand over this position to you. Do you want it? Even if you do, it’s not for the unmarried.”

“No, that’s not what I meant—”

Caught off guard by his father’s jest, Banther was flustered. To be honest, he couldn’t even tell if his father was joking or serious. After sweating through the moment, he composed himself and spoke again.

“I’ll get straight to the point. It’s about the northern tower.”

“……”

“I wish to unlock its sealed door. Do you have the key?”

Without beating around the bush, Banther asked directly. He knew there was no use trying to skirt the issue with his father, nor did he have the skill to do so.

The duke remained silent for a moment after hearing the question. Banther braced himself for a scolding, expecting his inquiry to be dismissed as nonsense. Instead, the duke calmly admitted the truth.

“Yes.”

His acknowledgment was so straightforward that it left Banther momentarily bewildered.

“Pardon?”

“What’s with that face? You asked if I had it, and I answered.”

“Is that really true?”

“Are you doubting me now?”

“No, it’s just… then it’s true? The late emperor really hid something in the tower?”

Banther’s face betrayed his confusion. Could it be true? Even as he made his way here, he had remained skeptical.

If it were him, he would have simply destroyed anything he wanted to keep hidden. That would have been the cleanest solution. The idea of leaving something behind in physical form, entrusting a key to someone else for safekeeping, seemed entirely at odds with the concept of concealment.

“Was it perhaps not intended to be hidden?”

“Sit down first.”

The duke cut off his son’s words and rose from his desk. Taking a seat on a guest sofa, he motioned for Banther to sit across from him. After dismissing the attendant who had offered to serve tea, the duke began speaking calmly.

“What do you know about this?”

“Nothing.”

“Strange to hear that from someone who brought up the key.”

“I wasn’t certain. I’m still not. I have no idea what’s inside that tower.”

“What about His Majesty?”

Though the question seemed offhand, it was the crux of the matter. Realizing this, Banther answered honestly.

“He doesn’t know. But he wants to find out.”

The duke was silent for a moment. Though he was looking at Banther, his gaze seemed unfocused, as though lost in thought. After a brief pause, he spoke again.

“I thought perhaps His Majesty had remembered, but it seems that’s not the case.”

“Remembered? Then there really is something there? Did you know about it?”

Emotion crept into Banther’s voice as he unwittingly took on a confrontational tone. He had known the emperor since their youth, and they had shared most of their lives together.

After all that time, it was difficult to believe—harder still to accept—that there might be something about the emperor’s past that he had no knowledge of. The duke met his son’s gaze steadily, unflinching.

“Blaming me won’t change anything. It wasn’t my decision.”

“For nearly twenty years?”

“Are you upset? Even if you’d known earlier, it wouldn’t have done you any good. Whether as a friend showing camaraderie or as a subject pledging loyalty, pity is a useless sentiment.”

“Pity? Are you saying… had I known when I was younger, I would have felt pity for His Majesty?”

“……”

“When I was young, I was too busy lamenting my own misfortune at having what I thought was a stepfather, who constantly hit me. I thought my life was the most pitiable in the world. And now you’re saying I would’ve pitied him?”

“Wait, stepfather? Telia wasn’t the only one who thought that?”

“All three of us did. But that’s beside the point. Please answer me—was it really so tragic?”

A silence fell between them, brief but heavy. Finally, the duke spoke.

“To some, yes.”

“…What do you mean?”

“To one person, it may have been an unbearable calamity; to another, merely a hardship they could endure. Of course, considering the age involved, most would fall into the former category.”

The duke clicked his tongue, a sound of disapproval. The memories he was revisiting were not pleasant for him either. He had known the late emperor far longer than Banther had known the current one. As such, he could understand the late emperor’s choices.

However, understanding and discerning the rightness or wrongness of an action are two different matters. Even now, the Duke could not claim, even as a mere pleasantry, that it had been the right decision.

“Let me tell you one thing. The locked tower exists because of the former emperor’s weakness and selfishness.”

Weakness and selfishness—two traits that might not seem to align at first glance but coexisted within the same person. The Duke spoke slowly.

“The rest, you’ll have to hear from His Majesty. Once the door is opened, you’ll know everything. I don’t know why he had suddenly resolved to open the tower when he hadn’t regained his memories, but perhaps he does. I’ll send the key to you.”

The Duke stood up. Banther, who had been silently listening, hastily grabbed him.

“Father.”

“Do you still have something to say?”

“What do you think, Father? About opening the tower… do you think it is the right thing to do?”

Duke Mohaim read the worry on his son’s face. He knew what troubled him—the fear that the emperor, once he recovered his forgotten memories, might not remain as stable as he was now. If the outcome was as disastrous as words suggested, perhaps it would have been better to leave those memories buried forever.

For the first time in a while, the Duke chose his words carefully for his son’s sake.

“Perhaps. A wound must be visible to be healed.”

The concern clouding Banther’s face lessened slightly. The Duke turned away with feigned indifference.

****