Chapter 10.11

“That’s… His Majesty’s…”

Syria hurriedly covered Firenze’s mouth, forcing a smile as she tried to lower her gaze.

“Sir Firenze, isn’t guarding me tiring? Should I bring you something to drink?”

His clear eyes, visible above her hand, stung more than usual today. His gaze said he knew exactly what she’d been doing, and Syria pressed her lips with her palm, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

“…No need.”

Even with his mouth covered, Firenze mumbled out his words. His lips moved, tickling her palm, but she was afraid to let go in case he said something embarrassing.

“…Let’s talk at home. There are too many people here. I’ll explain everything in detail when we get back.”

Firenze’s lips closed again, and he simply stared at her.

“Are you upset? I’ll explain everything at home. I’ll make it up to you.”

Whatever moved his heart, Firenze’s sulky expression softened a little.

“You’ve promised.”

Firenze smiled, his gaze intertwined with hers. She flinched at the ticklish sensation as his wet tongue brushed her palm. The touch sent a faint shiver through her.

After soothing Firenze, Syria really did head to the lounge. Normally, a noble lady would be followed by a knight, but the palace was filled with guards, and the lounge was a space for women to freshen up, so she was alone.

Her heels were already chafed and sore from supporting her body. She’d come to the lounge just to kick off her shoes for a moment, but every lounge was occupied by noble ladies and young women.

“There shouldn’t be anyone here.”

She found the furthest lounge and opened the door to a space like a department store powder room. Each vanity was decorated with lavish flowers, and a subtle fragrance lingered.

Luckily, there was only one person inside, so Syria relaxed—until she saw who it was.

“Oh!”

“Oh!”

Both women let out startled noises at the same time. The woman touching up her makeup in the mirror was Prezia. As soon as Prezia spotted Syria, her beautiful face twisted in a frown. Syria’s mood also soured.

It was the first time seeing her since the last big commotion. She was the last person Syria wanted to meet, and yet here they were, alone in the furthest lounge.

“Ha… So annoying.”

Prezia shoved her chair back with a loud squeak and slammed her makeup case shut. Her obvious irritation showed she’d learned nothing from their last encounter.

‘Why did I have to run into her here…’

Syria had deliberately come to the furthest lounge, but her luck had run out. Even after all that embarrassment, Prezia showed no remorse, quickly revealing her true colors.

Rather than talk, Syria was more concerned about her aching feet, so she sank into the soft sofa. She kicked off her shoes and checked her feet, finding a blister and even blood on the other side.

“Ouch. That hurts…”

She frowned like an old woman, pinching the sore blister.

‘Should I pop this, or just leave it be…?’

While Syria was debating, Prezia, who had been venting her anger on a random item, suddenly turned around.

“Ha… Really, this is ridiculous. What’s with the demure lady…”

Realizing they were alone, Prezia spoke bluntly, clicking her tongue at Syria, who was holding her foot.

‘Why is she picking a fight again?’

If there had been other women present, Prezia wouldn’t have so openly stared at the sole of Syria’s foot, but since it was just her, Syria simply ignored her and lifted her foot. She hadn’t come here to impress anyone in the first place.

“…You keep chattering from somewhere.”

Syria stuck her pinky in her ear and gently twisted it. She had no interest in hearing nonsense.

“Ha!”

Prezia’s face changed instantly, shocked at Syria’s blatant disregard for decorum. The thought of being the only one to witness such shameless behavior made her angry.

Even as the sound of grinding teeth could be heard, Syria was still at a crossroads, unsure whether to pop her swollen blister or not.

“Lord Alpen should see you like this. He likes it when you act so prim and proper, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does.”

Syria almost ignored her, but instead answered sweetly on purpose. She was at a crucial moment, trying to deal with her blister, but Prezia kept provoking her, so she wanted to get back at her a little. As expected, Prezia couldn’t contain her anger and trembled.

‘Is she really going to get violent again?’

Just as Syria was about to reconsider, remembering the time Prezia had raised her hand after being provoked, a cold voice came out.

“I’ll never let him be taken. No—even if he gets married, I’ll take him back.”

Syria turned her head at the absurd statement.

“What exactly are you two?”

Prezia kept talking as if she’d lost her lover, always playing the victim. She had a special talent for making her fiancée seem like a villainess.

So Syria spoke up. No matter how she looked at it, the two didn’t seem like lovers. It just looked like Prezia was obsessed with Alpen all by herself.

Prezia’s eyes were filled with a red obsession. Her words made it clear—she wouldn’t hesitate to take him even if he married someone else. Shamelessly, just like the original story, she was ready to commit adultery.

“I’ve loved Duke Roxihart for ten years. You haven’t.”

“…That’s a one-sided love, isn’t it?”

A short laugh escaped Syria. It was ridiculous how Prezia acted like a victim when she was the one with unrequited feelings.

“No. The Duke likes me too. Not someone as plain as you—but me!”

Prezia shouted, her voice bursting out. Her face, usually pale, was now flushed with red and blue spots from her anger.

“You don’t even have someone you like.”

“…”

Syria lost her words at Prezia’s voice, each word pressed down with force. She was still far from love; she’d had three one-night stands, and even then, two weren’t even that.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t mock her for her crush.’

Love was said to blind you to everything but the person you care for. Prezia was the perfect example—she saw nothing but Alpen.

“Tell me. Can you say you like Lord Alpen?”

“…”

Ah… Her foot was still hurting in her hand, but suddenly her throat felt tight too.

‘…Let’s go.’

In the end, Syria stood up and left the room. She ignored the gaze stabbing into her back, determined to find a comfortable lounge even if she had to wander the whole Imperial Palace.

“I’m not running away.”

Syria muttered as she walked alone down the quiet corridor. Prezia claimed it was true love, but Syria didn’t know what to say to someone like that. Was she supposed to say she loved just as much? Or mock her for calling it great love while being branded an adulteress? That seemed too cruel—Syria wasn’t that kind of person.

Unlike the brightly lit banquet hall, the corridor was dark and quiet except for the occasional patrolling guards. Even though she had sat for a while, her heels still stung, but her swollen calves felt much better.

‘Am I going too far?’

As she searched for another lounge, Syria realized she had arrived somewhere unfamiliar. She seemed to have left the Emperor’s palace, as the building was less lit.

“Ah!”

Syria’s eyes widened at the sight of a man’s back, the kind that made her want to whistle.

‘What’s with that random b*tt?’

A man in guard uniform was quietly walking down the corridor. Though he wasn’t muscular, his plump, firm buttocks looked like they’d make a satisfying sound. Syria stared, almost entranced, but the man didn’t seem to notice and didn’t turn around.

‘Why is he looking around like that?’

The man kept glancing around as if searching for something, so Syria instinctively quieted her footsteps.

‘Let’s admire it a little longer.’

Syria giggled to herself and quietly followed the man, even taking off her shoes and holding them in her hand so she could watch his rear more closely. She couldn’t touch it, but just looking at his new, impressive b*tt made her swallow in delight.

After searching for something for a while, the man stealthily placed something behind a statue in the corridor.

‘What’s that?’

She only stared blankly for a moment, but his actions seemed suspicious. He checked several times to make sure the item was hidden, then disappeared down the corridor. By the time Syria chased after him, he was already gone.

“Ugh… What a shame.”

Syria muttered in disappointment—she’d wanted to watch a bit longer. Realizing she wouldn’t find a lounge, she turned to head back to the banquet hall, but stopped in front of the statue.

She was curious about the item the man had hidden. Reaching out, she picked it up—it wasn’t a box, but a black stone. Smooth and small, it fit perfectly in her hand…

“What is this?”

It looked like an ordinary stone, but as soon as she touched it, she felt something strange. Her stomach churned, and an odd feeling came over her. She wanted to drop it immediately, yet it somehow drew her in.

“I’ll just take it for now.”

Syria debated putting it back, but ended up putting it in her pouch. Something about the man’s secretive behavior made her hesitate to leave it behind.

* * *

“Did you put it away properly?”

“Yes. I hid it well where no one can see.”

“Then should we go take a look?”

“If someone finds it, it could mess up our plans.”

The man who had hidden the stone behind the statue in front of Syria asked.

“Hehe. I put a spell on it so that anyone who touches it will lose their mind.”

Jacob tapped his subordinate’s glove with his finger, smirking.

“If you hadn’t worn gloves, you would’ve gone mad.”

At those words, the subordinate’s face turned pale. He realized Jacob hadn’t properly warned even his own men about the danger of the item. Jacob, amused by the reaction, smiled with deep wrinkles around his eyes—a sinister smile that sent chills just by looking.

“If something happens to the Prince, we’ll need to hide one. If the trigger word works, everyone here will become a fool. Including that Emperor. Hehe.”

It was truly the most terrifying, yet easiest spell to take over the Imperial Palace—one that would destroy the minds of all living beings. The one to cast it would be the Second Prince, and all preparations were already complete. Even the man who set it up knew this.

But he hadn’t realized that simply touching it would have an immediate effect. He trembled at the thought he might have become a fool himself.

It was all part of Jacob’s meticulous plan, even calculating the possibility that someone else might find it. Even in this dangerous situation, Jacob remained calm.

‘If anything goes wrong, Duke Dronia will handle it.’

He didn’t like him, but trusted his skills. Confident, Jacob headed for the banquet hall.