“You’re back, milady.”

Betty greeted Amelia with an excited expression. Helen, who had just set down the tea set on the table, also showed a welcoming look she couldn’t hide. Their warm reception, as if they were welcoming back a traveler who had been away for a long time, lifted Amelia’s spirits.

“How have you two been?”

“As usual. How was the harbor?”

Betty, knowing that Amelia had secretly wanted to see the sea, asked. Betty, who was born and raised in Olstein, had never seen the sea. She sheepishly admitted that she was so afraid of water that she rarely even went to the lakeside.

“It was vast.”

Well-maintained and practical. But it felt very different from the lively atmosphere of the village in Brienne, where it almost seemed like the waves were dancing. Not wanting to burden them with her worries, Amelia only mentioned seeing the ‘Levant’ and that Admiral Licht seemed to be in good health.

“I’m glad you had a good trip. Please rest well today.”

Helen said, handing over a glass dish. The fruit topped with custard sparkled like jewels under a layer of sugar syrup. The dandelion tea Betty had carefully brewed seemed to signal to Amelia that winter was preparing to leave.

“No, I think I’ll visit Philip this afternoon.”

There was no particular reason, but she hadn’t yet replied to his letter. It felt more appropriate to speak in person rather than write back. As she thought about marriage and proposals, even though no one had asked, Amelia felt a bit embarrassed and added a clumsy explanation.

Surprisingly, Helen and Betty didn’t notice anything unusual in Amelia’s behavior. They simply exchanged glances, a hint of worry passing between them.

“Milady, are you going out?”

“Yes… why?”

“Well… I wasn’t going to tell you, as I didn’t want to alarm you, but…”

According to Betty, a robbery had occurred a few days ago near the east gate, which led directly to the Crown Princess’s residence.

“A robbery?”

“Yes. A nobleman was seriously injured.”

Betty shivered as if scared.

“Things like this rarely happened since His Highness the Crown Prince returned…”

Betty explained that during the war, Olstein’s security had been quite chaotic. As a result, the royal family had dealt harshly even with minor crimes, which led to commoners harboring resentment, and lords fearing uprisings—a vicious cycle.

It was only recently that the situation had calmed down after the war. Helen, listening quietly, also wore a worried expression.

“I’ve only heard rumors about the robbery. Given how they’re keeping the victim’s identity a secret, it seems they’re someone of quite high status.”

Helen spoke in a way that implied she hoped Amelia wouldn’t go out. Betty, on the other hand, offered to accompany her if she insisted on going, but Amelia shook her head.

“It’s still daytime, and I’ll be quick. I’ll travel by carriage.”

The inspection team had been taking the fastest route between the castle and the harbor. But throughout the journey, Amelia hadn’t seen Philip’s carriage.

However, since she had seen a fast ship bound for Sarnica at the harbor, it was likely that their paths had simply crossed. Amelia assumed that Philip must be in the capital by now.

Her sense of urgency, somewhat exaggerated, was driven by her desire to tell Philip before her swelling resolve faded.

“…Be careful, milady.”

Betty said with a concerned look.

* * *

Though Helen didn’t say anything further, she wore the same worried expression until Amelia finished her tea and wrapped herself in her shawl. In the end, Amelia had to summon a carriage right to the front of the residence.

As they passed through the castle’s east gate, Amelia caught a glimpse and noticed what seemed like dark red stains in patches on the lawn, which unnerved her. She quickly pulled her head back inside the carriage to shake off the chill.

‘Oops.’

In the effort of calming down Betty and Helen, she had completely forgotten to think about what to say to Philip.

‘What should I do?’ Her hands, resting on her lap, fidgeted nervously. Her thoughts were tangled and wouldn’t settle.

The reason she couldn’t form the words easily might be because she hadn’t fully made up her mind yet. Just as she was growing anxious, the carriage slowed.

Amelia, thinking they had arrived, looked out the window. They were still on the road leading to the embassy, but the carriage wasn’t moving. She noticed an unusually high number of guards in the area. Just as she started to find this strange, someone approached the carriage.

“You cannot pass here.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. Please take a detour.”

The guard, with a stern face, gestured toward the coachman.

“Milady, what should we do?”

The coachman asked with a troubled expression.

“I’m trying to get to the embassy.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Is the road blocked, or am I not allowed to go to the embassy?”

“I can’t say.”

The man still shook his head. Amelia, not giving up, pleaded for him to at least inform the embassy that Amelia Przhemysl of Brienne had come to meet Philip Clavier of Sarnica.

“Please, it’s important.”

The guard, who had been gazing at Amelia’s eyes, scratched the back of his neck.

“…Please wait here for a moment.”

As Amelia watched the guard walk away, questions lingered in her mind. Was it because of the robbery? But up until they reached this point, no one had tried to stop her carriage.

Unable to hold back any longer, Amelia got out of the carriage. As she did, a gentleman in a coat approached.

“Lady Amelia?”

“Hello… Are you from the embassy?”

The man, who introduced himself as a servant of the Clavier family, nodded with a strained smile, more awkward than friendly. Positioning himself directly in front of Amelia, he spoke gently.

“I’m truly sorry, but access to the embassy is currently restricted.”

Amelia, about to ask why, suddenly realized that his movements were deliberately blocking her path forward.

“…Did something happen?”

By now, a sense of unease had taken root in Amelia’s heart. Would a single robbery really cause such strict restrictions?

“You aren’t aware yet, milady.”

The man, after saying this, caught himself and clamped his mouth shut, which only heightened Amelia’s anxiety.

“Yet…? What do you mean, *yet*?”

“…”

“Please tell me… I—”

Amelia, about to ask again, felt a sudden chill as an unspoken realization began to form. Pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing a grim picture.

The clues had been there all along.

The unusually heavy guard presence near the embassy, the dried bloodstains near the east gate, the robbery, the fact that a servant from the Clavier family had specifically come to meet her.

And then, the person who had been on his way to meet her—Philip. He had likely been walking toward the east gate, as he always did.

“Did something happen to Philip?”

Amelia’s voice trembled as a wave of confusion, anxiety, and denial washed over her.

“The young master…”

“…”

“The young master was involved in the robbery a few days ago…”

Before the servant could finish his sentence, Amelia’s legs gave way, and she collapsed.

“My Lady!”

The man hurried to support her, alarmed by how pale she had become. She was as limp as a bouquet of flowers with its ribbons untied.

“Are you all right?”

Amelia, holding on to his arms, stared at him in a daze and asked in a hollow voice.

“Philip?”

“…”

“Was Philip the victim of the robbery?”

The blood that had dried and mingled with dirt at the scene—it had been Philip’s. While Amelia had been comfortably touring the harbor and worrying about pleasantries, Philip had been lying on the cold ground, unconscious.

“Was he badly hurt?”

“He was struck on the head. He only regained consciousness recently.”

“…”

“The count ordered that no visitors be allowed for the time being. The lady is also too distressed to see anyone.”

The man added that few knew about the incident, as it had been kept confidential.

Amelia’s vacant eyes lost their last bit of light. The truth. It was true—Philip had been on his way to meet her when he was attacked so badly he lost consciousness. And now she was here, powerless to do anything.

The brutal reality in front of her felt like a nightmare, tearing her heart apart with cruel precision. Even when she closed her eyes, the pain remained. The fact that she alone was still breathing normally in such a situation felt like a curse, a shameful and pathetic burden.

* * *

Trained by the rigorous discipline of the cavalry, the horses arrived near the capital within a day without showing any signs of exhaustion. Henrik, accompanied by two royal guards, entered every inn they passed, searching for suspicious groups. However, the scar on Henrik’s face seemed to intimidate people more than draw answers, causing most to avoid him altogether.

“Welcome!”

One of the guards opened the door to a tavern in resignation, but the atmosphere inside was markedly different from what they’d encountered so far. The barkeeper’s booming voice greeted them, and every split wooden table was crowded with drinkers. Henrik, hiding his uniform beneath a worn cloak, found a spot among the noisy crowd with his men.

“Are you a mercenary?”

A red-nosed drunk eyed one of the royal guards’ burly frame, barely concealed by his tattered robe, and struck up a conversation.

“Judging by your look, you don’t seem to have much, but consider yourself lucky! That guy over there is treating everyone today.”

The man drunkenly gestured with his beer mug toward a group of three men in the corner who were making the most noise. The table in front of them was piled high with food and drink.

“They say they made a lot of money, but they won’t say how. Not that I care—I’m just here for the free booze.”

The man took another swig of his drink. Henrik, his face half-hidden beneath his hood, observed the group closely, and then spotted something that made him freeze in disbelief.

Beside one of the drunken men, whose face was contorted into a half-grimace due to his inebriation, sat a trunk. It was crafted from soft leather, the kind rarely found in Olstein, and far too fine for the likes of the common riffraff in this dingy tavern. The exotic designs carved into the handle confirmed Henrik’s suspicions—it was Philip Clavier’s trunk.

These fools, clueless about whose belongings they had stolen, hadn’t even bothered to hide the evidence. There was no doubt in Henrik’s mind that these were the very men who had attacked Philip Clavier on the day they were granted a special release.