“It’s my hair, and he cut it as he pleased. It annoyed me so much that I decided to grow it out to my waist just to spite him.”

Lila’s voice grew quiet. She thought she had let it go, but the humiliation of that moment resurfaced.

“That must have been difficult.”

Emma murmured softly, gripping the scissors tightly. If the emperor had been in front of her, she might have chopped off his hair to leave him in disarray.

Did His Grace know about this? Emma forced a smile, suppressing her rising anger. She debated whether she should report this to the Grand Duke of Eustace. If he already knew through the double agents in the palace, she could avoid the drama, but if he didn’t, mentioning it might lead him to storm the palace in fury.

“Your glossy black hair would look stunning if it grew to your waist.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, such jet-black hair is incredibly rare in the empire.”

Emma put the scissors down and gently ran her fingers through Lila’s hair as though combing it. Lila stared curiously at her reflection, noting how neatly trimmed her hair now was, just brushing her collarbones.

“My mother passed down this hair to me.”

After a moment of staring at her reflection, Lila spoke impulsively. Emma tilted her head curiously.

“You resemble her a lot, you know. If you gained a little more weight, I think you’d look even more like the Empress.”

“No, my face…”

Lila shook her head and trailed off. She hated to admit it, but her delicate features resembled the Emperor and Crown Prince more than the late Empress. To her, the only thing she shared with her mother was her black hair.

“My face doesn’t really resemble hers, but my hair is exactly like my mother’s.”

“The late Empress was famous for her beautiful, night-sky black hair.”

“You knew my mother?”

“I saw her a few times when the late Grand Duke and Grand Duchess were still alive. Before I became His Grace’s nanny, I was an aide to Countess Lucia, who was the Duchess back then.”

“I see.”

Lila nodded in understanding. If Emma had accompanied the Grand Duchess to the palace, it was likely she had met Lila’s mother, the Empress, at some point.

“Even when the Empress was confined to the cold palace, the Grand Duchess often visited her. She was the only one allowed to do so.”

“Really?”

Lila showed interest in the new information Emma shared. Although she couldn’t remember, if the Grand Duchess had visited the cold palace, it was possible they had met during her childhood.

“Don’t worry! My mother is the greatest magician in the empire! This measly barrier is nothing for her—she’ll break it in no time. So just wait a little longer, I’ll definitely save you!”

What was that? A fleeting memory flashed through her mind. Lila tried to recall the hazy memory, like a mirage in the desert.

“Now then, I’ll go fetch breakfast. After that, I’ll guide you to the Grand Duke’s manor.”

While Lila strained to grasp the fragments of her lost memory, Emma finished tying her shoulder-length hair halfway up with a silk ribbon, securing it with a butterfly-shaped hairpin set with a blue gem. Satisfied with her work, Emma smiled warmly.

***

“Your Grace, another envoy has arrived from the imperial palace.”

“Again?”

The Grand Duke of Eustace, who was in the middle of discussing schedules with his exhausted aide, Elvin, furrowed his brow in annoyance. Hans, the second butler, held a silver tray with a letter from the palace, unable to conceal his troubled expression.

“Didn’t they come this morning as well?”

“Well… This morning, a close attendant accompanied the court physician. This time, the royal magician has brought an imperial decree.”

“They’re being clingy. Even an estranged lover wouldn’t be this desperate.”

At the Grand Duke’s biting comment, Hans bowed his head apologetically. Ever since the raven had arrived at the manor, the Grand Duke had been feigning illness and avoiding attending the council meetings for several days.

The emperor, upon hearing this, had sent several envoys. Yet the Grand Duke had used his illness as an excuse to refuse meeting them.

“There’s also been a message from the Magic Tower… What should we do?”

Hans hesitantly asked, watching for the Grand Duke’s reaction. The news of his supposed illness had prompted not only the palace but also dignitaries from various sectors to send inquiries and gifts.

Even the elves and dwarves, who conducted trades in magic stones and artifacts, had dispatched envoys after hearing the news belatedly. However, the Grand Duke had turned them all away and confined himself to the manor.

Many attempted to glean information by lingering near the manor, but with the already formidable security tightened even further, they learned nothing. After three days of this self-imposed lockdown, rumors began circulating among some nobles that something significant must have happened.

“Now that you mention it, the dwarves came to my house yesterday,” Elvin added, his face weary. The news of the Grand Duke’s illness had sent the dwarves into a panic, given their VIP client. Frustrated by the lack of communication, they had even gone to visit Baron Arduino’s estate.

“Is it true that His Grace is unwell?”

“What will happen to our trade agreements? We’ve already started production!”

Elvin, who had returned home at 1 a.m., had been hounded by the dwarven envoy, leaving him no time to rest.

“Tell them the agreements will proceed as contracted, and I’ll contact the Magic Tower and the dwarves myself once I’m better. What a nuisance,” the Grand Duke muttered, his face tired. His original plan had been to rest at the manor and spend time with Lila, but constant interruptions had frayed his patience.

“Why is there so much work when I’m not even attending the council meetings?”

“You’ve undertaken so much yourself, and, well, you’re the leader of the noble faction,” Elvin replied dryly.

“That’s absurd. When did I ever say I wanted to lead the nobles? They decided that on their own.”

“If you’re dissatisfied, you can always step down as Grand Duke,” Elvin quipped bluntly, his face pale and drawn.

“Hm, any interest in becoming the Grand Duke yourself?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Che.”

The Grand Duke pouted as Elvin firmly rejected the suggestion.

“I just want a life where I can have evenings to myself,” Elvin added, rubbing his tired eyes. He stifled a yawn, though decorum seemed the least of his concerns at that point.

“When will Johan return?”

“Hard to say… He contacted me early this morning, saying his work had just wrapped up. He’ll probably return tomorrow.”

Elvin, silently praying for Johan’s swift return, yawned again, wishing his second-in-command could take over soon.

“Once Johan returns, I’ll give you a few days off.”

“…Really?”

Elvin’s face lit up at the mention of leave, his fatigue momentarily forgotten.

“I promise.”

“You’d better keep that promise. No takebacks, okay?”

“Of course.”

Having dangled the carrot, the Grand Duke shifted his gaze to Hans, who was quietly awaiting his orders.

“Hans, how many times has the palace sent someone now?”

“Seven times,” Hans replied.

“Seven times in three days? Obsession is a sickness, truly,” the Grand Duke scoffed.

“It seems they are genuinely curious about Your Grace’s condition.”

“Of course they are. Even if the assassination failed, if I were injured, they could still consider it half a success,” Eustace muttered with a knowing expression.

“The gates of the manor are tightly shut, the raven’s whereabouts are unknown, and all the birds that used to bring them information have been hunted down. They must be in a frenzy by now.”

No matter how much the palace fretted, they wouldn’t obtain the information they sought. Eustace smirked openly, ridiculing the emperor.

“They won’t come here in person, will they?” Hans asked, worried.

“That coward? Not a chance,” the Grand Duke replied confidently.

“The kind of person who always assigns dangerous tasks to others while staying safely out of harm’s way would never step outside the palace walls.”

Eustace didn’t hold back his disdain for the empire’s most exalted royal family, and no one in the office dared to point it out.

“Even if they did come, I wouldn’t bother meeting them,” he added coldly, imagining the emperor and crown prince growing desperate. His sneering smile sent chills through Elvin, who swallowed nervously. As the atmosphere grew tense, Hans cleared his throat.

“Regardless, it seems you should read the letter. The envoy insisted it’s an imperial decree, saying you don’t have to meet him, but to at least read the missive.”

“Quite desperate, aren’t they?”

Even the mention of the emperor’s personal letter failed to stir Eustace. He gestured lazily, levitating the parchment into the air as he read it with an indifferent gaze.

“What does it say?” Elvin asked curiously.

“Nothing of substance. What a waste of paper,” the Grand Duke remarked flatly, waving his hand dismissively.

Elvin, catching the letter as it floated toward him, quickly scanned it. It was indeed a perfunctory greeting, closer to a polite inquiry than anything else.

“Absolutely nothing worth noting,” Elvin agreed.

“So, what’s the envoy doing now?”

“He’s being hosted by the commander of the mage division. He won’t try anything foolish,” Hans assured.

“Good. Have Anseir handle all future envoys. They’ll keep coming, after all,” Eustace instructed.

Knowing the emperor’s cautious and paranoid nature, it was clear he would continue probing through emissaries. Yet with Anseir, a Fifth-Circle mage, acting as a gatekeeper, any envoy would undoubtedly leave empty-handed.

“Elvin, draft a reply for me,” Eustace ordered.

“Me?” Elvin frowned.

“Of course. Who else would do it?”

“Still, since it’s the emperor’s letter, wouldn’t it be better if Your Grace wrote the response yourself?”

Elvin scowled at his master, who seemed intent on creating more work for him despite being perfectly capable.

“Officially, I’m a patient. If I write the reply myself, they’ll suspect I’m not really ill.”

“Surely not. Writing a letter hardly requires full health,” Elvin argued.

“Then consider me a gravely ill patient. Too weak to hold a pen. Or you can try imitating my handwriting,” Eustace retorted.

Ah, I should just resign. Elvin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing the rising irritation that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Fine,” he sighed.

He trudged back to his desk, shoulders slumped. A secretary’s job was to do whatever the master required, no matter how unreasonable.

“Hans, when will the tailor arrive?” the Grand Duke asked, checking the time.

“The knights set out about an hour ago, so they should arrive shortly. They’ve taken measures to avoid drawing attention, which caused some delay,” Hans replied.

“I see. What about the tutor?”