The woman clutched her belly tightly and stepped back. A small window creaked open, and she turned toward it with a hopeful start.

“Help me! I’m really not with the protesters!”

But the window slammed shut in clear rejection, and the woman looked around with desperate eyes.

Aira lowered her gaze. She couldn’t draw attention to herself. Her name was already in newspaper headlines—getting noticed would only make things worse.

“Ugh.”

The woman crouched down, curling around her belly in tension and anxiety. The men in investigator uniforms sneered as they reached out to grab her.

They had been dispatched to disperse the protesters, but the crowd was larger and more aggressive than expected. So they were trying to meet their quota by targeting lower-class residents in these alleys, labeling them as protesters.

Republic thugs or Imperial thugs—no difference.

Thunk.

“What was that?”

One investigator felt something hit the back of his head and spotted a crumpled cup rolling away.

Looking in the direction it came from, he saw a shadow flicker. Both investigators drew their guns and slowly approached.

At that moment—BANG! From the darkness of the alley, a metal garbage can lid came flying.

The round lid hit one investigator’s forehead like a discus, then spun around to strike the other’s shoulder.

While the investigators were disoriented by this mysterious attack, a small-framed woman slipped smoothly between them and pulled up the woman curled on the ground clutching her belly.

“Run.”

“What?”

Aira dragged the confused woman into a side alley that branched like a spider’s web, then turned left into another one.

Harsh curses followed as the investigators finally regained their senses and gave chase. Aira pulled on a door she had already picked out.

The unlocked door opened easily. A middle-aged man with a bushy yellow beard, presumably the homeowner, stood with his pregnant wife, looking at them with slight awkwardness.

Hesitation still showed on his face.

But this was the only house where someone had watched through a window that hadn’t been completely closed when the investigators threatened the pregnant woman in the alley.

The couple clearly sympathized with the endangered pregnant woman. But they had only watched, finding it difficult to defy the investigators who held absolute power and weapons.

Understanding this, Aira quickly pushed the pregnant woman inside.

“Please help her. I’ll lead them away.”

The couple hesitated but gestured for Aira to come in too. She shook her head, deliberately knocking over brooms and trash cans scattered throughout the alley as she ran in another direction.

Screech!

Whistle sounds that seemed to scrape the inside of her ears spread in all directions. Investigators who had been waiting for the signal to suppress the protesters tightened their net, following the whistles.

Aira felt somewhat troubled. Dealing with them wouldn’t be difficult. But if she killed them, or even just injured them, it would cause an uproar.

They would say the Imperial Princess had finally shown her true colors.

Running to avoid being surrounded, she somehow returned to her starting point. If she went out to the brightly lit street ahead, her face might be exposed.

The piercing whistle sounds still came from the small alley on the right.

So, left?

Just as she made that decision and was about to dash in, Aira hesitated.

She felt a chilling presence.

She knew it wasn’t rational thinking. But some animal instinct warned her—better to face the whistles than go that way.

Finally, Aira ran toward the light, toward the main street. Perhaps she could hide among the protesters…

“Ah!”

Despite the combat skills she had honed during the last year before her death and her four years at the naval academy, Aira was caught off guard when her wrist was suddenly grabbed. Her body was lifted and thrown somewhere.

Soft.

“?”

Was it because the suddenly bright street had bleached her vision white? The first overwhelming sensation was fragrance.

The vibrant scent of roses, the warm fragrance of lilies, the fresh aroma of freesias—the intense perfumes of cultivated flowers enveloped her from all directions, overwhelming her senses.

As she waved her hand to clear her head, beyond the showy flowers competing for the queen’s position, the subtle fragrances of smaller decorative plants burst forth in tiny bubbles, blocking her path.

Baby’s breath, eucalyptus, pinks, carnations. She felt buried in a mountain of flowers.

Flowers?

“I’ll buy everything.”

Above Aira’s head, still dazed by the explosion of fragrances, came a man’s voice—reminiscent of the peaceful scent of an oak forest, or waves rising from an ocean made of trees.

Why? Why now?

“Would you please move over there?”

With the man’s polite request, the elderly flower seller, who had received enough money to buy not just the flowers but the entire cart, nodded in bewilderment.

* * *

Jens, who had come out to the streets after reading the newspaper article, couldn’t hide his complicated feelings as he watched the protesters burning sugarcane.

He had investigated through several channels, but the situation was frustrating.

Even if the farmers took the case to court, there was no clear evidence to defend them for something that happened 200 years ago. Meanwhile, the government had the advantage since the process of integrating royal lands into state property had been legitimate.

Moreover, while it was circumstantially obvious that the government had started the fire, it was being treated as a mere rumor. The farmers had to bear the full brunt of the fire damage.

“What to do.”

Standing in the middle of the market that lined the protesters’ route, a well-dressed gentleman who looked out of place with his top hat pulled low muttered to himself with folded arms, drawing glances from nearby merchants.

Considering various approaches, Jens turned around with a headache after observing the protest leaders.

“Oh my!”

“Ah, I apologize.”

As Jens turned, he nearly collided with a cart.

The old man pulling the flower cart removed his wrinkled beret and kept nodding his head.

From the unwrinkled frock coat to the neatly polished shoes and the gleaming golden watch chain—he feared offending this immaculately dressed gentleman.

A girl holding a flower basket, apparently selling flowers with the old man, also bowed her head. She seemed to be his granddaughter.

Jens waved his hand to tell them not to worry, when his eyes suddenly caught the old man’s flower cart.

The cart was filled with roses, lilies, and freesias, but the purple irises with their sword-like leaves particularly caught his attention.

‘That was the Imperial Princess’s emblem, wasn’t it?’

With its sword-like decisiveness and purple nobility.

In many ways, a fitting emblem for the princess.

But beyond that.

Jens glanced at the flower basket the granddaughter was holding. It was filled with purple sage flowers, seemingly picked by the girl’s small hands.

Jens found himself smiling involuntarily. That modest, delicate flower suited her better. Plus, sage was practical.

The princess would be about this age now.

Even the flower-selling girl reminded him of her. The yellow hair somehow evoked her image.

‘No, not just yellow hair, but more…’

While Jens stood blankly blocking their way, leaving the two people unsure whether to proceed, a woman in a brown skirt with a bucket hat pulled low disappeared into an alley behind them.

Even in that brief moment, he caught a glimpse of short ivory-colored hair with a white tinge, barely visible under the hat.

Why did that color catch his eye when only the edges were visible beneath the hat?

But then.

“…?”

There was a shadow following the woman in her utterly ordinary outfit.

Without thinking, Jens went around the flower cart and stood in front of the alley where the woman had disappeared.

The woman must have spoken quietly, but the narrow alley reflected the sound. He heard something about a favor and leading someone away.

Added to that were the voices of investigators squawking about finding a pregnant woman and a woman in a hat.

One shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but this was all too common. It was well known that Oculer’s investigators were blinded by the desire to meet quotas.

The shrill whistle sounds in the alley grew louder. They seemed to be driving the woman toward this alley.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

“Pardon?”

Jens pulled the flower cart from the old man who was still awkwardly lingering nearby and positioned it.

As expected, a small shadow appeared in the distance, hesitated, then looked alternately right and left.

Not that way, brave young lady.

Those who step forward at their own expense deserve respect. Just as Jens was about to take a step to call her—

The woman ran into his arms with pattering steps.

Jens grabbed her wrist to avoid the eyes of the investigators glaring at the protesters and tossed her into the flower cart.

“I’ll buy everything.”