#75
The feeling of senses expanding. Light came in more clearly, sounds became sharper. The feeling that something inside me was awakening. That sensation was very brief but definite, organizing my mind.
“They’ll move around now.”
Someone, or something. The half-demons’ internal movements. Recent mana reactions. They were moving in invisible ways, and I also had to follow them. Even if not head-on, I at least had to read the flow.
I carefully opened the secret notebook I had hidden in a corner of the room.
That notebook was my only personal domain. I had never shown it to anyone, and it was magically sealed in a form that no one else could see. I had been gathering fragments of information obtained over the past few days here.
Last night, a clue obtained through a note that Sercil accidentally dropped.
It fell as if by chance, but it was too exquisite. Sercil wasn’t a careless person. Considering his usual self, such mistakes were rare. That meant this might not have been a mistake.
It simply had merchant company information written on it, but I was troubled because that name was problematic.
The information itself was ordinary. Logistics routes, company rosters, validity dates for entry permits. But one name made me reconstruct every sentence.
‘Belhar Trading Company.’
I pondered for a long time after seeing that name. My first reaction was familiarity. And my second reaction was displeasure. Finally… intuition. This name wasn’t simply the name of a merchant organization. This was—a connection point.
It was the name of a trading company connected to the half-demons.
I had been expecting that the half-demons would move this trading company.
It was an item I had considered within the realm of possibility from the beginning. Belhar Trading Company’s logistics movement routes were strange, and it left traces in each major city of the empire at regular intervals. Their official trading partners were ordinary noble families, but their behind-the-scenes routes were always vague.
Though it was earlier than in the original work.
Clearly a crack had occurred somewhere. Or perhaps someone had moved the clock forward. The fact that Belhar Trading Company was moving at this point meant intentional intervention, not simple logistics delivery. The ballroom, dawn delivery, and the company’s revisit. All conditions were suspicious.
However.
There was one emotion that was cut off here. Suspicion. And—anxiety.
‘Sercil shouldn’t have any connection with half-demons right now. How did he come to have such a note?’
That was strange. Sercil shouldn’t have had any contact with half-demons. The moment his identity was revealed, half-demons would react even more sensitively, and until then, not touching Sercil was ‘their’ way. Yet he had a note with this name written on it.
Was it really a mistake?
Or perhaps it was information he received from someone?
Looking at the information that the trading company would revisit the ballroom for a special dawn delivery today, I put on my robe.
Slowly. My movements were calm, but my fingertips moved quickly. I adjusted the waist cord, folded the hood of the cloak, and inserted a small dagger inside my shoe. Attack wasn’t in the plan, but I had to prepare to defend myself at least.
This needed to be confirmed.
Suspicion becomes poison when it accumulates, and confirmation becomes meaningless if you miss the timing. At this moment, only seeing with my own eyes could give me certainty.
But before I could even leave the room, the door opened.
A sudden presence. Small footsteps were heard from the corridor side, and the door opened very carefully, yet urgently. Movement that showed both caution and urgency simultaneously. It was Sercil’s characteristic clumsy courtesy.
“…Fairy-nim?”
His voice was low with surprise. The hand that was about to cover myself with the robe stopped. I turned around naturally. And I looked at Sercil entering the room.
That flustered look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong, is something the matter?”
When I tilted my head and asked, Sercil awkwardly hesitated and shook his head. Then he asked.
“Your Highness, where are you going?”
There was suppressed surprise at the end of his words. It wasn’t simple curiosity, but a reaction mixed with slight fear and confusion. The moment he saw that I was about to leave the room now, Sercil reacted immediately.
It seemed he had rushed over urgently without even properly arranging his hair. In his hands, he was even holding a coat that seemed hastily grabbed from somewhere.
That coat wasn’t mine. Instead, it was a color I liked and thin wool suitable for the season. Such thoughtfulness almost softened my heart for a moment.
“I was going for a walk. I’m getting restless from staying still.”
I let my words flow as naturally as possible. It was a lie, but it was so plausible that I didn’t put any emotion into it. But Sercil couldn’t easily accept such words. He rather took another step closer.
“At this dawn? No. Your Highness, you haven’t fully recovered yet.”
While speaking, his expression twisted with worry. It was the face of someone who didn’t want to lose someone. I looked at that expression for a moment. And suddenly a bit of mischief crossed my mind.
“Fairy-nim. That place is dangerous.”
Words thrown quietly, in a low voice. It wasn’t sincere, but it wasn’t meaningless either. I wanted to see how Sercil would react.
Sercil’s eyes widened at those words and he stepped back.
Exactly the reaction I expected. For a moment, his eyes wavered. His body unconsciously shrank. A person who reflexively creates distance at the mention of danger.
“I’m, I’m sorry. I just…”
His voice became small at those words. He couldn’t give a reason. He seemed unable to find the exact words for why he had run here, even to himself. That was more honest, and therefore more helpless.
“It’s okay. I was joking.”
I quietly raised my hand and stroked his hair. Lightly, softly. The contact area was small, but the intention was clear. This could look like comfort, or it could feel like a farewell greeting.
I lightly stroked down Sercil’s hair and whispered.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Those words were short but firm. A tone that said not to doubt. A voice that hid apology and covered it with affection. It was the manner of speaking of an affectionate person, but there was definitely a boundary line within it.
And before Sercil could catch me, I quickly closed the door and disappeared.
* * *
At the same time, in the security area of the Crown Prince’s separate palace.
Night was already passing, but dawn hadn’t completely come either. An ambiguous time. The guards moved their bodies to fight off drowsiness, and as shift change time approached, their surveillance also naturally became lax. However, Skyle seemed like someone unrelated to such flow.
Skyle was inspecting his sword.
He lifted the blade with refined movements as always. The sword quietly drawn from its sheath faintly sparkled while holding the dawn light, and that reflected light shallowly lingered in his pupils.
He didn’t use his sword often, but it wasn’t because he couldn’t use it.
For him, the sword was a comfortable existence.
Always the same weight, same response. The sword didn’t change. Even when emotions wavered, even when judgment was disturbed, the blade was there. So whenever he polished his sword, he could organize his mind. However—
But today, the sword’s weight felt different.
The weight familiar to his hand. That sensation that hadn’t changed even after holding it for years felt somehow strange today. Very slightly. But definitely different.
There was only one reason.
‘He’s going alone again.’
The hand holding the sword paused briefly. Those words had been repeating in his mind for longer than he thought. Prince Ersen. His actions always began quietly, without saying anything. And most of the time, it was before he noticed.
Skyle lowered his eyes coolly.
His pupils settled low as if cutting through darkness, and his gaze lingered on the sword tip. Complex thoughts had to be organized through actions, not words. The calmer he appeared, the more violently things moved inside him.
A little while ago, Skyle had discovered medicine he had never given in Ersen’s room.
That room was neat as usual. The window was open, and lingering traces remained. Every time the curtains swayed, signs that someone had left the room followed. It was strange. And—on the table was a half-empty bottle.
That bottle was in an unfamiliar form. He carefully opened the medicine bottle’s cap. The scent was herbs. But at the very bottom, the metallic aftertaste that brushed by very faintly. It wasn’t a commonly used healing medicine.
And feeling something strange, he examined it and realized it too late.
The bottle’s weight, the scent’s residue, the bottle’s temperature. He quickly synthesized such things. And unconsciously narrowed his eyes. It was familiar. To be precise, it was a sensation he couldn’t help but become familiar with.
That this was a forbidden potion made by half-demons.
‘Water of Awareness.’
It was a drug that temporarily amplified mana sensitivity. The effects were excellent, but it extremely disturbed emotions. Most of all, if there were problems with mana circuits, it could leave fatal side effects.
‘Are there no problems with your mana, Your Highness?’
I had thought there might be mana-related issues.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
