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Chapter 12
The high-ranking officials tilted their heads back and forth as if they were about to faint, expressing their stifled frustration. Still, they couldn’t very well fly into a rage in front of the Governor.
Of course, Werner—who charged ahead without caring about consequences—had already received several warnings from the Governor and was now busy suppressing his turbulent emotions. At most, it showed on his face, flushed red and blue by turns.
Among them, one minister who had carefully chosen his words opened his mouth calmly.
“Your Excellency. Please reconsider. This truly isn’t right.”
“Deciding whether it is or isn’t right is my authority. Why is Sir Peter doing it instead?”
“This is unprecedented.”
“Again, ‘unprecedented’?”
“Yes. Even going out on an inspection is unprecedented enough, but to entrust the guidance to a citizen of the Kingdom—worse, a woman who secretly infiltrated the Governor’s office—this will truly become a long-standing laughingstock.”
“I understand. I’ll reconsider.”
At the firm, decisive tone, Hemel’s eyebrows twitched. The leaders in the conference room brightened, thinking the mad Governor had finally come to his senses. But not long after, the words that followed dragged them back to the dry, bleary-eyed state of office workers at two in the morning.
“I’ve reconsidered. There will be no reversal.”
“Your Excellency!”
“Colonel!”
“If there’s no precedent, then we’ll make one. Abandon your narrow thinking.”
Grumbling voices burst out, but Hemel had far more pressing matters to worry about than this.
A witch, the Roseatea princess who was surely alive somewhere, the Empire’s chaotic political situation, the lost status of the Crown Prince, and life as Pheron Edwin—none of them were trivial.
He intended to start with the easiest problem to solve: life as Pheron Edwin, Governor.
And now, a card well-suited to that task had fallen right into his hands.
Rogia. That woman happened to owe him her life, and after pulling off such a spectacle, she was perfect for public use.
Perhaps she might even become a key.
A key to stabilizing an angry, frightened vassal state.
If public opinion turned favorable toward the Governor’s office, acts of rebellion like the one at the speech ceremony would lose their force. Naturally, friction with Trahaput would lessen, and thus true occupation could be achieved.
“Your Excellency. Please, reconsider one more time.”
“I said there will be no reversal.”
Despite his ominous bearing, the leaders tried once more to dissuade him.
“Being entrusted with guiding the inspection could be taken as a sign that she has Your Excellency’s trust.”
“That is exactly what I want.”
“Why are you doing this…?”
Peter Chandalin muttered, nearly in tears, slumped over the desk. Knowing his concern stemmed from loyalty to the Empire, Hemel decided to offer a hint of an answer to his lament.
“They’ll only acknowledge the Empire as their ruler if we give them trust.”
“……”
“That’s how we eliminate armed clashes and rebellions like before.”
The damage the Imperial Army had suffered while suppressing the rebellion at the speech ceremony was far from small. Comrades who had been perfectly fine just the day before had sustained irreparable injuries. That was war.
Something to be avoided at all costs.
And so, knowing how to rule them effectively, Hemel intended to reign over the Roseatea Governor’s Office while avoiding conflict wherever possible—until he killed the Roseatea princess and reclaimed the Crown Prince’s position.
“If you look weak, they’ll only grow more reckless.”
Werner, who had listened in silence, finally spoke, barely restraining his temper.
“That’s just human nature. Treat them well and they’ll climb all over you!”
But Hemel couldn’t agree. Only a few would dare overstep—and even if they did, he could simply step on them again himself.
“If we were to engage in total war, who do you think would win?”
“Obviously, the Trahaput Empire.”
Fixing his gaze on Werner, who answered without a shred of doubt, Hemel’s blue eyes gleamed.
“Exactly. If they overstep, we punish them then.”
“……”
“What, exactly, are you all so afraid of?”
Outside, pitch-black darkness had fallen, but the Governor’s building and grounds blazed with light even in the dead of night, thanks to the expensive lamps mounted everywhere.
The sun that never sets.
That was their homeland—the Trahaput Empire.
“Mercy is a privilege reserved for the strong.”
Hemel slowly met the eyes of each leader seated at the table. After sweeping his gaze across them all, his eyes drifted away as he leaned back against his chair.
“So bring that woman here at first light.”
Late at night, Vivian left the Pontigne night tavern and returned to her paint shop.
She had bought the old cabin she used to live in, but she rarely went there—partly because of memories she couldn’t forget, and partly because she had carved out a small space to rest within the cramped shop.
After unlocking the door and entering, she collapsed onto the old bed. The creaking sound it made wasn’t pleasant to hear.
Staring blankly at the ceiling for a while, Vivian got up and opened the tube case. A repeatedly folded piece of paper lay scattered at the bottom of the black case.
[Do not engage in dangerous and reckless solo actions like this again.]
It was the opening line of a note written in small, tightly packed letters.
Vivian’s golden eyes moved quickly as she read on. In short, the message said:
[The real Lieutenant Colonel Pheron Edwin is dead—Tabe confirmed it again by returning to the scene. Therefore, the current Governor is definitely an impostor. For now, he is taking a friendly stance toward the Kingdom, but he could change at any time, so identify his true nature.]
Pheron Edwin—or rather, the man pretending to be Pheron Edwin while hiding in the Governor’s Office—seemed like a fairly rational person.
Whatever he had originally intended to say at the speech ceremony, compared to the former Governor who had shown open contempt for the Kingdom, this man’s address was, from start to finish, relatively moderate—for an Imperial, at least.
Still, sparing someone who had secretly infiltrated the Governor’s office went beyond the bounds of moderation. It was practically an admission that he intended to use Vivian properly.
Even what he had said after gathering everyone at the execution grounds—nicely packaged as it was—boiled down to one thing: don’t get out of line.
Vivian agreed that she needed to be wary of when he might suddenly change. But telling her to identify him when he was surely already watching her in return felt impossible. She let out a scream-like sigh and tugged at her hair.
And if you stripped away the lengthy final paragraph, it said this:
[Vivian Roseatea. You are the only surviving member of the Roseatea royal family. Because of the myth that the Kingdom of Roseatea possessed a special power, no one else can inherit it and rebuild the kingdom. The identity of Roseatea exists only through the Roseatea family. Always act with the weight of your life in mind.]
The Kingdom’s myth. Long, long ago, the Roseatea family possessed a mysterious power, one that grew stronger whenever they underwent “change.” The Kingdom of Roseatea had been built to venerate those who could “change,” and without a Roseatea, the kingdom itself lost its meaning.
One might scoff at such a myth—but “change” was a long-standing trait of the Roseatea royal line, one Vivian herself possessed.
As if to prove the myth, weren’t there even ghost stories about a witch who bore a grudge against Roseatea?
So in the end, the conclusion was this:
[You know this already, but your identity must never be revealed. If they learn you’re alive, they’ll come after you in a frenzy to kill you.]
Never let her identity be discovered.
Vivian lay there, venting her frustration on the poor blanket. After being kicked around, it settled back over her body.
‘What am I supposed to do, Captain…?’
After already causing such a major incident, if that man decided to change his mind and kill her, she’d be dragged off and die just like that. She had to uncover his identity, yet hide her own.
Was there a more awkward order than this?
Even if she somehow managed to conceal the fact that she was Roseatea royalty, one slip and her membership in the Rote Council would be exposed.
“What do you expect me to do…?”
Death would come in an instant, and if every path led to the same end, hiding her identity would be meaningless.
She’d been given a critical mission, with far too much riding on it. Her life was the future of the Kingdom of Roseatea. The pressure tightened around her throat.
In the end, Vivian couldn’t sleep.
After tossing and turning all night, she finally rose and stumbled out, clutching her throbbing head. Slanted sunlight was slowly filling the interior of the shop.
The moment she raised the blinds to signal an early opening, Vivian froze. Two Imperial soldiers were leaning against the front of her shop.
One male soldier and one female soldier straightened when they spotted the shop’s owner. As Vivian met their gazes, she was struck with alarm once more. It felt like her hair was standing on end.
“Just a moment…”
When she asked them to wait through the crack in the door, the female soldier smiled and waved her hand.
It probably meant it was fine and that she should take her time. She desperately hoped so.
But the gesture looked more like a threat to hurry up, and her hand fumbled again and again at the lock.
‘Should I just run out the back?’
But there was no way they’d allow that. A sense of foreboding surged. No optimist alive could see this situation positively.
At last, with a clack, the lock came undone.
Two pairs of military boots thudded heavily across the threshold of the creaking door.
The woman standing before the silent Vivian was still smiling brightly, yet for some reason that smile felt like the calm before a storm.
“Miss Rogia?”
