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Chapter 42
Gold thread.
It referred to thread made by mixing roughly 75% pure gold with other metals.
The resulting gold thread was widely used in embroidery, accessories, artworks, and luxury goods for nobles. Among those items was something called a “rope tieback.”
As the word “rope” implied, it was twisted together into a cord-like shape, commonly used in noble or wealthy households to gather and secure curtains.
Or, sometimes, to restrain a runaway bride-to-be.
Which meant that the golden rope tightly binding both Bellaxina and the chair she sat on could itself be considered a small piece of “gold.”
“System, this golden rope is made of gold too, right? Can it be traded?”
[Let me check.]
The System analyzed the golden cords restraining Bellaxina.
[Hmm… not sure. It’s not made purely from gold thread. Looks like there’s ordinary thread mixed in too…]
“I figured as much.”
Bellaxina wasn’t surprised.
She had never expected this impoverished territory to make something as trivial as curtain tiebacks entirely out of gold thread in the first place.
“So it’s still possible, then.”
[Yeah. Normally, when trading gold, the rule is that it has to be directly absorbed into the grimoire. But if I receive it personally, it’ll probably still count as a deposit. Though the gold content is so low you won’t get much.]
She expected that too.
But what mattered here wasn’t how much gold she would receive in exchange for the rope. The important thing was that by offering a gold object to the grimoire, she could make the golden restraints binding her disappear.
[Want to deposit it now?]
“No. Not yet. If Avalkin comes back in two hours and sees I’ve already freed myself, he’ll get suspicious. There’ll be a perfect moment to escape.”
[You’re still planning to run away?]
“Of course.”
Bellaxina snorted.
“I can’t marry some lunatic who locks people up, ties them down, confiscates all their belongings, and even controls when they use the bathroom.”
[That’s… yeah. You’re right.]
This time, even the System took Bellaxina’s side.
Probably because there was a high chance he had stolen the grimoire, but still.
[But can you really pull it off? Security’s way tighter than usual.]
“That’s true…”
Realistically speaking, the odds were slim.
Freeing herself from the restraints had been solved, but there was still opening the locked door, recovering the grimoire somehow, escaping Yeshken, and everything after that.
Not a single step in the process could be guaranteed to succeed.
But still—
“I can’t give up.”
Bellaxina steeled her resolve.
No matter what, she was going to escape.
* * *
The imperial capital of the Kalhorn Empire. Rikresa.
The young emperor, Rudiger von Kalhorn, was once again practicing swordsmanship as usual today.
No—calling it “practice” was merely a polite expression.
This man, blessed with dazzling golden hair, handsome features, noble birth, and extraordinary luck, had risen to stand above all others.
A man with nothing to fear and nothing to envy, even if the whole world stood against him at once.
At this very moment, that man was venting his fury by cutting down his own subjects with a sword.
“Ggh…!”
“Your skills are pathetic.”
Rudiger spoke in a voice dripping with irritation, coldness, and cruelty.
The middle-aged knight commander, who had devoted his entire life to the Empire, had his left arm severed, yet dared not cry out in pain before His Majesty the Emperor.
“Your Majesty’s martial prowess is so overwhelming that I can only feel awe and joy.”
“No. You’re all simply disgustingly weak.”
Rudiger drained the champagne from the crystal glass a servant offered him.
Behind him lay countless knights collapsed in miserable heaps—more than enough to justify the word “all.”
Looking down at the fallen knights with contempt gleaming in his jade-colored eyes, Rudiger spoke.
“Leave.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
As soon as everyone disappeared, servants hurriedly emerged to clean the blood-soaked training grounds.
During the reign of the previous emperor, such horrifying scenes had never occurred even once, but by now, the palace staff had become somewhat accustomed to them.
Clap clap clap!
“You were so magnificent, Your Majesty!”
The irritation twisting Rudiger’s face eased slightly.
Irisril Secreta de Niro.
A beautiful woman with pale platinum-blonde hair that looked ready to scatter away at any moment and round green eyes filled with innocence.
She was Rudiger’s beloved fiancée and future empress.
At the same time, she was also Bellaxina’s sworn enemy.
“If I’d known you were watching, I would’ve shown even greater valor.”
With a gentle smile, Rudiger approached Irisril and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her round ear.
At the loving touch, Irisril gazed up at him with entranced eyes, and Rudiger laughed as if she were impossible to resist.
“You like me too much. That’s your biggest problem. Once you become empress, you’ll have other duties to worry about too.”
“I know. But I’m not empress yet, am I?”
Irisril stuck out her tongue cutely as she spoke, but hidden beneath those words was a completely different intention.
A demand.
Pressure.
For a brief instant, Rudiger’s expression darkened, and he ground his teeth.
“You’re far too innocent, Irisril. This is a truly serious matter. I still can’t believe you aren’t the empress of this nation yet. What kind of emperor can’t even marry the woman carrying his child…?”
“Please don’t say such things, Your Majesty!”
Tears welled in Irisril’s eyes as she hurriedly insisted she had never intended to make him think such thoughts, and Rudiger spent some time comforting her.
It was such a routine occurrence that even the servants were tired of it.
The next step, naturally, would have been for the two impossibly beautiful people to share a kiss and deepen their resentment toward the political forces that had dared oppose Irisril’s coronation as empress.
But today was different.
“Urgent news, Your Majesty.”
Just as their lips were about to meet, the imperial chamberlain quietly approached and spoke.
“Urgent news?”
Rudiger looked deeply displeased at having the rare moment interrupted.
Whatever the message contained, he had already prepared himself to roar, “You call this urgent?!”
But when he actually received the report—
“This… is this true?”
He became so shaken that he forgot entirely what he had been about to do moments earlier.
Stamped upon the urgent message was a red carnation placed before a grave.
The emblem of the Empire’s greatest merchant guild.
The Carnation Merchant Union.
“Are you certain this information is accurate?!”
Rudiger seized the chamberlain by the collar and snarled like a ferocious beast.
His aura was so terrifying that even the chamberlain—long accustomed to serving beside the unstable and violent emperor—collapsed weakly to the floor.
“What’s wrong, Your Majesty?”
“Be quiet, Irisril. This does not concern you.”
At Rudiger’s cold and dismissive tone, Irisril bit her lip.
Rudiger adored her nearly every waking moment—cherished her, loved her, doted on her, even knelt before her and praised her like a goddess.
And yet, not once had Irisril ever believed she was truly his top priority.
Whenever circumstances became urgent, or whenever Rudiger focused on something he considered important, she was always pushed aside.
Rudiger radiated the oppressive aura unique to an emperor, spreading terror around him like a raging beast.
Every servant in the area collapsed trembling in fear.
And then, at the exact moment when all living things seemed to shake in terror—
“It is true, Your Majesty.”
A man appeared, cutting straight through the emperor’s overwhelming pressure as though it were nothing.
“Ashford.”
“This insignificant ash greets the sun of the Empire.”
The man’s name was Ashford Gray.
With ash-gray hair devoid of all light and sharp aqua-blue eyes, he was one of the Empire’s prince-electors, a branch member of the imperial family, and the only living grand duke in existence.
Yet more important than any of those grand titles was this:
Ashford was Rudiger’s greatest supporter, advisor, and strategist. He stood at the head of all central nobles based in Rikresa and currently controlled nearly all imperial appointments within the palace.
And that meant—
“Ashford.”
“Lady Irisril.”
Compared to Irisril, who could only survive by borrowing the emperor’s authority, Ashford was inevitably destined to clash with her.
Holding the urgent report in hand, Rudiger pressed Ashford aggressively.
“Ashford. Did you verify it yourself? Are you absolutely certain?”
Ashford bowed deeply, looking profoundly apologetic as he answered.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I confirmed it personally. The contents of the report are accurate.”
Rudiger’s lips began to tremble.
Soon, his fists trembled as well.
He himself didn’t understand exactly what emotion was making him this agitated.
Shock, betrayal, curses, hatred—
and at the same time, a learned fear.
Yet one thing was certain.
If the indescribable emotion Rudiger felt had to be categorized among the four basic emotions—
it undoubtedly belonged to anger.
