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Chapter 65
Flutter—!
With a gust of wind, Cookie swooped down gracefully and landed right on Lucillea’s index finger with a tap!
Clutching her finger gently with his tiny claws, Cookie dropped the letter he had been carrying in his beak onto the floor with a plop.
Oh! You did it!
[Of course I did! Who do you think I am? Coo! Kie! Cookie! Not just any cookie—Cookie Choco’s Cookie!]
As though flaunting his achievement, Cookie puffed out his fluffy chest and tilted his beak high with pride.
[Do you think some pigeon that just does what it’s told could ever beat me?! Cookie thinks for himself, judges for himself, and acts on his own—I’m a genius parrot, you know!]
With his beak high and haughty, Cookie flapped his wings a little, chattering on proudly about how he had bitten, pinched, and pecked that pigeon half to death.
Well done, well done!
Lucillea extended her other hand with a sharp snap!
Cookie instantly spread his wings and plopped down onto her palm as if he’d been waiting for it.
[Yeeeeeahhh!]
At his triumphant cry, Lucillea burst into laughter.
Cookie, thrilled by his success, bounced excitedly and chattered away.
[Hurry up and open it! I’m dying to know what it says!]
“Mm-hm!”
Lucillea quickly unrolled the letter.
“……”
“……”
Both fell silent.
Cookie cocked his head this way and that.
[What on earth language is that supposed to be?]
“I don’t know… looks like some kind of code.”
Indeed, the letter was filled with indecipherable scrawls.
It looked like wriggling worms dancing across the page, or like some drunken painter had splattered random brushstrokes.
Lucillea flipped it over, turned it around, even spun it in circles…
“I don’t get it at all!”
There was no way that magician had sent out a carrier pigeon at midnight just for fun.
Feeling a little deflated, Lucillea rolled the letter back up.
[So what now?!]
“What else? Since I can’t read it, I’ll have to take it to His Grace the Grand Duke.”
[And you’re gonna say you stole the letter that the imperial magician sent out by pigeon?]
Lucillea smiled sweetly.
“Stole? Cookie, your beak may be tiny, but you should speak properly. I didn’t steal it. I just intercepted it in case it was suspicious. That’s all I have to say.”
[That’s the same thing!]
“It’s different. I didn’t know it was from the imperial magician. And besides—it is suspicious, isn’t it? As the one tasked with guarding His Grace, of course I should be suspicious and check it!”
Cookie muttered under his breath.
[Talker of the year…]
“What was that?!”
[N-Nothing! Hurry up and go inside!]
“Shall I?!”
Lucillea answered firmly and got to her feet.
She strode straight out of the balcony and back into the banquet hall.
The lavish music and laughter of nobles washed over her once again. She pushed through the crowd, looking for Elbadin.
But his overwhelming presence was nowhere to be seen.
Where did he go?
Lucillea turned to Irnel.
“Sis, do you know where His Grace is?”
Irnel shook her head.
“He hasn’t been around for a while. Maybe His Majesty called him away.”
“Then what about Serdian?”
At her question, Irnel’s eyes shifted toward a corner of the hall.
“Over there.”
Lucillea followed her gaze and spotted Serdian.
But beside him was a stranger.
“What’s that about?”
“What do you mean what’s that?! That’s His Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Oh…”
No wonder his hair gleamed like that.
But…
Wait. What kind of person was the Crown Prince in the original story again?
He definitely wasn’t a second male lead…
Maybe he leaned more toward the villain side?
Strangely enough, Lucillea couldn’t recall much about the Crown Prince’s role.
Well, I guess he wasn’t that important.
Or maybe he just died early like she was supposed to.
Lucillea quietly touched the hidden letter in her sleeve and stood by Irnel.
Oh well.
I’ll just deliver it later.
***
A secluded garden, away from the banquet.
The music was faint here, while Elbadin and Anasis faced each other beneath the cold moonlight.
Though they were of the same blood, a chill thicker than blood itself hung between them.
Anasis broke the silence first.
Through the black veil, her eyes gazed longingly at her younger brother.
“It’s been a long time, Elbadin.”
“……”
Elbadin only stared at her, his eyes a fortress that betrayed no emotion.
His silence weighed heavier than words.
At his cold, unfeeling gaze, Anasis smiled faintly.
“I didn’t expect you to bring Serdian to this banquet. I thought that child—”
“Marchioness of Belgar.”
“……”
Elbadin cut her off, his voice frigid.
“I did not come here to meet my sister.”
“Elbadin…”
Her voice trembled slightly as she called him, but his tone grew only colder.
“If you cannot show proper respect, then this conversation ends here.”
“……”
At his warning, the yearning expression on her face shattered like a mask.
Anasis tilted her head with a scornful little laugh, arrogance flooding back in.
“…Fine. Respect? I can give you that, Grand Duke.”
Her voice dropped cold as she asked:
“To declare Serdian as the heir of House Decarte… are you in your right mind, Your Grace?”
Elbadin replied with his usual impassive face.
“That is the business of House Decarte. Not something for the Marchioness of Belgar to interfere in.”
Ha! At his blunt answer, Anasis gave a bitter laugh.
Her composure cracked.
“Not my concern…? Did you just tell me not to meddle in Decarte’s affairs?!”
Unable to contain herself, she struck her chest with her palm, her voice rising.
“I am! I am Decarte too!”
“……”
“You’re about to hand the house over to someone with no drop of our blood! How could I stand by?!”
Yet Elbadin only looked at her as though baffled.
“Who?”
“…What?”
“I asked, who is Decarte?”
“Elbadin, are you saying—”
“Anasis.”
He stepped forward. His shadow engulfed her completely—darker even than her black gown.
“After defying my authority as head and repeatedly sowing disorder in the Grand Duke’s house… can you truly call yourself a Decarte?”
“……”
“Don’t fool yourself into thinking I was ignorant of your schemes.”
His voice was quiet and slow, but its weight crushed her.
“E-Elbadin…!”
“If you had truly thought of yourself as Decarte—if you had truly valued the dignity and honor of this house—you never would have done such things.”
Looking down at her, Elbadin delivered his final verdict.
“Therefore, you are not Decarte.”
“……!”
What emotion flickered in her eyes behind the veil was unknowable.
But her lips, visible below it, trembled faintly.
“This is your last warning. Do not interfere in Decarte affairs again.”
“……”
With that, Elbadin turned his back coldly and walked away.
Watching his imposing figure retreat, Anasis clenched her teeth and twisted her red lips.
But Elbadin… even if the true one appears, will you really be able to protect Serdian?
Soon, Elbadin was gone.
Anasis, swallowing her fury, whispered into the darkness:
“Come out.”
From the shadow behind her, a man emerged soundlessly—the same magician Lucillea had run into earlier, with his blood-red hair tied back and a dark cloak.
He bowed his head.
“Give the order.”
Still staring in the direction Elbadin had left, Anasis spoke in a weighted voice:
“Tell them—the time has come for the Crown of Cepheus to reclaim its place, Latavis.”
Latavis bowed deeply.
“Yes, Marchioness.”
