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CHAPTER 22
According to Imperial law, anyone who steals another’s business idea for profit is guilty of a capital offense. Even if the person in question is already a criminal, unless they have legally transferred the business to someone else or officially relinquished it, their work and documents are completely erased upon their death.
“Emin, is it possible to bring Marquess Dolak Taksiden over to our side?”
“It’s nearly impossible,” Emin replied, shaking her head in disbelief. She sighed, took a cookie from the tray, and made a sharp crunch as she chewed.
“Honestly, Riri—saying something like that as soon as you step into my palace again—I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
I avoided her gaze, uncomfortable.
“You’re the only person I can discuss this with. If it’s awkward, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that.”
Her cheeks tinged red. She seemed glad to be the only one I trusted.
Still, her brows furrowed uneasily.
“After all, a magical‑stone substitute is supposed to replace a pure Mana Stone—but a substitute for Mana Stone? It doesn’t strike me as reliable.”
Two years ago—before my return, when I was sixteen—most nobles, including myself, thought the same.
Mana Stone—a magically concentrated cluster of Mana floating in the air—was extremely powerful. Yet very rare. Three centuries ago, Emperor Bül of Caliburg commanded mage and alchemist squads to:
“[Research Mana Stone: anyone who can reconstruct its formation principle, molecular structure, and form shall be rewarded!]”
From that, Magic Stone was born—a product crafted over 254 years by Imperial mage and alchemist forces.
That formula is exactly what the Mage Tower seeks. When Taksiden plotted with the Tower, it was to steal the secret of manufacturing Mana Stone. The Tower escaped before blame fell—but now the Taksiden family holds research on a Mana Stone substitute, actually more like an Orichalcum substitute, extremely valuable.
I must get that document, no matter what—even if it means crossing the Tower.
There’s only one option left.
“Emin, don’t you have the right to access the Imperial underground prison?”
“I wouldn’t go in myself, sis.”
“Why?”
“This isn’t for a child. Tortured criminals in unspeakable condition abound. I heard some have arms cut off, wrapped in bandages—and they cry daily for mercy.”
“But Taksiden is in the First Detention Block, right? That’s for prisoners not yet fully tried. Even I should be fine going in there…?”
Emin’s brow creased sharply.
“It’s not that. The problem is I don’t have exclusive access.”
I cocked my head. She sighed and explained.
“I oversee Blocks 2 and 4 only. Block 1 and 3 are under… Dmitri’s authority.”
My heart sank.
Prince Dmitri is Evgenia’s eldest brother—a man willing to confront death, even bind death itself, to protect her. And he had authority over the very section where Taksiden is imprisoned.
Time is running out.
I rose abruptly; Emin hurried to stop me, grasping my hand.
“I won’t do anything you’d truly worry about.”
“But you know that’s not what I fear. Dmitri is not someone who gives in lightly. If you move too hastily, both you and Taksiden could end up legally implicated. Don’t you think it’d be better to ask His Majesty for rights again, instead of sneaking in?”
“I won’t.”
I shook my head resolutely.
I’d already prepared my challenge to the Emperor. To announce I could solve this—and then back down? That would show weakness.
He despised people who caused problems but shirked responsibility.
“I’m determined not to be seen that way.”
I lifted my chin, locking eyes with Emin.
“If push comes to shove, I’ll have to sneak into the First Block. There’s no time. I’ll go now.”
Breaking free, I swiftly departed for the First Prince’s palace—where the silver‑tiger‑branded child resided.
Before I went…
“I need to prepare notice first.”
Unlike the Emperor, Prince Dmitri is very formal. Even though I’ve established a rapport with His Majesty, Dmitri would instantly stiffen with disdain if I arrived unannounced.
I rushed back to my palace, called for a letter.
It was Mullin, not Ilia, who brought the pen and stationery.
“Where’s Ilia?”
“She was called away by the head maid to fulfill her duties.”
Typical. Ilia was always me moving pawns gently. Mullin—far less reliable.
I sighed quietly.
I handed Mullin the letter I’d just composed.
“To His Highness Dmitri, First Prince —”
Mullin’s eyes widened.
“You’re sending it to the First Prince…?”
“I’m his sister. What’s wrong?”
“No, no. Just—are you sending it via the palace courier?”
“Yes, as soon as possible. I need to speak with him urgently.”
Mullin blinked and scurried off, clutching the letter like her life depended on it. I smirked quietly.
She grinned brightly—as if to crow about her usefulness.
At Evgenia’s palace
“Princess! 2nd Princess Evgenia!”
Mullin arrived, frantic. Evgenia paused in mid‑bite of pudding and glanced sharply at her. With a brief frown, she then brightened as Mullin greeted her.
“Mullin! It’s so good to see you. You haven’t come over to my palace often—Enni got so bored!”
Did she really think I sent Mullin as some pampered servant?
I watched Evgenia’s irritated flick of the tongue and sudden change in tone.
“So… last time, you said you were going to visit Mimi’s brother’s palace…but I didn’t see you.”
Mullin heard everything.
“I’m going to the First Prince’s palace. I’ll send a thank you.”
Riri had said that. But she had gone to the Emperor’s palace instead—confusing everyone.
Evgenia realized it immediately.
“Mullin… you’re a spy, aren’t you? Doing her bidding behind my back?”
That earned Mullin a lot of distrust. But this time, she wouldn’t mix things up.
She approached shaking as she handed Evgenia the letter from Riri.
“Princess Lirien sent a letter to His Highness Dmitri so I came to inform you…”
Evgenia’s grip tightened on the cookie. With a sharp crack, it crumbled.
“Who dares send me a letter?”
The maidservants rushed to clean up.
“Give it to me,” Evgenia demanded.
She grabbed the envelope—sealed with pastel wax just like Riri’s style—and tore it open. As she read it, she scoffed in disbelief.
“What is she saying?! She wants to meet my brother at nine tonight by the fountain outside her palace? Who does she think she is?”
“Your Highness, Riri doesn’t have that kind of influence, honestly.”
“Even His Highness Dmitri would object! We should burn it!”
But Evgenia’s real thought was different.
She cocked an impish smile and said, “Get me new stationery.”
Mullin blinked, startled.
“You’re sure no big deal’ll come of a harmless prank? He’s known me long enough…”
So she issued her orders—Mullin should write the letter anew.
Mullin, accustomed to serving Evgenia, hurried to retrieve stationery. Evgenia plucked it up and began happily scrawling.
—
Evgenia’s drafted letter reading:
“To His Highness Prince Dmitri—I, the 2nd Princess Evgenia,
request you to meet me at 9 o’clock this evening by the fountain in front of my glass greenhouse.
I have a very, very special gift for you!”
A monumental “screw‑you” masking goodwill.
An hour later…
Mullin returned at last to my palace.
I smiled politely.
“Hello, Mullin.”
“Your Highness.”
“Did you properly deliver the letter to the First Prince?”
“Yes, I did.”
Mullin knelt before me and asked:
“Will you forgive me now?”
She held out another letter. I smiled warmly and opened it.
“You really are foolish—everyone will recognize your handwriting, Dmitri included. What do you think, Mullin?”
She stuttered that she agreed.
“Wonderful,” I purred, stroking her head kindly.
“Since you were the closest to Evgenia after Lanya and Blemi… I think you can do this for me.”
“Anything you command, I’ll perfect it.”
Tears formed in her eyes as she nodded fiercely. I handed her fresh stationery and grinned.
“Copy it by hand.”
“Pardon?”
“Evgenia’s handwriting. You’re good with your hands, aren’t you?”
I looked into those delicate wrists—should they try me again, they’d be cut off. Then I gave her the note to transcribe:
“To His Highness Prince Dmitri—I, Princess Lirien Shà Caliburg,
ask that you wait for me at the fountain in front of my palace at nine tonight.
I have something special to share with you.”
Let that be quite the surprise gift.
