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Chapter 52
“This house, if I may explain…”
“It’s nice.”
Cilia listened to the broker’s explanation while standing in the lobby, looking around with satisfaction. After touring both the second floor and the annex, she had decided—this one was her favorite.
“It’s a bit old, but with some repairs, it’ll be perfect. I’ll buy it. You have the papers ready, right?”
“Of course, my lady!”
“Cilia.”
Baron Bronew, who had followed her in silence throughout the tour, finally spoke, looking a bit flustered.
“You didn’t have to go this far for me…”
“No, I wanted to.”
Cilia paid for the mansion with a bright smile. It nearly emptied her inheritance, but…
‘Still, the first step to independence is owning a home.’
As she’d resolved, she first made sure her father had a comfortable place to live.
She had thought about reclaiming their original family estate—but to do that, she’d have to return to their province. And she couldn’t rest easy unless she went there herself and made sure everything was done properly.
‘But there’s no time for that. It’s better to set him up here in the capital.’
The Bronew estate had originally been in the countryside. Traveling back and forth was possible with teleport scrolls, but those weren’t things you could waste so freely. They required royal or ducal permission to use.
It was a bit of a shame, but above all, she was happy to give her father a place where he could finally rest in peace.
“I’ll return our old home to you someday too, Father.”
“Cilia…”
Baron Bronew’s eyes grew wet again. Cilia quietly handed him a handkerchief.
“You’ve always suffered because of me.”
“How is that your fault? If anything, it’s the fault of our debt-ridden ancestors.”
“…W–well, that’s not entirely wrong, but still…”
At her sudden jab toward their ancestors, Baron Bronew looked taken aback, then smiled as he gazed at the grand lobby in admiration.
Just then, Julin came over from the west hallway and gestured at her, as if to ask what she thought. Cilia offered honest praise.
“You’ve got a good eye for houses. Thanks for the tip and the recommendation.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“Cilia’s right. You did great, Julin.”
Margaret, who had just returned from looking over the east wing, nodded in approval.
Cilia turned to her father again, just in case.
“I’ll still be living at the Diaman estate since I’m under their patronage. But I’ll visit often. Is it all right if I bring these two whenever I come?”
“If they’re your friends, they’re always welcome.”
“Thank you, Baron.”
While Julin and Margaret bowed politely to her father, Cilia stepped out into the garden. It was quite clean, though the fountain and flowerbeds could use a little tending.
Julin followed, offering a casual suggestion.
“Rose gardens are the trend among nobles these days.”
“Hmm. Not bad.”
“Though I heard the royals are trying to start a new trend. They’re redoing all the palace gardens.”
“I’d love to see that, if only for inspiration.”
“If it’s you, you’ll probably get an invitation soon enough.”
In truth, she already had. She just hadn’t mentioned it.
‘That meeting itself was supposed to be top-secret, known to only a handful.’
Cilia recalled the brief conversation she’d had with Jun by the lakeside.
“Her Highness the Crown Princess is known for meeting with talented individuals personally.”
“I know. She even appeared at the academy briefing.”
“Since the Tower incident, she’s taken a particular interest in you. Especially with Lord Jaycal’s testimony.”
“So you’re saying she values me more now?”
“Proving it is up to you.”
After that cryptic remark, he’d disappeared, saying only, “I’ll contact you soon.”
And the next day, a letter had arrived—without any royal seal, without any insignia. Just a jet-black envelope with an address and a date written on it.
Julin, who screened all of Cilia’s mail, had found it suspicious and brought it to her.
‘This just got complicated.’
She had tried to avoid the Crown Princess because she seemed like a difficult person to deal with, but the situation left her with little choice now.
Julin tilted his head curiously.
“You’re not going to tell me what was in that letter?”
“I’ll tell you when it’s all over.”
“Fair enough. Guess it’s time you learned how to handle information properly. Even friends don’t get told everything.”
“You sound awfully grown-up for your age.”
Julin pouted but didn’t seem offended. He probably sensed that whatever was happening was serious.
Cilia smiled lightly.
“You know I’m always grateful, right?”
“…Of course I do, Cilia. I’m always on your side.”
Julin grinned.
Just then, Margaret came over holding a catalog.
“You’ll need new furniture, right? These are this season’s trends in the capital. Though I’m sure you’d pick well even without following trends.”
“Thanks, Margaret. This will make things easier.”
“I just passed on what Lord Royhan gave me.”
“That guy still…”
“Still?”
“Never mind.”
Cilia smiled wryly, crumpling the corner of the catalog slightly. She couldn’t exactly tell Margaret outright that Royhan needed to stop flirting with her—especially when Margaret didn’t seem to mind it much.
“Oh, and—Lord Royhan said he wants to talk to you.”
“Royhan? Why?”
“No idea. But he said he’d be waiting at the Diaman estate.”
And indeed, he was.
Even before Cilia entered the estate, Royhan was awkwardly hiding behind a tree, calling out to her. His attempt to conceal himself was so obvious that it was almost funny. But he did seem genuinely desperate.
“At this point, it’s just sad. You should at least hear him out once,” Julin suggested.
“…You’re right.”
Cilia nodded. She owed the Diaman family too much to ignore one of its members outright.
As the others entered the house, she walked around the garden alone and approached Royhan.
He looked nervous.
“I’d rather talk somewhere private.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Someone might be listening.”
“This is your family’s mansion. You don’t trust your own people?”
“It’s… not about that.”
Royhan led her into the greenhouse—the same place where she had first met Crondel. The memory made her chest tighten.
Then Royhan spoke, as if reading her mind.
“This is about the Second Prince. You knew him, didn’t you?”
“You know Crondel?”
“You called His Highness by name so easily?”
His eyes suddenly sharpened. That look was familiar—it was the same suspicious glare men often gave her when they tried to guess what kind of “relationship” she had with other noblemen.
“It’s not what you’re imagining.”
“…I figured as much.”
That calm response only made her suspicious in turn.
‘Why’s he so sure? Most people don’t believe me when I say that.’
Royhan continued firmly.
“I’m one of His Highness’s closest aides. If he had truly been interested in you, I would’ve known.”
“His aide?”
Cilia raised a brow. Royhan puffed up defensively.
“I’m not lying.”
“Of course, of course. I’m sure you’re not—”
Then she remembered.
Crondel had mentioned his “trusted aide” several times. And Royhan had once whispered that he served someone important.
Now that she thought about it—Royhan being at the Jaycal estate before anyone else made sense. He must have learned that Riman had awakened and passed the news along to Crondel, who then arrived later.
‘Only a handful of people knew Riman was awake… Fleer did, and if Royhan was with him at the time, it all fits.’
Her thoughts aligned quickly.
“So? What did you want to tell me?” she pressed.
“I have a bad feeling,” he said.
“A bad feeling?”
“I haven’t heard from His Highness in days.”
“It’s only been a few days, hasn’t it? You’re panicking already?”
That was about right—it had been only a few days since her last meeting with Crondel.
Royhan frowned.
“It’s not about the time. We had a signal, a code between us.”
“A code?”
“He moves around a lot, so he always lets me know his whereabouts. If he’s safe, he sends a sign. If he’s still working, he gives a signal through this.”
Royhan pulled something from his pocket—a small seashell, engraved with delicate runes. It was clearly a magic item.
“The other shell is with His Highness. You can put a small note inside, and the pair exchanges them instantly. But no matter how many I’ve sent, there’s been no reply.”
His face darkened.
“He never ignores me like this.”
“……”
Cilia studied him. His concern seemed genuine.
If Crondel was up to something, now would’ve been the time to check whether Royhan was in on it—but his expression didn’t suggest deceit.
“Let me borrow that for a while,” she said.
“If you promise to return it, sure.”
He reluctantly handed her the shell. Cilia turned it over in her hand.
“So… who’s your prime suspect?”
Royhan answered grimly.
“Her Highness the Crown Princess, of course.”
