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Chapter 22
It was unclear whether Yulike truly believed that final answer.
In truth, belief itself wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that “Yulike” now knew the secret—that Cecilia was not, in fact, of Lysseng blood.
And somehow, that was fine.
As the headmaster of Ribe, he was a man with a strong sense of responsibility. He wouldn’t speak of it lightly.
All the more so when one considered the political repercussions that truth could unleash.
Still, the look of concern Yulike had sent him lingered—so much unsaid embedded within it.
Even after returning to Pongref, Alexis wandered the Serain Gardens for a long while, lost in thought.
A fine drizzle fell quietly under cover of night, unbroken and persistent.
It was the perfect weather for a mind that refused to settle.
By the time he gathered his thoughts and entered his father’s office, Armand was finishing the last stack of paperwork for the day.
“Hello, son.”
Armand greeted him casually as he scrawled his signature across the final page.
“I miss your mother.”
“…Then go see her.”
“If I go without finishing my work, Marisa scolds me.”
“Then finish quickly.”
“That’s too simple to count as an answer.”
“Then get scolded.”
Alexis replied with remarkable patience, earning from Armand a look that plainly said, What a cold-hearted son.
But the moment he noticed that his son was slightly damp all over, his brows knit together.
No matter how sturdy he is, why on earth was he out in the rain?
Unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of his father’s worry, the young man quietly took the seat opposite him.
Armand studied his son, who looked as though he’d been cast from the same mold.
The black hair befitting a direct descendant of Lysseng and the violet eyes Alexis had inherited from him stood out immediately.
Perhaps because of that, Marisa often complained that she couldn’t see herself in their son.
But Armand disagreed.
Every time Alexis smiled, the subtle curve of his eyes, the dimples nestled neatly into his cheeks, his elegant hand gestures, and even his occasionally sharp, unyielding tone all carried traces of the woman he loved.
The memory surfaced vividly—Alexis as a child, having caused trouble, looking up at them with bright, innocent eyes.
He had looked so much like Marisa then that Armand had never been able to scold him properly.
Lost in reflection, Armand let out a belated sigh and reached out his hand.
“The results, please….”
“Here.”
While Armand reviewed them carefully, Alexis rose again, this time heading toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The emperor’s office was the room in Pongref closest to Serain.
Beyond the glass stretched a garden shrouded in night, forming a strangely evocative tableau.
“Winter?”
At Armand’s precise guess, Alexis fell silent for a moment.
“Yes. Around then, it should be decided.”
“And if your mana increases even more by then—what are you going to do?”
“Do you think it increased because I wanted it to?”
“Good grief….”
With a sigh, Armand folded the results neatly—no doubt intending to show them to Marisa later in their bedroom.
Arms crossed, Alexis looked out the window once more.
The air was thick with the fresh scent of summer rain.
The fragrance conjured an image of droplets pattering over lush greenery, of lying beneath a quiet pavilion and listening to all things bloom.
“Sir Yulike has discovered that Cecilia Lysseng is, in truth, unfit for that title.”
Armand’s hand stilled mid-page.
Catching the silent shock in the corner of his father’s eye, Alexis lightly tapped the glass.
“It’s all right. As headmaster of Ribe, he won’t interfere in political matters. He won’t reveal the secret.”
“And?”
“…Pardon?”
“Did he see through you?”
There was no pretending not to understand.
Alexis exhaled sharply and shrugged—a gesture that suggested probably.
Armand slowly rubbed between his brows.
No matter how deep a truth may be, it can still be concealed by a shallow lie.
Conversely, the moment that thin lie disappears, the truth stands exposed in all its nakedness.
Yulike, having learned Cecilia’s secret, would have read what lay beyond it.
If he hadn’t noticed, one would have to doubt his perceptiveness altogether.
“Alex.”
“Yes?”
Armand turned his chair slowly toward his son.
“Your mother and I will not disown Cecilia without her consent.”
“……”
“That is the duty of parents who chose to adopt her. Adoption was our choice—but disownment is hers.”
“I know.”
The answer was so clean it left Armand momentarily speechless.
There was no sign of resentment, no hint that Alexis felt slighted by being placed after Cecilia.
Yet if Cecilia didn’t renounce her status, that boy might never find peace…
Armand swallowed the lecture forming on his tongue and fell silent.
Alexis had suddenly folded his arms and fixed his gaze outside with even greater intensity.
Did Cecilia go for a walk in Serain?
Knowing exactly who could so completely capture his son’s attention, Armand joined him at the window.
As expected, Cecilia was there—struggling beside a white puppy.
“Puppy, we really need to go back inside now.”
Her clear voice, heavy with fatigue, wavered as a rebellious bark rang out in response.
The ungrateful Samoyed seemed determined not to return indoors.
“It’s raining—are you really going to stay out here?”
“Woof, woof!”
“Unni’s clothes are all wet….”
Tap, tap, tap.
The Samoyed enthusiastically smacked its front paws against her slippers, tail swaying in time.
Cecilia, who had been patiently taking the blows, gathered up the hem of her nightdress.
The thin fabric, soaked by the rain, clung translucently to her form.
“May I ask how long you plan to stay here?”
“Woooof—!”
“Puppy?”
The Samoyed turned its head away irritably.
“You’re not going back inside with Unni?”
“Woofwoofwoooof!”
“Please don’t bark so loudly. Let’s go back in now, okay?”
After much coaxing, she finally seemed to succeed.
Leading Alisha along, Cecilia carefully left the garden.
Pleased at having calmed her pet, she smiled as she walked away.
They said that when a rainbow appears after rain, there is gold at its end.
It was quite literally true.
Soft rain had fallen; a rainbow curved upon the woman’s red lips; and at the center of her lovely face, gold shimmered.
Only after she vanished from sight did Alexis twist his lips slightly and look away.
Armand, alternating his gaze between two aching fingers, asked quietly,
“…Do you regret it?”
The decision to adopt Cecilia.
Alexis recalled, without effort, a moon-drenched night, silver hair cascading endlessly, and a question that had sounded like a witch’s curse.
And he answered firmly.
“I don’t.”
Never.
* * *
Perhaps because it had rained the night before, the morning sunlight was exceptionally clear and bright.
Entering the empress’s private sitting room, Alexis witnessed light settling upon his mother’s red hair like a crown.
“Alex!”
Had his father seen it, he would have been utterly undone.
Alexis kissed his mother’s cheek affectionately.
“Good morning, Alex.”
After greeting Cecilia, seated at Marisa’s right, Marisa handed him a biscuit.
“I bought these at a patisserie near the Iffel Fountain. They were delicious. What was the name again, Cecil?”
“Anika Patisserie, Mother.”
“Ah, yes. Anika. My memory has been failing lately.”
“And yet you remembered over half the guest list from the outing the other day.”
“Did I?”
Marisa’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter again.
Listening to that sparkling, effervescent laugh, Alexis bit into the biscuit.
The bitterness of dark chocolate lingered pleasantly—it suited his tastes more than its appearance suggested.
Noticing his reaction, Cecilia slid the plate closer to him.
…Come to think of it, she must have dyed her hair before he arrived.
Alexis carefully pulled his gaze away from his sister’s black hair.
He had nearly stared too long at the fragments of magic clinging awkwardly throughout its length.
“Anyway, Alex—your results came back stable. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
Cecilia smiled faintly, twirling the pen in her fingers.
“We can go on our summer retreat to Sharten together. Right, Mother?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Sharten was the western summer palace where the imperial family had vacationed for generations.
Clearly pleased with the family plans, Marisa clapped her hands leisurely, smiling.
“Oh, Cecil—are you bringing Alisha as well?”
“Alisha? …No. She probably prefers Pongref to Sharten.”
Or perhaps she simply prefers being by your side.
He swallowed the retort before it could escape.
Marisa, apparently thinking the same, encouraged her again.
“Still, why not bring her? She might like Sharten too.”
“But Mother, Sharten may have plants dangerous to Alisha, and the journey itself could be difficult for her. We’re only gone for two weeks, after all.”
The memory of Cecilia’s quiet struggle with Alisha the night before resurfaced.
What had felt like a tiny thorn of discomfort grew into a sharp awl.
That was why—
“I’ll take responsibility.”
“…What?”
“So may we bring Alisha as well?”
At the sudden proposal, Cecilia’s golden eyes widened.
But the surprise quickly faded, and she nodded easily.
“Well, if that’s what you want. Then let’s bring Alisha too. Now—there’s something truly important left.”
“Yes?”
Before Marisa or Alexis could react to the sense of foreboding—
Cecilia lazily twirled her pen once more and declared,
“Let’s make the list of young ladies who’ll be coming with us.”
