Chapter 29
An Unforgettable Birthday Gift
Prince Philip’s birthday party was prepared on quite a grand scale. Although there was a second queen who had passed away, only the first queen remained—and she detested anything that would damage her prestige. In her mind, if Prince Philip’s birthday appeared shabby, she would inevitably be labeled a “stepmother” and blamed.
Rumors spread that princes and princesses from other countries were invited. Diana cynically thought it might be a ploy to send her off as a mere bride for a foreign princess.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Diana gave a faint smile as she heard the housekeeper’s high praise. A thin girl dressed in beautiful clothing stood before her. The baby fat had disappeared since Mirva had starved her. She looked like a miniature version of Diana in her adulthood.
“You didn’t have to go to such lengths to dress me up. After all, I’m just going to serve Princess Ionia.”
Diana’s role was to attend to Princess Ionia. Ionia had declared she wanted to meet “men” for the first time, and the queen had tearfully welcomed this change. Thanks to Diana’s efforts, Ionia’s aversion to men had vanished.
This was also why so many foreign “princes” were invited. It wasn’t merely to make friends for Philip; it was also an opportunity to search for a suitable husband for the princess.
‘Should I try finding a husband there too?’
Could she escape the hell Giskar had created if she moved to a third country? But Diana remembered the divine prophecy.
The prophecy was absolute. Even if she tried to escape, fate would repeat itself. Or rather, even a brief reflection made it clear: even if she married someone else first, Giskar would destroy the country and reach out to her.
Because this duchy… was Giskar’s enemy.
Diana recalled the events of that day.
Herya was Giskar’s mother. It was not surprising. Of course Mirva would have mentioned it since it was related.
“Why did Mirva bring up that name? Are your mother and Mirva acquainted?”
“I’m not sure.”
Giskar’s eyes flashed coldly.
“It was the master who contributed to my mother’s death.”
“Master…”
The term “master” sent chills down Diana’s spine. It referred to her father. How was she supposed to accept someone calling the one who killed her mother “master”?
At that moment, Diana felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Was Giskar merely the slave of a prisoner she had brought, or was he the son of someone her father had driven to death?
If so, whether she brought Giskar as a slave or not, this family was inevitably crushed under his boots.
As Diana’s face turned pale, Giskar spoke.
“You need not worry.”
“….”
“You really don’t need to worry. I wasn’t that close to that person anyway.”
A lie. If that were true, why would he have shown murderous intent the moment he spoke the name? Diana still remembered the gaze. Seeing her frozen, Giskar added:
“Truly. Back then… I was just angry.”
How could that be “just anger”? Giskar still hid his claws. Being Diana’s slave was convenient for him: she taught him writing and swordsmanship, treating him better than most servants. That was why he insisted on apologizing like this.
“So now… please…”
“….”
“Now, do not fear me.”
The wind blew, scattering Giskar’s hair. Diana looked into his steady eyes. The faint moonlight illuminated his clear gaze. His eyes, devoid of any murderous intent, seemed anxious, almost restless.
Diana nodded.
That alone eased the tension between them. Yet Diana felt despair, and Giskar quickly realized her nod was forced.
Diana turned to Princess Ionia. Wearing a small tiara, Ionia shone brighter than anyone else. Diana thought of Alexa, who had pouted about wanting to attend the birthday party herself, and adjusted the princess’s attire.
Diana did her utmost to serve Ionia. She guided the princess to greet the guests, teaching her the names and proper manners.
The knowledge Diana had acquired from the social scene about people’s likes and dislikes proved useful. Thanks to this, even before her official debut, Princess Ionia left a strong impression: a mature and intelligent young princess. People thought highly of her.
“Anne.”
“Yes?”
“Did you bring the gift for Brother Philip?”
“…Yes.”
“Give it to him quickly.”
“But…”
“Later, you’ll assist Countess Riven. You can do well.”
Princess Ionia smiled brightly.
“I heard this is also an important opportunity. Don’t just follow me—enjoy it too. After all, we dressed so beautifully today.”
Seeing Ionia’s bright smile, Diana felt a surge of emotion. Why did others care for her more than her own family? She smiled faintly and nodded.
“Thank you.”
The gift for Philip was already prepared.
As she stepped out of the ballroom, Diana retrieved the gift from the pouch she had kept. It was an ordinary quill.
Yet this quill held a remarkable magic. In her social life days, this quill had once turned the social scene upside down.
An idle ancient magician had imbued it with immense power. Finding it in a junk shop had been a stroke of luck.
“Where is Prince Philip?”
After inquiring with the palace guards, Diana learned Philip had left the room with the Princess of Kalliari.
‘Are they already… courting?’
Young people moved fast, indeed. Diana swallowed the thought. It was improper to begrudge a boy so young for such feelings.
She followed the princess and Philip, as she hadn’t had a proper chance to talk to him during the birthday celebration. At least, she must give the gift. She planned to leave if the situation didn’t allow conversation.
But after searching the first floor and all the hallways and lounges, they were nowhere to be found.
The Princess of Kalliari was only fourteen. It was too soon for romance. As Diana prepared to search for them, a wind blew.
[Danger! Danger!]
A loud, piercing voice sounded—not heard with ears but felt in her mind. Confused, Diana moved instinctively toward the source, stopping as the danger signal rang in her head.
Should she call for help?
The surroundings were strangely devoid of knights, despite the grandeur of the banquet.
Before she could ponder further, someone blocked her path and brushed past her.
“Ah!”
Startled, she screamed. It was Philip, covered in blood. Diana’s eyes widened. He was holding someone’s hand—a black-haired girl.
What was happening? Why was Philip in such a state? Why was he being chased? Rationality returned to Diana.
She didn’t know exactly when Philip had died, but she remembered the uproar over his death. It wasn’t merely an assassination—the incident had escalated, spreading a tense atmosphere through the capital.
“Run!”
Philip shouted.
No… not today.
Today?
Diana looked behind her. Black-clad assassins were running toward them, weapons glinting in the streetlight. She would die—surely die.
Who could have foreseen being caught in an assassination attempt?
Diana quickly followed Philip.
[Danger! Danger! Danger!]
The black-haired girl’s voice screamed from above. That was it—the source of the warning.
Something brushed past her waist. She didn’t want to see what it was. Poisoned daggers or throwing knives, perhaps.
Diana wore a dress, slowing her steps. She didn’t know any shortcuts here. The assassins knew this. No wonder witnesses weren’t spared. In the sudden threat of death, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into a narrow gap between trees.
It was Philip.
“You!”
Diana gasped. Only children could fit into the shrub gap. Finally, she could catch her breath. The problem was the assassins had also seen them enter. The gap led to a dead end.
[They’re coming! They’re coming!]
“Stop shouting, Silph!”
The girl, presumed to be the Princess of Kalliari, shouted. Diana ignored the question of what it meant—now wasn’t the time.
“What happened?”
“A sudden attack… are you hurt?”
Looking at her arms, Diana saw scratches on both arms and legs.
“You’ll have scars.”
“I could die right now!”
Philip shouted, agitated.
“How did you end up here?”
“I came to give a gift.”
“Ah…! I’m sorry for getting you involved.”
But Diana had no time to talk. She had a weapon to handle the situation: the quill.
As the assassins approached, Diana swung the quill.
It glowed green, and spheres of wind began exploding with immense force.
There was no time to catch her breath—but if there had been, the results could have been even greater. Fortunately, the dead-end meant she didn’t need to guard her rear.
This extraordinary quill had been enchanted by an ancient magician with powerful “protective magic.”
