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Chapter 12
Those who killed me. Those who took my life. Those who despised and humiliated me, threw me onto the execution platform, confiscated my property, slapped my face, and tore out my hair!
All of them were culprits. All of them were accomplices. They killed me. They killed me. They killed me. They drained my blood, scattered it over my family name, my honor, my territory, and danced upon my corpse!
“In this Valentina, more than the unusual differences in status, you will share a once-in-a-lifetime youth, and spend your most brilliant days as the foundation for the future of the Empire…”
[…Kalia. Say my name.]
[Kalia, call our names.]
[Kalia, Kalia, Kalia.]
My consciousness faded like a receding tide, and a vast power began to consume my identity.
My lips, borrowing power that was not my own, were just about to part to speak a single name.
Murmuring began to swell near the entrance of the auditorium.
“…His Highness is here.”
“His Highness has arrived.”
Bang. At that moment, the oak door slammed against the wall with a loud crash.
“You’re late.”
That voice snapped me back to reality. My limbs trembled uncontrollably. My body turned cold.
Was it because my sanity had returned? Or…
I quickly turned my head to find the owner of the voice that had awakened me.
Suddenly, it was as if the steps leading to the gallows appeared before my eyes.
And beyond them—the person I had once locked eyes with.
“Forgive me. I was detained by too many people looking for me. Gentlemen, you know how difficult it is to leave in the middle of something enjoyable.”
A man with sun-drenched golden hair.
With an exaggerated motion, he bowed and adjusted his cravat, which had come undone.
Between the disheveled collar of his shirt were scattered red marks.
Some in the crowd giggled vulgarly at the sight, while others clicked their tongues—yet still couldn’t take their eyes off him.
“Ahem. Ahem! Maintain decorum! …Your Highness, please take your seat.”
“If the dean insists, then I shall obey.”
His speech had a peculiar lilt at the end.
The man, his head having been lowered, now raised it.
With a cool smile on his lips, he looked around for his seat—and in that moment, our eyes met.
A shock, like a lightning bolt, pierced through my head.
The scattered clues about his identity suddenly aligned in my mind.
It was him.
Those eyes I had seen at the end—on the steps that led to my death. The cold, bitter blue-gray eyes…
The First Prince, Claude Valentin.
With every step he took, a faint breeze stirred his hair.
Brilliant blond hair as though blessed by the gods, pale but smooth skin, a sharp, classic nose like an ancient statue—not too delicate, not too strong.
His lips, graceful and shaped with perfect symmetry, rarely parted.
Under subtly sharp brow bones, thick lashes shaded those blue-gray eyes.
In the sunlight streaming through the windows, they appeared almost gray.
“Miss Hertel, as beautiful as ever. Ah, Miss McConnell, how was your vacation? I envy those who spent the summer with you.”
The Prince never rushed. He responded to every call, every hushed laugh, every subtle gesture and fan flutter with ease.
His smooth features, elegant gestures, and glib manner drew contempt from men and interest from women.
‘It’s strange.’
I couldn’t look away from him as he walked past—just like that day.
The Empire’s noblest tree and its lowest weed.
That was the nickname for the First Prince who had never been named Crown Prince.
He was the firstborn, but not the legitimate heir. Originally the son of the Emperor’s brother, the Duke of Camelot, he was adopted into the imperial family.
The Valentin line had always struggled with fertility.
Even after marrying early, it was common not to have children until one’s thirties—if at all.
Some whispered it was a curse from inbreeding born from an obsession with blood purity, but the truth remained unknown.
In particular, Emperor Thearnon had terrible luck with heirs and reached nearly forty without a child.
So the Duke and Duchess immediately offered their firstborn, Claude Valentin, who was adopted as a prince.
But six years later, the Empress miraculously bore a legitimate son—the Second Prince—after sixteen years of marriage.
All of the Empire celebrated his birth. He was a child of blessing.
Meanwhile, Prince Claude only grew more disappointing with age.
He gambled, consorted with women and lowlifes—nothing about him screamed “First Prince.”
He became the object of mockery among noble men and idle curiosity among noblewomen.
Now, that same man walked past me and stood in the fourth-year line, a little behind Helena.
The dean resumed his boring speech, but no one—myself included—was really listening.
I finally lowered my gaze, unable to keep staring.
I remembered the day I died.
That day, too, I couldn’t look away from him.
I secretly hated him.
Normally, I would rush to leave, hold my breath, or shrink away when he passed by.
‘Disgusting.’
His deliberately flamboyant behavior, his hollow smile, his imitation of a character he had created to hide his true self.
Everything about him repulsed me.
‘So then… why…’
Why couldn’t I look away from him that day?
Why was he staring at me?
I’ll never know now.
Because that Claude Valentin is gone. He no longer exists. I’ll never know the answer.
‘It’s so strange.’
I glared at the floor’s pattern and bit my lip.
Whatever the case, it was good news for me. The seizure had stopped.
Just moments ago, I had no idea what might’ve happened if I hadn’t regained control.
The feeling of my body not being my own. A chill ran down my spine.
The voices that had haunted me before death came stronger than ever today.
The strange power that tried to possess me—it might have something to do with them.
‘I have to take action. Tonight, no matter what.’
I bit my lip. It was the first time I responded to the voices that I had avoided for seven years.
Even if something were to happen because of it—I would no longer run.
***
When the long speech finally ended, students poured out of the auditorium and scattered.
I headed straight for the dormitory.
Most students preferred to live in the dorms.
Many came from distant territories without townhouses in the capital, and staying in the dorms was far more convenient than commuting every day.
The Empire’s National Academy was funded generously by noble families, and its wealth meant it could house all students comfortably—so long as one applied before the deadline.
But…
When I stepped into the main hall of the girls’ dormitory, I couldn’t hide the tremble in my eyes at the sight before me.
Voices whispered all around.
There, in the center of the hall, my belongings—which I had sent ahead by carriage—lay torn open, my clothes in disarray and my bags thrown carelessly on the floor.
“Oh my… how messy.”
“What a commotion. And to think she’s a count’s descendant. Seems she wasn’t very well prepared.”
Ladies fluttered their fans, covering their smiles as they gossiped.
‘Who did this?’
Helena flashed through my mind. Scanning the hall quickly, I spotted her red hair.
Whether she had come to rest early, or had orchestrated this and was now waiting for me—I didn’t know.
She stood in a corner, laughing with her friends.
‘No. It’s not Helena.’
I corrected myself. It didn’t make sense.
She had only just arrived today like me. She was no longer the Count’s proxy daughter. She wouldn’t dare provoke someone now protected by a Duke’s household.
‘It’s too risky.’
While I stood still, organizing my thoughts, curious onlookers began to gather.
“What’s going on?”
“Is that the witch’s stuff? Did she get kicked out?”
Mrs. Haydn, the staff member behind the counter, watched me with a brazen smile—making no move to intervene.
I approached her.
“What seems to be the matter, Miss Estelle?”
The older woman greeted me politely, but her eyes and mouth brimmed with mocking amusement.
I asked slowly, “My things are on the floor. What happened here?”
“Unfortunately, Miss Estelle, you didn’t apply for a dormitory room. So we couldn’t accept your luggage, and we kept it there until you arrived.”
Mrs. Haydn, the wife of a junior baron, gestured theatrically toward my scattered bags. I immediately objected.
“But I absolutely submitted the application. I sent it two weeks ago along with my course schedule. Was it a mistake by your office?”
“No, Miss Estelle. Our Valentina staff don’t make mistakes. The Academic Office received your schedule, yes—but no dormitory application.”
I bit my lip at her soft sneer. All the while, my things lay exposed under everyone’s eyes.
The commotion grew to the point that even male students began gathering at the entrance to watch.
“…So what now? Am I to just stand here and take it?”
“I believe I can offer a solution.”
