Mess 163
by Cristae163.
The rumor that the Crown Prince was keeping the White Mage at his palace had already spread far and wide.
At first, everyone assumed the Crown Prince had lost interest in his former beloved. They gossiped that fortune’s favorite had changed: the reckless White Mage had stolen another woman’s man, they said, condemning her. It was even said that Lady Felikia’s jealousy now reached the heavens.
Yet the situation unfolded ever more strangely.
Contrary to expectations, Lady Felikia and the White Mage remained on very good terms. In fact, the two had even formalized a master-apprentice bond at the Mage Tower.
“Peonia! Look at this—it’s a cake as tiny as my fingernail!”
“This one’s made with liqueur. Why don’t you try something else?”
Even now, the two could be spotted at the ball, exuding a closeness so warm it might have belied a secret romance. If it was all for show, that made it even more uncanny.
“……”
“……”
The nobles held their tongues.
The Crown Prince glared from a distance at the friendly and inseparable Peonia and Lilié.
“No matter what anyone says…”
“If it’s all coercion, it’s not right.”
“Has only the White Mage been unjustly maligned all this time?”
“Who started such rumors, anyway?”
“Come to think of it, wasn’t it Lady Tipheon who spread those stories at the tea party last year…?”
Tonight’s ball was rowdier and more confused than ever.
“……”
Seraphie herself stepped out onto the balcony to quell her own agitation.
“You really didn’t need to force yourself to dance,” said Orchis as he swallowed a glass of water. Seraphie accepted the water he handed her, smiling wryly.
“It wasn’t like that. On the contrary, it let me politely refuse everyone else’s offers to dance.”
“Did you enjoy your dance with His Majesty?”
“Are you upset you didn’t get the first dance?”
“Why would I be upset, when the Empress nearly got to dance with me instead?”
Orchis, seated beside her, raised his arm slightly. Seraphie leaned into his embrace, finally able to exhale the tension.
The strong arm resting across her back was a great comfort.
“How relaxing…”
Her gaze, softened at last, drifted up to the darkening sky.
“The moon.”
“A waxing moon. We’ll have a full one at the retreat.”
“You’ll come with me, right?”
“If you find out I’ve already packed my bags, will you tease me for it?”
“I wouldn’t expect any less of the Duke’s son.”
Seraphie chuckled at his now-familiar, easy humor, taking another sip of water. She could clearly feel the lukewarm liquid trickling down her once parched throat.
“…Count Loria.”
Seraphie spoke with care.
“They say he was a suspect in my uncle’s family’s murder.”
“What?”
Both Seraphie and Orchis turned at the sudden voice behind them. There stood Loony and Karl, mouths agape.
“He was the suspect?”
Loony hastily passed her glass to Karl and grabbed Seraphie’s shoulder.
“W-wait! Hush, quiet, please!”
Seraphie gave warning looks, urging them to keep their voices down. Loony glanced warily at the entryway, but fortunately, no one seemed to pay them any mind.
Nevertheless, they drew the curtains fully and even shut the door.
And then Loony asked again,
“Count Loria was the suspect? Truly?”
“Then it wasn’t just an accident…”
“Given all that’s happened, it makes sense he was involved,” Orchis muttered wearily. The others seemed to agree.
Whenever something happened, it always seemed to clash with the Crown Prince or his allies, so it was a rational deduction.
“Ugh…”
Seraphie let out a sigh so long it was as if her spirit had fled. At this point, she hardly remembered what normalcy felt like.
“I’ll have to ask Grandma about it.”
Cruel as it might be for the former Baron Kia, it could be a chance to relieve, at last, the family’s undeserved bitterness over the murder of her son and his family.
‘Yes…’
Perhaps this was the final chance.
The last opportunity to uncover the truth behind everything that had happened so far, and to bring the guilty to justice.
The only moment left to restore the twisted story to its rightful course.
“……”
Huh?
Seraphie tilted her head.
‘Twisted story?’
The phrase crept into her mind as something foreign, yet oddly familiar—as if she’d heard it somewhere before. Every time she tried to place it, her thoughts fogged up, as if wrapped in mist.
“Seraphie.”
Dizzied by that vague haze, Seraphie snapped her head up.
“Are you all right?”
Orchis, worry etched on his face, gently brushed aside Seraphie’s bangs. He gazed at her for a long, silent moment.
“Oh, it’s nothing…”
She offered a small smile, as if to reassure him.
“My mind’s just… tangled. I suppose I’m just tired.”
“That’s understandable.”
Loony nodded in full sympathy.
“Anyway, I’d better head back inside. I need to tell Penny and Lilié about this…”
“Come to think of it, isn’t the Crown Prince unusually quiet tonight?”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Just as she reached the threshold, Loony shuddered, as if chilled to the bone by some ghostly presence.
“Tonight, I understood why those three women said what they did.”
Back in the side palace, during that girls’ gathering, Loony hadn’t understood even until this morning what the others had meant.
That the Crown Prince only pretended to be human.
She had never quite grasped those words—until she caught a glimpse, just now, of the prince’s gaze in the ballroom.
That was why Loony had come to find Seraphie on the balcony.
“The man kept staring at Lilié. The whole time.”
He’d stubbornly watched Lilié, who’d made a point to stay away, standing with Peonia.
“It wasn’t the gaze one should ever have…”
Loony knew the look of love. She saw it in Karl’s eyes, saw it reflected in others whenever they looked at those they treasured.
That heated, sweet, suffocating moment—the eternity found in an instant.
But the Crown Prince’s eyes held nothing of the sort when he looked at Lilié. Nor were they filled with any other emotion.
What frightened her was the void she saw there—so black she imagined a venomous beast must be lurking inside.
And the Crown Prince had once fixed that same look upon—
“…He used to look at you like that too, Seraphie.”
He had stared at Seraphie with the very same emptiness as he now regarded Lilié.
Never before had a ball so thoroughly drained Lilié.
She’d barely shown herself in the capital’s social scene, yet strangers kept approaching to ask her all manner of questions. The ordeal was exhausting.
In another sense, it was genuinely terrifying.
‘Did I say the wrong thing?’
Her elders had warned her endlessly before sending her to the capital. If you weren’t careful with your words, you might wake to find your head cut off.
‘Last time wasn’t nearly this hard…’
As she recalled the previous ball, Lilié’s expression darkened.
She remembered when Loony had almost been strangled by her own brother.
“Sigh…”
She prayed with all her heart that nothing like that would happen tonight—that no one would get hurt, and above all, that the Crown Prince wouldn’t trouble them.
Recently, whenever she saw the Crown Prince, Lilié felt a swelling fury she could barely suppress.
“Tired?” Peonia asked sympathetically.
“No! I’m fine!”
Lilié straightened her drooping shoulders and back. But before long, she was slumping again and let out a broad yawn.
“…Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m tired too.”
“Peonia…!”
Lilié looked upon her like a goddess, moved nearly to tears.
“I can endure a little longer.”
Though more fatigued than at the last ball, she was grateful for the warm welcome from so many. The probing, sometimes pitying looks didn’t bother her anymore—Peonia knew just how to deflect such things.
“Hmm…”
Peonia smiled wryly.
“It’s probably because of me.”
She guessed as much about why people were so drawn to Lilié.
“I never silenced the seamstresses.”
In fact, she’d chosen not to.
She hated that Lilié was unfairly slandered and misunderstood, and the Crown Prince himself had carelessly exposed his ugliness.
‘He’s usually so mindful of appearances…’
Peonia realized then: the Crown Prince had made a grave mistake—likely due to becoming sensitive as his power waned in Seraphie’s brilliant wake.
‘That too, I suppose, was thanks to Seraphie.’
Thanks to her, the seamstresses had all witnessed the prince’s appalling behavior firsthand.
He’d offered up the perfect gossip himself—so why should Peonia try to suppress it?
‘If he’s slipping up like that, he must be desperate.’
Would this make breaking off the engagement harder, she wondered?
Day and night, Peonia racked her brain for a clean way out of the betrothal. If she could not find grounds, she might, as Loony once mused, grab just anyone and do something truly outrageous.
“Don’t worry, Peonia! I’ll help you no matter what!”
Lilié pumped her fists in determination, a crease like a walnut appearing under her tight-lipped resolve.
“Leave it to me!”
With her confident promise, she marched over to the food table and soon returned carrying two glasses and a plate of sandwiches and small treats.
“You have to eat to keep your energy up. My family says you need strength to stand against bad people!”
“……”
Peonia felt tears prick her eyes.
Was there ever anyone who’d cared so much for her?
“…Thank you, truly.”
Perhaps meeting this girl was the best thing to ever happen in her life.
“I hope I’m not taking advantage of you…”
“If you need me, you can ask even more—”
Peonia was just about to accept the glass from Lilié when—
Clatter!
A large hand slapped the glass away, sending it shattering onto the floor.
The loud crash and the pool of pink drink spreading through shards of glass went unnoticed by both Peonia and Lilié, so stunned were they.
“…Your Highness?”
They stared blankly as the Crown Prince, having forced his way between them, seized Peonia’s wrist and turned to go. Lilié was left frozen and alone.
It took her a moment to give chase.
‘He only looked at Peonia…!’
The Crown Prince had eyes only for Peonia as he dragged her away. Lilié, to whom he had always pretended affection before others, seemed beneath his notice.
Her heart thundered with anxiety.
This was a sign of danger.