PLQYM | Chapter 58

The Emperor’s face was harder than ever, a mask of unyielding fury.

‘Utterly pathetic.’

Eloine, who inwardly scoffed at the Great Emperor of Pranas, continued her preparations unfazed. At her slight nod, Eric, her ever-attentive aide, stepped forward. When she extended her hand, he carefully slipped travel gloves onto her pale fingers.

Only after checking her reflection in the mirror did Eloine turn to Heraith.

“Why would His Majesty be searching for his aide with me? Wasn’t he your cherished pet, always kept by your side?”

Her words made Heraith’s expression grow even colder.

A flash of rage burned behind his eyes, but Eloine didn’t flinch. If anything, her lips curved in a smirk, as though entertained by his reaction.

“You’re demanding I hand over your aide, who you claimed was ill and in seclusion? Truly absurd.”

“…Luce mentioned Alosa.”

“And how does that justify barging in here to find him? Are you so easily swayed by a mere mention?”

“He doesn’t lie. If he said something, it must be connected to you.”

“That’s all it takes for you to assume he’s here?”

At his words, Eloine let out a sharp laugh—a blatant sound of mockery. With a gesture, her maid approached to place a hat atop her head. Eloine gave an approving nod at her reflection before speaking again.

“You’re far too naive, Your Majesty. If simply mentioning someone brought them here, then how many people in your palace would he avoid or refuse to name?”

“…”

“Perhaps he did it on purpose to throw you off. Then again, that’s not like him. But if he did…”

Eloine stepped closer to Heraith, her brilliant smile as dazzling as it was taunting. Despite the Emperor’s towering presence, she didn’t falter.

“Could it be he’s trying to escape, Your Majesty? Oh…!”

Feigning realization, she gasped softly.

“Did you, by any chance, do something unforgivable to him?”

“…!”

Heraith’s face twisted. The composed facade he usually wore was gone, replaced by clear agitation. Seeing this, Eloine raised her chin and turned away.

“Eric.”

At her call, her aide stepped forward and offered his hand. Eloine placed her hand in his, and they started to leave.

“I should go before His Majesty makes any more baseless accusations.”

With a small bow, she added, “Let’s meet again, Your Majesty. Hopefully, you’ll be more rational next time.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away.

Heraith stood motionless, his face as rigid as stone. Though she feared he might throw a tantrum and stop her, he didn’t.

‘Good. At least he’s letting me go.’

Suppressing a sigh of relief, Eloine brushed past him. But what came next was something she hadn’t anticipated.

Just as Eric moved to follow her, Heraith seized his wrist.

“What are you doing?!”

Eloine’s sharp voice rang out. Yet, surprisingly, Eric remained calm, his expression neutral.

Heraith scrutinized the man closely. Bright golden hair, piercing blue eyes—a rather plain face overall. He was a stranger. Compared to Lucian, this man had coarser features. So why had Heraith instinctively grabbed him?

“Your Majesty, this is outrageous!” Eloine’s indignation was palpable. “First, you insult me, and now you accost my people?”

Heraith, still distracted by the peculiar urge that had driven him to act, hesitated.

“This matter will not go unaddressed. I will formally lodge a complaint with Pranas!”

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” Eric interjected, his calm voice cutting through the tension.

‘Ah…’

At the sound of the man’s voice, Heraith swallowed his frustration. It wasn’t Lucian’s voice—it was rougher and deeper. That alone was enough to confirm it wasn’t him.

Heraith let go of Eric’s wrist, suddenly weary. Eric stepped back and bowed deeply.

“If I’ve done something to offend, please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

His flawless demeanor only brought Lucian more vividly to Heraith’s mind. But no matter how closely he looked, there was no resemblance.

Glancing at the ring on his own hand, Heraith checked for any trace of magic but found none.

‘Maybe it was just a coincidence.’

Though, on closer inspection, there wasn’t even enough resemblance to call it that.

“I apologize for my rudeness, Princess.”

At his subdued apology, Eloine frowned before relaxing her expression.

“…I’ll let it slide this time. Whatever the issue is, I hope you won’t involve Alosa in your imperial drama.”

With that, she turned and departed.

Eloine and her entourage disappeared from view, leaving Heraith standing alone, staring at their retreating figures with a hardened face.

And so, Princess Eloine of Alosa and her retinue officially left the Imperial Palace.

Despite Heraith’s lingering suspicions, Lucian was nowhere to be found. The royal carriage carried only Eloine, her maid, and her aide, Eric, as it left the palace gates.

Once the carriage was far from the Imperial Palace:

“Phew, I thought I was going to die back there.”

Eric, who had been so composed before the Emperor, slumped in his seat as the tension left his body. Though his behavior might have been improper, Eloine merely laughed, her smile radiant.

“Why the panic now? You handled yourself perfectly earlier.”

“That was pure survival instinct! One wrong move, and I’d have been dead on the spot. If not for Lucian’s coaching, I wouldn’t have lasted a second in front of the Emperor. Never again, I swear.”

As Eric grumbled, Eloine chuckled softly.

“Well, for someone with such a fragile heart, you did exceptionally well today. Flawless, even. Don’t you agree, Lucian?”

Her gaze shifted to the quiet maid seated nearby. At her words, the maid lifted her head, revealing striking ice-blue eyes.

For a moment, the maid’s face flickered, like an image distorted by water. Then, like a spell breaking, the figure changed. Where the maid once sat, a man wearing the same attire as Eric now appeared.

Lucian. The very man the Emperor had been so desperate to find.

Eloine smiled as she studied him.

“Hmm. A shame you didn’t stay in that disguise longer—it suited you.”

“A clumsy disguise would’ve been seen through immediately. This was the better choice.”

“True, the Emperor is frighteningly perceptive.”

If Eric hadn’t spent hours training under Lucian’s meticulous instruction, he never could have fooled Heraith. Though Eric had complained about the ordeal, Eloine couldn’t have been more satisfied with the results.

“That artifact is remarkable,” Eloine mused. “To change appearances so seamlessly. I always knew you were handsome, but you’d make quite a stunning woman too.”

“It’s thanks to the Tower Master’s expertise. The effect doesn’t last long, though.”

Lucian paused mid-sentence, suddenly lost in thought. With a sigh, he chuckled dryly.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Just that I’m ridiculous. Even while talking with you, I was wondering if this artifact could be mass-produced ethically and sold.”

“Oh my.”

Eloine laughed, her tone light.

“You’re just like your Emperor—an incurable workaholic. Honestly, you two suit each other so well.”

“Please don’t say such horrifying things.”

Lucian’s wry smile didn’t mask the bitterness in his voice. Workaholic, huh? He couldn’t deny it. He had long since adapted his pace and habits to match Heraith’s.

But what did it matter now? He would never return to that man’s side.

Lucian gazed out the window as unfamiliar scenery passed by. Soon, everything he saw would be entirely new.

Somehow, it felt like a reflection of his relationship with the Emperor—something that had grown distant, familiar yet irretrievably foreign.

The bitterness lingered, sharp and aching.