Chapter 17
I was sinking deeper and deeper into my thoughts whenâ
âMiss.â
The horse stopped, and Dale called me quietly.
We were already back at the estate.
I clenched my fists and jumped down from the wagon.
âThank you for today, Dale. It probably wasnât to your liking, but thank you for following my schedule all day.â
After greeting him, I hopped off the wagon. I needed to hurry around to the back of the mansion.
If I returned to my room through the secret path Iâd made, I could safely complete todayâs forbidden outing without Mother noticing. That way Samara wouldnât worry either.
âMiss.â
At Daleâs call, I turned around.
He was looking at me with a faint smile. Then he suddenly held out a paper bag from beside him.
âPlease take this.â
âWhat is it?â
âFig bread.â
Fig bread.
It was the latest trend in the capital. A fluffy meringue-based dough baked with sweet fig jam and chunks of fig. The young ladies in the capital adored it.
I had only heard rumors about it, though. I had tried to buy it a few times, but it was always sold out by the time I arrived.
I walked over awkwardly and accepted the bag. How did Dale manage to get this? And why give it to me?
As I looked up at him in confusion, I noticed he was still wearing that faint smile. A smile he had never shown me before.
âMiss, Martha liked you very much. And so do I. For the three years you stayed in your room, this house was always gloomy and quiet.â
He continued softly.
âToday, escorting you, I was very happy. It wasnât unpleasant at all. I felt like you had returned to your old self. The young lady who used to splash dirt in the garden and laugh.â
âDaleâŠâ
I had always thought he disliked me.
I tightened my grip on the paper bag. I had never heard him speak like this before. I thought he saw me only as his employerâs daughter.
For some reason, my eyes began to sting.
Seeing my expression, Dale smiled again.
âI just⊠I just want you to be happy, miss. Forgive me if I spoke too much today.â
âThank you, Grandpa.â
My voice was sincere.
And in that moment, my thoughts cleared.
All my tangled worries felt like they had been washed away.
Everyone wanted me to be happy. Even Dale, whom I had believed to be cold toward me.
And perhaps happiness wasnât something I could find by desperately clinging to Rubellus.
Of course, a blind date was just a blind date. It would be foolish to expect too much.
But stillâŠ
All right. Letâs try it.
A blind date.
I needed to do something for myself.
Clenching my fists, I looked straight at him.
âIâll try it.â
At that time, I had no idea how things would unfold. Not even in my wildest dreams.
***
âYour Majesty, your eyes are different from others.â
âI know that, Teacher.â
Rubellus replied while gripping his pen tightly.
It was a basic imperial studies class. The textbook and notebook were familiar. His hand holding the pen looked very small.
Ah. A dream.
He realized it naturally.
He was five years old. He had already learned his letters and was studying composition and calligraphy.
This was the time when he was known as the âGhost Prince.â His existence was acknowledged, but his face and voice had never been made public.
It was the memory of the day Duke Wildenbiston first handed him the lenses.
âAccording to Zahard history, the red eyes are said to be the curse of the white serpent devoured by the great eagle. The divine eagle Zahard, who founded this land, bit off the head of a white serpent that slept here. The serpent, as it died, cursed that among your descendants would be born one who carries its will. Since then, those with red eyes have never been recorded favorably in history. They were feared as bringers of misfortune and were deposed early.â
âAnd I am the one with red eyes.â
Rubellus swallowed and answered.
Yes. He was.
Until he turned seven, he had been hidden deep within the palace, like a ghost prince whose existence was denied.
There was a reason for it.
His red eyes carried an eerie energy. Since his birth, strange phenomena had plagued the imperial family. Ominous signs.
For example, whenever he walked through the palace, peopleâs shadows flickered and stretched unnaturally even in broad daylight. Some maids fainted in terror.
âWhat do you think, Your Highness?â
That was when Duke Wildenbiston asked the questions.
Questions that would become steps toward changing Rubellusâs life.
Young Rubellus did not answer immediately. He studied the dukeâs face.
At that time, the duke still had jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. A cold, handsome man.
Aira resembled her father exactly. When she kept her mouth shut, she looked sharp and cold.
Of course, Rubellus had never said that aloud. And at that time, Aira would have only just turned one.
When Rubellus remained silent, the duke asked again.
âDo you truly believe that because you have red eyes, you cannot become a wise ruler?â
After thinking, Rubellus slowly shook his head.
âNo.â
âBut none of the emperors with red eyes have ever been recorded favorably.â
âI am different from them.â
He answered quietly.
It was not arrogance.
From the moment he became self-aware, he knew.
He was immune to poison. He was more intelligent than anyone. More capable than anyone.
If not him, then no one could be emperor.
At that, the duke smiled brightly.
Rubellus knew instinctively he had passed some kind of test.
âYou answered correctly, Your Highness.â
The duke continued.
âThere have been twenty-three emperors of Zahard. Only three had red eyes.â
He spoke slowly.
âHowever, fifteen of themâincluding the three with red eyesâdisplayed supernatural abilities. Their shadows flickered. Beasts bowed before them.â
Rubellusâs eyes widened. Even at seven, he understood.
âWhatever power Your Highness possesses, whatever supernatural ability you awaken, I believe you will use it for Zahard.â
The duke carefully extended a case containing the lenses.
âI do not mean to insult former emperors. I merely present a possibility. The choice is yours.â
Young Rubellus only stared at the case for a long time.
And thenâ
***
In the silent early dawn, Rubellus opened his eyes.
He did not rub them. Did not toss or turn.
He simply sat up straight in bed, leaning against the headboard.
His red eyes scanned the dark bedroom.
He had been dreaming.
The darkness had warned him.
Rubellus clicked his tongue lightly.
âDo I need to say it for you to come out?â
At that moment, masked assassins dropped silently from the ceiling, blades gleaming in their hands.
They crouched low, staring at him.
Rubellus knew this atmosphere well.
Killing intent.
Cold. Thick. Familiar.
Yet he did not move.
He sighed.
âHow is my uncle?â
ââŠâ
Of course, they did not answer.
Rubellus waited briefly before speaking again.
âPerhaps he is not well. If he sent you. He must be quite impatient.â
âDie quietly.â
One of the assassins muttered.
They still didnât understand their situation.
Rubellus looked at them almost pitifully.
Then he uttered a short incantation.
âLight.â
The room lit up instantly.
The assassinsâ figures were revealed.
And then their shadows began to writhe.
Startled, they pulled out small beads from their other hands.
âExtinguish!â
The light vanished at once.
Rubellus raised one eyebrow.
One assassin sneered.
âDid you think we would come unprepared? It is well known that Rubellus of Zahard controls shadows. Even without light, we can take your life. Cursed red eyesââ
âNo, no. Wait.â
Rubellus cut him off, laughter in his voice.
Then he burst out laughingâbright and clear enough to unsettle even trained killers.
âI expected you to prepare. I just didnât expect you to turn off the lights.â
ââŠWhat?â
âWell, think about it. Shadows are dark.â
Before they could respond, Rubellus snapped his fingers.
In the darkness, a corner of the room rippledâ
âand a scream rang out.






