Chapter 240
One day in the second year since Freesia’s disappearance—
“…It’s not her.”
Izar stared down at the corpse with dry eyes. The woman had been found with a newborn baby.
The reason he had to personally confirm it was because even those who had once served Freesia had hesitated, seeing how much this woman slightly resembled her.
The head of the orphanage bowed deeply.
“If a similar woman is discovered, I will immediately send word, Your Grace.”
“……”
Izar didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he simply handed over the funds to cover funeral expenses for the nameless woman and her infant, then turned to leave.
How had that woman ended up dead, clutching a child on a cold street?
As the carriage rattled along, Izar’s lips twisted into a grim smile as he imagined her backstory.
“Haha…”
His nightmares were better than this. At least in his dreams, Freesia had met a peaceful death.
On a clean bed, with the warm care of others, eating comfortably…
Even if that was at another man’s side.
“Ah…”
The laughter caught in his throat and turned into a dry sigh.
Izar buried his face in both hands and lowered his head.
Even the setting sun behind him felt unbearably heavy that day.
He should never have seen that body.
Because from that day on, in his nightmares, Freesia began appearing bloodied and abandoned in a dark forest.
〈Freesia, no…〉
He had desperately pulled her into his arms.
Even knowing it was a dream, he begged, as if gathering the blood she shed could stop her death.
〈No, this can’t be. I told you not to die…!〉
Hadn’t he begged her not to die in front of his eyes? Not to show him the sight of her leaving?
Recalling that, anguish was followed by rage, and he screamed as if being torn apart.
〈If this was going to be your end, then you never should have left…!〉
〈Izar…〉
Freesia, hearing his cries, gently stroked his cheek and whispered with urgency.
〈Please… find our baby…〉
Even in the dream, Izar’s heart turned cold.
Was their child still alive?
Could that child even be alive?
〈…I……〉
Izar forced out a voice that barely came. He was exhausted.
He was about to say he didn’t want to search for a child that had already died.
〈So it doesn’t matter to you what happens to me, Papa.〉
But then, from deep within the dark forest, a thin voice echoed.
Izar stiffly turned his neck to look toward the sound.
He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to see.
But in the end, he raised his head—and saw who had spoken with that bitter tone.
〈Papa. You’re not going to look for me?〉
〈You’re…〉
Izar’s mouth went dry.
It was a presence he had never seen before, yet somehow he knew the child’s name.
Freesia’s and his child.
Wavy black hair, a pale face white as the moon. Small enough to barely reach his shin.
Yet the face was shrouded in darkness, obscured from view.
If the child had been a son, Izar was supposed to name him.
But if it had been a daughter…
〈Nova.〉
Once he spoke the name aloud, there was no taking it back.
The child, glowing faintly like a shard of moonlight, tilted her head and whispered,
〈…Papa always disappoints us.〉
Their child turned away. Like a falling star sinking into a black lake.
And then morning came.
And so, in that way, Izar sent off the third spring since Freesia’s departure.
***
The warming weather wasn’t welcome only to the duke’s household.
The High Priest, having received a report on how drastically donations had decreased compared to previous years, could no longer hold back his fury.
“Damn it! How can they blame the temple for this?!”
The reasons for the drop in donations were obvious.
First, the temple had failed to protect the imperial descendant during the hunting festival.
Second, a priest associated with the temple had been rumored to be involved in the rebellion.
From the High Priest’s point of view, the situation was beyond unfair.
‘I never imagined things would come to this because of that sanctuary.’
Granted, those with divine power were hard to come by, so he had simply wanted one sacred place—imbued with vast magical energy—to be placed under temple ownership.
But lately, another figure had begun to irritate him more and more.
‘Riegel… I never thought he’d be such a cunning scoundrel!’
With his harmless appearance and open bookishness, the High Priest had assumed Riegel would be far weaker than his tyrannical grandfather.
But once the Emperor began to fall ill, mourning his granddaughter’s funeral, Riegel started to show his true colors.
He began spreading magical techniques developed at the Academy.
Among them were spells that dangerously brushed against the boundaries of doctrine, enough to make the High Priest deeply uncomfortable.
‘Something must be done…’
If Riegel took the throne, the temple might be humiliated in ways they couldn’t predict.
So in the end, even the High Priest had no choice but to resort to some petty methods to discredit the crown prince.
After reviewing the donation report, he moved on to the next item: a confidential report from a spy planted close to the crown prince.
The past three years had produced nothing useful, but as he read this new report, his white eyebrows slowly lifted.
We report suspicions that His Highness may have an illegitimate child.
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