Chapter 47
Nielsen murmured, finally seeming to grasp the general situation.
“Then even if the child is the former Crown Prince’s, they could have had black hair.”
“Yes, that’s right. That may be why it was so difficult to find them. The imperial family mostly has blond hair and blue eyes.”
That was true. Even Cyrone, for example, had the traditional blond hair and blue eyes of the Edelward family. Especially within the imperial family, to maintain this appearance through the generations, Empresses were chosen from women with blond hair and blue eyes. The deposed Empress Loran was like that, as is the current Empress Astana.
“So, what happened after that?”
Nielsen asked, and Camille shook her head as if stuck.
“That’s the strange part… There are no birth records from that year in the north. No registration either.”
“What?”
Nielsen questioned, disbelief clear on his face.
“She came to the North heavily pregnant. There’s no way she moved elsewhere in that condition. It’s certain the child was born there.”
“Yes, the woman’s house in the north was said to have remained occupied for a year before being vacated.”
“But why no registration? One parent should have registered the child.”
“Of course, that would be the normal case. But no such records exist.”
Camille spoke like this was something she herself knew well. Nielsen let out a dry laugh as if hearing something absurd. Then suddenly, his eyes sharpened.
“Wait a moment. So someone might have deliberately erased all the records?”
“Yes, that’s right. It means there was someone carefully managing the child’s identity.”
“And no one knows what happened to the woman?”
“Yes. She disappeared suddenly, really vanished into thin air.”
Nielsen’s face turned to disbelief. Camille looked down at him and added,
“Well, it’s quite an unusual case, so tracking the clues shouldn’t be impossible. According to accounts from that time, the child is presumed to be a son.”
Camille shrugged confidently.
“If the child was born around then, they’d be about twenty-two or twenty-three now. A young man with black hair. And raised in the north.”
Camille folded her fingers one by one as she said this. Nielsen slowly repeated Camille’s words to himself.
“Twenty-two or twenty-three years old, so a young man. Presumably raised in the north during his early years… with black hair…”
“…Wait a minute.”
Nielsen looked at Camille with a puzzled expression.
* * *
Elia spent two days confined to her room. Everything she needed was already prepared there, and meals were brought to her by attendants, so she felt little discomfort.
When one was confined as a form of punishment, meals were often withheld as well, but it seemed clear that Elia was not under such strict punishment.
And so it was on the third night. The mansion was as quiet as a mouse. Even Elia, who stayed only in her room, could feel the unsettling stillness.
Elia descended the stairs very slowly. As a cold wind blew, the petals in the garden trembled softly. Through the darkness cloaking the manor, Elia sensed an unfamiliar presence.
“Ah, Miss.”
A servant standing in the central parlor visibly shuddered when he saw Elia. She stared quietly at the unfamiliar face. Now that she thought about it, most of the servants attending in the underground reception room were strangers to her.
“Not asleep yet?”
The servant glanced around nervously, surprised to meet Elia. She simply said she was thirsty. The servant involuntarily let out a faint sound and then nodded.
“If you return to your room, I will soon bring you something to drink.”
The servant bowed excessively and hurried to leave, seeming eager to get away quickly. Elia called out urgently to the retreating figure.
“You’re heading to my father in the basement, aren’t you?”
“Ah, yes. That’s correct.”
The servant hesitated briefly and then nodded. Elia extended her hand toward him.
“I’ll bring it myself, so give me the tray.”
The servant’s eyes widened in surprise as Elia reached out for the tray. He seemed at a loss for words, unsure what to say in this unexpected situation.
“But that—”
“I have something to say to my father. Just hand it over.”
While Elia spoke as if it was no big deal, the servant looked quite troubled. Still, unable to refuse her persistent insistence, he finally handed over the tray after carefully glancing around.
“He told me not to enter the reception. Just leave it by the door…”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“B-But—”
The servant opened his mouth to say more but closed it again. After all, Elia really didn’t have to follow the servants’ designated routes. The servant, gripping his lips in hesitation, eventually fell silent.
Elia slowly stepped down the basement stairs. Each step thudded heavily beneath her feet. When she reached the last step shrouded in darkness, a choking dust stirred in her nostrils.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.