Chapter 8

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 5-2

Chapter Title: The Crown Prince's Guest

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The Crown Prince had taken in a "Crown Prince Guest."

A "Crown Prince Guest" referred to a precious visitor personally selected and formally invited into the palace by the Crown Prince himself.

He could be the Crown Prince's mentor or perhaps his closest friend.

Regardless, once designated as a Crown Prince Guest, one was entitled to VIP treatment in the Crown Prince Palace, free to stay as long as desired, irrespective of their status.

But this particular Crown Prince Guest had a most unusual background.

He was neither from the empire nor from any neighboring kingdom—he was a barbarian.

The palace buzzed with shock upon learning that the Crown Prince had chosen a barbarian as his guest.

The Hamel Empire had long shunned barbarians, so the imperial citizens harbored deep aversion toward them.

Nevertheless, the Crown Prince convinced the Six Departments that this man would aid the empire's future barbarian policies. In the end, the Imperial Palace acquiesced to his will, welcoming its first barbarian VIP.

"It's Jahankun. He'll be moving with me from now on, so no need to pay him any special attention. Just assign him a room in the palace."

The Crown Prince summoned Gerard and Ellie to the lounge and introduced Jahankun.

Gerard and Ellie formally greeted him.

"Welcome. As our honored guest, we will attend to you with the utmost care, ensuring no detail is overlooked."

"......"

Jahankun simply stood there blankly, showing no reaction.

The Crown Prince stepped in to explain.

"Jahankun doesn't converse with anyone but me."

Gerard and Ellie exchanged helpless glances with the Crown Prince.

He spoke nonchalantly.

"Just provide a bed and make sure his meals are served on time. Leave everything else to him."

"We've already prepared a separate chamber. But shouldn't he have a personal attendant?"

"No need."

"However, as a Crown Prince Guest..."

The Crown Prince waved his hand dismissively, as if annoyed.

Gerard and Ellie had no choice but to fall silent.

At that moment, Jahankun left the room without so much as asking permission.

Gerard quickly signaled Barts to follow him.

The Crown Prince gave Barts a sympathetic look as he bowed and departed.

Not long after, Barts returned and apologized.

"I'm sorry. I lost Jahankun."

"It's fine. He's off touring the palace—let him be. He'll return on his own by evening. He can roam anywhere in the palace without restriction; no need to stop him."

"Understood, Your Highness."

"Mm."

The Crown Prince rose from his seat.

He glanced out the window to gauge the time before asking Gerard,

"Has the Public Safety Department minister arrived?"

(Public Safety Department: The department overseeing disasters and diseases.)

"Yes. He's waiting in the reception hall."

"Once I'm done with him, summon Glenn."

"Yes, Your Highness."

As the Crown Prince exited the lounge, he spotted Leona standing rigidly by the door.

He paused before her.

"Your Highness."

Leona bowed her head toward him.

Kamin gazed down at the crown of her head, recalling the information Jahankun had brought.

It detailed every aspect of a woman named "Leona Felbus"—from her birth to her entry into the palace—without omission.

Yet no matter how many times he read those few sheets of paper, they couldn't reveal the true nature of the maid standing before him.

Kamin scanned the surroundings, rolling his eyes.

The attendants, bewildered and flustered, shrank back under his cold gaze.

That was normal. Before status, people submitted.

But this woman claimed obedience while fearing no rank.

Kamin deliberately exuded a threatening aura.

He sharpened his gaze and tensed his muscles to intimidate her.

The atmosphere grew so tense it seemed a roar might erupt at any moment; the attendants dropped to their knees right there, prostrating themselves.

Only Leona remained utterly unmoved.

She glanced up at the Crown Prince briefly before asking even more deferentially,

"Your Highness, do you have any commands?"

She seemed compliant, yet unbowed by force.

She served her master without reverence.

Infinitely irreverent...

And full of suspicions...

Kamin chuckled dryly and relaxed his body.

Strangely, he had no desire to cast her aside.

"Today, you bathe Nacha. I'll handle dinner myself, so no need to feed him early."

"As you command, Your Highness."

We'll see in time. What kind of person you really are.

"Good work."

Kamin reverted to the image of a magnanimous master, urging the bowing attendants to rise before heading to the reception hall.

Once his footsteps faded, Leona straightened and let out a small sigh.

"Is this enough?"

the attendant asked.

Leona checked the water level in the tub.

"Yes, plenty. Thank you for your help."

"No trouble at all. Call if you need anything else."

The attendants who had fetched water from the well lingered, wanting to chat more with Leona, but scattered upon seeing Nacha approach.

"Come here, Nacha. I'll give you a bath today."

Nacha hurried over and rubbed his head against her.

Leona scooped water with a ladle and poured it over him, then scrubbed from his neck down with a coarse brush.

Nacha obligingly lay flat on the ground to make it easier for her.

Leona burst into laughter at his clever behavior.

"Nacha, you're smarter than most people."

After roughly brushing off the dirt clinging to his fur, Leona pulled out several soaps and held them to his nose.

"Which one suits your taste?"

Nacha sniffed them carefully and selected one.

"This one? Got it."

Leona began soaping his body.

His large size made it no small task.

She rolled up her sleeves and washed every nook and cranny when suddenly Nacha shuddered.

"What's wrong?"

Nacha craned his neck, staring somewhere.

Following his gaze, Leona spotted Jahankun.

He watched for a moment, and as soon as Nacha whinnied, he strode over purposefully.

Ignoring Leona entirely, Jahankun knelt on one knee before Nacha, pulled something from his bosom, and fed it to him.

As Nacha devoured it eagerly, Leona approached to peer at what was in Jahankun's hand.

It looked familiar.

Dredging up memories from her past life, Leona recalled the name.

"Pomegranates."

Jahankun glanced at her but ignored her.

Leona nodded to herself, satisfied.

In her past life, she had stocked the Crown Prince Palace with them in bulk.

A fruit from the western continent regions—the Crown Prince hadn't favored it.

Now she remembered: he'd brought them in for Nacha.

With her curiosity sated, Leona resumed bathing Nacha.

Once Jahankun fed him the last pomegranate, he rose and left.

Leona watched his retreating figure thoughtfully.

Long platinum hair reaching his waist, pale skin, slender build, blue eyes... A barbarian who looked nothing like one.

In her past life, desperate to uncover the Crown Prince's weaknesses, she'd thrown every resource at investigating Jahankun.

But it yielded nothing.

No ploy revealed anything about him.

She hadn't even discovered his tribe.

The continent hosted five major barbarian groups.

The Katago Tribe on the northwestern plains, the Northern and Southern Ruman Tribes in the deserts below, and the Seyovi and Saya Tribes in the southwestern jungles.

These five western frontier tribes looked vastly different from imperials, each with distinct features.

Yet Jahankun's appearance made him hard to distinguish from an imperial at a glance—no barbarian traits.

If pressed, the only oddity was the long wooden earring in his right ear.

To uncover his identity, Leona had even scoured records of minor tribes in the south and east.

But they hid deep in mountains, too numerous to track; she failed.

When the Crown Prince fell and was confined in her past life, Jahankun vanished without a trace.

Leona hadn't spared him a thought then.

Later, preparing to smuggle the Imperial Grandson out, she remembered him.

She figured only Jahankun might know the Crown Prince's whereabouts.

But without him, no leads.

Reflecting on the past, Leona glanced in the direction he'd vanished.

If all efforts failed and nothing changed...

If the Crown Prince was ultimately exiled, then the Imperial Grandson...

Leona resolved to cling to Jahankun as a lifeline for such contingencies.

That evening, the Crown Prince summoned Jahankun to dine together.

They sat facing each other across the long table.

No words passed between them; the dining hall was utterly silent.

Soon, maids served the food.

Exquisite dishes in gleaming silverware were placed before the Crown Prince and Jahankun.

The Crown Prince deftly used the array of forks and knives beside his plate according to etiquette.

Jahankun, however, seemed ignorant of table manners, grabbing utensils haphazardly.

The attendants in the hall frowned at his boorish behavior.

They inwardly cursed the uncouth barbarian, shooting him covert disdainful glances.

Unaware or uncaring, Jahankun discarded the forks altogether and ate with his hands.

Even as people gasped openly, he paid no mind.

The Crown Prince ignored it all, silently focusing on his meal.

Having wolfed down his food in moments, Jahankun wiped his dirty hands on the tablecloth.

Then Leona quietly approached and offered him a handkerchief.

"Jahankun, please use this."

The dining hall fell deathly still.

The Crown Prince paused and looked up.

Jahankun eyed the white handkerchief extended to him, then Leona.

Leona smiled warmly and offered it again.

Noting no contempt in her eyes, Jahankun accepted it meekly.

In her past life, Leona's spies shadowed Jahankun's every move to uncover his origins.

Hoping for clues in his habits, many eyes trailed him—but his agility was lightning-quick, darting unpredictably; no one tracked him perfectly.

Thus, investigations into him were slipshod.

No one discerned what he valued or liked.

One thing alone surfaced: his taboo.

Jahankun never touched red wine.

He rejected all red-tinted drinks. Not red itself—just red alcohol or beverages.

Deep into the night, bogged by endless duties, the Crown Prince lingered in his study.

He dismissed all attendants save Jahankun.

Jahankun sat at the guest table, poring over documents the Crown Prince had foisted on him, while Kamin agonized over urgent matters.

Suddenly, the Crown Prince shot up, flung off his outer robe onto the floor, and paced furiously.

"Damn it! This is intolerable!"

"Those noble bastards—wiping their asses for them twists my guts!"

"Endure a bit longer, please."

"How long must I keep up this beggar charade?"

"You know."

Jahankun gazed at Kamin with calm eyes.

Kamin irritably raked his hair and yanked the cord to summon an attendant.

"You called, Your Highness?"

"Fetch some wine. Strong red wine will do."

"Right away."

As the attendant left, Kamin slumped into the chair opposite Jahankun.

Propping his feet on the table and sprawling, he belatedly recalled Jahankun's taboo.

"Ah, forgot. Get something else for you."

"No, it's fine. It's late; I won't drink."

"All right?"

Kamin slouched back down.

Heavy sighs punctuated the silence.

"Even embracing the Six Departments seems futile. That old man won't yield the 'Chamber of the Sovereign' easily."

"What will you do?"

"...Ally with the Prime Minister."

Jahankun's expression darkened further.

"You mean to accept his proposal?"

"To resolve this quickly, yes. Got a better idea?"

"But..."

A knock interrupted. At Kamin's permission, Leona entered.

Kamin lowered his feet and straightened up.

Leona curtsied lightly, then set the wine tray on the table.

Two glasses and a bottle of red wine.

But also—an unrequested bottle of white wine.

Kamin and Jahankun's eyes met briefly, then parted.

Kamin halted Leona's retreat.

"Why two kinds of wine?"

Leona bowed at the waist.

"Unsure of Jahankun's preference, I prepared both. If neither suits, I'll fetch others."

Kamin tapped the chair arm with his finger, pausing before asking,

"Waiting up this late?"

"Until you retire, Your Highness."

"No more of that. Can't handle my full schedule, so rotate with others after dinner henceforth."

"I'm fine, Your Highness."

"That's an order."

"...As you command."

"Dismissed."

"Yes, Your Highness."

As Leona left, Kamin held up the white wine bottle toward Jahankun.

"Since you're here, care for a glass?"

Jahankun nodded quietly; Kamin poured and handed it over.

"You didn't plan this, did you? Pure coincidence, but hitting it spot-on is eerie."

Kamin shuddered dramatically.

Jahankun stared at the door Leona had exited, murmuring to himself.

"Truly... a strange person."

"Right? A peculiar woman."

Jahankun turned to face Kamin squarely, speaking gravely.

"I can't see her aura."

"Aura?"

"The living emit unique auras reflecting their energy. But... she has none."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. First time I've seen this... unless she's already dead... or like you, aura so potent it's invisible..."

Jahankun tilted his head, perplexed.

Kamin chuckled as if hearing a joke.

"Impressing you like that—impressive woman. Sometimes I fear that maid more than the Emperor. No wonder her aura's hidden."

Kamin offered a joking interpretation.

But Jahankun couldn't shake his unease.

The Hamel Empire observed four rest days monthly, suspending state affairs.

The first and second, plus the fourteenth and fifteenth—holidays for all officials, Emperor included.

The Crown Prince's first holiday since his investiture.

He decided to leave the palace for a two-day, one-night tour of the capital.

Desiring an incognito outing, he limited his guard to a minimal retinue.

That holiday morning, he departed on Nacha.

He refused all attendants save his guards and Jahankun.

This granted unexpected respite to his close servants.

Miranda, seizing the chance, stayed abed to catch up on sleep.

Leona pondered her options, then resolved to procure necessities outside.

Seeking advance leave and a pass, she visited the Chief Maid Supervisor's office.

While applying for her palace pass, she ran into Ellie emerging from the Chief Maid Supervisor's room.

Ellie had been swamped handling the role in Sonya's stead lately.

"Ellie. Long time no see."

Leona greeted warmly.

"Oh, uh, y-yeah. I'm busy now."

Ellie flustered upon seeing her and hurried off.

Leona gave a wry smile at Ellie's vanishing act.

With her pass in hand, Leona exited the palace and headed straight to the Merchants' Guild.

There, she learned of a caravan traveling to the northwest that had just wrapped a major trade and was resting at an inn.

She went to them.

The merchants eyed the sudden visitor warily at first. But,

"Hello. I'm Leona. I sought you out regarding my brother, conscripted into the army. He's been posted to that notorious northwest frontier..."

Tears suddenly streamed from Leona's eyes.

Letting them wet her cheeks, she continued slowly.

"My frail brother heading so far fills me with worry. As his sister, I can do little... but I want to pack aids for his journey and stay there. Yet I know nothing of the region. Shamelessly, I've come begging your advice."

The young woman's polite plea, tears glistening, melted the hearts of these weathered traders battling harsh winds.

They crowded around, sharing their hard-won knowledge freely.

"Watch for local diseases. Central folk like us suffer from their water and food. Pack antidiarrheals and antipyretics."

"Gold sore ointment's a must—armies skimp on medicals."

"They'll manage that. Give real tips. Miss, days scorch, nights freeze. Long cloak essential—shades by day, blocks chill at night."

"Winds howl fierce. Sand in eyes and mouth—get hat and face veil from traveler shops."

"Sturdy shoes, thick soles, extras. Army issue's subpar."

"What else?"

"Salt for dehydration."

They vied to contribute.

Leona meticulously noted every word.

After salve recommendations for skin ailments, she bowed deeply in sincere thanks.

Offering modest consultation fees as gratitude.

They refused, insisting she add it to her brother's supplies.

They even offered to cover costs; Leona arm-waved refusals till sore.

Finally, with shop recommendations, she escaped.

Leona scoured the city, buying her list.

Packing the large bag full, she headed to the traveler inn district.

Selecting the most trustworthy, she paid to store it.

Emerging, half the day gone, she felt remiss returning empty-handed for Miranda—browsed streets for gifts.

Snacks and hair ties procured, en route back, she paused at a toy stall.

Among trinkets, a droplet-patterned rattle caught her eye.

Mesmerized, she picked it up.

Tiny for babies, it chimed clearly when shaken.

Leona thought of the Imperial Grandson.

He'd lacked even such simple toys.

Despite noble birth, he'd departed so emptily, denied even a small gift.

"Oh dear, miss, what's wrong? Sick sibling?"

The shopkeep startled at silently weeping Leona.

"N-no."

Leona hastily set down the rattle and fled.

Even hurrying away, she kept glancing back. Then collided with an oncoming passerby.

"You okay?"

He steadied stumbling Leona.

"Ah... fine. My fault... eh?"

Leona recognized him; he her.

"Oh, a palace maid. Leona, right?"

"Perfumer..."

Phil Mago, the palace perfumer.

Phil noticed tear streaks, offered his handkerchief.

"Here, wipe."

Realizing her state, Leona dabbed with her sleeve.

Composing herself, she stepped back and curtsied formally.

"Long time no see, Perfumer."

Phil pocketed the handkerchief with a wry chuckle.

"I hoped to see you before leaving—lucky coincidence."

"Leaving?"

"Off to source new scents."

"Ah..."

Leona spotted his large backpack.

"Sorry. Accepted your help, forgot thanks."

"No need; wasn't for thanks."

"No, that powder you gave saved me. Nothing now, but..."

Leona scanned about, asked Phil to wait, dashed off.

Returning, handed him a paper bag.

"Take it. Modest, but good for travels."

"What's this?"

"Cherry candies."

"How'd you know I love them?"

"You too? What luck... I bought my favorite on impulse—glad it fits."

"We share tastes, Leona."

Phil accepted gladly.

In her past life, his cherry candy fondness was empire-famous.

When granted "Perfume King" title, he refused lands and treasures for one bag from the Emperor.

The anecdote spawned folk songs praising his integrity.

"Where to?"

"No fixed path... south first, maybe."

"Safe travels."

"Thanks. Till we meet again, stay well."

Phil parted into the crowd.

Leona gazed skyward beyond the throng, then turned palace-ward.

Upon arrival, she returned her pass, grabbed Miranda's gifts, headed to their room.

As she reached for the door,

It burst open; someone barreled out.

Leona dodged collision, but the other startled, dropping her tray.

Crash—teacups shattered noisily.

Leona eyed the fragments at her feet, then looked up.

The other froze under her gaze.

"Heather?"

Heather, the close maid who'd once tried framing Leona—and failed.

"Uh... back already?"

Heather stammered, then regained bravado.

"What brings you here?"

"Thought to bond over tea. You were out, so just Miranda."

Leona peered inside.

"Where's Miranda?"

"Hm? Tummy ache—went restroom, not back."

Heather bent hastily picking shards.

Leona helped, noting only two cups.

Heather knew she was absent from the start.

Leona tested casually.

"I'm here now—stay longer? I'll brew more."

"Oh? I'd like, but late... next time?"

"Sure. Next time for sure."

"Promise."

After seeing Heather off, Leona sat on the bed.

Scanning idly, Miranda returned pale-faced.

"Miranda, you okay?"

"Ah... Leona, back..."

Miranda collapsed onto bed weakly.

"What happened? Hurt?"

"Dunno... sudden stomach pain... stuck in restroom."

"Bad food?"

"Huh? Only Heather's tea... but she's fine, so not that..."

"Medicine?"

"Nah, easing now."

"Good. Rest."

Leona tucked her in, then emptied her wardrobe entirely.

"What're you doing?"

"Tidying. Dust everywhere. Yours too—sleep."

"No need..."

"Don't refuse. See? Filthy. Cleaning time."

"Guess so... thanks."

"Leave it to me; nap."

Leona ransacked her wardrobe, under bed, mattress; then Miranda's.

No suspects.

"Something's off..."

Even floor cracks yielded nothing.

Pacing anxiously, her eyes fell on the window.

She approached, traced the pane.

Smooth glass, but gritty spots.

Invisible coating.

She smeared bed dust over it.

Dust clung, revealing a pattern.

"This is..."

Katago script.

The empire long sought to subjugate barbarians.

But their combat prowess and survival skills meant no total victories.

Border skirmishes persisted, alliances and hostilities fluctuating.

Upon ascending, the current Emperor, hot-blooded, declared war to conquer barbarian lands.

The west burned in ten years of conflict.

It ended in imperial defeat.

Borders unchanged, hatred deepened—especially the Emperor's toward barbarians.

Once, a favored consort learned barbarian script out of curiosity; he beheaded her instantly.

Palace barbarian texts burned; their script strictly banned.

Only now, with the Emperor toothless, could "Nacha" or "Jahankun" enter.

But barbarian script remained forbidden by palace law.

Leona laughed in disbelief.

Ironically, she'd used this ploy in her past life.

To frame a rival maid—exact method, even same character.

"'Han'..."

Katago chieftain title.

That night,

Servant Oversight Department inspectors raided Leona and Miranda's room.

The women barged in, dragged them out, forced kneel in hall.

Roused Miranda gawked confusedly; other maids poured out.

Door wide, inspectors searched.

Wardrobes upended, beds lifted—noise echoed.

Onlookers eyed them curiously, fearfully.

Terrified Miranda clutched Leona's arm.

"What's... happening?"

Leona soothed her cold hand.

"Don't worry. Nothing."

"Leona..."

Miranda steadied seeing Leona's calm eyes.

Leona sidelong-glimpsed sneering Heather amid crowd, monitored room.

Soon, stir inside; inspectors emerged.

All eyes on them, the leader intoned solemnly to the kneeling pair.

"Barbarian script found in your room."

Hall air froze.

Onlookers gasped at grave charge.

"Grave violation of palace law. Who used it? Confess first; no drag to interrogation."

Interrogation cells allowed torture; infamous for broken bodies emerging—if at all.

Palace folk shuddered at the name.

Leona questioned,

"You say barbarian script in our room—where exactly?"

Leader eyed her sharply.

"Name?"

"Leona."

"Leona, answer: special substance rendered script invisible on your window. Comments?"

"Objection over testimony."

"Objection?"

"Proof we wrote it?"

"What? Implying another wrote it there?"

"Yes."

Murmurs rippled; hall noisy.

"Silence!"

Inspector quelled, coldly retorted,

"Your proof someone else wrote it?"

Leona, posture unflinching under stares, spoke evenly.

"May I ask: was the special substance in our room?"

"...No."

"Invisible to us, as you said. Your sudden search found it, suggesting a tipster. Correct?"

"...Yes."

"Unknown who, but they staged it—possibly barbarian spy."

Heather blurted from crowd,

"Nonsense! Barbarian spy?!"

She clamped mouth under stares.

Leona smiled bitterly at her.

"As expected—Heather reported."

"I-I..."

"Saw you rush from our room post-outing. You dislike us, yet visited—odd."

"To befriend you...!"

"Yes. Drank your tea; Miranda's pained all day in restroom. Room empty then—you had time."

"No!"

Heather lunged, knelt before inspector.

"Lies! Came to befriend!"

"Then: how'd you find it?"

"I... gazed out window, breath fogged—revealed! That's how!"

"How know barbarian script?"

"It was!"

"You know it?"

"Uh... I..."

Heather paled speechless. Leona pressed suspiciously,

"I hear barbarian script differs greatly—like patterns, hard to recognize sans knowledge. Window mark? Most see doodle. Right?"

"I... I..."

"Heather, where learned barbarian script?"

"No! Don't know it!"

"Then: how identified window mark?"

"Saw... once before..."

"Capital native, you—how encountered?"

In past life, Leona foresaw this, bribing a translator's daughter maid who knew script to "discover."

Cornered, Heather flapped lips silently.

Leader ordered her room searched.

Heather fidgeted anxiously.

Time dragged; searchers returned.

"Same substance on her window. Trash: shredded cloth bits assembling—seems matching barbarian script."

Eyes turned to Heather.

She shook head ashen-faced.

"N-no... not mine."

"Escort Heather to interrogation."

Inspectors seized her.

Heather shrieked desperately,

"No! Not mine! Sonya! Sonya's orders! I just obeyed!"

Gazes snapped to Sonya at hall's end.

Sonya paled visibly.

Murmurs swelled; she bellowed at Heather,

"Daring frame me?! Know false accusation's crime?!"

"Sonya! Can't pin on me! You gave script, taught use! Leader, Sonya's plot. Trace her—she fetched script and substance outside! I just copied to room!"

"You wretch!"

Sonya lunged, but inspectors bound her.

"Escort Chief Maid Supervisor Sonya to interrogation."

"Release! Frame-up! That Leona's scheme!"

Sonya thrashed screaming.

Overpowered, gagged like a dog, dragged away.

Heather escorted too; leader confined Leona and Miranda till cleared.

Inspectors gone, Miranda rushed to tidy wreckage.

Shocked chief maids, witnessing Sonya's fall, slunk pallid to rooms.

Leona lingered, whispering to passing Ellie,

"Chance. Counterattack."

Ellie flinched but kept walking.

Leona entered her room without looking back.