TPOP 87

Chapter 87

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Within the palace walls, news from the outside world was hard to come by. Whenever the chance arose, she must try to learn more from this man. Fortunately, the pigment merchant named Marque was remarkably affable.

Diana addressed him with an expressionless face.

"Is the Depierre family well? News travels slowly here in the palace."

"Well? Oh, you don't know... That household has been utterly destroyed, my lady."

"What?"

Her opening question drew a reply brimming with distress. Diana stammered in shock.

"What do you mean...?"

“What crime did they commit? The Viscount and his wife, even their daughter—they were dragged away without trial and have been missing for weeks now. Rumors of their deaths are rampant.”

The young man added that some of the mansion’s servants had vanished, while the remaining ones had already stolen the mistress and young lady’s jewels and fled. The news was so shocking Diana could barely open her mouth.

"No one knows the charges... Then, what about the Montagne family?"

"The Count of Montagne? He's always busy, you know. The Count has more than one business venture under his control."

"Business ventures? What kind of ventures?"

"Well, I've heard he owns a shipping company and an information brokerage, plus several mines. My father sources raw minerals for pigments from one of the Montagne family's mines, you know. Hmm, I've also heard he lends money... Haha, though I can't confirm that part."

"He's a moneylender? A nobleman?"

“Small merchants like us often need quick cash. That’s why we quietly seek out loan sharks.”

Rumor has it that Count’s back was made of copper. They said he commanded hundreds of thugs. The young man lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I see. That’s scary.”

“Well, that’s how the high and mighty are, I suppose.”

Diana nodded. The sea route was out of the question for escape. Using an information broker would be risky too. She mustn't set foot in any town or village notorious for brothels. As these thoughts ran through her mind.

Then, a sharp shout rang out from ahead.

"Diana. What are you doing over there?"

It was Catherine, the head maid of the palace. Startled, Marque quickly set down the pigment jar.

"Oh dear, I suppose I should be going then. If the opportunity arises, we may meet again, my lady."

"Yes. Take care, Mr. Marque."

Marque's lingering gaze lingered on Diana. Noticing this, Catherine snorted in disbelief.

"If you don't want to cause His Highness concern, watch your behavior. Don't you realize how many servants are anxious over the meaningless glances you send?"

"Yes, I'll be careful."

"...Go upstairs and prepare the paints."

That unlucky girl. It felt like she could hear the words Catherine swallowed. Diana pretended not to notice, gripped the banister, and climbed the stairs. Stepping onto the familiar carpet, she gathered her thoughts once more.

She had tentatively decided on the forest as her escape route. She wanted to gauge how badly it had been damaged, and moving through nature would be better for receiving even a little more help from the spirits. No matter how much the forest had burned, surely not the entire mountain range connected to it had been consumed.

And the date of escape…

Putting together the information Marque had hinted at, the 'one week later' the Duke had suggested was likely right before or after the emperor drew his last breath. If it was a day when the palace was in disarray and Felix had to be confined to the main palace, then it would be that day plus the five days the funeral rites were held.

Felix wouldn't visit the secondary palace during that time. Assuming a successful escape on the first day, Diana would have roughly five days' leeway. By the time Felix noticed her absence, she'd likely be crossing the mountains, heading north.

The oil used for making paints was in a cabinet in the third-floor studio. Diana ascended to the third-floor studio, continuing to replay her escape plan in her mind.

The studio, with no one coming or going, was quiet. Diana caught the faint scent of paint as she located and opened the cabinet. It was just as she was about to take out two buckets containing portions of the oil.

A faint rustling sound came from the back of the studio. Diana, who had been about to stand up with the buckets in both hands, froze stiffly.

"Who's there?"

She sensed the door at the far end of the studio creak open slightly. It was an entrance even Diana had never entered before.

Someone was there.

The stranger, recognizing Diana, let out a light chuckle. From the voice, Diana guessed it was someone she knew. A young attendant who assisted Lunok. He had relayed instructions to Diana on Lunok's behalf several times before.

"Miss Diana, I see. The steward instructed me to tidy the inner gallery."

"I see."

Diana replied curtly. Though he was someone Lunok trusted, she couldn't fully rely on him. In this place teeming with Eisen's spies and Duke Christen's men, she couldn't lower her guard around anyone.

But the attendant wasn't as dry as she was. He struck up a conversation in a cheerful tone.

"Do you know what's inside here, Miss Diana?"

"Well. I'm someone who sees but doesn't know."

The probing question wasn't pleasant. Diana bowed her head lightly, then picked up the bucket and left the studio. Suddenly, her thoughts turned to the paintings Felix had created so far.

'He painted me.'

But he didn't only paint her. Just yesterday, he painted the corpse of a spy who had hidden in the palace. It had been the same when Diana first came to this palace…

The finished paintings were always taken away by Arnold and the knights. Diana remembered something Felix had casually remarked one day.

"Take these away. This one goes in the studio gallery."

"......"

If all the Crown Prince's paintings were hung in that gallery, it wouldn't be a place where mere servants could come and go freely. A servant who had secretly infiltrated such a place…

'It must be Prince Eisen's spy.'

A chill ran down her spine.

The spies planted in the palace recently had all targeted Diana. Yet that servant, upon seeing Diana, had shown no particular threat. He was a spy infiltrated with a mission other than eliminating Diana.

‘Then the prince has two targets. Me, and the art studio.’

The common thread? Both could be exploited as the Crown Prince's weakness.

Regardless of his true nature, Felix was known to the world as the budding seed of a benevolent ruler. To him, that painting studio filled with images of corpses would be another vulnerability, and Prince Eisen wouldn't let the opportunity slip.

'Then he'll come for the evidence, undoubtedly.'

The atmosphere in the imperial palace felt off in many ways. Diana caught the thick scent of blood lingering in the reception room once more. As she mixed pigments with oil and strung together the facts she knew like beads, a plausible conclusion emerged.

‘Something will happen in the palace around the time of the Emperor’s passing.’

Indeed, if she could leave, that would be her only chance. And now, she had to get out by any means necessary. Staying here and getting caught by Eisen's spies would be the worst possible outcome. No one would come to rescue her.

Felix, well, he…

"You are mine. No matter where you are or who you're with, the fact that you belong to me never changes."

"...You said that before and still didn't come."

Diana muttered self-deprecatingly, her thoughts racing.

It was a half-hour drive by carriage to the forest. Walking at her pace would easily take three or four hours. So the Duke's help was essential to reach the forest.

But what if the Duke, sensing danger to Felix, prioritized his own safety over rescuing her?

‘I absolutely cannot stay. I must escape during the emperor’s funeral, no matter what.’

What Diana held was information about a spy frequenting the studio. How could she use this information?

She couldn’t even remember in what state of mind she’d mixed the paints. When she came to her senses, the oil and pigment jars were all empty, and there were over ten glass bottles filled with paint.

That was when it happened. A familiar voice came flying from directly in front of her.

"Is mixing pigments fun?"

Diana nearly spilled all the paint she had just painstakingly made. Felix had been watching her closely from nearby, though she hadn't noticed when he'd arrived.