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TPOP 101



Chapter 101

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Four paintings hung in the largest central plaza of Riporsa. They were paintings of indescribable strangeness. All four were portraits, or more precisely, paintings based on dead bodies.


Within each canvas, a different figure lay dead in a different pose.


The paintings seemed almost alive. Every strand of hair, every facial muscle forming an expression, every single wrinkle in the clothing was chillingly precise. These portraits, capturing the final moment before life faded, precariously straddled the boundary between life and death.


As if waiting for this moment, rumors began to circulate that the artist was none other than the Crown Prince, who had made a name for himself as a genius painter thirteen years prior.


"Could this be painted by His Royal Highness the Crown Prince? Such a vivid painting... back when he was a boy—."


"Where did he... get a corpse like this...?"


"How could he have gotten a corpse? This couldn't have been done without seeing it with his own eyes...".


The painting itself was monstrous. Horrifying and ominous.

Someone, unable to contain themselves, voiced the blasphemous possibility aloud.


"Could His Highness have killed someone?"


"Killed someone and then painted...? His Highness, who is frail?"


"We don't know if he's frail or not. And I heard from the young lady who serves him that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince is exceptionally robust and beautiful. Not a trace of illness about him..."


The rumor spread like wildfire.


"They say he hasn't even shown his face at the chapel where the late Emperor is enshrined."


"Good heavens! How could he, as a son before being Crown Prince, do such a thing?"


"He killed Prince Eisen with his own hands, didn't he? 

Killing his brother, and now not attending his father's funeral?"


The House of Christen tried to suppress the rumors by sending out people, but there were limits. The rebellion had been quelled in a mere day, but it wasn't entirely a failure. This was precisely the finale of the scheme plotted by Prince Eisen and Count Montagne.


However, there was a more urgent matter than correcting every rumor circulating among the people.


While the rebels were being rooted out, the knights directly under the Crown Prince combed through every inch of the forests, mountain slopes, deep ravines, and valleys stretching north of the imperial palace. The ravines, natural fortresses themselves, had become unstable across the entire terrain due to the landslide that occurred the previous night.


The valley waters had increased to twice their size, and the currents raged like waterfalls. To make matters worse, the rain showed no sign of stopping. With the water level rising relentlessly, the search itself had become impossible.


The cliff was not high enough for a person to die from a fall, but even if they had survived, they would have been swept away by the torrent and sunk long ago.


All the searching knights thought so, but the Crown Prince alone refused to believe the obvious truth.


"Find her. Just find her. Search every single house near the valley."


"We've already searched every accessible area, Your Highness. But..."


"Secure the border defenses thoroughly. Increase checkpoint inspections and bring in every woman with even slightly similar hair color."


The Crown Prince seemed firmly convinced his woman had swum out of that terrifying muddy water. Despite the near-zero chance of survival for a blind woman, still weak from a recent miscarriage, he acted as if he had solid proof. There was only one reason.


"Diana is at home in water."


"What on earth are you talking about, Your Highness?"


Hugo Christen, who had come all the way to the valley to find him, pounded his chest.


"I said she loves water, Duke. Don't you get it?"


Felix tilted his head as if puzzled why Hugo couldn't grasp such an obvious point.


Who could possibly understand such nonsense! Hugo Christen scolded his nephew, nearly jumping up and down in frustration.


"Tomorrow, we must lay His Majesty the late Emperor's coffin in the church crypt. Even if the procession is omitted, you must see your father rest in peace. No, wait. You don't have to go. Just get some treatment first!"


His right hand, which hadn't seen a proper physician for two days, was in a pitiful state. The attending physician, who had come here personally, practically clung to him, applying a splint and binding it tightly with bandages, yet his expression remained grim.


"The bone displacement looks severe. We'll likely need to make an incision and realign the bone. It's so bad that even immediate surgery might not be enough..."


As time passed, it became increasingly obvious he couldn't use his hand properly, yet Felix didn't seem to care. He was almost unaware of his own condition. If he were in his right mind, he wouldn't be spouting nonsense with his right hand in such a state. It might be different for someone else, but his nephew was a man who had held a brush his entire life.


Felix muttered as if to himself.


“She loved swimming too. She wanted to do it, but she couldn't here. I wouldn't let her."


"Your Highness!"


"Where does the valley stream flow? Down to the Renema?"


It seemed as if no words reached his ears anymore. Before anyone could stop him, Felix mounted the horse. Hugo snatched the reins from him and shouted with all his might.


"Painting! Will you never paint again?"


Painting was Felix's way of reading and interpreting the world.


It was a mechanism to compensate for innate flaws in his character, to control the violence within so it wouldn't erupt into reality. It was also an attempt by someone incapable of empathizing with universal human emotions to understand them in his own way. The method the dead Empress had taught him over years guided her son into the world.


No, even setting all that aside, brush and paint had been his nephew's greatest love since he crawled around his crib. Hugo already feared what might happen if he left that hand untended.


"Painting?"


Felix turned his gaze toward his uncle for the first time. He repeated the word, painting, then sighed deeply.


"I will paint. But not now."


"If you don't seek treatment now, you may never hold a brush again."


"Mind your own business. Once I find Diana, I'll paint as I please."


Felix snatched the reins from Hugo's hands. He kicked the horse's flank. He intended to ride down to the lower reaches of the Renema River himself, a journey of over three days from here, to find the maid.


Pierre, newly appointed captain of the guard in place of the deceased Arnold, hurriedly followed him. Hugo watched Felix's receding back with a dazed expression.


'So that child matters more than painting...'


Knowing Felix's character, Hugo had assumed that once out of sight, his interest would naturally fade. Felix's attention had never lasted more than half a year, no matter the object.


The realization that this had been a hasty assumption left him dazed.


"The search... continue it. Find every fragment that might be part of that maid's body."


The commotion had been significant, but the prince was dead, and his supporters were being executed or imprisoned one by one. It was fortunate, at least, that the palace wouldn't face immediate threat even with its master absent.


However, public sentiment wasn't shifting in favor of the new emperor. If he could appear before the people now, even just to offer a single gentle smile, it might still be salvageable. Hugo closed his eyes, his heart sinking.


"No word from those waiting here either?"


"...No."


Emile, who had come down here with the royal physician, bowed her head. They had sent the coachman and a couple of workers down into the valley below ahead of time to retrieve Diana. The carriage lay shattered into pieces along the riverbank, and one worker had been found drowned.


Emile, hesitating, cautiously reported.


"We did administer the medicine just before leaving the palace. Given her unusual senses and extraordinary abilities, perhaps..."


"Didn't you say the effects weren't immediate? She's dead. False hope is poison. Do not give His Majesty any hope whatsoever."


Hugo cut Emile off sharply. But immediately afterward, he jerked his head up.


"Wait, extraordinary abilities? That child?"


"Well, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince specifically ordered us not to tell anyone about it..."


Emile hesitated before revealing several incidents that had occurred in the main palace. The water in a vase, perfectly placed, erupting as if exploding; the broken window drenched in moisture; water stains shaped like Diana's hand prints scattered throughout the living room…


Hugo's face gradually drained of color as he listened to the story.



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