Die Melusine - Chapter 53

A few nights later, when the night had ripened into a late hour, Ian was pacing outside Melusine’s bedroom door.

The sound of his stiff military boots echoed down the corridor. Eventually, Anne peeked the door open to check what was going on outside—and her eyes met directly with Count Luthern’s.

“Oh! Count, what brings you here at such a late hour…? Ah! Is His Grace looking for her?”

Anne’s face lit up instantly. Yesterday, today—every day, really—her “Lady Mermaid” had been staring at that door that never opened. Anne knew better than anyone who it was that Melusine had been waiting so anxiously for.

Without hesitation, Anne flung the door wide and ushered Ian inside.

Melusine, who had been standing by the window, quickly approached them. The moment she saw Ian’s face, a hopeful expression spread across hers.

But Ian’s face was unusually serious.

“…How does His Majesty know about Melusine?”

“Huh? His Majesty? What do you mean…?”

Anne looked genuinely puzzled as she glanced back and forth between the Count and the mermaid.

“The Emperor. How… how does he know?”

A long sigh escaped from Ian’s lips.

At the mere mention of the Emperor—the supreme sovereign of the Empire—Anne froze on the spot.

The Count rubbed at his temples and began pacing inside the room. Melusine had never seen him this restless before.

“Of all times, when His Grace isn’t even here… Ah.”

The Count’s usually gentle eyes scrunched tightly, and he let out a hollow laugh as though the absurdity of it all was sinking in.

“It was all… all of this was planned.”

“Huh?”

Melusine gently tugged at Ian’s sleeve, reacting to his strange muttering.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen to Kieron…? No, right?”

She looked up at him, worried, and Ian looked down at her with a troubled, almost regretful expression.

“Not yet… but something could happen soon.”

“What? To Kieron? Why? What do you mean?”

Melusine, now panicking, gripped his arm more tightly and shook it.

“The Emperor,” Ian said quietly, “He’s… looking for you.”

***

From the western wing to the main palace, the carriage ride took quite a while.

Even inside the carriage, Ian remained silent. Before they left, he had checked multiple times with other soldiers to confirm the Grand Duke’s estimated time of arrival—but it seemed the answer was still that it would take another day or two.

“Kieron… where did he go?”

Melusine asked cautiously. One thing she was sure of now: they were not on their way to see Kieron.

“The King and Queen of Maquellan—Her Majesty the Empress’s family—arrived, so His Grace went to escort the delegation.”

It wasn’t supposed to be the Grand Duke’s role, but the Emperor had insisted. Ian had thought it suspicious, but the Emperor often made unreasonable demands that didn’t match his position or the situation, so he’d let it pass. He hadn’t imagined this was the true motive.

Kieron had once again left Ian, who should’ve accompanied him, behind with the woman—clearly in preparation for something like this. And now that the moment had come, Ian felt tormented by his inability to do anything useful.

“When did he even see you…”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t even go near the main palace, right?”

“No, I’ve always been with Anne… Oh! There was one time I met a fairy in the garden.”

“A fairy…?”

Ian’s eyes gleamed strangely.

“Yeah, he was playing something like a flute. He had really long golden hair that reached all the way down, and he sparkled—he was really pretty.”

Tch. Ian clicked his tongue. He had assumed the Emperor was unpredictable, but he hadn’t expected he’d go so far as to sneak into the western palace he’d gifted and pull tricks.

“…Be careful. That person you met—he’s not a fairy.”

“Then…?”

“His Majesty the Emperor.”

Just as Count Luthern was about to explain more to Melusine, the carriage clanked and came to a stop.

“Only the young lady will proceed from here.”

The Emperor’s chamberlain abruptly opened the door and issued the order directly to Ian.

“Chamberlain, I must ask you to reconsider. She is… the Grand Duke’s person.”

Ian spoke firmly, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt at his side. But this was not the Grand Duchy—it was the imperial palace. There was nothing he could do.

“His Majesty is aware. He said there will be no serious issue. She will be returned shortly. You may inform His Grace when he arrives.”

As she listened to the cryptic exchange between the two men, Melusine grew increasingly confused. They were clearly talking about her, but the air around them was so tense and sharp, she didn’t know how or when to interject.

“Ah—”

Melusine, sitting awkwardly in the carriage, was practically pulled out by a group of handmaids as if she were cargo.

Ian, unable to help her, bit down hard on his lower lip.

He didn’t quite understand what Melusine meant to the Grand Duke, but one thing was clear: his superior was now showing a possessiveness he had never displayed in his entire life.

And if the Emperor himself was involved… this was the worst possible time for things to spiral out of control. Ian felt a wave of dread wash over him.

As he stood frozen with worry, the royal carriage door slammed shut behind her.

Once inside the main palace, Melusine was passed from room to room by the handmaids like an object.

They submerged her pale body into a bath sprinkled with colorful flower petals, then slathered her in strong-smelling oils, dressed her in unusual undergarments, and finally put her in a black gown.

Every step in the process was swift, practiced, and efficient—so seamless it was as if they had done it hundreds of times before. Strangely, none of the women ever met her eyes or said a single word to her.

Ian had told her it was the Emperor who had summoned her.

The Emperor. She had heard complex explanations about him from Anne and others, but only one thing stuck in her memory:

He was the only person in this empire above Kieron. If he was “higher,” did that mean he was also stronger than Kieron? She wasn’t so sure. Melusine tilted her head, doubtful.

“Your Majesty, Lady Melusine has arrived. What are your orders?”

There didn’t seem to be any sound from within, yet the door creaked open at once.

Following the attendant, Melusine glanced around her surroundings.

The corridor was lined with mirrors covering the entire wall, and as the ceiling lights bounced between them, they shimmered endlessly. With every step, her face and body split into dozens—no, hundreds—of reflections, then merged again in bizarre ways. It was fascinating… and a little disturbing.

After walking for some time, she emerged into an opulently decorated reception room. Seated around a circular table were two familiar faces, waiting for her.

“It’s… been a while, Lady Melusine.”

Estelle set her glass down with barely a sound and smiled. Or at least, if a smile could include that faintly curled corner of her lips—that bitter, one-sided expression.

“Mm-hm. Nice… to see you!”

Melusine looked directly at Estelle and responded, but a mix of feelings surged inside her, making it hard to smile like she used to. Seeing her pretty face again made her happy… but something heavy settled in her chest.

“Wow, so you two know each other?”

The languid voice came from a man with platinum-blonde hair tied back, reclining at an angle in a large lounge chair.

“Y-you… fairy!”

It was the same flute-playing fairy she had met in the garden just a few days ago.

“Fairy, you say…? Sigh, Your Majesty.”

Estelle’s voice toward the Emperor carried a gentle but unmistakably scolding tone. From the startled look on Melusine’s face and the glint of mischief in Edvard’s eyes, it was easy enough to guess what had happened.

Edvard and Estelle had been born in the same year, the same season.

The Marchioness—once a close friend of the late Empress—had frequently visited the palace, keeping her company. Naturally, the two children had grown up together, and the Marquis had long hoped that connection would blossom into marriage. It hadn’t.

“Melu…sine, was it? You do know why you were called here, don’t you?”

The man’s voice was more slurred than before. His words were fragmented, as if his tongue kept rolling back into his throat.

“I don’t… know.”

She truly didn’t understand what was going on, but the entire situation felt wrong. All she wanted now was to get away from here.

Her small, subdued voice made the Emperor’s pale gold brows twitch irritably.

“How could you not? After you made a promise to me.”

Thwack. The Emperor grabbed Melusine’s wrist and pulled her onto his lap.

Startled, she tried to get up, but despite looking like a delicate, charming fairy, the man—no, the Emperor—was far stronger than he appeared. The sharp scent of liquor, soaked into his skin, hit her nose hard.

Ahem, ahem. Estelle, still seated across from them, cleared her throat awkwardly.

Melusine turned her blue gaze to Estelle, silently pleading. In this unfamiliar place where she had no one, she thought—maybe—this woman might be someone she could lean on, even just a little.

But Estelle, showing not even a flicker of emotion, slowly sipped the rest of her tea. Then she rose, utterly indifferent.

Her movements, as she slipped her hands into a pair of lace gloves she’d left beside her, were languid and elegant.

“Well then, Your Majesty. I’ll take my leave…”

Her violet eyes glanced over Edvard and then—without blinking—swept over Melusine, still awkwardly seated on his lap.

“Yeah, go on. If you’re tired, you should rest.”

“E-Estelle!”

Melusine couldn’t help but call her name in desperation—she didn’t want to be left alone in this room with the fake fairy.

But Estelle, whose name had just been called, merely looked her over from head to toe with a faint, unreadable smile.

And then, as if she’d been trying to ignore it but couldn’t help herself, her gaze momentarily landed on the necklace.

The one bearing her fiancé’s initials, displayed so shamelessly around another woman’s neck.

Any hint of guilt that had nearly broken through the noblewoman’s proud demeanor quickly vanished.

Estelle turned away, cold and unhesitating. Her departure was rhythmic, as if she were humming a tune to herself while leaving the parlor.

“Well then, pink fairy,” Edvard murmured, gently playing with the tips of Melusine’s pink hair. “Shall we… pick up where we left off last time?”