Found Out by the Imperial Princess (2)
Erzsebet Aurelia was standing right outside my door.
The Fourth Imperial Princess, fourth in line to the throne of the Empire, stood there entirely unaccompanied—without a single guard or attendant in sight.
My gaze flicked back and forth between the open door and her face.
“May I come in, Counselor?”
Though she asked for permission, a faint smile played across her lips, as if she already knew I couldn't possibly refuse. For a fleeting second, I was torn between the desperate urge to slam the door shut in her face and the stark dread of what would happen to someone who dared shut a door on an imperial princess.
Even so, there was something I had to confirm first.
“Did you come alone?”
“My escorts are stationed at the building entrance and outside on the street. No one followed me up here.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Only then did I peer past her shoulder into the hallway. All that met my eyes were peeling, decayed walls and a flickering oil lamp on the verge of going out. At the very least, it didn't seem as though a horde of assassins hunting the princess was lined up outside my doorstep.
“And you weren't injured today?”
Erzsebet blinked slowly. The amusement in her deep violet eyes deepened just a fraction.
“You asked after my well-being first and foremost only a short while ago, yet here you are asking the exact same thing the moment you see my face.”
“Just answer the question, please.”
“Not a scratch. I didn't touch the food, and I wasn't ambushed on the journey back. Thanks to you, Counselor, I am perfectly sound.”
Only after hearing those words did the white-knuckled tension finally drain from the hand gripping the doorknob. I stepped aside, clearing a path for her.
“Please, come inside for now.”
“I'm delighted by your invitation.”
To call it an invitation felt absurd when I was this terrified. A man marching up the steps to the gallows would probably wear a brighter expression than mine. As Erzsebet stepped into the room, the cramped space seemed to shrink by half. My rental was small to begin with, but seeing someone who belonged in an imperial palace set foot inside made the threadbare walls and creaking floorboards look infinitely more pathetic than usual.
I shut the door and bolted it tight. How much good a flimsy latch would do was anyone's guess, but it was better than leaving it undone.
“…So, how did you find my home?”
At my question, a cruel, villainous smile touched Erzsebet's lips as she whispered back.
“You never speak about yourself, Counselor, but on one single occasion, you happened to mention a rainy day.”
“…There was a torrential downpour across the entire imperial capital that day.”
“No. The rain reached the eastern sector much later. At the exact hour you posted, rain was falling only over the West District.”
With utter nonchalance, Erzsebet laid out the scraps of clues I had inadvertently dropped over time.
A passing complaint about the evening bell from a nearby tower being exceptionally loud; a grumble about the price of bread rising by a copper at the local market; the shout of a street peddler drifting through the window just after the rain had cleared. Including the rainfall itself, there had only ever been four tiny details.
Taken individually, each was nothing more than the mundane chitchat of everyday life found anywhere in the city. But by cross-referencing the dates and timestamps, Erzsebet explained, she had narrowed the radius down to a handful of alleys.
“After that, it hardly took any time at all. I investigated the run-down tenements one by one and checked who lived in them. You, Counselor, were the only man living alone.”
“And how did you know I was a man living alone?”
“A woman's intuition.”
The princess let out a soundless, captivating chuckle.
“Please don't worry. I didn't come to cause you trouble. I'm not like the other fixed handles on the forum.”
She told me not to worry, but her reassurance did nothing to calm my racing heart.
All I had ever let slip were four passing remarks about my daily life—the kind of trivial remarks anyone might make without a second thought. To track down a specific individual using only that was not something a normal person could do.
Over the past half-year, Erzsebet must have meticulously recorded every timestamp of my posts alongside the daily weather logs. She would have mapped the acoustic radius of every bell tower, identified the specific markets selling bread at that price point, and traced the walking routes of the peddlers through each alleyway. Only after eliminating dozens of possibilities had she arrived at this single building.
It wasn't that I had been careless or leaked too much information during our counseling sessions. It was that Erzsebet possessed an intellect capable of seizing upon the most insignificant breadcrumbs, combined with a terrifying obsession that had driven her to hunt me down over the course of six months.
…Damn it. From now on, I'm not even mentioning the weather on the board. Even if bread prices double, I'll swallow my rage in silence, and even if that damn bell shatters my eardrums, I'll endure it without a peep. Who would have thought a loose comment like that could blow my cover?
“Please, have a seat.”
I pulled out the chair by the desk for her. Of the two chairs in the room, I subtly steered the one with uneven legs—the one that wobbled with an obnoxious clatter every time someone sat down—toward my side.
Erzsebet surveyed the room with an amused, curious expression, though she refrained from remarking on how squalid it was. Her gaze drifted across the battered bed, the chipped bowl, and the stale bread resting on the edge of the desk, before finally lingering on a few sprigs of green onions.
Those were green onions I had pinched earlier today from the landlady's garden when she wasn't looking. Seeing them look so wretched made heat rush to my cheeks. I hurriedly covered them with an inverted bowl.
“I don't have any tea.”
“That is quite all right.”
“Then I'll at least fetch you some water.”
I owned only a single proper teacup, and even that had a chip at the rim of the handle. Turning the flawed side away as best I could, I poured the water and set it before her.
“There's no poison in it.”
The words left my mouth before I realized what an awful thing that was to say to a guest. Erzsebet brought a hand up to cover her mouth as she accepted the cup. Her features were breathtakingly sculpted, her demeanor utterly refined—as expected of an imperial princess. Yet I had neither the leisure nor the peace of mind to admire that noble beauty.
“If it's from you, Counselor, I trust it completely.”
Without the slightest hesitation, she took a sip. For someone who had suspected every morsel on her dinner table of being lethal only moments ago, she looked far too relaxed. Her violet eyes then drifted slowly from the dry bread on the desk toward the pot of cold soup sitting nearby, lingering with quiet interest.
Come to think of it, she probably hadn't eaten a single bite of dinner tonight. And it wasn't just tonight, either. With her three half-brothers taking turns slipping poison into her meals, she frequently went whole days without eating.
Naturally, that sludge in the pot was hardly fit to serve royalty. Even so, I couldn't simply sit by and watch a starving person go hungry right in front of me.
“Would you… care for a little?”
“What is it?”
“Just some leftover soup and bread. …I certainly can't guarantee the taste, mind you.”
“Is this what you normally eat, Counselor?”
“Yes.”
“Then I would love some.”
For someone as paranoid as her, the reply came astonishingly fast. I walked over to the modest hearth—calling it a kitchen felt like a stretch—coaxed the dying embers back to life, and set the pot over the flame. I splashed in some extra water and shredded the stolen green onions into the broth, stretching the portion until it was enough for two.
Erzsebet watched in quiet stillness as I stirred the pot.
“You nag me constantly to eat proper meals at regular hours, Counselor, yet you eat things like this yourself.”
My pride took a slight hit.
“What do you mean, 'things like this'? Look at it—there are fresh, vibrant green onions in there now.”
“Yes, it looks like a very warm meal.”
There was no mockery in her voice. Rather, a soft, fond laughter laced her tone, as if she found my earnest defense thoroughly endearing.
“Still, next time, please allow me to treat you to a proper dinner.”
“Have you already scheduled your next visit?”
“I finally managed to find you. You can't possibly think seeing your face just once would be enough, can you?”
Refusal was out of the question. In the original story, Erzsebet was the woman who hunted down and slaughtered all three brothers who tried to kill her, sacrificing half the capital's population as fuel for her vengeance.
I had witnessed her terrifying, relentless obsession—the kind that never let go of anything she set her sights on—no fewer than eleven times across different playthroughs. And right now, that very obsession was aimed squarely at me. A sudden chill crept down the back of my neck.
Pretending not to hear her last remark, I kept stirring the soup.
While the broth heated, Erzsebet drew a slim envelope from within the folds of her cloak and set it down onto the desk that doubled as my dining table. A crisp, metallic chime echoed through the room.
Clink.
The sound alone was enough to tell me everything. Gold coins. That meant whatever was inside that envelope amounted to more wealth than I could earn in a month—no, in over a full year of labor.
“I would like to hire you as my exclusive counselor.”
I froze mid-motion, ladle still in hand.
“I will provide you with a residence. If you wish to conceal your identity, by all means, do so. Name, title, background—you may fabricate whatever you desire. You will live in vastly greater comfort than you do now. And if you desire companionship, I can arrange women for you as well.”
She didn't threaten me. She had no need to. Given the terms alone, it wouldn't have been strange in the slightest for me to nod in instant agreement. Accepting her offer would mean never having to worry about rent again, and never having to dread the landlady's broomstick when caught pinching scallions from her patch.
The problem lay in that single word: exclusive.
“If you become mine exclusively, you will no longer have to waste your precious time on the petty worries of those other forum members. And besides…”
Erzsebet offered a gentle smile before letting her voice trail off. But having exchanged messages with her on the forum for half a year, I could easily guess what was coming next.
“You'll want to see the counseling logs of the other members as well, won't you?”
Erzsebet set her cup down upon the desk.
“Yes. I am quite curious to know who else you've been speaking with, Counselor… besides me.”
“If that is part of the arrangement, I must refuse.”
“Oh my. Are you declining my offer?”
Her voice had remained consistently sweet and affectionate from the very moment she stepped through the door. Which made it all the more terrifying.
I laid the ladle aside and sat down across from her. The rickety chair leaned precariously to one side at the worst possible moment. I straightened my posture, picturing the other faces on the forum board. There was someone who had only just managed to fall asleep without nightmares, and someone else bearing the whispers rising from the depths of the earth every night in crushing, solitary silence.
At first, taking on their crises had been a reluctant burden I accepted merely to keep myself alive in this world. But now, beyond that screen, they were real people who waited solely for their sessions with me. I couldn't simply turn my back on them just because Erzsebet offered me a bag of gold.
“If this is compensation for the counseling sessions we've held so far, I will accept it. If you wish to assign guards to watch over me for the time being, I will accept that as well. However… I cannot accept exclusive employment.”
Erzsebet stared at me in absolute silence.
The faint, elegant smile gracing her lips stiffened. Her violet eyes narrowed like those of a striking viper, and a suffocating, lethal malice leaked from the depths of her gaze, locking onto me.
In that singular heartbeat, the villainess who had poisoned her three brothers and offered up half the imperial capital as a sacrificial pyre overlapped seamlessly with the breathtaking princess sitting right before my eyes.