Chapter 73
Chapter 73
Translation: godsn
As the Regent, he would seek to reclaim his power by any means necessary—even if it meant relying on the might of the Kazen Empire.
But would the empire's diplomatic mission truly move as obediently as he hoped?
"The uncle will grow more impatient in his attempts to regain the control he's lost. That works in our favor."
Medeia tapped her fingers lightly against the table. On its surface lay neatly arranged fox badges—emblems of the Red Fox.
"Do you really think Count Kensington will come all the way to Valdina after reading the letter Umberto delivered?"
"She will."
Medeia's reply was calm.
"Her lifelong intelligence network has been compromised. She won't sit idly by—she'll want to see it with her own eyes and confirm it herself."
Whether to eliminate the princess or use her—
But Count Kensington wouldn't know.
The moment she stepped into Valdina, she would already be ensnared in Medeia's trap.
"Your Highness, what will you do with this money?"
Saya, her eyes gleaming, tapped the slush fund siphoned from the minister's coffers.
"We'll use it to support Pelleus."
Now, with Etienne's death throwing the Regent's faction into chaos, was the perfect opportunity.
The Regent himself would be too preoccupied trying to stabilize his crumbling influence to notice.
The only question was—through whom, and how to deliver it most effectively...
Knock, knock.
Just then, a handmaiden rapped on the bedroom door.
Saya stepped out and returned moments later, struggling under the weight of a flower basket nearly as large as herself.
"Your Highness, a gift has arrived. It's from Facade."
"Facade?"
More handmaidens followed, setting down gift boxes one after another. The fresh scent of flowers quickly filled the room.
"What is all this?"
Neril, ever vigilant, inspected the gifts first.
"Why would Facade send these to Your Highness?"
"......"
A faint suspicion crossed Medeia's mind, her expression turning blank.
"Your Highness, look at this—a dagger came with it..."
The dagger, wrapped in velvet, was small and light, its blade gleaming with a subdued silver sheen.
Embedded in its hilt was a ruby as vivid as fresh blood.
Neril picked it up, disbelief written across her face.
"Your Highness... this is mithril."
"......Surely Facade isn't challenging you to a duel, is he?"
"Saya, don't be absurd."
"But then why would he send such a vicious thing to our lovely princess...?"
Neril and Saya exchanged glances.
Medeia's expression remained unchanged.
"Don't lump me in with fools like the Regent, Princess."
She had a good idea who had sent this.
The memory of her own flying dagger grazing his shoulder that day resurfaced.
This was his way of mocking her—as if to say such a shoddy weapon could never touch him.
"And this... is holy water from the temple."
Neril lifted a vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid.
"Did he send this knowing about Your Highness's injury?"
Medeia glanced down at the faint pink scar still lingering on her hand.
Holy water was a potent remedy—one that could erase even scars.
It seems he hasn't forgotten a single detail of that day.
"Return everything except the holy water."
"Even the flowers and all the other gifts?"
"Yes. And deliver a message—tell him I wish to meet in secret."
A faint smirk curved her lips.
A flicker of heat rose in her emerald eyes—but no one noticed.
Persepolis, Capital of the Kazen Empire.
"What? Who did you say? The Princess of Valdina?"
Count Kensington repeated the words as if she couldn't believe them.
Her orange locks flared wildly, mirroring her agitation.
"She knows about Osof too? Impossible. That can't be."
Kensington had been meticulous in building the Red Fox's network across the continent.
She had handpicked individuals with no ties whatsoever to Kazen—even among Valdina's people, she selected orphans or foreign-born agents, scrubbing their identities clean before sending them in.
Umberto, too, was one of her most carefully chosen operatives.
"I thought the same, my lady... but regardless, the princess instructed me to deliver this to you."
The letter Umberto handed over bore a message written in precise strokes:
Count Kensington. Your vision, which surveys the continent, is broader than the heavens; your loyalty to your nation runs deeper than the sea—even I cannot help but admire it. Yet the will of man and the grace of the gods are never aligned. I advise you to recognize prudence... and retreat while you still can.
M. de Valdina.
The letter's contents appeared to praise her, but in truth, it mocked Kensington's arrogance and the empire's hubris by likening them to gods strutting across the continent.
"This is absurd. How did she find out? There was no trace in Valdina that could have exposed our spies."
Kensington's face flushed with humiliation as she crumpled the letter violently.
"Are you telling me the princess simply let you go? Even after knowing you were Kazen's spy?"
"I... found it strange as well. I had prepared for death, but perhaps the princess's true aim was to bring down the Minister from the start."
Umberto recounted in detail everything—from the note that had approached him to how Minister Etienne had fallen entirely into the princess's trap.
The more she listened, the more stunned she became.
Hadn't they said Valdina's princess was an arrogant, foolish woman drowning in the inferiority complex of her half-blood status?
The reputation she held in public was starkly different from Umberto's report.
"Just what kind of person is she, to conceal such profound schemes at that age?"
Kensington paused mid-sentence.
A human being whose capabilities defied their age—such a terrifying individual existed here in the Kazen Empire as well.
When she considered the First Prince, who had unified all the tribes and won the continental war by the age of sixteen, it wasn't entirely impossible.
"I never imagined a prodigy like His Highness Cesare could exist in Valdina as well."
Kensington wiped her dry face.
"I must go to Valdina."
"You intend to go personally, Leader? It's too dangerous. If you give me your reply, I will return to Valdina and deliver it."
"Nonsense!"
Kensington lost her composure and shouted.
"After dedicating my entire life to this, the empire's entire network might be exposed—how could I idly wait here?"
Count Kensington couldn't rest easy.
If anything, the fact that the letter made no demands only deepened her unease.
She suspected this anxiety would persist until she met the princess and saw for herself what kind of person she truly was.
At noon, when the sunlight stretched lazily, Medeia arrived at the Queen Dowager's Palace after being summoned.
On her way back to the palace after their conversation, she encountered Catherine walking toward her from the opposite direction.
"Aunt."
A faint, regal grace emanated from Medeia.
Her mint-green dress, delicately embroidered with silver thread, complemented her pale, translucent skin perfectly.
Was this what they meant when they said position shapes a person? Catherine's insides twisted at the sight.
In Medeia, who now received the Queen Dowager's care and was treated fully as a princess, there was no trace left of the anxious, insecure half-blood she once had been.
"Your Highness, have you been well?"
Catherine concealed the discomfort of raising her head and greeted her with a gentle expression.
"What brings you to the palace, Aunt? Ah. You must be here to see Grandmother."
Medeia nodded as if understanding.
The way she drooped her eyebrows in feigned pity was an added touch.
Since the incident with Etienne—where the Regent and his wife were caught pressuring Medeia—the Queen Dowager still hadn't forgiven them.
So Catherine had been wearing out her feet running back and forth to the palace, begging for forgiveness.
"Oh dear, Aunt. You don't look well at all. Grandmother should really soften her heart soon."
'This is all because of you!'
Catherine barely suppressed the urge to scream while maintaining her innocent expression.
"By the way, how is Virna? I was so worried when I heard she suddenly left for the convent."
"...Oh, yes. She's adjusting well. It seems she's matured—she prays daily for Your Highness and our Valdina, or so I hear."
"Really? What a relief."
Medeia clapped her hands cheerfully, her expression perfectly guileless.
"Convent life must suit Virna's temperament. My heart would ache if she were struggling—I was even prepared to plead with Grandmother despite her anger. But if she's doing well, I needn't worry."
Catherine clenched her dress. The smooth silk wrinkled sharply under her grip.