19.
The attendants greeted the carriage as it returned to the detached palace.
“Your Imperial Highness, did you enjoy your outing?”
“Yes. Where is His Majesty right now?”
Philomel nodded in acknowledgment and headed straight to the point.
“The administrative meeting ran long, so he is still in the conference hall. But who might that be…?” The attendant’s gaze flickered to the commoner girl stepping out of the carriage behind the Princess.
“She is my guest. Ellensia, follow me.”
Philomel replied dismissively and walked briskly toward the conference hall. Her singular focus was to complete this task and leave this place behind as soon as possible.
“Your Highness, please wait a moment…!”
“This way.”
She grabbed Ellensia’s hand and pulled her along, frustrated by the girl’s hesitant pace.
“Oh my, Your Highness! Have you returned?”
“Perhaps we could have a cup of tea together…”
Everyone they passed attempted to engage her. Ordinarily, Philomel would have offered a polite reply, but today she ignored them all, marching straight for the conference hall doors.
Those who caught a glimpse of Ellensia’s face froze in their tracks.
“Your Imperial Highness! What is the meaning of this?”
The knight guarding the entrance blocked her path.
“I must see His Majesty the Emperor immediately.”
“The meeting has not yet concluded, Your Highness…”
“It is an urgent matter. Step aside.”
At the Princess’s sharp, icy tone, the knight wavered before turning to address the room within.
“……Your Majesty, Princess Philomel requests an audience.”
The answer was immediate.
“Let her enter.”
Inside, the Emperor sat upon his throne, surrounded by ministers. Puzzled gazes turned toward the Princess as she swept into the room.
“What is the meaning of this? You would not have come for something trivial…”
The Emperor’s gaze, initially resting on Philomel, shifted naturally to the girl at her side. His eyes widened, transfixed. The ministers mirrored his reaction, falling into a stunned silence.
“I have someone I would like to introduce to Your Majesty.”
Philomel nudged Ellensia, who stood flustered and lost, toward the center of the room.
“I met her while visiting a nearby village. This girl’s name is Ellensia.”
A murmur rippled through the ministers.
“She bears a striking resemblance to my late mother, doesn’t she? I wanted to show her to you personally, so I invited her to the detached palace.”
Even as Philomel kept up the charade, Eustis’s gaze never drifted back to her.
Though she understood why, she felt a sharp, hollow pang of sadness.
* * *
“Phew.”
As soon as she reached her quarters, Philomel collapsed to the floor. The memory of what she had just done made her palms slick with sweat.
When she had entered the hall with Ellensia, the room had gone as silent as if a bomb had detonated.
Philomel had concocted an excuse about Ellensia being a relative of Isabella, but it was a flimsy story. As the Emperor spent a long, agonizing time simply staring at Ellensia’s face, Count Polan had eventually stepped in to adjourn the meeting. The ministers had left in a daze, whispering frantically among themselves.
“We will prepare a room elsewhere. Your Highness, you should take your leave as well.”
Count Polan had said this with a grave expression.
Philomel had slipped away under the pretense of changing out of her travel clothes. By now, the father and daughter were likely experiencing a long-awaited reunion in Eustis’s room.
It bothered her that she had thrown Ellensia into such a bewildering environment without a shred of warning.
But it would be fine. In the novel, Eustis realizes at a glance that Ellensia is his daughter.
Eustis, so affectionate toward his true child, would surely take care of her. She simply didn’t want to be the one to admit with her own lips, *I am the fake.*
Philomel tightly clenched her trembling hands.
There was no turning back. She had to keep moving.
She quickly rose and retrieved the bundle she had hidden beneath her bed. Even the maids, who had strictly been told not to touch it, only assumed it held the Princess’s personal valuables.
When she untied the cloth, commoner’s everyday clothes emerged: a simple, patternless navy dress. She had purchased them during her frequent, disguised walks through the city, ensuring she had never been suspected.
“Your Highness, shall I help you change?”
Countess Deles’s voice drifted in from outside the door.
“……That is fine. More importantly, I am thirsty—could you bring me a glass of cold water with ice?”
Philomel kept her voice carefully modulated.
“Understood. Please wait a moment.”
To fetch ice, the Countess would have to travel all the way to the kitchen. It would buy Philomel time.
‘Countess Deles. Thank you for taking such good care of me all this time. I won’t forget you.’
Philomel whispered a silent farewell.
She shed her dress and pulled on the plain garments. She tied her hair into a single knot and covered it with a headscarf. Inside the remaining bundle, she packed only a pouch of gold coins and a single book.
*Princess Ellensia*.
‘I can’t have others finding it; I have no choice but to take it.’
Philomel placed the letter she had spent all night writing on her desk, where it would be immediately visible.
She checked her reflection one last time, but hesitated as her eyes fell upon the display cabinet. A golden ship model, a gift from the Emperor for her birthday just yesterday, caught the light.
Philomel reached out, stroking the smooth metal.
She couldn’t take it. The ring on her finger was an absolute necessity, but this was merely a toy. To take it would be to cast herself as a thief fleeing with loot. It belonged here, with the rest of the treasures.
‘Let’s not be greedy. It wasn’t mine to begin with.’
Philomel left the model in its place and quietly slipped out of the room.
The hallways were empty.
She moved with caution, avoiding the main thoroughfares. Because of Ellensia’s arrival, a frantic commotion had broken out, and the staff was entirely preoccupied with the event.
“That girl the Princess brought, doesn’t she look exactly like the Empress?”
“Is she really a relative?”
“No way. She looks like a commoner. There’s no way the Empress’s kin would be a commoner.”
“Maybe a distant relation.”
“Would a distant relative look that much like her? She looks even more like the Empress than the Princess does. Honestly, the Princess looks nothing like her at all…”
“Shh! Watch your tongue. You might disappear without a trace if you keep that up.”
It was exactly as she had feared.
Philomel slipped past them unnoticed. With so many guests arriving for the upcoming banquet and servants moving about in various states of dress, her plain clothes served as a perfect shroud.
Just as she began to relax, thinking she had successfully vanished into the background:
“……Princess?”
Philomel jolted at the sound of Nasar’s voice behind her.
“Are you, by any chance, the Princess?”
If she turned around, it would be over. But she couldn’t ignore a young Duke, even while disguised as a maid.
‘What do I do?’
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Nasar. What is it?”
“……Father.”
Unexpectedly, Duke Abridon stepped in, offering her an inadvertent escape.
“Why are you standing there? Do you have business with that maid?”
She could feel the Duke’s gaze on her back.
“No. I think I was mistaken for a moment.”
“Goodness, you child. We have matters to discuss. Follow me.”
“Yes, I understand.”
As the sound of their footsteps faded, Philomel resumed her pace.
She exited the detached palace without further issue. The guards were so overwhelmed by the influx of guests that they barely spared a glance for the servants leaving the grounds.
“When the banquet begins, we will control access! Until then, return to your posts!”
That was all they shouted to the departing crowd.
Philomel left the palace behind. She walked with the flow of the crowd until she could safely duck into a side path, disappearing into the rugged terrain beyond.
The Utina Detached Palace eventually faded into the distance. At this range, even if she tapped into her divine power, Eustis—still inside the palace—would be unable to track her.
Philomel drew the ring from her pocket and slid it onto her finger.
The Solar Flare Ring was a catalyst that allowed even those without divine power to command it. Last year, on her birthday, Eustis had channeled his own power into the artifact, leaving a resonance that Philomel could now exploit.
Movement magic was one of its many functions. She closed her eyes, picturing her destination with absolute clarity.
‘Concentrate. Focus.’
If her focus faltered, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Philomel rubbed the red gem with her index finger. A brilliant, searing light erupted from the stone, enveloping her body.
It was a final, silent farewell.