Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 129

“Tall, with dark brown hair and a mole on his chin?” Miesa asked.

“Yes! That’s my son,” Count Halitea confirmed.

“…I saw him being executed.”

He was the servant with calloused hands whom Miesa had met in her childhood. Maleca, who was in charge of surveillance, had caught him and handed him over to Count Sellas. The one who was torn apart into pieces was Count Halitea’s eldest son.

“I suspected as much,” Count Halitea said, trying to answer calmly after learning of his son’s execution. But his speech was broken as he wiped away his flowing tears.

After a brief silence, they continued the story. Even years later, the two old men did not know whether the princess and the eldest son of the Halitea family were alive.

Miesa’s maternal grandfather added with tears in his eyes, “I was the one who suggested we give up. My daughter was already dead, but the guilt of losing the lord’s eldest son in an attempt to save my granddaughter, who might still be alive, was too great…”

“I understand,” Miesa replied.

And so, the child survived each day with a smile on her face, hiding among corpses. Because she believed that simply surviving, as she had been told, was enough. She waited for help that would never come, unaware that it had never been promised.

Miesa closed her eyes.

“My mother was only twenty-four or twenty-five at the time,” she murmured.

Not knowing anything, she came to the palace as a bride and lived in Celia Palace for eight years.

Her mother would have had no options. Chosen because her humble origins wouldn’t threaten the heir-apparent Vermel, and with Miesa’s father having died shortly after her birth, she wouldn’t have had any standing to build upon.

Thinking of her mother, who had no one to rely on except these two ignorant old men, was so painful it felt hard to breathe. Swallowing back a surge of emotion, Miesa asked with difficulty, “Did you hear anything about Count Sellas?”

“The last time we saw Amie, wasn’t there that short man?” Miretta recalled.

“Yes, the one smirking behind her was called Count Sellas,” Halitea confirmed. “He seemed rather ill-tempered. We asked about him as we left, but received no answer.”

The two old men didn’t know anything more. However, there was no need to ask further, as Duke Salachez had already found the letters from Sellas that Namirea had kept.

“You must have exhausted your family’s estate and faced many challenges in managing your lands. What can I do for you?” Miesa asked.

Though they refused with alarm, Miesa was insistent. In the short time they had been there, she had glimpsed her mother’s face among her grandfather’s wrinkles, and seeing it made her heart feel like it was being torn apart. She couldn’t bear to face them any longer.

“Please stay comfortably in the palace. Even if I can’t see you often, feel free to tell me of any difficulties at any time,” Miesa said, rising.

Perhaps she would never meet her grandfather again. But that was for the best.

As she left the reception room, court officials bowed deeply all around her. Walking down the corridor of the central palace, Miesa thought it fortunate her tears had dried up. If she started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Miesa spent the entire day staring blankly at her fingertips. Eirik, observing her mood, called out to Salachez late at night.

“I appreciate your loyalty to Her Majesty, but your approach seems questionable,” Eirik said.

Eirik already suspected that no matter how much he probed Salachez, he wouldn’t get a straightforward answer. So he asked sincerely, without trying to pressure or persuade.

However, Salachez was already projecting his past onto Miesa’s story. Hearing today’s events only strengthened his resolve that he couldn’t let that vile Sellas die easily.

“Cladnier, you’ve lived in the sunshine,” Salachez remarked. “You can’t understand Her Majesty.”

“This isn’t about understanding. Being consumed by revenge will only cause her to fester inside,” Eirik replied.

“Look, believing you’re right is one thing, but don’t overdo it,” Salachez retorted, genuinely angry at his friend Eirik. Though Eirik held the position of husband, he couldn’t fully grasp the pain Miesa must have felt.

“It seems there’s no one who truly understands Her Majesty’s heart,” Salachez observed.

He bore no malice; rather, his heart was full of loyalty to the queen. Someone needed to pay for their sins when such a despicable person existed, didn’t they?

A doctor from the Cladnier estate arrived. Miesa summoned him to the office. Yet, Gella, who usually avoided the office, insisted on accompanying her to meet her teacher.

“I suppose I have no choice. Come along,” Miesa agreed.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Gella had sensed that Miesa’s expression hadn’t been good recently, making her anxious. She had steeled herself for the possibility of being cast out of the palace, but the unexpectedly easy permission left her dumbfounded. Still, she quickly moved her feet, worried Miesa might change her mind.

Upon arriving at the office with the captain of the guard, Duke Salachez, and Gella, Miesa saw Gella’s teacher bow deeply and asked her curiosity instead of exchanging pleasantries.

“They say I took Finime earlier this year.”

Gella seemed unaware of what that meant, but her teacher groaned.

“Oh dear.”

“I hear there’s an antidote?”

“That is…”

Gella, impatient, interjected, “I once found wolf-eye mushrooms and gave Her Majesty the water from them, and her health improved greatly. Wouldn’t that have helped to some extent?”

“That won’t suffice, Gella,” her teacher replied.

“What do you mean, Master? You said wolf-eye mushrooms are the best for detoxification!” Gella wailed, stamping her feet.

Her teacher grimaced and spoke to both Gella and Miesa, “There’s no such thing as a universal antidote. But I’m sure I’ve heard that name before…”

“Really? You can’t remember?” Miesa asked.

Gella’s teacher explained slowly, “A poison that hides perfectly in a person’s body, only to suddenly take effect and claim their life three years later, isn’t something that occurs naturally. It was a drug supposedly developed in secret, but I can’t remember where.”

Gella, who had been making distressed sounds until then, froze upon hearing the mention of three years. Her teacher sighed and continued, “While staying in the Crispin Marquisate territory, I transcribed all my lifetime notebooks into books—there are at least thirty volumes. It must be written down somewhere in there.”

“Don’t go yourself; send someone to bring them all,” Miesa instructed.

“I didn’t intend to show them to anyone. They may be in poor condition, water-damaged, and worm-eaten. It would be better for me to go find them myself.”

“It’s not far, is it? Near the Nieas harbor?” Miesa inquired.

“No, I stayed at the Crispin castle,” the doctor replied.

“Your Majesty, let me go. I’ll go and report back. Who knows what might happen to Your Majesty’s body in the meantime,” Gella pleaded with a pale face.

Miesa stared blankly at her face.

Miesa realized she was becoming increasingly strange. She knew it wasn’t normal to want to send Gella, whom she always wanted to keep close like a sister, away while trying to keep Gella’s teacher by her side.

“Do that. Thank you, Gella,” Miesa said, but her response was a pleasant consent.

Gella, her face flushed, carefully confirmed with her teacher the location of the books, the contents written on their front and back, and any potential clues.

She then saluted Miesa with a determined expression. “Your Majesty, I will take my leave then.”

“Send two guards with her. Gella, you must return safely,” Miesa instructed.

Gella nodded vigorously and left the office. Miesa, who had waited with a calm expression for the door to close, unexpectedly burst into laughter.

“What was your name again?” she asked.

“Harfindel,” replied Gella’s teacher, unsure of the reason for the question.

Miesa repeated the name with a chuckle and beckoned him closer with a finger. “I have an important task for you.”

“Excuse me?” he said, bewildered.

“You said you could keep someone alive no matter what gets cut, as long as they’re still breathing?”