Chapter 35
Chapter 35. The Rogue
[You have the information you desired; I will see you at the upcoming foundation celebration. Until then, I hope you grant me the honor of knowing your name.]
The note was brief. Tatar de Tessibania managed to suppress his irritation as he tossed the letter onto Vinea Madretta Veshnu’s desk. In the brief moment it took for him to do so, Vinea picked up the crumpled letter, scanned its contents, and promptly threw it into the overflowing trash bin. The letter hit a stack of documents before falling to the floor. Vinea didn’t even spare it a glance.
Tatar’s eyes, previously filled with a murderous glare, softened as soon as the letter was discarded. Lineue, standing at one corner of the room and observing cautiously, finally let out a sigh of relief. As the personal maid and secretary to the Empress, she was well aware that the imperial palace was often a place of strife. The decision to merge the two imperial residences had initially filled her with worry, but, contrary to her fears, no significant issues had arisen—yet.
* * *
In the Veshnu Empire, only those who carried the name ‘Madretta Veshnu’ were allowed residence in the main palace. Despite being assigned to the best room in the guesthouse, the person inside looked out the window at the gray outer walls of the Veshnu imperial palace, adorned with a golden eagle—the symbol of the empire—with a chilly expression.
“—Your Grace, the Grand Duke.”
A middle-aged man turned around, his cane tapping the floor sharply.
The small golden eagle ornament at the handle was tightly clasped in his hand.
“I’ve placed our people in the Tessibania Palace as you ordered. Tonight, we plan to strike at the Empress.”
“Say it again.”
“What do you mean—”
His sentence was cut short as the man swiftly struck the masked man’s arm with his cane.
“—Aaagh!”
“Again.”
The masked man staggered to his feet, bowing deeply.
“Your, Your Highness…”
Thud.
It was only then that he firmly planted his cane on the ground, gripping the handle with both hands.
“It’s just one woman. Surely, we won’t need three attempts to kill a lady whose only knowledge of swords comes from etiquette classes?”
“I will ensure success this time.”
“Leave.”
The masked man hurried away. The middle-aged man turned again, his gaze capturing the lost power in the distance.
“Don’t struggle, Vinea. It’ll make it easier for this uncle to return to where he truly belongs.”
* * *
Late at night, the room where the Empress resided was filled with the stench of blood.
“Empress, Madam! How, how should I, I’ll call someone immediately—”
“—Enough, Lineue. You’re being noisy.”
Barely containing her shock, Lineue’s hands trembled as she clutched her mistress’s hand. She tried to stem the bleeding with a handkerchief, but its thin lace was hardly adequate.
The letter had been delivered just the day before. The morning had been consumed with preparations for the foundation celebration, and the afternoon was filled with regular meetings. Having barely finished her duties and gone to bed, Lineue had been abruptly summoned before dawn.
Rushing in, she found two assassins lying on the floor and her mistress standing amidst a pool of blood.
“Just a moment, please. I’ll call for help right away. I’ll inform His Highness as well.”
“No, don’t alert him.”
“How can I not inform him of such a critical matter—”
“They’ll report it in the morning anyway. Just let me be for now.”
“I heard His Highness has been visiting the training grounds every morning. With you injured like this, I’ll check if he’s there.”
“He’ll be in his bedroom. I gave him a sleeping potion.”
“What?”
As Vinea turned to open the window widely, the acrid scent was carried away on the night breeze, replaced by the refreshing air that filled her lungs.
“His Highness already knows, so don’t worry about it. The human body sometimes needs to rest to function properly.”
What an odd thing to say. Lineue’s mind was blank. Then, as she stumbled back in horror after making eye contact with a fallen assassin:
“Summon the knights. Someone’s clearly bribed them again, and not a single hair is out of place.”
“Yes, yes…!”
Vinea turned to look at Lineue.
Her silhouette against the moonlight, her fluttering white slip and swirling platinum hair, her pale skin—they all boasted an ethereal beauty.
“Get used to it, Lineue. If you intend to continue serving me.”
It was a loaded statement.
It implied that threats to the Empress of Tessibania would persist, and that Lineue, still new to her role as maid and secretary, would remain by her side.
Bowing deeply, Lineue clenched her trembling fist. She could not show weakness in front of her composed mistress.
Collecting her expression, Lineue left to summon help, while Vinea stepped through the splattering blood toward the bathroom.
The blood-stained slip fell to the floor, revealing a perfectly balanced figure.
The bathtub, large enough for twenty people, had originally been used by the Emperor.
On each end of the blue marble tub, statues of women holding jugs dispensed continuously circulating, purified water at just the right temperature.
The luxurious bathroom, a symbol of imperial excess, was now hers to use freely thanks to the merging of the palaces.
Perhaps due to fighting off the assassins, her body felt unusually warm.
The blood smeared across her white body was washed away by the clean water.
Vinea casually splashed water on herself, her drenched platinum hair spreading over the water’s surface like spreading golden paint.
She submerged herself completely, closing her eyes and holding her breath.
As time passed, the sensation of rushing towards death became so familiar that it felt more comfortable than breathing.
Only when her heart pounded fiercely in her ears did she lift her upper body out of the water, gasping for air.
As she raised her head, there stood a rogue, arms crossed, leaning against the wall and watching her.
“What are you doing there?”
“I was watching because you seemed to be attempting a failed drowning again. This time, it looked like you were going to delay your return.”
“I might.”
Tatar finally uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, kneeling by the tub to begin bathing her.
He rolled up his sleeves, applied fragrant soap to his hands, and pressed firmly against Vinea’s back.
“Ah—”
Her muscles, tense from fighting the assassins, involuntarily released a soft moan.
Tatar, undeterred, continued to press his hands against her back and shoulders.
“Relax. Unless you want to struggle when you wake up tomorrow.”
“I seem to recall hearing something similar not long ago.”
“No need to worry. I have no intention of tormenting an already exhausted Empress further. There are plenty of other ways, even if not today.”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
Vinea blinked slowly, her tone mocking.
“My uncle sent the assassins a week earlier than expected. Only he would send those openly bearing the Veshnu crest.”
“Your renowned status as Empress seems to have spread even to Veshnu. He must be quite anxious.”
“It’s proof that the temple is keeping its promises.”
Activities sponsored by the Tessibania Empress under the temple’s name transcended national boundaries, enhancing her reputation internationally.
“What will you do? Soon they will start targeting your family.”
“I’m considering it. Wondering how desperate he is by now. My cousin would have to die for him to manipulate my brother, but so far, no news.”
The power-hungry uncle, suddenly seated on the throne against a father of milder disposition—it was clear who would win unless she intervened. Most scenarios ended with her family dead and her uncle reclaiming the throne.
Initially, she had despaired, drowning in grief at the loss of her family. Now, it was merely tiresome repetition.
As his soap-filled hands moved from her shoulders to her elbow, then gripped her thin wrist, the cut from the assassin’s blade was clearly visible. Tatar’s eyes darkened.
“Your skills have deteriorated. Is this the resolve of someone who intends to end their regressions? It would be convenient to live without a wrist.”
“What can I do, having regressed to a body that knew swords only in etiquette classes?”
“If it gets too painful, better to die.”
“You’re cursing me.”
The sound of trickling water and the gentle touch massaging her muscles made her temperature rise comfortably.
She wanted to fall asleep right there, but nothing ever went smoothly.
Vinea watched quietly as something dark rose beneath the undulating water’s surface.
Were they the assassins she had just killed, or others from different regressions? Though they took human form, their shape shifted constantly, resembling black smoke, and she could not look away.
It was a chilling and unpleasant sensation. Even though she knew it was a hallucination, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
A bizarre fear gripped her, as if it would kill her at any moment. Knowing she couldn’t die, her mood still involuntarily sank.
She tilted her head back to look up at Tatar. Had he seen such things too?
His blue eyes filled her view. She didn’t need to look away to check if the hallucination had disappeared.
Vinea’s fingertips brushed against Tatar’s cheek, tracing the path where a droplet of water had fallen.
“What are you trying to do?”
“What does it look like?”
“You shouldn’t do something you might regret later, especially if you
can’t handle it.”
“When has Your Highness ever cared about that?”
“You know me as a rogue.”
“‘Rogue’ seems too cute a word for Your Highness.”
Her fingertips trailed from his cheek down to his jaw, across the slightly protruding Adam’s apple, and lightly pulled down the loosely tied top.
Her fingertips pressed firmly against his solid chest.
“So, aren’t you coming in?”
Vinea didn’t need to look forward again to know. Any hallucination, any forthcoming heat, would melt away and disappear.
