Chapter 113 : The Shift of Shadows and Strings - Note!!
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- Chapter 113 : The Shift of Shadows and Strings - Note!!
✦ Chapter 𝟏𝟏𝟑 ✦
⟡ The Shift of Shadows and Strings ⟡
Christian entered the chamber with the gravity of a gathering storm.
Though none could truly decipher why the King had chosen to unveil his ominous designs at such a time, one thing was certain—this was no fortuitous omen. The nerves that once anchored her composure now trembled, honed and sharpened like blades. She paced across the expanse of her stately office with a grace that eclipsed nobility itself, her gloved fingers clutching the weighty folds of her ornate gown.
“Your Royal Highness, Lady Dolores is here.”
“……”
“Your Royal Highness, the Crown Princess?”
She wasn’t ignoring them—no, it was as though her senses had dulled, veiled behind a curtain of thought. After multiple knocks and anxious requests for entry yielded no response, the attendant, driven by rising concern, dared to crack the door open.
“Your Majesty…?”
Christian turned, her expression unreadable, yet her presence ever unshaken. A servant had approached too closely—but with a flick of her gaze, she reclaimed the air of sovereign calm, the spirit within her reined back into order. Darkness receded from her eyes like a tide pulled by the moon.
“Ah. Is the matter urgent?”
“Yes, Your Highness. A man named Giltheon has requested a private audience.”
“…Giltheon?”
The name fell like a stone in still water.
“How did he come to know of us—much less reach our gates?”
Christian’s cerulean eyes glinted, turning to steel.
She’d heard whispers once—Giltheon, the elusive fixer, the man whose name fluttered on the lips of those desperate for the impossible. A myth made flesh, if one believed the rumors.
And now… he sought her. The timing was too precise, too tailored—as if fate had conspired to script this moment. Her gut churned with foreboding.
“That is…” the servant faltered. Sweat beaded along his brow, lips locked in hesitation.
“There’s something amiss. Speak plainly.”
And so he did.
An absurd tale: that one of the palace staff had suddenly proclaimed themselves to be Giltheon. Naturally, no one believed him—at first. But his persistence, his poise, his unnerving knowledge—they had unnerved the guards. And thus, the report made its way to Christian.
The walls of Castle Barberin were famed across nations—its security, impenetrable. If such a fortress could be breached by one man, the very image of the crown would shatter.
Or worse: foreign spies would multiply like vermin.
So, the servant had dared to bring this tale to the one woman whose judgment could withstand scandal. He knew punishment would come—but it was far wiser to be struck down by truth than buried by negligence.
Christian released a quiet, ironic chuckle.
“Did you say Giltheon?”
She doubted this legend would reduce himself to mere servant garb to approach her. Yet… something within urged her not to dismiss it.
“Bring him to me.”
At last, they stood face-to-face.
“My name is Theodore. I go by the name Giltheon.”
His features betrayed no age—only timelessness. Christian’s thoughts raced. How did he cross these gates? How did he pass the watchmen of Barberin without a whisper?
But such musings were fruitless. She cut straight to the heart.
“Why did you seek me out?”
“As I expected,” Theodore replied, smiling coolly. “Her Royal Highness is never one for pleasantries. I came to change the rope.”
“…Rope?”
“I grow tired of groveling for coin. Power—real power—has always appealed more than gold.”
Christian’s gaze sharpened, her eyes like daggers unsheathed.
He continued without flinching.
“There are four of us. Quadruplets. A miracle, some might say. All four survived.”
He spoke without pity. “Father vanished, mother succumbed to despair and ended her life. We were raised by an aunt in this very castle. And now, by the strangest hand of fate—I stand before you.”
Christian said nothing. Twins were still considered ill omens in Docilia, as in many kingdoms. One child was often discarded in secret.
But quadruplets?
He spoke of it as though it were nothing. And yet—his tone lacked mockery. It held only truth. So she asked:
“Why tell me this? You’ve kept this secret well—no one seems to know. But do not think revealing it alone will win my allegiance.”
No one confessed freely—not without intent. Christian’s voice was calm, but behind it was a blade.
“Of course not,” Theodore answered. “But… I am not like the others. In this world, who wouldn’t crave power? Only a fool ignores opportunity when it breathes on their neck.”
Christian scoffed.
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“I am aware of your… cautious nature.”
“It’s called prudence.”
To a man like Giltheon, knowledge was currency. Surely, he had studied her—her habits, her mind. Even so, she betrayed no expression beyond cool indifference.
“You didn’t risk everything just to share your past.”
“Indeed not. As I said, I came to change allegiance. I’ve survived too long to perish on a crumbling side. My brothers will fall, no doubt—they lack sense. But I? I choose to live.”
“…The other three allied with House Schultz.”
Christian tapped her fingers against the desk.
So that’s why he came now. The tension between the royal house and the Schultzes had reached a silent boiling point. Theodore’s arrival confirmed it: Duke Schultz was plotting.
Yet why did Theodore defect? Why now?
As if reading her thoughts, he replied.
“Just because we share blood does not mean we share purpose.”
Then, calmly, Christian asked, “Can you give me the king’s secrets?”
“Children know their fathers best,” she added, “and I’ve heard your relationship with him is… unusual.”
“It is.”
Theodore’s smirk faded.
“I’m afraid I cannot. No fixer—no matter how skilled—can unearth what the King of Docilia chooses to hide. His private life is sealed beyond all reach.”
It was true.
No spy had ever breached the King’s shadows. His life within the capital’s palace was a well-crafted illusion. Only whispers remained.
Theodore shifted.
“However, Prince Edward Windsor—”
“You mean the insignificant fact that Edward is the murderer who tore Mussen apart?”
His voice caught. Her tone was unnervingly calm.
“H-How…?”
He fell silent. Edward’s secret was buried deep. If not for Max Prim’s testimony, even Giltheon might not have uncovered it.
“You truly thought I wouldn’t know of my own brother’s foolish bloodshed?” Christian asked. “Even in decline, the crown’s intelligence remains formidable.”
“……”
“And yes. His Majesty knows. Though until this morning, he believed he’d kept it hidden. As for the Shultz family—they are preparing for war. I know this as well.”
“…There’s no proof. You seem to forget that.”
Christian simply smiled.
“Giltheon—no, Theodore. I reject your proposal. You wish to change ropes? Then find another pillar to cling to. For mine does not bend.”
* * *
Hi sweet souls… (。•́︿•̀。)💕
I don’t usually say much… but today I wanted to open my heart just a little, if that’s okay. 🥺💌
I’ve been quietly spending hours — sometimes whole nights — translating and uploading stories with as much care and love as I can. Just me, a tiny heart, and a glowing screen… hoping that maybe, someone out there will smile because of the words I share. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)
But lately, it’s been a little lonely.
I know everyone’s busy, and the world is loud — but I’m doing my best to create something soft and magical in the middle of it all. I’m just a small translator bunny, sitting in silence, wishing someone would notice all the petals I’ve been placing one by one. 🌸
Starting now, new chapters will be softly closed for a little while (they’ll open after two days ⏳)… it’s just a tiny way to keep my candle burning. If you wish to support me — even just once — it would wrap my tired heart in the warmest light. (。•́︿•̀。)💖
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Thank you for being here. Truly.
With all my quiet love,
— your soft translator 🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷
Berilyum
Thanks for all your hard work💞