Chapter 106
Yes. That was the strangest part.
For problem-solving, Einar alone would be sufficient.
No, more than sufficient—he would be excessive.
He already had an idea of where the problem was occurring, and once he began to take action, everything would resolve well.
Yet, why deliberately insert misfortune into the mix?
To Riina’s naturally questioning perspective, Einar answered without hesitation:
“It doesn’t seem right to solve this alone.”
The ashen eyes were filled only with Riina.
His answer was right before him, but…
“Though there may be no such thing as a ‘right answer’ in the world, somehow it doesn’t feel right for me to solve this matter alone.”
“You know this is forced, don’t you?”
Since anyone would consider it a forced explanation, Riina asked this, but Einar merely smiled slightly and responded casually:
“You also know it’s not forced, right?”
To this, Riina shook her head but answered:
“If Einar says so, then it must be.”
“My heart swells with such boundless trust.”
“It’s endless trust in Einar’s luck.”
And it was also a resigned certainty about her own misfortune.
Einar knew what underpinned her words, but he deliberately refrained from telling her not to think that way.
His luck and her misfortune.
Before the “fact” that he knew as thoroughly as Riina, he couldn’t offer empty words that were mere shells.
He simply opened his mouth while consciously withdrawing his hand that had instinctively reached out to pull her into his arms.
“Ah, of course, if Riina doesn’t want to be involved.”
“How could I not?”
Riina blurted out before Einar could finish speaking.
Looking at the deep furrow between her brows, Einar failed to control himself.
Unconsciously, he gently rubbed that area with his fingertips.
The contact was minimal, and even that time was brief.
Einar soon realized his action and withdrew his hand.
Perhaps that’s why it was all the more ardent.
However, pretending nothing had happened, he hid his hand behind his back, rubbing the fingertips where Riina’s warmth remained, and focused on her voice.
“I already know, don’t I?”
Yes. Hadn’t she already learned?
Like Lione. The fact that in the not-too-distant future, perhaps on a very near day, the youngest prince might suffer a miserable fate.
She’s not the type to meddle.
How could she be?
The moment she reaches out her hand, everything falls apart due to her bad luck.
But this time, Riina didn’t hesitate.
Because Lione was alive.
The tragic crime of passion that had once caused an uproar in imperial society before her regression hadn’t occurred, and Lione, who should have died, was now facing a completely different future of his own will.
Perhaps right now, he would be putting their heads together with Becky.
A smile spread across Riina’s lips as she thought of the two, and Einar couldn’t help but speak:
“Hmm, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. So what exactly is this ‘bad premonition’?”
True to the Bolshevik way of giving her all without giving up once a decision is made, Riina immediately set about understanding the situation.
“Since it’s an intuition, it’s neither precise nor specific.”
“It may not be specific, but it is accurate.”
“Then, to be precise, the ‘medicine’ is the problem.”
“The medicine?”
As Riina tilted her head to one side, Einar smiled with his eyes crinkling and tilted his head in the same direction.
“Yes. Medicine. I’ve heard that Sierre has taken various medicines since birth because he was born weak.”
Einar himself hadn’t paid much attention to his youngest brother until now.
In truth, he probably hadn’t been interested in anyone until he discovered Riina.
So he related what he had heard after recently ordering his aide to investigate.
After listening carefully to Einar’s story to the end, Riina’s blue eyes froze like glaciers.
The Empress who passed away after giving birth to the youngest prince.
The youngest prince who had struggled to breathe from birth, resembling the Empress.
And the nanny of the youngest prince who had remained closest to both of them.
“They would have said there was no toxicity in the medicine, right?”
“All the palace physicians who have served in the youngest prince’s palace have said it’s not poison.”
A radiant but bone-chillingly cold smile formed at the corners of Riina’s lips.
“So this time too, we’ll need to extract a confession from the person directly involved.”
“Does that mean you thought the same as me? Ah, wait.”
Einar stopped Riina as she was about to answer and suddenly tapped his own palm.
“Since our voices would overlap if we speak simultaneously, shall we write on each other’s palms?”
Though Riina’s face clearly showed the word ‘really?’ at his suggestion, Einar just grinned.
Since it wasn’t such a difficult task, Riina soon nodded.
“The two key words.”
“Alright. Two words.”
So the two wrote two words with their fingertips on each other’s palms.
And facing each other, they nodded.
“We had the same thought.”
“Because there can’t be anything else but this.”
Riina smiled faintly and tapped his palm, and Einar slowly pulled his hand back.
Einar tightly grasped the warmth that remained on his palm where her fingertips had passed ticklishly.
While doing so, he spoke casually:
“Riina.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure if I should say this, but.”
“Don’t say such things.”
Despite her answer that cut him off sharply, Einar continued with a slight smile:
“I think Sierre should be the Crown Prince.”
Riina’s eyes widened briefly, but soon she shrugged nonchalantly.
“I agree.”
At her quick acquiescence, which made his cautious opening seem futile, Einar asked:
“You’re not going to question Sierre’s qualifications to sit on the next imperial throne?”
The meaning in his words was extremely weighty, but his voice was full of playfulness.
Because of this, Riina’s following answer was lighter than a feather:
“You think the youngest prince is more suitable than the First and Fourth Princes, right? That’s enough.”
“Is this again an absolute trust in my ‘luck’?”
As the voice tinged with laughter emerged with a faint sigh, Riina’s voice overlapped:
“No.”
The moment Einar’s eyes met hers at the unexpected answer.
Blue violets bloomed all at once over the ashen plain.
“It’s faith in you, Einar.”
Without any rhetoric, without any embellished speech.
Not plausible flattery toward a prince or sycophancy that tickled the ears.
Just simple sincerity.
At that moment, Einar didn’t even know what expression he should make.
As Riina’s eyes, gazing straight at him, curved round.
The sunlight illuminating her, the colors emitted by dust particles floating around reflecting light, the scent of chamomile she enjoyed drinking, and even the lingering sensation of her fingertips on his palm.
Einar realized.
Ah, he would never forget this moment.
This nothing, this moment that should be forgotten as soon as he turned away, would be unforgettable for a lifetime.
And he would never.
He would absolutely never be able to give up on Riina.
The ashen eyes sank deeply, very deeply.
Like those of a terribly experienced and dramatically skilled predator beginning its hunt.
Just as the air around Einar began to slither and sink, Riina opened her mouth.
“Einar…”
But just then, with the sound of a knock, Sierre returned.
After leaving the Bolshevik estate, Sierre rolled his eyes around before finally turning his head to the right and asking in a small voice:
“Brother.”
As Einar, walking beside the child and matching his small stride, tilted his head, Sierre’s somewhat anxious voice was heard:
“Did I interrupt something?”
“Hmm? What interruption? I’m the one who suggested the outing.”
“That’s… not what I meant.”
Having said that much, Sierre’s gaze briefly turned toward Riina, who was likewise matching her stride with his on his left.
When he had been taken by the Bolshevik estate’s servants to dress in attire he had never worn before in his life and returned to the reception room.
How should one describe the air flowing inside?
For Sierre, still young and with virtually no experience in interpersonal relationships, he couldn’t even find an appropriate expression to describe that moment.
But the bright child, who had endlessly read books while lying in bed, could vaguely sense that he had “intruded” between the two like an uninvited guest.
Because Sierre had opened the door and entered just as the air between Einar and Riina had swelled tautly.
Sierre slightly hunched his neck and regretted it.
He should not have returned then. No, he should have waited without knocking.
Even though he knew that the past couldn’t be changed by thinking this way, and even if the situation were to repeat, he wouldn’t have known the circumstances inside the reception room, Sierre was dejected.
Seeing Sierre hunching his already thin shoulders even more, Einar chuckled and tapped the top of his head.
“No. You came back at just the right time.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I should be thanking you, in fact.”
“What?”
Sierre asked again at the puzzling answer, but Einar didn’t respond.
And for good reason—how could he answer?
If Sierre hadn’t entered at that moment, he would have…
