“You want to invite me because you want me to be there?”
Once again, Seo-ah’s calm voice reached Abel’s ears, and his eyes narrowed.
Stripping away what her head knew and what her eyes could see, he sensed something solid beneath it all. Her brown eyes, which had seemed to absorb the brilliant sunlight, flashed through his mind.
“Yes. Do you know how many nobles want to receive my invitation?” Sabine said lightly. “Normally, I just send a card. I don’t come to them in person like this.”
Abel grabbed Seo-ah’s wrist. Seo-ah, who had been looking at Sabine, finally turned to him.
There stood a woman he had never seen before.
Seo-ah, from whom all traces of her usual frightened, tearful demeanor had vanished, felt like someone entirely new. The strength in Abel’s grip loosened unconsciously.
And just as Abel found her unfamiliar, Seo-ah also found him unfamiliar. His smile was gone, and the look in his eyes was a warning—don’t accept this invitation.
But Abel did not know.
The reason Han Seo-ah endlessly wandered through places she had no interest in—markets, department stores—lay elsewhere.
Her grandfather’s teacher, whom she had met in childhood, was a Westerner named Theresia, with hair the color of sunset. Theresia taught her the Norfolk common tongue during the day, but at night, when everyone slept, she wandered secretly through the city. No one seemed to notice—but Seo-ah always sensed her movements.
One day, Seo-ah asked why she wandered so much at night. Theresia looked startled and muttered something in the Norfolk common tongue. She must have thought Seo-ah wouldn’t understand. But Seo-ah understood perfectly.
“You have inherited your father’s abilities.”
Seo-ah knew at once that father did not mean her grandfather.
It was later that she realized Theresia had been searching for her biological father—tracking his traces, despairing at times.
“Is he dead? Is he really dead?”
But Theresia soon shook her head.
“No. If he’s alive, he’ll come here.”
Theresia, who raised her father’s daughter to await her enemy, saw those words become reality more than ten years later.
Seo-ah’s earnest prayer—that her biological father would not belong to this world—shattered that day.
“He can become an old woman on the verge of death, or a young man, if he wishes. He is skilled at disguise. Never judge him by appearance.”
Theresia chose Han Seo-ah to wait for him.
Han Seo-ah chose Oscar to draw him out.
Because she did not know her biological father, there was only one way: make him come to her.
The woman standing before her found her strange. The people here might find her unfamiliar—but her biological father would recognize her.
All she could do was increase the probability.
There was no reason to refuse, unless it was a place that threatened her life.
“You’re going, right?” Sabine asked expectantly.
Seo-ah shifted her gaze from Abel back to Sabine.
Abel tightened his grip slightly.
But as sorry as she felt for him, Seo-ah found it easier to follow the woman named Sabine than to shop for winter clothes alone with Abel and a shopkeeper.
This woman—clearly extraordinary at a glance—was not someone one could encounter casually on the street. A place accessible only by invitation would be filled with people of her class. Without accepting this invitation, it would undoubtedly be nearly impossible to enter such a gathering.
A calm, distinct light flickered in Seo-ah’s eyes. Slowly, she spoke.
“Alright.”
Sabine’s expression brightened instantly. She stepped forward, her face radiant that showed no hint of a wrinkle, and casually pushed Abel aside.
“That’s a good idea. We can buy clothes later, right?”
Before Seo-ah could respond, Sabine was already pulling her along. Glancing back at Abel, now pushed aside, she added dismissively,
“You can come too, if you like.”
Seo-ah saw Abel glaring at her over Sabine’s shoulder. He clearly had much he wanted to say.
“By the way, what’s your name?”
“……”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Seo-ah.”
“Oh my! Seo-ah? I’ve never heard that name before!”
“……”
“Then what is that thing tied to your hair?”
“It’s called a daenggi.”
“That’s too hard to pronounce. Say it again.”
The backup team, who had been covertly monitoring Seo-ah, let out a collective sigh as soon as they saw Sabine leading her away.
“Why her, of all people…”
Abel followed behind with a stern expression, but since it was Sabine von Jerome who had taken Seo-ah, there was little he could do for now.
“It sounds so lovely! But where are you from? You’re not from Luxen, are you?”
“……”
“Ah, is it hard to talk? That’s fine. Oh—and just in case, when you enter the exhibition hall and call for me, call me Young Lady. Understood?”
Sabine smiled brightly, like a princess raised without ever being contradicted, and genuinely admiring, did not release Seo-ah's arm. Somewhere along the way, the honorifics disappeared like melting snow. She called Seo-ah by name as she pleased, yet insisted Seo-ah must never call her by hers.
It was a very natural way of emphasizing that she herself was superior to Seo-ah.
This woman was clearly from the absolute highest stratum— possessing a sense of entitlement even among the upper echelons. The reason she had come in person, rather than sending someone, was likely to use Seo-ah discreetly.
Discreet use.
How did she intend to use her?
A cold tension coiled low in Seo-ah’s abdomen. The tighter it wound, the more Seo-ah firmed her core and continued following Sabine.
They passed through corridors, climbed more stairs, and finally reached the staircase leading to the top floor.
“Sabine!”
At the top of the stairs, several young ladies were waiting. Sabine released Seo-ah’s arm as if nothing had happened.
“Julia!”
Leaving Seo-ah behind, Sabine hurried up the remaining steps and exchanged warm embraces with the young ladies who had been waiting for her.
“Thank you for coming. Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?”
“We should have come earlier. Mother will be here later.”
“Really? I’m so happy. And that looks wonderful on you!”
“You picked it out for me. It’s thanks to your taste.”
Sabina exchanged greetings with the young ladies adorned in beautiful dresses and jewelry, then smiled as she noticed their gazes directed down the stairs.
Sabina's gaze turned to Seo-ah.
The blonde man, the one from before, had approached her side.
But what did it matter? Sabine had no intention of doing anything improper herself.
“Seo-ah!”
The woman, who had paused at the affectionate call, lifted her head.
Sabina burst into laughter and waved at her.
“Hurry up and come!”
The backup team leader, who had been quietly observing, clicked his tongue. Scratching his head, he finally issued an order.
“Report to His Excellency that Countess Jerome’s daughter has taken the target to the exhibition.”
—
Meanwhile, at the Luxen Royal Palace.
Leopold von Hilbert, head of the Hilbert royal family and the twenty-fifth King of Luxen, stood upon a circular platform with an expressionless face.
Despite the fact that the state council meeting was already thirty minutes overdue, he appeared unhurried.
Around him, those assisting with the King’s preparations moved busily upon the platform. One knelt to polish the King’s shoes, while another carefully adjusted the position of the insignia on his jacket.
Even so, no one dared to breathe too loudly.
It was not only the King they feared, but also the gaze of the head maid, who observed them as if overseeing every movement.
At that moment, the head maid—who had been standing at a slight distance from the platform—took a step forward.
The palace maids secretly called her a ghost bound to the palace.
While the maids were bound to prescribed uniforms, the head maid was not. So long as it did not violate the law, she was free to wear whatever clothing or jewelry she pleased.
Yet despite this freedom, she always appeared the same.
Her hair was completely bound, secured with plain pins. Her high-collared dress, reminiscent of a priest’s habit, never changed in form—only in material, according to the season. Coupled with her expressionless face and cold tone, she gave the impression of chill itself.
But the decisive reason she was called a ghost lay elsewhere.
“Hic!”
The maid adjusting the insignia on the King’s chest startled as the head maid approached without a sound.
On the marble floor not covered by carpet, the click of heels could be heard. But on the carpeted areas, her movements were imperceptible unless one was watching.
“I–I’m sorry.”
Chilled by the head maid’s sharp gaze, the maid bowed quickly and stepped back.
And in that instant, a strong hand seized her arm.
“Ah!”
It was King Leopold.
“Your Majesty—”
Before her trembling plea could finish, her head was yanked back.
With the hand gripping her arm, Leopold reached behind her head and pulled her hair tight, looking down at her with an expressionless face.
On his immaculate features, the only thing that drew the eye were his rare pink irises. Leopold calmly felt the texture of the hair tangled in his grasp, then slowly lowered his gaze. His eyes traced the line of her slender neck, slid over her shoulders, and finally settled on her rather ample chest.
“Hm.”
The maid whose hair was being pulled could not breathe.
Neither could the others.
They dared not look at the King and kept their heads bowed.
Even in an era when monarchies were collapsing, royalty remained royalty. The King still stood at the apex of power. And within the palace walls, the world was no different from the age of absolute monarchy.
A sharp silence—like the edge of a blade—settled over the room.
That silence broke only when the King released her hair, as if shaking it off.
Without another glance, Leopold turned his gaze forward, as though nothing had occurred.
At the same time, the head maid gestured for the maids to leave.
Receiving her nod, the maids hastily gathered their belongings, supported their dazed colleague, and withdrew from the King’s chamber.
The head maid then inspected the King from head to toe. Spotting a single speck of dust on his polished shoe, she wiped it away with a cloth. Only then did she step back.
“It is done.”
Leopold descended from the platform and placed a cigarette between his lips. Seeing this, the head maid immediately struck a match. Acrid smoke rose from the cigarette’s tip.
As she discarded the spent match, Leopold moved to the window. Smoke drifted through the room, and the head maid began to cough.
“Cough… cough.”
Even as she coughed, she brought forward a thick document.
“Cough, cough —Your Majesty, this is a limited-time exclusive transit permit approved by the King of Ishas. Additionally, the Holland merchant ships also— I apologize. I will open the window.”
The head maid, who kept coughing from the cigarette smoke, seemed to feel better only after outside air entered through the window.
Regardless of her coughing, Leopold tapped ash into the tray and spoke.
“Our ships. Holland’s ships. They will have exclusive use of the Ishas waterway for two full months?”
“Yes. It has been confirmed. Reinhardt’s iron-ore transport ships will be barred from the Ishas waterway for the entire next month.”
At last, a faint smile touched Leopold’s face.
“Then he has only two choices to transport the iron ore. Either go around the vast continent of Luani… or to use the Tekhan waterway.”
Oscar.
That arrogant bastard believes his power reaches the heavens.
But no matter how formidable an individual may be, he cannot defeat a nation.
As King of Luxen, he was the nation.
And a nation could do what no individual ever could. Therefore, individuals can never defeat him.
—