29:Irene's First Target

Irene entered the room with steady steps. It was spacious, elegant... but empty. No maid waiting, no sign of life that anyone had been there before her.

She stood in the middle of the room, silently observing. Everything was clean, organized, yet unfamiliar… nothing like what she was used to. Slowly, she walked toward the window. She didn't open it—just placed her hand on the cold glass and closed her eyes.

Moments later, the door opened quietly. Sally stepped in, carrying a small black leather box in her hands.

In a low voice, she said:

"I brought the tools as you asked—paper, ink, old seals… and some golden threads for disguise."

She placed the box on the table, then looked at Irene.

– "How are we sending the first letter?"

Irene sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning back slightly, as if trying to gather her thoughts.

– "We won't use the same name each time. Fantine will know how to change the signature, how to read between the lines. I don't want anyone paying attention to you—or putting you at risk."

Sally raised her head, staring at her firmly.

– "I'm not afraid. After everything I've seen in your life… fear is no longer something I recognize."

Irene didn't reply immediately, but looked at her for a long time. Her gaze carried gratitude, though she left no room for emotion to clearly show.

Finally, she said:

"Don't send anything before I give the signal. We're playing on a field full of traps, and one mistake is enough to be cast out of the game."

Sally nodded silently, then bowed slightly, helped her change clothes, and left.

---

Silence returned once again.

Irene walked toward the balcony and opened the glass door. A gentle breeze slipped into the room, stirring the edges of the white curtains. She stepped outside slowly and sat on the wooden bench tucked into the corner.

She rested her elbows on the small table and stared off into the distance.

But her mind wasn't there. It was focused on a particular image that began to form before her.

> "Emilia de Rouvile."

The widow of a former royal advisor of Valerian—and a distinguished historian.

A woman known for her firm stances against power, and her bold writings that had caught Irene's attention when she read her unfiltered accounts of truth.

According to her reputation, she rarely appeared in public events. It's said she had refused meetings with many prominent figures, even within the court.

Yet she had attended the wedding breakfast… with a composed presence and eyes that did not mirror the usual congratulations.

She hadn't come out of curiosity like most—but because of one thing: a personal royal invitation.

Irene raised her hand and brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her face.

> "But getting close to her is nearly impossible. No one visits her, and she receives no one."

But there was one loophole… still open.

> Her granddaughter: Elinor.

A young woman—Irene's age—who regularly attended tea parties held by daughters of the upper class.

An entry point.

An opportunity.

> "I'm sure Lucas's sisters are constantly invited to these events… held each time at a different estate, hosted by girls from the old families, as a way to maintain political and social ties."

Irene closed her eyes for a moment, then murmured to herself:

– "If I want to reach Emilia… I must start from there. Stick close to my sisters-in-law, slip into their inner circles… and catch the first piece of this puzzle."

---

> Her interest in Emilia was no coincidence.

While studying in her old wing, she had stumbled upon an unexplained gap in the official records.

Maps had changed.

Southern regions that were never part of the Eiscard Kingdom… had suddenly been listed—without details.

No treaties.

No specific dates.

No documentation of any resistance—no names of those who had fallen along the way.

> "As if those lands had been swallowed silently by the kingdom."

Since the days of her grandfather, there had been no sufficient information about those forgotten territories.

Irene realized what she'd found was a priceless treasure… and a powerful weapon to use against her father. But she needed living proof to validate it.

Only Emilia—the historian who had once dared to approach the truth without distortion—

could help.

> "If there's anyone who might answer this question… it would be Emilia."

"Maybe she was silenced back then. I need to meet her and confirm it myself."

She wasn't sure Emilia held anything concrete.

But she was sure… she knew.

And that's why reaching her wasn't just curiosity—it was a necessity.

---

Then the silence was broken again…

Lucas entered suddenly. Irene opened her eyes slowly, got up and walked into the room.

Lucas was lying on the bed, one hand resting on his forehead, as if lost in thought.

Irene stopped at the foot of the bed, crossed her arms with composure, and said in a calm voice:

– "Where were you? You vanished like a faint ghost last night."

She walked in without making a sound. It was as if… nothing had happened.

Lucas let out a faint sigh:

– "That's none of your business."

Irene smiled with poise and replied confidently:

– "You're right; it's not my business that my husband disappeared on the first day of our marriage."

Lucas let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh.

– "My husband!"

He sat up slowly, wiped his face gently, then looked at her with eyes filled with bitterness and said:

– "I hate repeating myself. I told you from the start—I have no interest in this marriage."

Irene replied:

– "I understood that. But what you don't understand is that you can't behave recklessly in public. If rumors reach my father, he'll be furious."

Lucas smirked and said sarcastically:

– "Will the spoiled daughter's father be angry, then?"

He went quiet for a moment, while Irene thought to herself, "He's so stubborn… but at least he doesn't care about me. That makes it easier to deal with."

After a few tense seconds of silence, she spoke again:

– "Since neither of us wants this marriage, how about postponing our first night?"

Lucas stared at her, puzzled.

– "What do you mean?"

Irene explained with poise:

– "I mean we avoid any physical intimacy. Having children isn't a priority right now, and I'm not ready to become a mother."

Lucas raised his head and chuckled lightly before saying:

– "I'm tired. I'm going to take a bath."

Irene wasn't satisfied with that reply and suddenly said:

– "Wait, you didn't give your opinion on what I just said."

Lucas answered carelessly:

– "I don't care. It works for me too. I had no intention of touching you anyway."

Irene was relieved inside—her plan had worked. Then she asked without thinking:

– "So… which side of the bed do you prefer?"

He gave her a serious look and said:

– "You're very contradictory. Have you changed your mind again this quickly? First the kiss, and now this…"

Before he could continue, she interrupted him quickly:

– "Why do you always take my words the wrong way? There's only one bed in the room, and it's wide enough for more than two people. Fine—I'll sleep on the right side anyway."

Then she returned to the balcony once more.

Lucas watched her from behind, his eyes filled with confusion.

He whispered to himself:

"She really is… strange."

That evening, she was summoned once again…

for dinner.