38: a symbol of light

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Sally was gently brushing Irene's long hair, running the comb slowly through the strands as if afraid of hurting her. Irene sat perfectly still before the mirror, silent, her expression unreadable.

The stillness of the room was suddenly broken when the door opened quietly and Lucas stepped in.

Sally quickly turned, gasped faintly, and bowed to him at once.

Irene lifted her gaze and saw him approaching without a word. She shifted her eyes back to Sally and said calmly,

"Thank you, Sally. You may leave now... I'll finish it myself."

The maid bowed again to both of them and slipped out quietly, closing the door behind her.

Irene picked up the comb and continued brushing her hair as if he weren't there, completely ignoring his presence.

Lucas took a few steps closer, one hand behind his back, and silently placed a small, ornate box on the table before her.

Her hand paused for a moment, but she didn't turn to him. She only asked, without lifting her eyes,

"What is that?"

His voice came soft, tinged with reluctant regret,

"I was drunk last night... and I overreacted. Said things I shouldn't have. This is a necklace. I brought it as an apology… for what I said."

She replied coldly, without even glancing at the box:

"Oh, it's fine... I figured you were drunk. Doesn't matter. You can give it to one of your sisters. I don't care for jewelry."

Lucas took a deep breath, trying to contain himself. His tone held a mix of patience and irritation as he said,

"I went into the city myself, searched everywhere to find something that would suit you… and you're refusing it just like that?"

Without changing her tone or lifting her eyes, she answered,

"Sorry... that you went through all that trouble for something I never asked for."

Lucas muttered inwardly,

"Why is she so difficult...?"

He fell silent, closed his eyes, and sighed, then added in a lighter tone,

"Fine… consider it a wedding gift."

She raised an eyebrow mockingly and finally looked at him,

"Didn't you say you weren't even interested in this marriage?"

His eyes changed. Without a word, he opened the box and slowly pulled out the necklace.

It was an exquisite piece, in a rare shade she had never seen before—neither on her father's jewel-obsessed wives nor anyone else.

He stepped closer, gently took the comb from her hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply, staring at him.

He ignored her protest, brushed her hair aside softly, and fastened the necklace around her neck.

She saw it in the mirror... and froze.

It was stunning. Perfect for her skin, her neckline—like it was made for her alone.

Lucas spoke quietly, his tone serious:

"I got this just for you. If you don't want it... I'll throw it in the lake."

She stared at him in disbelief,

"Are you insane? It looks expensive."

He shrugged, indifferent,

"Doesn't matter. If you don't want it, just put it back in the pouch. I'll get rid of it tomorrow."

He turned, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him without waiting for an answer.

She remained standing, staring at her reflection, fingers gently touching the necklace. Her eyes were confused.

She whispered to herself,

"I don't want to accept it… I don't want anything from him, but now's not the time for more trouble."

She held her head for a moment, then quietly unfastened the necklace, placed it back in the box, and stored it in the wardrobe.

Then she returned to her seat in front of the mirror, picked up the comb, and resumed brushing her hair as if nothing had happened.

After a few moments, her gaze shifted to the small paper pieces she had crafted with such care throughout the day. Her eyes sparkled faintly as she murmured:

"I hope they accept the idea tomorrow…"

She picked up a book from the table and headed to bed, lying down and reading in silence.

Lucas emerged from the bathroom, his hair wet, drying it with a towel.

He saw her lying on the bed, reading quietly, with that same focused, indifferent expression.

He smirked and said sarcastically,

"You really are… a bookworm."

She looked at him without emotion, then calmly closed the book and opened the drawer. She pulled out a small bottle of white pills, took three at once, and drank some water.

He watched, towel still in hand,

"What's that? Do you have a chronic illness?"

She paused, realizing what she had just done in front of him. She blinked, then replied with forced calm,

"No… just painkillers. I have a headache."

He looked at her skeptically,

"Three pills at once? What kind of headache is that?"

She responded coldly,

"I just want the pain gone quickly... so I can focus tomorrow at the High Council."

He raised an eyebrow,

"The High Council? I heard you attended the last session... Why would a woman care about that kind of boring meeting?"

She replied with a mocking tone,

"And I heard you rarely attend… Why doesn't the kingdom's general and second prince care about such an important meeting?"

Drying his hair, he replied,

"What's the point of seeing all those grumpy faces?"

She answered firmly,

"It's not the people that matter, but the issues discussed—they concern the kingdom and its people. Your repeated absence wasn't acceptable... In fact, they thought I attended to cover for you. It was embarrassing for your father."

He stared at her for a moment, then muttered under his breath in anger:

"Those hypocritical bastards…"

She watched him in silence, then turned away, switched off the lamp, and lay down.

He, too, sighed deeply, turned off the lights, and lay beside her.

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The Next Morning

She hadn't slept. Valerian's sleeping pills weren't as strong as Ascard's. She tossed and turned all night, mind racing, only falling asleep a little before dawn—barely two hours.

She woke before five, sighed, rubbed her eyes, and gathered her energy.

Sally entered quietly as usual, helping her dress in a simple yet elegant gown.

Irene placed the papers she had worked on in a fine pouch and sealed it carefully.

At the gate, Richard was waiting as before.

He looked at her and smiled,

"Is that pouch holding your idea?"

She smiled faintly,

"Yes, Your Majesty. I've finalized it... Now I just hope the council will approve."

She climbed into the carriage, and they rode to the council hall.

They arrived early this time. The atmosphere felt more tense than before.

She sat in the same seat, organizing her papers, breathing deeply.

Suddenly, the grand doors of the council opened.

A tall woman entered—raven-black hair, confident steps. She wore formal attire reflecting high status, her features sharp and strong.

Irene stared at her for a moment... and instantly recognized her.

Viola.

Viola, as usual, greeted everyone with a graceful bow, then walked calmly to the seat directly across from Irene.

She adjusted her hair with elegant composure, and when she lifted her eyes… she froze.

For the first time, they met face to face.

Irene Iscard—the woman who married her former fiancé, Lucas.

She was truly stunning, just as the rumors said.

Her unique hair color, the harmony of her features—like a portrait painted by a flawless artist.

Irene calmly lifted her gaze. Their eyes met for the first time.

Viola smiled politely and said in a warm but sharp voice:

"My, my… I finally have a companion in the council. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Irene. I've heard much about you."

Irene returned the smile with quiet poise:

"Likewise. I've also heard a lot about you… and was hoping to meet you."

Viola studied her face with clear interest,

"You truly are beautiful… just as they say."

Irene replied politely, without affectation,

"Thank you… You're very beautiful too."

Suddenly, the guards moved. King Kristoff entered, accompanied by Crown Prince Bastian.

Everyone stood in respect, including Irene and Viola.

The king took his seat, with Bastian beside him.

Before anything began, Bastian looked toward Irene again. She could feel his gaze, but she ignored him, eyes lowered.

Then, the doors swung open again—

Someone entered who hadn't stepped into that hall in a long time...

Lucas.

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Everything froze for a moment.

Everyone stood instinctively, all eyes on him.

Irene looked up at him in faint surprise she couldn't hide.

Viola also showed visible shock, and even Richard stiffened momentarily.

Lucas said in his calm, firm voice,

"Apologies for the delay."

King Kristoff replied with a tone that mixed seriousness and jest,

"Welcome, Lucas. Have you finally decided to show up again?"

Lucas stepped forward,

"Apologies, Your Majesty… but the work has been quite demanding, as you know."

The king gave a light smile and said seriously,

"Yes, and for that... I truly thank you for coming."

Then Bastian finally spoke, his voice confident and feigned,

"Lucas… it's been so long. I felt like you vanished from the world. But I'm glad to see my cousin at last."

Lucas… completely ignored him. He didn't reply. Not even a polite smile.

An awkward silence fell.

Irene noticed the tension and sensed the sharpness in the air.

She glanced at Lucas, who sat nearby—his face expressionless, eyes on no one.

Meanwhile, Bastian stared at him with a deceptively innocent smile... but Irene could feel the malice behind it.

The session finally began.

After the usual introductions, the Prime Minister started discussing the currency forgery crisis again—how things were escalating in several regions, and how the council needed a swift, firm decision.

Once he finished, the king turned to Irene,

"Irene."

She raised her head calmly,

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He smiled and asked,

"Have you finalized your idea?"

She replied with quiet confidence,

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He nodded and encouraged her,

"Then... please begin your presentation."

Viola glanced at her with mild curiosity.

Lucas, too, slowly lifted his eyes, silently observing.

Irene stood quietly, reached for the small pouch beside her, and returned to her seat.

She placed the pouch before her, lifted her gaze slightly, and said,

"Alright… I'll begin."

She drew out small papers from the pouch and started distributing them to each member around the main table.

Each sheet looked neat, smooth—so ordinary that some thought she had done nothing noteworthy.

Once done, she said,

"Your Majesty, may I open the curtains, please?"

The king replied,

"Yes, go ahead, Princess."

Irene opened the curtains opposite the table.

Sunlight poured in through the wide windows, filling the room with warm, sharp rays.

She looked at the assembly steadily and said:

"Now, I ask each of you to hold your paper up toward the light."

Everyone seemed puzzled, but they obeyed.

They raised the paper…

And suddenly… tiny symbols appeared, engraved within the paper itself, only visible from a certain angle under direct sunlight.

Irene raised her voice slightly:

"I've spent the past week trying to develop paper that can't be forged—no matter how hard counterfeiters try."

She looked at them one by one and continued:

"I imagined all official documents in the kingdom having a special symbol… but in a way that can't be copied or drawn—engraved into the paper during its creation."

One minister examined the sheet in awe,

"It's actually inside… nothing's printed on the surface."

Irene nodded calmly and explained:

"I wanted even ordinary, uneducated people to be able to detect forgeries. That's why I made a symbol only visible to the naked eye, under sunlight. No tools or technical knowledge needed."

She lifted a sheet herself, held it to the light, and said:

"The symbol you see isn't visible under regular light… It's embedded between the paper's layers. I tested multiple methods until I found this perfect balance."

Another council member asked:

"But how can you guarantee the symbol can't be copied?"

Irene responded at once:

"No one can replicate it without knowing the exact fiber blend, layer timing, pressure duration, and the unique mold used to shape the mark."

She paused briefly, then added:

"The stamp may look ordinary... but I used simple, traditional tools. Yet even so, with professional production, it's impossible to replicate. We could even evolve the technique in the future."

The hall fell into silence.

But this time… it was the silence of awe, of respect.

King Kristoff leaned forward, inspected the paper again, and looked at Irene:

"Did you consult any craftsmen or experts in making these sheets?"

She gently shook her head:

"No, Your Majesty. I made them myself… and I kept it all a secret."

He showed a hint of surprise,

"Yourself?"

Irene considered mentioning Sally, who had helped her, but decided against it—for Sally's safety.

"Yes, Your Majesty, from scratch. I studied the concept for days, then executed it myself. It wasn't easy. I failed many times before finding the right consistency."

The king, visibly impressed, asked:

"Can you explain how you did it?"

Irene drew a deep breath, recalling every detail:

"First, I made the paper pulp by hand—using basic materials: plant fiber, natural starch, raw fibers. I mixed them with precise water ratios until the texture was just right.

Then, I used a simple metal sieve to filter the pulp and poured it in layered measures to get the perfect thickness."

She looked around the table,

"During filtering, I placed the special symbol within the sieve's mesh, allowing it to fuse into the fiber structure—not after the sheet was made."

One minister leaned in,

"So… the shape wasn't printed after? It was fused during the sheet's formation?"

Irene nodded confidently,

"Exactly. No surface printing. The design is part of the sheet itself. That's why it can't be forged by printing or stamping. Even if someone tries—without knowing the pulp composition, sieve timing, or engraving mold... they'll never get the same result."

The king stared at her silently, amazed.

"All of this... in just one week?"

She smiled faintly,

"Yes. I spent sleepless nights experimenting… I created many versions. Some failed. Some were partial.

But the sample you now hold... is the best I've produced so far. And I'm sure the symbol will appear even more precisely on real currency paper, thanks to its tighter fiber weave."

The room fell silent again.

This time—it was admiration. Pure and unquestionable.

The king lifted the paper to the light again, studying it, then looked back at Irene with a much warmer tone:

"A simple idea… but a brilliant execution.

And I admit, I never expected a young woman at her first council meeting to bring forth a solution better than most we've seen in years."

Then he turned to his brother Richard and said:

"I must admit… you won the bet quickly."

Richard grinned.

The others in the room didn't understand what had passed between the two brothers—

(But you, dear readers, will. It was a small bet between Richard and Kristoff about Irene. 'You won' means Richard's bet was right.)

The king turned to the room and announced:

"Gentlemen… it seems we have a new project."

Some ministers murmured approval. Others exchanged nods of praise.

Viola was watching Irene with a new expression.

Prince Richard smiled at her and whispered,

"Well done, Irene… You've truly impressed me."

Irene smiled back quietly,

"I couldn't have done it… without Your Majesty's trust."

As for Lucas... he remained silent.

But he watched her—

With a gaze very different from the one he first held for that "spoiled, annoying girl."

Now... he was seeing who Irene truly was.

He lifted the sheet to the light again, examining it in silence.

Viola was watching him intently.

And Bastian... noticed.

To be continued...

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