While Victoria put herself down for the first time in a while and enjoyed herself, Leonhardt was looking around the crown prince's palace again.
The Crown Prince's Palace will be maintained and preserved until his successor is born between him and her.
I don't know when, but I hope it's not too late. Thinking about it, Leonhardt began to follow the traces he had left one by one by one.
Six-year-old graffiti on the bottom of a bedside table.
Eight-year-old Insseng's planner, wriggled out in still poor handwriting.
'The paper must be here....’
When I opened the desk drawer to the end and lifted the floor slightly, I saw a faded paper with a hidden gap.
Leonhardt crossed his legs in a chair and began to reflect on how well he followed his childhood plans.
"What did you write?’
Leonhardt raised an eyebrow lightly. It certainly looks like letters, but I couldn't read them.
Is that a code statement?
Leonhardt, who was looking at the paper for a long time, smirked when he found the number.
It was good to wear the letters upside down as if they were reflected in the mirror, but the secret of the cryptography was solved easily enough to be vain.
Leonhardt turned the first sentence upside down in his head.
[X month XX day] Oh, my God.]
A smile disappeared from his face.
With a look of incredulity, Leonhardt finished reading.
A life completely different from the one he remembered was written there.
'What the... what happened? Is this really what I wrote?'
The paper contained the date of Freya's death as well as what would happen after that.
The last thing to happen was to establish diplomatic talks with the Duchy of Kyrsten, which demanded independence.
There was speculation that it might have foretold what would happen a few years later, just the same date.
However, even if the assassination of the Grand Duke of the Duchy by an assassin wearing the flag of the Empire tomorrow, the relationship would not have deteriorated to the point where it would have to go to war in a year.
'Anyway, if anyone sees it, it's not good if someone sees it....’
Leonhardt stood up from his seat. And I threw a piece of paper into the stove.
The faded yellow paper burned red from the end.
Leonhardt frowned lightly at the faint smell of burning paper.
White smoke came up to his face, dragging an endless tail like a snake.
It occurred to me that there was a little bit of smoke with only one device of paper.
Leonhardt, who had closed his eyes and swung away with his hands to prevent smoke from entering his eyes, eventually stepped back from the stove.
Since it was an old paper, there seemed to be a lot of smoke.
And Leonhardt was appalled.
Obviously, until a while ago, he was in the prince's bedroom with a red carpet on top of white marble tiles.
But where he stands now was a narrow space about half his room.
The fluffy carpet was also red, but it was a little darker than the one laid in his room.
The wall also did not see any windows, and instead, a bookshelf filled the wall was filled with books.
Books that couldn't fit on the shelves were stacked as high as towers.
There were three or four books piled up like that, and when I looked down because there was a kick in the foot, a model of a human skull was rolling around."No way, at that age, I would have carved the magic of space movement on a piece of paper."
Leonhardt strained his whole body, sincerely regretting leaving his sword behind.
'…it reminds me of Mimir.’
Looking at the dust and cobwebs on the corners of the ceiling, Leonhardt recalled the small owner of the clock tower.
Leonhardt, who was carefully looking around the room looking for the exit, smiled in vain when he saw a large pot boiling in the corner of the room.
As far as he knew, there was no one else but Mimir who handled such things.
He burned the paper and was forced into Mimir's lab?’
Was it actually a piece of paper with the magic of space movement?
With the most plausible speculation, Leonhardt decided to wait for the owner of the room to return first.
With no windows or doors, this place unfortunately seemed to have doors only when the owner wanted them.
I don't know how he wrote such an ominous prophecy on such a piece of paper, but if he meets Mimir, he can go back.
Thinking so, Leonhardt slowly began to look at the title of the book on the shelf with folded arms.
Having neither aptitude nor interest in magic, he stopped walking in front of a book.
[Magic to return the hands of the clock]
It was a sentence like a title of a fairy tale book rather than a magic book.
I don't know when Mimir will come, so should I wait while reading a book?
With that feeling, Leonhardt reached for the book.
"No, I can't."
Just before I heard the word.
I heard a familiar voice behind my back. Leonhardt turned to the paper he found at the Crown Prince's Palace to find out why the magic of space movement was attached.
"…who is it?"
I could see it at a glance. It was Mimir who was in front of him, but not Mimir.
Red hair, cat-like eyes, and clear green eyes were definitely Mimir's.
But the atmosphere in her was not Mimiir.
Not a wizard who may be considered the youngest owner of the clock tower, no. In front of an unfamiliar atmosphere that may not be human, Leonhardt touched his waist without realizing it.
With nothing in his hands, Leonhardt stared at the woman staring straight at him, biting his lips with an angry face.
"The owner of the clock tower."
"That can't The owner of the clock tower I know--."
"…what is it?"
The woman smirked. It was a mockery of blatant contempt and ridicule.
"Sit down for now."
She stirred her white hands in the air, and a round table and two chairs appeared.
One was splendid enough to be called a rooftop, but the other was an old wooden chair with only the shape of a chair.
While Leonhardt faltered for a moment, she naturally sat in a fancy chair.
In the sense of humiliation that he had never experienced in his life, Leonhardt stared at women without saying a word.
"Call me the owner of the clock tower."
The woman beckoned again, saying so. This time, a teacup and a kettle appeared.
Leonhardt remained vigilant and sat in an old chair, looking down only at the tin cups.
"Is there another clock tower I don't know? I don't know who you are, but Mimir is more polite to treat guests."
"Oh, thank you for the compliment."
The owner of the clock tower grinned as if he had been praised.
"Where am I, who are you, and tell me right now how to get out.”
"Scary. You must have forgotten everything."
"There's no time, no reason to play with words."Covering his nervousness with guts, Leonhardt spoke in a sober tone.
Either way, the self-proclaimed owner of the clock tower was leisurely emptying the teacups.
"Can Lizzie be happy?"
Touching the edge of the teacup with white fingers, the owner of the clock tower asked.
Leonhardt tries to answer with a question of course.
"Of course he is..."
I didn't finish the sentence in the end.
"Yes, yes. You don't remember the head, but the body does. If a person has the least sense of shame, he or she should do that's
The owner of the clock tower pulled up the red corners of his mouth and smiled and nodded.
"Elizabeth Isolde von… Espedor becomes happy."
"Leonhardt Tristan von Espedor makes her happy."
"You've been saying things that you don't know, and you've been saying things that you don't know....”
"Yes, of course. I've paid the right price."
Once again, the owner of the clock tower laughed. Leonhardt's confused appearance was more to watch than she expected.
"It's not magic, it's a price to pay, what nonsense....”
"Does that sound ridiculous? I'm sorry, I should have saved you the moment you were hanging on to me."
Mumbling to himself, the owner of the clock tower sipped a teacup.
Leonhardt pressed down on the throbbing temple. From a while ago, what the owner of the self-proclaimed clock tower said was very annoying and worrisome.
"…I must have made a deal for Elizabeth without my knowledge."
"Answer! It's not that I don't know, but I forgot."
She nodded her head.
"The returned hands of the clock ticked, ticked, moved back to where they were. You made Elizabeth happy, and Elizabeth became happy. So it's time to take the last price.”
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. What made Elizabeth so happy."
"Ten years old, the first day I went to see Elizabeth. Why did you choose that dress?"
Leonhardt was trying to remember. I remembered ordering her to bring other clothes because such clothes did not match Elizabeth's hair color.
"Why did the ten-year-old Crown Prince, who grew up being supported by nothing, prepare shoes for his fiancee? It's also embroidered as a watermancho."
Leonhardt's eyes began to shake wildly.
The whisper of the owner of the clock tower seemed to be heard right in my ears.
He already knew.
What kind of hair color a fiancee I've never met had.
Why I had to give shoes, not other things.
Why did you have to bring her to the palace?
"…the owner of the clock tower."
"Owner, though the hands of the clock are broken."
Crack, Leonhardt clenched his teeth. And I begged her.
"The price I paid to make Lizzie happy is… What was it?"
Hearing that, the owner of the clock tower spoke with a proud face as if he had watched the results of a long-term laboratory experiment.
Leonhardt breathed out slowly with a stiff face.
"Then... if I had offered myself as a master of magic... What am I doing here?"
"He is a great idiot who erased what to apologize for, a fool who kicked himself the opportunity to be forgiven, and a fool who claimed to be a sinner who knew all that and was willing to endure it."
The owner of the clock tower, who murmured as if singing in a cheerful voice, got up from his seat.
One of the books on the shelf was taken out and given to Leonhardt, and she whispered in a poisonous voice like a viper."You cannot tell her that you have committed a sin that will never be forgiven.”
It was nothing short of a curse.
"If you say that, will the child ever forgive you if you confess that you have deceived not only her but also everyone around you for the rest of your life? And do you want me to love you like nothing happened? Can I be purely happy beside you? Huh?"
The tip of my tongue tasted like rusty iron. Leonhardt wiped his lips roughly with his sleeves, glancing at the cover of the book she had given him.
[The Story of an Emperor]
"Are you confident you'll do that?"
As soon as she forced her hand to hand over the book with clear nail marks, she giggled and laughed.