Chapter 5
The Duke of Mont, just as in the original story, was absolutely certain that Litia would be chosen as a Tenia.
He had taken it for granted since the day she was born—because once that happened, she would naturally wield power rivaling, or even surpassing, that of the imperial family.
That was simply how this empire’s power structure worked.
Which was why his ultimate goal was to never marry Litia off at all, but to have her live solely as a pure and exalted Tenia, leaving her name etched permanently into history.
There had, in fact, been Tenias in the past who married, bore children, and consequently saw their sacred power weaken. The Duke likely wished to eliminate even that smallest risk.
Still, the reason he kept the position of Crown Princess in mind was obvious—it was a contingency plan, just in case Litia failed to become a Tenia.
The truth was, Litia hated both options.
Both Tenia and Crown Princess were positions everyone coveted, symbols of immense authority. But unlike a Tenia, a Crown Princess was all but stripped of freedom for life. It wasn’t something she wanted to become.
What is all this, seriously…
Judging from the Duke’s tone, it was clear the Crown Prince already held affection for her. Once she returned home, she would need to learn more about this so-called oracle.
After all, they wouldn’t suddenly declare an oracle and push her onto the saint’s seat immediately—especially not someone with no preparation and who had supposedly lost her memories.
If that were the case, the Duke would be acting far more urgently. Instead, he seemed oddly relaxed.
“Truly enviable, Your Grace.”
A middle-aged man with chestnut-brown hair neatly swept to one side approached, bowing politely.
“Oh, Count Sciore.”
To prevent Litia from making mistakes due to her memory loss, the Duke deliberately included family names whenever greeting someone. Each time, Litia placed a hand over her chest and bent her knees gracefully in response.
Count Sciore leaned closer to the Duke and spoke in a lowered voice.
“What a splendid sight, Your Grace. Everyone was gossiping based on nothing but wild rumors, yet now they’re all struck silent—as if honey had been stuffed into their mouths. Seeing how close the two of you are.”
“……”
“I always thought they were nothing but rumors. Truly absurd talk!”
A flicker of irritation crossed the Duke’s eyes before he let out a hearty laugh.
“If anyone spreads nonsense again, I trust someone as wise as you will tell them exactly what you saw today. No matter how much they chatter, they should understand that the rightful owner of this position is already decided.”
Count Sciore laughed loudly, rubbing his hands together as he flattered the Duke.
Litia, stuck listening to the same dull conversations yet again, desperately wished for time to pass faster.
Worse still, the number of young nobles trying to ingratiate themselves with her was overwhelming. Are you all right? May I escort you?—she had heard it dozens of times already. Her ears were beginning to hurt.
Being pulled along by the Duke, pestered by those around her… somehow, her head hurt even more than the day she first woke up.
After enduring another full hour of this, Litia finally managed to step out onto the terrace for a short break.
If she went back inside, she would likely run into the Crown Prince next—and then the Duke would undoubtedly start spouting something exhausting again. Just imagining it made her tired.
“Haa…”
She drew the curtains shut so no one could enter and let out a long breath. A wine glass rested in her hand.
She had already accepted several glasses earlier under the pretense of greetings, taking a few sips each time.
Litia drained the fresh glass in one go.
“Ah, that’s nice.”
The exclamation slipped out before she realized it.
As she moved to set the glass aside, she heard a quiet chuckle nearby.
The curtains were clearly drawn. Thinking the terrace was empty, Litia startled and dropped the glass.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the sound of shattering glass—
“…?”
But no sound came.
Cautiously opening her eyes, she saw the wine glass resting neatly on the railing.
“…Huh? How?”
“Thank me?”
The voice came again.
Litia whipped her head around, scanning her surroundings, even tugging at the curtains—but no one was there.
“Who are you?”
“A ghost behind the curtain.”
The voice was tinged with laughter.
A lie. She had just checked—there was no one behind the curtain.
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s not.”
Litia tried looking again but quickly gave up. She’d searched everywhere someone could reasonably be—and found nothing.
He wasn’t clinging to the ceiling or hanging below the railing… was he?
Besides, she had already had at least a glass and a half of strong wine, and having just downed another, the alcohol was starting to hit. Searching any further felt like too much effort.
“All right. If you were here first, I’m sorry. I’ll find another terrace.”
As she picked up the glass to leave, the voice stopped her again.
“I won’t bother you. Just stay there.”
“Really?”
“Want me to make sure no one else comes?”
That made Litia raise an eyebrow.
“What are you, a mage?”
“Something like that?”
Talking to someone she couldn’t even see was ridiculous—but strangely, she didn’t feel uncomfortable.
“Then I’ll rest here for a bit. It’s stifling inside.”
“Banquets usually are.”
She let out a small laugh.
It was funny—talking into empty air, and yet holding an actual conversation.
“Do you dislike them too?”
“I wouldn’t say I enjoy them.”
“Figures. I could tell just by how you’re hiding.”
The man chuckled again, still refusing to show himself. Compared to all the people inside desperately trying to impress her, this felt far more comfortable.
At least he wasn’t clinging to her or pestering her. Or maybe it was because he had helped her earlier—though he had been the one to startle her in the first place.
If she’d said any of this inside, she would’ve been labeled an odd, unsociable duke’s daughter yet again. She didn’t even know his face or where his voice was coming from, yet she felt a faint sense of goodwill toward him.
Perhaps it was the alcohol—but knowing he couldn’t see her either made it easier to speak freely.
“When are you going back in? I’ll have to return soon.”
“I’m not planning to.”
“…Lucky you.”
The words slipped out unconsciously.
“Then don’t go back either.”
“I’d like to, but too many people are looking for me. Even if I don’t go, they’ll come find me anyway.”
She let out a deep sigh. The man’s voice fell silent.
Did he get bored and leave?
Just as she thought that, his voice returned.
“Want help?”
“…With what?”
“You said you didn’t want to go back in.”
Help how, exactly?
Litia straightened from where she’d been leaning on the railing and rose onto her toes, scanning up, down, left, right—trying to locate the source of the voice. But all she saw were sheer walls no one could cling to, a ceiling draped with decorations, and empty space below.
“Seriously… where are you talking from?”
“Curious?”
“Not particularly.”
As she trailed off, a sharp tap echoed as a shoe heel landed on the railing.
“…Above?”
She looked up in shock—and a man stepped down from the railing as if descending a stair, finally revealing himself.
“Hi.”
His pleasant, low voice sounded clearer than ever.
“…Hi.”
He was so tall that she had to take several steps back just to take him in fully—his back nearly brushing the curtain. Litia stared, eyes widening.
“Wait—were you sitting up there?”
“Standing.”
“That’s basically the same thing. So you really weren’t behind the curtain.”
“You checked it yourself.”
“I thought I hadn’t checked properly.”
After that brief exchange, Litia finally took a proper look at him.
Jet-black hair. Jet-black eyes.
Or perhaps it was the pitch-dark night behind him. Or the fact that everything he wore was black.
Either way, he gave off an eerie, almost otherworldly aura.
If not that—then it was his unnaturally captivating appearance.
His smooth, pale skin stood out starkly, like unglazed porcelain, making him seem even more unreal.
“……”
“Why are you staring like that?”
The amused laugh snapped her back to her senses.
“I wasn’t staring…”
“Like what you see?”
“No.”
She shook her head firmly, and he laughed again.
She had been carefully memorizing faces all night, matching them to descriptions from the book—but she was certain she had never seen him in the banquet hall. If she had, she would have remembered him instantly.
Even drunk, this wasn’t a face one could forget.
He must have either arrived just now—or truly been hiding up there since before the banquet began.
“That’s interesting.”
“What is?”
He was studying her closely.
With a faint smile, his gaze traced her features—her eyes, her lips, even individual eyelashes. His scrutiny was intense enough to make her uncomfortable, and when she showed it, he casually straightened and stepped back toward the railing.
“Are you really supposed to be here?”
“Me?”
“Whether you’re hiding it or simply unaware… never mind.”
“What are you even—”
Before she could finish, a familiar voice sounded from beyond the curtain.
“Has anyone seen Miss Mont?”
There was no mistaking it.
Jit Tresh—the man who had grabbed her wrist earlier and shouted at her.
She’d thought he’d left the banquet already.
Litia couldn’t hide her displeasure as she glanced between the curtain and the man before her.
“Ah…”
She had clearly told him never to appear before her again. If she went out now, he’d be endlessly annoying.
“They said she came this way. Where did she go?”
His voice was getting closer.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry, but… can I hide behind you for a moment?”
Jit Tresh or this mysterious man—both strangers she’d met today.
But if she had to choose, she’d much rather pick the one who had helped her earlier.
Maybe the alcohol had given her courage. He was broad-shouldered and tall enough that if she hid properly behind him, no one would notice her at all.
“Hide you?”
He asked, his voice laced with laughter.
