Chapter 62
Expected Range
Daphne wondered if it might be better for her to be taken away.
Because, if anything, she wanted someone to lock her up and keep her safe from her mother, who had completely lost herself to madness.
<Summoning Celestian Theriosa under the following charges.>
The five pages of documents detailed absurd accusations against Celestian.
Treason conspiracy, assassination plot. Damages from those events, and even a condensed statement alleging that the royal family was living in fear.
“Ah, damn it. These jerks keep pulling all kinds of nonsense.”
Below that, in smaller print, was an addition: <The massacre in the Crown Princess’s hometown, the Denver Territory.>
“Since when did you care so much about Psyche?! Crazy bastards!”
Daphne opened her mouth wide in a soundless scream. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, trembling with rage.
Unable to contain herself, she grabbed a pillow and slammed it against the sofa.
“I never asked for the title! I never asked for Green to inherit it!”
Each strike shook her entire body. The hair tie she had loosely secured fell apart with soft snaps before fully unraveling.
“Why did you take Kisha?! Insane. Absolutely insane.”
If Kisha’s origins were revealed, it would truly be the end.
The crimson hair that marked her as a member of the Green family fell gently beside her ear.
Daphne had only ever used the reputations of the Beaucater and Green families for one thing in her entire life.
“To save Celestian.”
At this point, she couldn’t even figure out if the fault lay in her cherishing the man too much or if it was Celestian’s own poor decisions that had led to this.
But what could she do about events that had already happened?
Daphne had no choice but to focus on creating a way out, and in fact, she had been succeeding. Yet now, everything had come to a halt because of these ridiculous sheets of paper.
“I never asked for anything, so why do they keep taking everything away from me?”
Even Daphne’s ability to bribe people with money had its limits.
And it wasn’t just anyone who had taken Celestian—it was the royal palace knights. With the King’s official seal on the documents, their authority was undeniable.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The pulse in Daphne’s temples pounded like a drum. She wanted to cry, but no tears came.
“Ha.”
Her frustration boiled over, but a few seconds later, Daphne became astonishingly calm once again.
“Mischa, are there any Libyan pirates left?”
“Libyan pirates?”
Daphne, pulling a newly hidden gun from beneath the sofa, replied.
“Yeah. I’m just going to rebel. Secradion has been absolutely useless to my peaceful life. I’ll kill them all and die with them.”
Daphne took a step forward as if she was about to storm the royal palace with the gun in hand, but Narid blocked her path.
“Young Lady! Just now…”
“Hmm?”
“Manager Saturnmeriel has sent an urgent telegram asking you to come immediately. There’s been an incident at the hotel…”
“What?”
A chill ran down Daphne’s spine.
*****
<Notice of Illegal Contract Termination>
Clicking her tongue once, she flung the stack of papers onto the floor, folding her arms with an expression that betrayed no particular hurt.
‘Expected.’
Misha glanced at his employer before briefly skimming the documents scattered on the red carpet. Although visibly surprised, he refrained from overreacting.
“Why aren’t you shocked this time?”
“We’ve been anticipating this for months. We even prepared for it.”
The documents were joint notices from six suppliers—those providing ingredients to the hotel restaurant, flowers, bedding, and cleaning services—declaring their collective decision to terminate their contracts.
Daphne had expected such a move ever since she brought in a known traitor.
In preparation, she had already scouted other vendors and reinforced a Plan B, so this development could be managed without much trouble.
But the timing wasn’t ideal. If this had happened back when the media first sensationalized her harboring a rebel, perhaps it would have made more sense.
She even endured being mockingly labeled as “a woman who can’t control her own skirt.”
“But I didn’t think even Konya would turn on us.”
“…….”
The defection of Konya—a partner who had joked about their contract being for life when they first started the hotel—was unexpected.
“You were close with Lady Konya.”
“That’s irrelevant. If you think mere friendships can sustain business ties, how do you expect to make money?”
“…….”
“I wasn’t even that close to Stella, either.”
Daphne racked her brain, her thoughts racing to defend herself before she could feel hurt. Keeping a stoic expression, she signed all the new contracts laid out on her desk.
The new partnerships weren’t bad, but they weren’t top-tier either.
The opinion of the low-ranking maid who had fervently pleaded to replace the amenities brand would now go unheard.
‘If I’d at least kissed him, I wouldn’t feel so cheated.’
The thought pricked her heart with resentment, her molars grinding of their own accord.
As “the woman crazed over a man and who rebelled against the royal family,” Daphne let out a hollow laugh, as though she’d briefly lost her sanity.
“Are you all right? Perhaps you should take the day off and rest,” Misha suggested, looking at Daphne with concern as she laughed in a dark aura.
“What? I’m fine. Just schedule an audience for me within the week.”
“With His Majesty the King?”
Romeo had quickly handled all the new arrangements related to the royal marriage and left on a diplomatic mission. In his absence, the royal family had gone wild.
“My only fallback right now is my uncle.”
“And what will you say to him?”
“I’ll throw a tantrum. Demand my prince back.”
At this point, Daphne had to do whatever it took to save the one person she could still call hers.
But just a few hours later, a telegram arrived. Her request for an audience had been denied.
<Not Permitted>
As she stared at the reply, an odd sense of déjà vu flickered before her eyes.
Rumor had it that the moment the name “Beaucater” appeared on the request, it was immediately discarded. This likely wasn’t even her uncle’s decision.
Daphne propped her chin in her hand, tapping her other fingers on the table.
“Young Lady, there’s a visitor from the palace,” Misha informed her.
Daphne wasn’t pleased. She glanced out the window, where dark clouds began to gather ominously, before rising from her seat.
The person who appeared in the reception room was a familiar face.
“Izmel.”
“It’s been a while, Lady Beaucater,” Izmel greeted her.
Daphne narrowed her eyes. Without unnecessary pleasantries, Izmel got straight to the point.
“I’m here to escort you to the Crown Princess’s Palace.”
*****
To Celestian, the Crown Princess’s palace was luxurious without being ostentatious.
‘Can those two words even belong in the same sentence?’
The palace was where Secradion’s former queen had confined herself. Its stone exterior exuded an old-world charm, but the lack of windows made it feel suffocating.
The interior, however, had been completely remodeled.
Decorated predominantly in blue and lemon tones, with accents of pink scattered throughout, the palace exuded a lovely, bright atmosphere. It matched Psyche’s public image perfectly.
But Celestian thought otherwise.
“It doesn’t suit her at all,” he muttered irritably, narrowing his eyes.
Shaking his head slightly, he felt deeply uncomfortable being in a place that should have been off-limits to men like him, especially with his hands securely bound.
“How long am I supposed to stay here?”
He shouted.
“It’s already been three days! I’m starving!”
The few servants scattered throughout the palace merely glanced at him with wary eyes. Not one approached to respond.
He was barred from ascending to the second floor, and the first floor had no windows.
Armed guards swarmed the front entrance. He could overpower them, but Daphne’s stern warning echoed in his mind, stopping him.
—“Celestian! Don’t kill anyone!”
Shrugging in resignation, Celestian muttered to himself.
‘So there are only four servants in this massive palace?’
His legs weren’t bound, so he roamed the first floor freely. Restlessness gnawed at him, and the urge to destroy everything in sight became harder to suppress.
For three days, he had been confined to the first floor. Boredom and frustration prickled his every nerve.
He looked around, curious to see if anyone was watching him. The servants had disappeared back to their stations.
“Hm.”
Celestian kicked open a wooden door hidden behind the staircase. The door creaked open easily, letting in the scent of rain-drenched grass.
For a moment, he was taken aback by how effortlessly it had opened, then burst into laughter.
Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, he stepped through the door. The grass outside was a muddy mess from recent rain.
The sky was heavy with black clouds, threatening another downpour. Celestian decided to escape through the nearby Romeo’s Palace.
But as he stepped inside the wooden fence, he realized something was off.
The emerald bushes that filled the garden weren’t just decorations; they formed a maze.
He retraced his steps several times, only to return to the same clearing.
He laughed bitterly.
‘So that’s why they didn’t let me upstairs—to keep me from seeing the layout.’
The royal palace of Secradion, Pladial, was usually consistent, its layout rarely changing.
So when he realized the garden path, which should have matched his memory, had been turned into an elaborate maze, his mind momentarily went blank.
If he’d had a sword, he would’ve slashed through the bushes to force his way out. Instead, he flexed his fingers into a fist.
Rustle.
A soft sound came from beyond the bushes. Then, from the path to his right, a familiar figure emerged.
“Theriosa.”
With her lemon-yellow hair tied loosely and wearing a pale pink silk dress, Psyche Denver appeared.
Celestian recalled a few sentences from the blue scraps of paper.
‘Even the Denver fire incident was her doing.’
He sneered knowingly.
