105. Another Fragrance

Roselia barely managed to stifle a scream, instinctively jerking backward. When she caught sight of Asif’s mischievous smirk, she immediately furrowed her brows in irritation.

In contrast, Eva’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she recognized him.

“Oh! It’s that handsome Benuve guy from before!”

Still rubbing her ear, Roselia corrected Eva in a flat tone.

“He’s Prince Asif.”

“Ah, that explains the overwhelming aristocratic—Wait, what?!”

Eva, who had been responding absentmindedly, suddenly froze, her face filled with shock.

Meanwhile, Asif leaned forward, lowering himself to meet Roselia’s eye level, tilting his head slightly as he observed her.

“You smell a little different today,” he remarked. “Do Raphelios bloodlines have scent changes depending on their mood?”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Roselia huffed. “And stop talking about bloodlines so carelessly in public.”

She shot him a sharp warning glare, her expression stern.

Raising both hands in mock surrender, Asif smiled smoothly, acknowledging defeat.

“Alright, alright, no need to glare at me like that. I’ll watch my words from now on,” he conceded, then changed the topic effortlessly. “I see you’re observing the Benuve merchant fleet. I could arrange for you to get an even better look. How about it?”

Roselia hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding.

With Asif’s connections, she could gain deeper insight into Benuve’s trade operations.

She had no intention of letting personal emotions interfere when there was a better, more efficient route laid out before her.

Seeing how easily she accepted, Asif’s face lit up with excitement as he summoned the merchant leaders without hesitation.

As she observed him at work, one of his earlier remarks resurfaced in her mind.

“You smell a little different today.”

But that was strange.

She had been taught by Johannes to control her scent, ensuring it never leaked.

Did my scent escape somehow?

But more than that—she had never heard of a scent actually changing.

Still deep in thought, Roselia barely registered Eva’s impatient voice calling out to her.

“Young Master! What are you doing? Hurry up!”

With lingering curiosity, Roselia let out a soft sigh before finally reluctantly following after them.

* * *

As the carriage rolled toward the Imperial Palace, Roselia sat beside Johannes, discussing her recent dealings with Marquis Bellog.

“So, you’re planning to mediate trade between the Benuve and Mule merchant guilds?” Johannes mused, his expression serious. “That sounds… promising.”

He nodded approvingly, his gaze sharp with interest.

“Of course, His Majesty’s approval will be necessary,” he continued. “However, given that this business is being conducted under the name of the House of Euciliod, there shouldn’t be any major obstacles to receiving permission.”

Roselia sighed in relief.

“I was worried the Imperial Court would strongly oppose it.”

“Not at this stage,” Johannes reassured her.

“With Prince Aaron’s ascension as Crown Prince still on track, the Imperial Family cannot afford to ignore the influence of the House of Euciliod, which aligns with Empress Eveline’s faction.”

He paused, then smiled at her with a look of subtle admiration.

“But to think you’re already working on trade routes through Pelton Port…” he chuckled. “That’s impressive.”

At his genuine praise, Roselia felt slightly flustered, awkwardly scratching her cheek.

“It’s not exactly a business plan… I just have an interest in art and thought of it naturally,” she admitted.

But Johannes shook his head.

“If it had been an unrealistic proposal, I wouldn’t have accepted it—no matter who it came from,” he said firmly. “But what you’ve suggested has real potential for expansion.”

“Then… does that mean you’ll support it?” she asked cautiously.

Johannes chuckled, as if mildly offended by the question.

“Roselia, that should go without saying,” he said smoothly. “Even if you are currently using the alias of Viscount Bernas, you are still a member of the House of Euciliod.

From now on, everything you undertake is also my concern—and our House’s concern.

Don’t forget that.”

His gentle yet serious tone made Roselia slightly embarrassed, and she averted her gaze with an awkward smile.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Johannes merely responded with a warm smile.

However, at that moment, a lingering thought crept into Roselia’s mind—

The conversation she had with Prince Asif yesterday.

“You smell different today.”

But she had been controlling her scent—just as Johannes had taught her.

Had her scent leaked somehow?

Curious, she carefully posed her question.

“By the way… is it possible for a bloodline’s scent to change?”

Johannes turned to her with a puzzled expression.

“A bloodline’s scent is like an innate signature,” he explained. “It is an inherent marker of their identity.

It may become stronger or weaker—but it does not change.”

“I see…”

Then, what did Asif mean when he said her scent was different?

Could he have been mistaken?

Or… had he smelled something else nearby and assumed it was her scent?

But that didn’t make sense.

Asif had a particular interest in bloodline scents—he actively sought out those who possessed them.

And the most important detail—if it had been just an ordinary scent, she would have noticed it too.

Neither she nor Eva had detected anything unusual.

If only Asif noticed it, then it had to be something connected to bloodline hormones.

Lost in thought, Roselia barely noticed that the carriage had come to a stop in front of the Imperial Palace.

Johannes turned to her as he stepped down from the carriage.

“I will now go to pay my respects to the Empress,” he said. “Wait for me in the reception hall or the gardens for a little while.”

Roselia nodded, gathering herself before stepping out into the grand imperial estate.

Roselia wasn’t yet in a position to meet directly with the Empress, given the strong presence of the concubine factions and the watchful eyes of the nobility.

“Yes, please take your time,” she said, watching as Johannes disappeared into the Empress’s palace before turning toward the reception hall garden, which she was now quite familiar with.

Having already been granted entry approval, there were no guards or palace attendants to stop her.

She had waited in this garden several times before, so she instinctively made her way there.

As she walked, her gaze unintentionally landed on the bridge extending across the lake in the center of the garden—and there, she spotted a familiar figure.

Sitting perched on the edge of the bridge, gazing down at the water, was Prince Aaron.

A small distance away, his attendants stood in perfect formation, motionless.

Something about the way Aaron sat, his legs dangling over the water, seemed unnerving.

Ordinarily, if a young prince looked so precarious, his maids or caretakers would have rushed over, urging him to be careful.

And yet, these attendants remained as still as statues, merely observing.

Roselia’s expression hardened in suspicion.

Then—

Aaron’s body suddenly tilted forward.

His vacant gaze remained locked onto the lake, as if he had disconnected from reality.

Realizing something was very wrong, Roselia rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back.

At last, Aaron’s dazed, empty eyes flickered with awareness as he slowly turned to her.

“Viscount Bernas…?”

His expression, a mixture of surprise and confusion, made Roselia furrow her brows deeper.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice low.

“You weren’t about to jump, were you?”

Aaron lowered his gaze, refusing to meet her eyes.

Roselia’s face twisted in anger.

She turned sharply toward the row of servants standing behind him.

“And what exactly were you all doing?”

The attendants exchanged glances, clearly caught off guard by her sudden questioning.

“His Highness nearly fell into the lake, and you just stood there like ornaments?”

One of the attendants, a woman who appeared to be the head maid, finally spoke up—her tone cold and indifferent.

“It is not our place to lay hands on His Highness’s body,” she stated flatly.

Roselia blinked in disbelief.

“You mean to tell me… that if Prince Aaron had actually fallen in, you would have just stood there?”

Her voice was filled with pure incredulity.

She turned back to Aaron, whose small shoulders were slumped as he stared at the ground.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

Not long ago, Concubine Gwenhilla had orchestrated a scheme to have Aaron’s former caretakers and attendants removed from the palace.

The Empress had been forced to remain silent to avoid further political strife before Aaron’s official Crown Prince ceremony.

Which meant—

Every single attendant currently serving Aaron was someone placed there by the concubine factions.

If Roselia hadn’t been there to witness it, and Aaron had fallen into the water, they would have covered it up, calling it a mere accident caused by a careless child.

Realizing this, Roselia’s expression turned ice cold.

“It almost seems,” she said calmly.

“As if you were all waiting for His Highness to fall in.”

At her chilling remark, one of the maids visibly flinched, her voice trembling as she hastily objected.

“T-That’s nonsense!”

Roselia didn’t back down.

“You do realize,” she said, stepping forward, “that if something happened to His Highness, it would be his personal attendants who bear the responsibility.”

The servants fell silent.

“And if I weren’t here,” she continued, her tone razor-sharp, “were you planning to cover this up as a mistake on the Prince’s part?”

A tense silence stretched across the group.

Finally, the head maid, the same woman who had spoken earlier, calmly asked:

“Who are you,” she said, “to interfere in His Highness’s affairs?”

Roselia narrowed her eyes, then spoke clearly.

“I am Antonio de Bernas.”

The woman’s brows knitted in confusion.

“Bernas?”

That wasn’t a name she recognized.

Furthermore, Raphelios nobles typically had “von” in their names, whereas this one used “de”—a foreign convention.

Before she could voice her suspicions, Roselia continued smoothly:

“I am Viscount of House Bernas, from the Empire of Rugbeljet.”

At the mention of Rugbeljet, the woman’s expression stiffened—then twisted into a scowl.

“A Rugbeljet noble?” she scoffed. “And a mere Viscount, at that?”

Her gaze turned condescending.

“What business does a foreign, low-ranked noble have interfering with Imperial matters?”

The clear dismissal in her tone made Roselia’s fingers twitch in irritation—but before she could speak, Aaron’s voice rang out.

“You are being rude!”

His voice, though still boyish, held firm authority.

“Viscount Bernas is a guest of the Empire,” Aaron declared, his small frame standing tall.

“And more importantly—he is my friend.”

Though Aaron had spoken with confidence, Roselia noticed the maid barely reacted.

She simply tilted her head, then replied with feigned concern.

“Your Highness, though Raphelios and Rugbeljet remain in amicable relations, allowing a foreigner to speak so casually may weaken the Imperial Family’s prestige.”

It was a cleverly disguised insult—one that both chastised Aaron and undermined Roselia at the same time.

Aaron’s small fists clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line.

This was not the first time he had been treated this way.

Roselia’s expression darkened as she spoke, her voice cool and measured.

“You are concerned about the Imperial Family’s image?”

She tilted her head slightly, a sharp glint in her eyes.

“Yet you do not seem concerned about how His Highness is treated.”

The maid’s expression soured, and before she could retaliate, another voice cut in.

“And what of it?”

The moment the voice rang out, every attendant paled and turned stiff as statues.

Roselia turned—

And there, walking toward them, was none other than Johannes von Euciliod.

The Marquess of Euciliod.

The pillar of Raphelios’ nobility.

And the highest-ranked noble currently in court.

The head maid—Vanessa—visibly paled.

“Marquess… Euciliod…?” she stammered.

 

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