Ett descended the hidden stairway, fingers clenched around the banister as her footsteps echoed too loudly in the narrow shaft.
"Hoo…"
With every step downward, the pressure around her heart tightened, as though something unseen was squeezing it from the inside. She stopped midway, staring into the unlit descent below.
Something was wrong.
Why were the maids not using this passage at this hour? If only she were taller, she could reach one of the unused lamps lining the walls. If only there were light. The deeper she went, the heavier the darkness became. For a fleeting moment, she considered turning back.
But like a moth drawn to flame, she could not.
The Ett in the story had stopped watching the banquet at this point. If there was an answer hidden here, she wanted to see it with her own eyes.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
The sound of her heels rang sharply through the silence.
Too loud.
No matter how carefully she stepped, sound betrayed her presence. She halted and pressed one hand against the cold wall, letting the darkness swallow her vision. She felt like a blind wanderer grasping at emptiness. Irritation crept in, followed by unease. Finally, she slipped off her shoes, cradling them against her chest.
"Haa…"
Cold. Damp. At least the stone was not slick beneath her feet.
The music from the banquet hall faded the further she descended. That alone made her pause.
Should it not be louder?
Instead, it felt as though she were straying away from the palace entirely. The prickling at her spine intensified. This stairway might not lead back to where she came from at all.
'Keep going,' she told herself. 'You can do this.'
Tap.
Tak. Tak.
Ett froze.
That sound was not hers.
Soft footsteps, close. Too close.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
"Are there any others left?"
A man's voice.
"Not that I know of."
"Then go on ahead. I'll clean up the rubbish."
"Alright."
Ett did not move.
Something brushed against the soles of her shoes. A thin, wavering light crept toward her feet, followed by a slow, spreading warmth. Red seeped across the stone.
Blood.
Those dull thuds were bodies. At least three. And the voices meant more than one killer.
A flicker of light swept suddenly toward her.
Ett recoiled instinctively and lost her footing.
Pain exploded as she slipped forward, crashing down into the slick floor.
It hurt. Too much. Her hand burned, her back screamed, and she bit down on a cry as she landed fully exposed.
There were not three bodies.
There were six.
Blood soaked her dress, smeared her skin, dotted her face. The stench rose thick and metallic, clogging her senses.
'Stay calm,' she ordered herself.
'You have watched worse. Keep calm.'
This was different. This was not a screen. The warmth, the viscosity, the smell were real. Her stomach twisted, but her face remained unnervingly still.
Good.
If she had not already learned how to empty her expression, she would be dead.
"Viridian hair."
The voice was young. Flat. Emotionless.
Ett closed her eyes and drew a slow breath before opening them again. When she looked up, her gaze was cold and distant.
A masked adolescent stood before her, no older than sixteen. His sword was half-hidden beneath a gray cloak, but his eyes were bare and watchful.
"Are you going to kill me?" Ett asked calmly.
"I did not know His Majesty had a sister. To meet a child of the Adiand royal line like this is an honor."
"For one," Ett replied, glancing casually at the corpses, "you are rude."
She recognized some of the faces. Akan's portraits had been accurate.
"You belong to the Noble Faction."
The bodies confirmed it. Collateral families of the Imperialists.
"And what makes the Princess think I am not merely an assassin?"
Ett laughed softly. Her viridian eyes gleamed like cut gemstones, devoid of fear.
"What makes you think you are?"
The gears in her mind spun violently.
The youth paused, then snorted.
"I see. I still lack tact."
Ett spread her arms slightly, exposing herself completely.
"Kill me," she said lightly. "Or we make a bet."
"This is how Adiand royalty survives?" His tone sharpened. "Impressive."
"No," Ett smiled thinly. "It is something you do not get to refuse."
"Then speak."
"Something both the nobles and the Imperialists cannot uncover."
She watched him carefully.
"You are from one of the Three Great Knight households," she continued. "The jewel on your sword hilt glows faintly. Recognition by a duke. Years on the battlefield, yet reduced to assassination."
She stepped closer and crouched beside a corpse.
"Your speech patterns belong to the Northern Territory. Veralis. Son of Garth."
Silence.
Her heart pounded, but her voice did not waver. Accent, tone, gestures. Half of it was deduction, half was bluff.
"Or should I comment on how striking your eyes are?" she added.
"Fitting for an heir."
"They are common," he muttered.
"And you believe that?"
His sword rose.
"No one will know if you die."
"Hm."
"Then no one will know how to save Elsea Meralia Garth."
The blade stopped an inch from her eyes.
She felt her heartbeat pause. If not for the male lead before mentioning how much he is a sis-con to his sister who died before, how he cares for her and now Ett is betting this guy is the same. Gratefully, it seems he is a fool of a loving brother as well.
"I dare you," Ett said quietly.
Veralis composure cracked.
"You claim neutrality," she pressed. "Yet you act for the Noble Faction. Inside the Emperor's palace. On the first grand banquet."
Silence.
"Kill me," she whispered. "And your last hope dies with me."
His grip trembled.
Understanding dawned in his eyes. The royal family knew. They had always known.
Finally, he exhaled shakily and dropped to his knees, tearing off his mask.
Ett's gaze sharpened.
So this was the ripple she remembered.
"Then please," he said hoarsely, "punish me as you see fit."
She let the silence stretch.
This part was vague in the novel. An assassin executed in secret. Nothing more.
"Do you believe one life can pay for forgiveness?" she asked.
He shook his head.
Ett stepped back.
"The Adiand family will acknowledge your deeds to the Garth duchy."
"Please, Your Highness!" he uttered in gritted teeth. "My family had no part in this!"
"Then why raise your sword at me?"
Her smile vanished as her knees trembled against the wall.
"You will be my eyes among the nobles," she said coldly. "Your hands will be my blade."
He stared at her, horrified.
"Oh?" she tilted her head. "Do you not care for your sister?"
"I will," he said urgently. "I accept."
"Good."
"From this moment," Ett said flatly, "you are mine."
"..."
"You will not betray me," she continued. "There will be a contract."
"A contract?"
She snorted. "Did you think I would cure her all at once?"
She turned away.
"Clean this. Leave. Someone will contact your household."
"Yes."
Ett paused.
"Be careful."
Taking the light from his hand, she followed the indicated passage upward.
Behind her, Veralis remained kneeling, blood-stained and shaken.
In a single night, his world had been overturned.