Ep 22

EP.22 Epilogue: Crown Hall of a Century Ago Prince Irid, the second prince, was a hasty and clumsy character, having grown up constantly compared to the competent first princess and third prince. The imperial court of the empire was so stern that it bordered on cruelty to a child. Ascending to the throne required one to be the strongest in mind, body, and spirit. The moment Prince Irid spoke up, he was thrown into the endless orbit of competition. His distinctive decisiveness was underpinned by a psychology that 'one must stand out by any means,' and so was his paranoia. A person who lacks confidence in themselves cannot truly trust in anything. He was like a person with a hole in their heart. No matter how much good is poured in, if there's a hole, it will just flow out and not hold. That is why he was drawn to Centra. She filled the parts in him that no one else did; the empty spaces. --------------------------------------------------------------- Prince Irid inspected the secret passage with Agent C of the defense nation. The secret passage from a hundred years ago was quite different. It was neater, and the lighting relatively brighter. Naturally, there were no traces of the fierce fight Irid and Lonya had. There were no bloodstains or corpses, only a little dust had accumulated. Irid knelt on one knee, touching the spot where Centra had lain. He remembered everything: her crying for him, her scent. When he closed his eyes like this... It all came back to him as vividly as if had just happened. "Your Highness, I heard you have some suggestions for improving the secret passage." "I'd like to add a mechanism that brings down a barrier wall... It would be useful if, even when enemies don't know the magical code of the secret passage, they still couldn't enter simply by force." "I will request funds for the improvement of the secret passage." "Use my personal funds." Prince Irid got to his feet. He had planned to walk around various parts of Crown Hall today. Not for the safety of the citizens of the empire... but rather, he had come out hoping to relive memories because he missed her so much today. Prince Irid thought someone should praise his patience for not rushing to the purple mage tower. Preferably a woman with black hair and blue eyes. --------------------------------------------------------------- Prince Irid strolled through Crown Hall. The people were noisy. Although war was raging at the borders, the imperial capital was nothing but prosperous and beautiful. The citizens were busy with their livelihoods, moving about briskly. Prince Irid fiddled with the edge of the hood covering his hair. Before experiencing dimensional travel, he had proudly shown off his blond hair and received the admiration of the citizens. Everyone had bowed their heads to the imperial bloodline. He had wanted to affirm his worth, at least in this way. "Your Highness, would you like to eat something?" Agent C, quick-witted as ever, had mentioned lunch at the perfect moment, having calculated from all angles. Having scoped the area, Prince Irid gestured towards a cafe with a view of the church spire. "Let's go there." "Yes, understood. Shall I clear out the citizens using the cafe?" "No, it's fine." Agent C's eyes made a gentle curve. The former Prince Irid would have taken it for granted to display his authority and such behavior was correct in the empire. There was an insurmountable social gap between a prince and ordinary citizens. But the current Prince Irid had learned to look at the world from a lower perspective. During his inspection, he did not just pass by superficially but diligently checked dark alleys and other points of attention that security forces might miss. Originally, she would have had to bluntly advise that 'to avoid potential assassinations and for the safety of the royal family, the cafe patrons must be turned away,' and say 'there's no need to look into every trivial aspect, the empire functions well as it is.' However, C, who had risen to the position of an analyst from her commoner origins, felt naturally delighted. The noble prince truly understood and cared about the lower places, not just as a superficial performance. C was ready to forgive even if the Prince said "you pay for it" at the cafe. --------------------------------------------------------------- Two cups of coffee and well-baked madeleines. The head chef, having discovered the golden hair beneath the pressed-down hood of the second prince, adopted an exaggeratedly courteous demeanor, while Analyst C shot begging glances from behind a stoic mask as if to say, "I can't eat until you do..." Ignoring such external events, Prince Irid propped his chin and gazed out the window. The church spire was a place he could not forget even if he wanted to. ".............." Grappling guns, embracing each other, flying through the sky. As Prince Irid chewed over the times he shines the brightest, the reminiscence cascaded endlessly. What had happened before they flew through the sky with the grappling guns? Ah yes, Centra had taken him into her arms. The substantial feeling against his chest and stomach... the moving sensation from the tightly fitting clothes. "...It was not my intention." Irid murmured unwittingly, not sure whom he was speaking to—a futile excuse that would never reach her. "Looking back, the management of the gaze was inevitable... no, that's an excuse. If it was disagreeable, perhaps I should have apologized beforehand..." C, after having waited for about 25 minutes, decided to just eat up everything and acted on it. --------------------------------------------------------------- The stables were clean and well-maintained. The stable owner came running out barefoot to greet the prince, but Irid told him not to bother, as he intended to look around alone. Irid stared at the haystack. Inside, just the two of them had crept in, held their breaths, and evaded their pursuers. He remembered his promise to her. Prince Irid raised his pinkie finger. The promise that if they were ever to meet again, she should call out his name. What did that mean? C observed the prince staring blankly at the haystack and spoke up. "Are you... reminiscing about someone?" "Yes. Someone I can no longer see." "Would you like to describe their appearance, Your Highness? Perhaps we could inquire into your family and relatives to find them." "...Is that so. I had not considered reaching out to family." Even if a century had separated them, Centra's lineage would have persisted. Perhaps it was possible to find a distant ancestor of hers. With her image fresh in his mind, Irid described her. "She had long eyelashes and blue eyes, as deep and refreshing as the vast ocean. Her hair was black and long enough to cover her lower back." "...Could it be that her hair had a hint of blue mixed with the black?" "Yes, but..." "I'm not certain if it's the same person... but I am aware of someone with a similar description." C, with a suspicion in mind, unearthed a past event. It was a case that she herself had reported. Coincidentally, the location overlapped as well. "It's a person featured in the defense agency's report on dangerous individuals. A woman known only as 'Heart,' who sold conversations at 'Rosaria'. Her alias was the Woman of Illusions." "...Is there a portrait remaining?" "Yes. Many painters have left behind portraits. Likely, there is one at 'Rosaria' too." "Could I see it?" "Yes." Irid and C retraced their steps. And once more they headed towards 'Rosaria'. --------------------------------------------------------------- ".............." Irid stood motionless in front of Heart's portrait. He remembered Centra's features clearly. Comparing Heart and Centra, they looked so much alike that it was impossible to think they were distant ancestors. If it was indeed the same person. She would have sought out a dimensional magician. Hadn't Irid himself whispered about it? In the purple mage tower resided a genius who had restored dimensional magic, capable of traversing time. She would have paid some price... to perform dimensional magic. To meet Irid. If so, why hadn't she sought him out? Why use the alias Heart? After traveling back in time with dimensional magic, Centra must have been in a dilemma. She wouldn't have known if this was 'before Irid experienced dimensional travel' or 'after Irid experienced it'. For fear of causing a stir with dimensional magic, the royal family and the boy knight had concealed the fact that they had restored it at the purple mage tower. Even after inquiries, there would have been no word that 'the second prince had experienced dimensional travel'. If it was 'before Irid's dimensional travel', revealing the name Centra would be poison. If Irid learned about Centra beforehand... the future would change. The Irid who had undergone dimensional travel was an Irid who 'did not know Centra'. If she couldn't seek him out and couldn't call out to him, then she had to wait. At the inn, a place filled with their memories. In 'Rosaria', the former red-light district, she used the alias 'Heart', implying that she was waiting for love. Praying that Irid would recognize it, come to her, and call her name. After three years, when Irid did not come, and her time ran out, she must have returned to her original world, to the future. She had come searching for him. She had searched for herself. --------------------------------------------------------------- Irid climbed the stairs to the third floor with unsteady steps. There lay Centra's room. The same room where Heart had stayed. He opened the door. The interior was the same. A small room, a bed occupying one corner, a tiny desk with manuscript paper, various books, and a single empty vase. Her scent was absent. He could only be certain. The current establishment, oddly enough, had preserved the interior of the room where Heart stayed. Its future self, a century later, was exactly the same. Only the types of books and the empty vase had changed. She had been here. His heart shook as if his whole body was vibrating. Irid was trembling. The surging emotions felt like they would shatter his heart from the inside, and he clenched his teeth to bear it. In the small room which hardly had space for an open table, Irid gingerly sat on the bed. Here, he had sat side by side with her. He remembered. Centra had rested her head on Irid's shoulder. The pleasant weight could be felt, melting into happiness. In silence, they communicated with the exchange of body heat, weight, ambiance, and scent, conversing with their souls. He remembered. The promise. "Should we meet again someday, will you call my name?" He had remembered. Irid gazed at the vase on the desk, and belatedly, he kept his promise. "...Centra." No answer came back. Irid buried his face in his hands and wept. The rain fell. Seemingly endless...