Chapter 18
Fallen Petals
2023.08.18.
Lowell’s blood ran cold in an instant. In any other place, she might have been able to hide, but this place was enclosed on all sides by tall walls. Moreover, she was standing in the very center of the garden, completely exposed. And with only thorned roses around, there was no suitable place to conceal herself.
Simoren Lindel—surely he said this place had been sealed for three years. Lowell chastised Simoren inwardly, but blaming the one who provided the information wouldn’t change the situation.
“Am I going to get caught like this?”
Every passing second felt unbearably slow. As the footsteps drew closer, a cold sweat ran down Lowell’s back.
Finally, when the shadow reached the spot where Lowell stood:
“…Lowell?”
She came face to face with Peter’s pale expression.
Except, it wasn’t really in front of Peter’s eyes.
At the exact moment Peter’s steps brought him close, something from the shadows grabbed her. And Lowell knew exactly what it was—a literal shadow.
Or, more precisely, a subspace within the shadow.
Enveloped in darkness, Lowell met the gaze of a black cat with golden eyes. Delight lit up her face.
“Rene!”
“Shh, Annet.”
The cat whispered softly, flicking its tail as if purring. Its voice was velvety, low, gentle, sweet—comforting.
“I saved you, didn’t I?”
Lowell, now aware as Annet Martinec, had learned certain truths.
Why Martinec lived in seclusion, taking on the role of Ophelta’s steward. How a single family could dominate the entire underworld. While Martinec trained soldiers and established systems to manage Ophelta, that alone couldn’t explain such extraordinary control.
The truth, revealed later, was that Martinec’s direct lineage possessed abilities specialized in assassination and concealment.
A shadow familiar, also called Noctiluca.
Perhaps because she was an adopted daughter, or not an heir, Lowell was not given information on its principles or existence. She only guessed, from the fact that it had existed since the Empire’s founding, that it was an ancient power.
All Lowell knew was that Martinec secluded herself in Ophelta to keep this existence hidden.
Shadow familiars took different forms depending on their master. Rene’s familiar appeared as a short-haired black cat, which Lowell thought suited him perfectly. Besides, she liked cats.
While the familiar maintained its form, it was possible to create subspace in the shadow to hide. A truly specialized ability in stealth.
Had Rene not appeared at just the right time, Lowell would have faced Peter directly.
“He might have glimpsed me… maybe.”
If she had been even a moment later, she would have been exposed. Lowell glanced beyond the shadow.
Peter seemed to think he had imagined something, standing there with a disbelieving expression. No matter how great his magic, he could not have sensed inside the shadow—so he must have truly seen nothing.
Relieved, Lowell stroked the cat.
“Thanks to you, I survived. How did you get here?”
“I thought I’d see your face. I was curious how you’re doing.”
“You could have spoken. If I’d known you came…”
She swallowed the words that almost escaped her throat. The cat’s golden eyes observed quietly, expressionless. Then, it tapped her hand gently with its fluffy tail.
“You didn’t send letters, so I thought you’d forgotten me.”
“…No way.”
Lowell smiled faintly at the teasing remark.
It wasn’t a lie—Lowell genuinely liked her adoptive brother, Rene. He was kind, gentlemanly, and had helped her greatly when she struggled to adapt to Ophelta, just like now.
If she were to choose the one person she could fully trust, Rene would undoubtedly be at the top. Ten years together in Ophelta had forged a strong bond.
“He almost feels like a real brother now.”
Perhaps because of her deceased brothers, Lowell had no difficulty with her relationship with Rene. And thanks to his agreeable personality, over time they grew close.
“I think I was a little wary at first, though.”
Now, Rene was the person closest to her. Calm, composed, steady—everything she herself was not.
“That’s why I tried not to meet him whenever possible.”
Rene cared deeply for Annet. He didn’t want her to take risks, certainly not to put her life on the line. Even when she claimed to be the Emperor’s bride, Rene tried to stop her to the end.
His intentions were appreciated, but they interfered with Lowell’s plans.
Rising, Lowell looked around. Using the shadow to conceal herself allowed the space to remain separate, with no sound leaking out—convenient in many ways—but there was a drawback. If anyone other than the shadow familiar entered the space, the concealment would end much faster.
“We need to leave before the space collapses. Rene, is there a way out of this building?”
“Through the shadows, probably. We’ll need to check.”
“Then let’s move and find it. We can’t stay here…”
At that moment:
Bang! Something shattered outside the shadow.
Startled, she looked toward the sound—and saw Peter. He was smashing a lamp in the middle of the garden with one hand. Shards of glass clattered to the ground, but Peter paid no attention, pulling out the light source inside the lamp—a magical stone.
Clutching it tightly, he crushed it with his hand. Crack.
The stone shattered into pieces, losing its light, and the result was immediately visible.
“The garden…”
It began to wither.
The moment he thought he saw Lowell, when he spoke her name aloud—ironically, it was only when he heard his own voice that Peter realized.
He had been hallucinating.
“Lowell does not exist here.”
She could not exist here—and must not. He had erased her from memory, banished longing, and did not want to relive it. Any resurgence of desire for her would crush him without resistance, and Peter knew this all too well.
The thought of not even being able to relive his longing was agonizing. He could not remember her, cherish her, or grieve her properly. Feeling this was unbearably unpleasant.
Suppressing his rising anger, Peter traced the cause of it all.
“Annet Martinec.”
The one who dragged the erased Lowell back into his consciousness. Without her, he would not be in this state.
“I’m already starting to see hallucinations.”
He felt madness consuming him. Seeing and hearing illusions meant the onset had already begun. Soon, he would lose reason without realizing it.
Then, what would he remember? Could he remember anything at all?
Other mad emperors had retained memories, but Peter’s magic could erase even his own.
Perhaps even from himself.
The inescapable, predetermined tragedy was exasperating.
“This place can’t be used anymore.”
He had come to control his madness, but it had the opposite effect. Seeing Annet brought back memories of Lowell—everything now only worsened the effect.
At least until he decided to resist and pull back the longing for Lowell.
But Peter had no such intention. How could he acknowledge longing for the Lowell he had forgotten, erased?
Collapse was inevitable if he could not endure—and he felt it coming.
Powdered remnants of the magical stone fell through his fingers. The remorse in his gaze was unmistakable.
Everything was tiresome.
“…I’m tired.”
As the magical stone sustaining the garden broke, the plants around the lamp withered rapidly.
A once-blooming garden appeared desolate, like winter had come in an instant—eerily so.
Peter’s face contorted slightly at the sensation. Every time he tried to suppress longing for Lowell, it was as if a part of him were torn away.
He turned before the garden fully withered. He could not bear to see it completely dead.
“Seal it completely. Do not open it again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Clack, thud. The heavy doors closed. Darkness quickly enveloped the garden. Winter came with it.
Yet Peter was unaware of one fact.
Among the quickly withering flowers, at his feet lay red petals, already severed and unable to wither further. The intruder had come before his memory.
“…Peter.”
The memory he had destroyed was not his alone.
