Moria

Not long after Shaya and Sebas left the hospital, dark clouds blanketed the skies over the Imperial Capital. Beneath the leaden-gray heavens, the entire avenue was swallowed by dense mist.

The palace, too, was covered by a gray curtain of rain, as though it stood amid thick fog. The entire Imperial Capital was shrouded in a gloomy atmosphere.

Moria's room was on the eastern side of the palace, to the left of the oval office where the emperor handled state affairs. It was accessible as soon as one entered through the door.

Compared to Alicia's room, this one was far more fitting for royal grandeur. It covered over a hundred square meters, its floors entirely carpeted in luxurious short-pile rugs, while even the walls were upholstered in velvet.

The furniture inside had all been custom-made by renowned masters, and the wood alone was immensely valuable. The golden ceiling fixtures shone brilliantly, while the curtains were made of lustrous satin.

The portrait had clearly been painted by a top-tier artist. Every detail was meticulous, almost like a photograph. It depicted a woman.

She had long black hair and wore an azure gown with a wide skirt. Sitting in a chair, she kept her legs together and angled to one side, her hands resting on her thighs. She looked elegant and dignified.

She resembled Alicia greatly, though compared with Alicia, her features leaned more toward an Eastern appearance and possessed a gentler warmth.

"That is Moria's wife, Anya," Sebas said.

In one corner of the bedroom, Shaya and Sebas sat across from each other at a three-legged table. Some palace pastries had been placed on it, apparently brought by Sebas from somewhere.

Shaya recognized one of the pastries. He had eaten it before. It was called Napoleon Cake.

It actually had nothing to do with Napoleon, though. The name was merely the result of a homophonic misunderstanding.

Its French name was mille-feuille, meaning a thousand layers of puff pastry, which was why it was also called a mille-feuille pastry.

He had only eaten it once before because it had been far too expensive. The puff pastry process was extremely complicated.

Shaya picked up a Napoleon Cake and examined it carefully. It differed somewhat from the one he had eaten in the past, but the filling between the layers of puff pastry was still rich, containing not only fresh cream but custard as well.

He tried taking a bite. The fragrant, crisp, melt-in-the-mouth pastry broke apart, followed by the smooth tenderness of the cream and custard within. The milky fragrance blossomed over his tongue, layers of flavor unfolding one after another across his taste buds, with just the right amount of sweetness.

After losing his heart, appetite was one of the few desires he still retained.

Shaya took out the wine Sebas had given him earlier, then produced two stemmed glass goblets from who knew where.

He pulled the cork from the wine bottle and poured the wine into the glasses. Set against the crystal glass, the wine gleamed a captivating rose-pink.

He placed one of the filled glasses beside Sebas.

The rich fragrance of wine entered his nostrils with every breath. Merely smelling it was intoxicating. Wine brewed by gods truly differed from ordinary wine.

Shaya lifted his glass toward Sebas, signaling a toast.

But Sebas did not move. He looked at the glass of wine before him, an obvious struggle appearing on his face. Then he gave Shaya a helpless smile.

"Wait until I finish this last job. There used to be a Grim Reaper who liked drinking while he worked, and he ended up causing a huge disaster."

Shaya raised his brows and nodded. "That was indeed how it should be."

He drew back his glass and took a small sip himself. The rich aroma blossomed between his lips and teeth, every taste bud on his tongue leaping with delight. It was not merely physical pleasure; it also brought a clarity to his soul and spirit.

Even long after it had gone down his throat, the lingering fragrance still drifted between his lips and teeth.

The alcohol content was still within what he could handle. Wine was not necessarily better just because it had a higher proof; other brewing techniques mattered as well, and plenty of people enjoyed lower-proof wines.

As Shaya savored the red wine, he looked toward another corner of the bedroom.

Yes, there were quite a few other people in the room. On the bed lay a thin old man with graying hair. He appeared to be at death's door, though some lingering obsession seemed to be sustaining him.

He was clearly the Emperor of Britannia whom Sebas had mentioned—Moria.

Even as the ruler of this vast empire spanning more than ten million square kilometers, he was no different from an ordinary person when facing death.

Quite a few people surrounded him. There were doctors dressed in black robes, as well as nobles of varying ages, both men and women, dressed in extravagant clothing.

Yet none of them noticed that, in the corner of the bedroom, two strangers were quietly watching everything while enjoying pastries.

They could not even smell the wine's fragrance at all, as though an invisible wall separated the two groups into entirely different dimensions.

A beautiful young woman sat by the bed, one hand tightly holding the dying old man's gaunt hand while the other used a handkerchief to wipe away the tears continuously spilling from the corners of her eyes.

She looked young, without a single wrinkle on her face, but her eyes and bearing were mature. She looked to be around thirty, with the Roman curls commonly worn by many European noblewomen and a beige-yellow dress.

"That is Moria's eldest daughter, Isabelle," Sebas introduced. "She is the Empire's first in line to the throne. The blond man beside her is her husband, Fasther. He is a prince from a fallen royal family who gave up his claim to the throne and became a citizen of Britannia."

Shaya nodded. At that moment, the door at the side suddenly opened, and another, younger woman stumbled inside.

She looked very much like Isabelle, except her hair was longer.

"Father! Father!"

Seeing Moria in such a state, the woman cried out chokedly. She sat beside the bed, grasped Moria's other hand, and sobbed quietly.

"I'm back, Father."

"That should be his second daughter, right?" Shaya asked.

Sebas nodded. "Her name is Eugenia."

After a pause, he continued, "The emperor's health has been poor these past few years. His two daughters, his younger brother, and the various forces behind them have all taken this chance to compete for power."

Shaya nodded. This was probably why people like Director Rick had appeared.

Moria's clouded eyes turned toward the door, though he was not looking at the woman. Instead, he glanced at the door through which she had entered. It remained slightly open, but no one else came in.

Isabelle seemed to know what Moria was thinking. "Don't worry, Father. We have mobilized both the secret police throughout the Imperial Capital and the armies stationed nearby. Tomorrow, we will issue an announcement and offer a reward across the entire Imperial Capital—no, across the entire country—to mobilize the people. As long as she is still in Britannia, we will definitely find Alicia."

Her husband, Fasther, also spoke from the side. "Alicia is third in line to the throne. If this is because of a dispute over the throne, or something else, then she will most likely be used as leverage against us later. So, until they get what they want, she should be safe."

Moria still said nothing. His gaze withdrew from the door, and he struggled to take several deep breaths, his complexion gaining a little color.

He looked at the portrait before him, his gaze deep as though recalling the past. Then he slowly spoke.

"When Alicia first arrived at the palace, she hated the etiquette lessons there.

"So she was always trying to find ways to skip class.

"Feigning illness, or hiding somewhere.

"But none of it worked."

His voice was hoarse and weak.

"Later... she came to me crying every day, so I told her the locations of several secret passages in the palace.

"When I was young, I often used those passages to sneak out of the palace to play. I got scolded many times for it.

"But she was much smarter than I was. Every time, she would only go out for a few hours before coming back.

"That made the maids think Princess Alicia had some extraordinary talent for hide-and-seek."

The corners of Moria's lips curled into a faint smile.

After a pause, he took a deep breath and continued, "But one day, she was still discovered."

"She disappeared for a very, very long time.

"The guards I had stationed outside the palace confirmed that she had entered the secret passage, but they could not find her anywhere, neither in the palace nor in the passage.

"Back then, just like now, so many people searched for her, but no one could find her.

"Can you guess where she was eventually found?"

Moria smiled, but then began coughing violently. After recovering slightly, he continued.

"In a corner of the secret passage that was very difficult to notice, she had fallen asleep.

"Tens of thousands of people throughout the Imperial Capital were looking for her, worried sick about her, while she was snoring away there.

"Later, your mother gave both Alicia and me a terrible scolding."

Isabelle seemed to remember that scene as well, and a smile unconsciously appeared on her face.

But then she heard Moria continue.

"But now... she probably cannot even find the entrance to the secret passage anymore.

"I lost her again. Your mother will probably scold me again."

Isabelle raised her head. Moria was staring blankly across from him. When she turned around, she saw the portrait of her mother.

Her eyes reddened again. She lowered her head and remained silent.

"That glass of milk was meant for me," Moria said weakly. "I should have been the one to go blind."

"It wasn't your fault! It was clearly done by those traitors who sought to assassinate the emperor!" Eugenia said emotionally.

"No. It was because of me."

Moria looked at the portrait, his gaze unfocused, as though imagining another possibility.

"If I had not returned to the palace, inherited the throne, and become entangled in this endless vortex.

"Perhaps she would not have gone blind, and perhaps your mother would not have died.

"Perhaps Alicia would not have disappeared either, with her fate unknown."

He gave a self-mocking smile.

"But in this world... where could there possibly be so many 'ifs'?"

Suddenly, he began coughing violently again. This time, the coughing was especially fierce, as though he might cough out his lungs. Then a mouthful of dark red blood sprayed onto the blanket.

"Father!" Eugenia cried out.

Moria tightly gripped Eugenia and Isabelle's hands. His bloodshot eyes widened as he gasped for breath, but he was taking in more air than he released.

He looked at his two daughters. His trembling lips struggled to form several syllables, but they could no longer be heard clearly.

"I will definitely find her, Father," Isabelle replied through tears, though it was impossible to tell whether she had truly heard him.

Moria looked toward the portrait in the distance. The obsession-filled light in his eyes finally faded completely. His mouth hung slightly open, opening and closing weakly. The color drained from his face, and he resembled a withered branch filled with deathly stillness.

Isabelle and Eugenia kept calling for their father, crying as they called his name.

But he no longer responded.