Chapter: 01
The northwestern edge of the empire, Burk.
Ferdinand von Burk, the silver-haired border count, stood by the window of the room I had used until recently, staring into the depths of the night.
His dark, thick lips drew in a puff from his cigar. As he exhaled, the pale smoke hit the moist glass and spread white before fading away.
Finally, Ferdinand turned around and spoke.
“This will be your only chance. The moment Your Highness’s identity is revealed, you must immediately obtain proof of your bloodline.”
All the grand candlesticks had been extinguished. Only the dimly glowing fireplace in the corner cast a reddish light across the dark room.
At the desk sat Caius von Burk, known to the world as Ferdinand’s adopted son. The fake father-son relationship created for appearances didn’t carry over into their private time.
As proof, Ferdinand used honorific speech with Caius.
But though he called him “Your Highness” with his mouth, his gaze held no respect. Just as it had been ever since he had taken in the starving child twenty years ago.
“Your Highness’s appearance is so distinctly Heidenbergian, it makes things difficult.”
Jet-black hair and golden eyes.
His thick eyebrows and sharp nose unmistakably resembled the former emperor. Anyone who had even seen the emperor’s portrait once could not deny that Caius was his bloodline.
“Once we have an audience with the emperor, he will do everything in his power to prevent proof of the bloodline. There are rumors that he has killed anyone who claimed to be of Wilhelm the Former Emperor’s line, but we know the truth better than anyone, don’t we?”
Ferdinand repeated the story they had discussed dozens of times before.
“Upon entering the palace, we will need decisive evidence to demand proof of bloodline from the clergy…”
Caius answered calmly, as if hearing it for the first time, though he was clearly weary.
“I still haven’t found Albrecht’s pearl.”
Albrecht’s Pearl—a treasured heirloom passed down to the eldest son of the Heidenberg royal family.
The treasure was currently nowhere to be found.
“However, it certainly hasn’t reached the imperial household. The emperor has been searching for it for a long time…”
Despite the faltering tone, his golden eyes gleamed sharply.
In truth, the one who wanted to find the pearl more than anyone was Caius himself.
He had never actually lost it; he had merely entrusted it to someone.
He had been far too young to realize that entrusting it was like giving a fish to a cat.
“Brace yourself, Louise.”
At Mrs. Smith’s words, Louise lowered her tear-streaked face. The body of her mother, wrapped in white cloth, felt like a cruel lie.
“Living is more important than mourning. You know how expensive a church funeral is.”
Her mother’s mind had been unstable in recent years, often lost in distant memories while pretending to be a noble.
The people of Melk looked upon her mother with disdain, but Mrs. Smith was an exception. Even she clicked her tongue at the thought of the funeral expenses.
It was the frustrating reality Louise faced.
When her father had passed, it hadn’t been this bad, but funeral costs had doubled over the past ten years.
As a result, a “different method” had quietly spread among commoners: cremation.
The practice, though against doctrine, had become popular for practical reasons. The living couldn’t be forced into misery for the sake of the dead’s heaven.
But Louise couldn’t agree. She didn’t want to burn her mother’s body.
Yet Mrs. Smith was firm.
“Rich people don’t go to heaven anyway. Whose blood do you think they sucked to gather that wealth?”
She rummaged through her pocket, and the jingle of coins followed. A couple of coins were placed on her mother’s body.
“There are people who help with these matters for little money. I’ll explain it well, so let’s send your mother off this way. Understand?”
It became clear that silver coins weren’t only for living—they were needed in death as well. Louise didn’t have enough.
After Mrs. Smith left, she gently lifted the cloth to look at her mother’s face.
Elisabeth Amalie Ermoli.
Formerly the wife of Stephan Rothschild Ermoli, the former marquis of Ermoli.
Even after losing her name, her mother had lived with dignity.
“Even in a humble cotton dress, you are Ermoli, the foremost vassal of Heidenberg. Don’t forget that name.”
She had taught Louise the same.
Of course, the proper family tomb had long disappeared.
But at least her mother deserved to rest under the same sky as her father.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t even be able to depart this world in peace. That was the Elisabeth Louise knew: the former marquise.
Louise carefully unfolded her mother’s handkerchief from the window sill.
The teardrop-shaped pearl, with its mysterious sheen, looked innocent yet brazen.
Looking at it, a hollow laugh escaped. Her mother had shown no sign of owning such an object until her final moments.
She must have known that any value it held would immediately go toward medicine.
Her mother’s final words echoed in her ears:
“Keep this as dearly as I have.”
Be happy, be healthy.
Why hadn’t her mother left such ordinary words as a final wish?
The pearl was too large. Therefore, there was also a high chance it was a fake.
But the thought of her mother disappearing somewhere without a proper tomb or gravestone was unbearable.
Louise realized that a proper funeral was necessary.
Melk had no large pawnshops, so she had to ride a shared carriage to the bustling town of Helden.
Louise found a fairly decent pawnshop she had only been to once before. Even so, it took her a moment to approach.
—Ding, dong.
Finally, she pushed the pawnshop door open.
The small bell’s chime pierced her ears sharply, like her mother’s rebuke.
Louise shut her eyes tightly. Hesitant, she stepped inside. The owner looked up from the counter.
“A young lady, what brings you here?”
He asked indifferently and glanced over her mourning dress.
Her single black dress had been worn by her mother when her father passed years ago and was slightly large on Louise.
Only now did she realize she must look like a cold-blooded person disposing of her late parent’s belongings—but it didn’t matter anymore.
What she intended to do wasn’t far from what the man assumed.
“I… I want to know the value of this.”
She carefully placed the pearl, wrapped in a handkerchief, on the counter. The man’s brows furrowed slightly.
With trembling hands, he put on his glasses and clean gloves. Then he examined the pearl for an excruciatingly long time.
Eventually, he even pulled out another pearl to rub against her mother’s, testing it.
Watching the lengthy process, Louise dared to hope: perhaps it wasn’t a fake.
Finally, the man spoke.
“Hmm, this is a baroque pearl.”
“A baroque pearl?”
“It refers to pearls that aren’t perfectly round. Because of their shape, they’re difficult to get full value for.”
His tone softened slightly.
“Ah…”
Louise parted her lips in surprise. So, even if it was baroque, it wasn’t a fake.
Swallowing her nervous breath, she asked again.
“So, if I pawn this, how much could I borrow?”
“You… pawn it?”
The man frowned again.
Louise flinched and looked around.
There were not just jewels, but silverware, weapons, armor, furs—any valuable item. Even some things that didn’t seem particularly expensive.
Others must have pawned such items to borrow money.
It certainly seemed so, but Louise carefully spoke.
“Isn’t that what pawnshops are for…?”
The man let out a low, mocking laugh.
“That’s true. But… seeing your situation, it seems… pitiful.”
He trailed off, reconsidering.
Poverty had never been shameful, but coming to sell her mother’s belongings… she wasn’t sure how to feel. She swallowed nervously.
Seeing her silence, he continued.
“Look at the size of this pearl. If it weren’t a baroque pearl, it would be worth 100 crowns.”
“…Excuse me?”
He smiled again.
“If it weren’t baroque. But it is baroque… hmm, let’s see.”
He tapped his abacus with a seemingly meaningless gesture and said:
“Ten crowns.”
Louise inhaled sharply.
Exactly the amount needed for a church funeral. Perhaps her mother had left the pearl for the funeral.
