Chapter 246
For a brief moment, the eyes of the Archduke and Iona met.
Until now, the imperial family had only engaged with the Archduke on an official, public level. Never had there been an attempt at private, person-to-person communication like this.
The reason behind the sudden change in attitude was clear.
The bait Iona had cast had done its job perfectly.
‘Seems like he was hit with bad news the moment he returned to the palace.’
What kind of reaction had Richard shown upon discovering that the letter exposing Iona’s identity had reached the Empress?
Had he panicked—so unlike him—or raged at the informant who dared to sabotage his plans?
One thing was certain: the situation wasn’t going as he’d intended. That much was evident from how recklessly he had reached out to the Archduke.
“Go ahead and open it,”
Iona said in a calm, composed voice.
The Archduke, who had frozen while holding the letter, seemed to snap back to reality and gave a slight nod.
Running his thick fingers along the envelope, he tore open the seal and pulled out its contents.
The tips of his fingers trembled slightly as he gripped the paper.
Iona waited silently until the Archduke had read the letter in its entirety.
Eventually, he spoke in a cracked voice.
“...He’s asking if we can meet sometime soon.”
“Does he mention anything about your son?”
“Not a word. Just some nonsense about how it’s been far too long since our families last interacted.”
“So he plans to get to the real point in person,”
Iona replied, sounding unsurprised.
The Archduke, who had been rubbing his face in frustration, turned his eyes toward her.
His expression was still troubled.
Looking him in the eye, Iona said firmly,
“Accept the invitation.”
“So now it’s time to butter up that snake and squeeze the whereabouts of my son out of him?”
“I wish it were that simple. But the Crown Prince I know isn’t someone who deals in such fair and honest trades.”
“You call this a fair and honest trade?”
“If he guarantees your son’s return, then it qualifies.”
“You don’t actually believe he’ll follow through, do you?”
“My guess... is more along the lines of: ‘If you don’t want to see your son’s corpse, do exactly as I say.’ Something like that.”
“Damn it. Is it the Bardem blood in him? Why the hell is he like this?”
The Archduke slammed a fist onto the table and let out a string of vicious curses.
Then, as if suddenly remembering Iona’s presence, he fell silent and cast her an apologetic glance.
“Don’t worry. If we were just confirming your son is alive, we wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble.”
Iona’s voice was gentle, reassuring.
Richard wouldn’t be able to manipulate the Archduke without at least showing him proof of life. He would likely move the hostage just as promised.
And Iona already had a good idea of where Richard was keeping the Archduke’s son hidden.
All that remained was to wait until they brought the hostage out of the stronghold themselves.
‘Once the hostage is exposed outside, there’s bound to be a gap. That’s when we strike.’
Of course, since this entire plan had been orchestrated with the Empress involved, Iona had no intention of settling for merely rescuing the boy.
She asked coolly,
“Does the letter say when and where the meeting will be?”
“No, it just says he hopes to meet as soon as possible.”
“Then let’s set the location ourselves.”
“Do you already have a place in mind?”
There was no need to think twice. The answer had already been decided.
The main stage could not be the Archduke’s territory. It had to be the imperial palace.
After a short pause, during which she looked him directly in the eyes, Iona gave her answer a beat later.
“The imperial palace would be best.”
She would return to the place that had once cast her aside, the place she had circled for far too long like a ghost unable to leave.
Her birthplace.
The cradle of all her grudges.
The starting point of a past that refused to be erased.
***
The Archduke’s gaze held a shared thread when looking at both of his nephews.
His impressions of their fathers had deeply colored how he viewed their children.
To put it simply, whenever he looked at Iona, emotions like pity, sympathy, and guilt would surface. But when he looked at Richard, all he felt was disgust, contempt, or even hostility.
And today, those prejudices were reinforced yet again.
It had already been over an hour past the agreed meeting time, and Richard had yet to even show his face.
‘Just like his damn parents—doesn’t even know basic manners.’
Arms crossed in growing irritation, the Archduke shifted in his seat.
He had already planned to show up thirty minutes late to throw the arrogant brat off. He hadn’t expected the other party to arrive even later.
Conveniently, he chose to forget that this meant he was also late.
He’s the elder here. He traveled all the way to this place. The least the younger one could’ve done was arrive on time—or earlier. Making him wait? Completely inexcusable.
And especially so, considering the fact that said nephew was the kidnapper threatening his son’s life.
Unfortunately, that very fact also meant he couldn’t storm out in fury.
Just as the Archduke was scowling toward the door with rising agitation, a servant who had been waiting in the hallway stepped in to announce the Crown Prince’s arrival.
Then, Richard entered the room.
“I seem to be a little late,”
He said in an effortlessly cool tone as he walked over and took a seat in front of the Archduke.
No apology followed.
The Archduke raised an eyebrow, incredulous.
“I think it’s been over twenty years since we last saw each other, and yet you don’t seem to have changed one bit.”
To a man of his age, this might’ve been a compliment. But not today.
Richard was still in his twenties—comparing him to his toddler self was more insult than praise. It was a jab that he hadn’t grown up at all.
Richard gave a soft chuckle, as if he’d just heard a witty joke.
“You’re looking just as healthy, Uncle. I’ve been meaning to visit for some time, and seeing you well puts my heart at ease.”
“Cut the small talk. Why did you ask to see me?”
The Archduke’s eyes burned with a sharp intensity as he fixed them on Richard.
It had taken quite some time to receive a reply and arrange the date for this meeting in the capital.
Ever since his son had gone missing, the Archduke had barely been able to sleep—his throat parched and heart pounding with anxiety day and night.
Now, with the hope of finally reclaiming his son and facing the one behind it all, he had been in a near-constant state of tension for days.
And naturally, his patience had long worn thin.
Richard, meanwhile, lifted a hand and absentmindedly touched the side of his neck as he studied the bloodshot eyes glaring at him.
His gaze fell to the table for a moment, silent, then he finally spoke in a measured tone.
“Funny. That’s something I thought I should be asking you.”
“……”
“I was under the impression you were the one who reached out to me first, Uncle.”
Richard raised his head and locked eyes with the Archduke.
For a moment, their gazes clashed mid-air like drawn blades.
“You sent quite the interesting letter, Uncle.”
Naturally, he wasn’t referring to the official reply the Archduke had sent.
The Archduke didn’t bother denying it. His expression remained unreadable.
‘Just like Iona said—he thinks I wrote that letter myself.’
Iona had used the imperial seal when sending the forged letter, not just to avoid interception, but to ensure it would be believed. And it had worked perfectly.
The Emperor may rule the palace, but not everyone working within it is loyal to him.
As someone who had once been part of the imperial household, the Archduke had strong enough ties to be a believable suspect.
“You don’t seem one for small talk, so I’ll get to the point.”
Judging by the Archduke’s expression, Richard seemed to gain some unspoken confirmation of his suspicions.
His eyes instantly turned cold.
“If you truly want to reclaim what’s yours, then convince me. Prove to me that the information you hold is real and worth the trade.”
It was the confidence of a man who believed the advantage was his.
The Archduke didn’t bother correcting that illusion.
Such arrogance was typical of youth—and entirely fitting for his overconfident nephew.
People who overestimate their own cleverness rarely realize when they’ve already been deceived.
As the silence between them settled into a quiet tension, the Archduke finally opened his mouth to share what he had prepared.
“After Teresa died… not long after, I received a letter.”
---The End Of The Chapter---
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