“That’s not true. You need His Majesty’s permission, but, to be honest, no one has been interested enough to ask about it until now.”

The historian chuckled, and Aisha, with a glint in her eyes, said, “So you can guide me there!”

“Th-that…”

The historian became even more awkward, beads of cold sweat forming. With a very trustworthy expression, Aisha said, “If His Majesty says anything, tell him Banetsa grabbed him by the collar and forcibly dragged him away.”

“…?”

The historian’s eyes and mouth widened. He was one of the few people who had witnessed the series of events that had unfolded beside Karaf during this time.
“I, well…,” Aisha said, her eyes sparkling. “Then you can guide me!”

“T-that…” The historian became even more awkward, cold sweat dripping down his face.

Aisha spoke with a very reliable expression, “If His Majesty says anything, tell him Banetsa grabbed him by the collar and forcibly dragged him away.”

“…”

The historian’s eyes and mouth widened. He was one of the few people who had witnessed the series of events that had unfolded beside Karaf during this time.

Therefore, he knew better than anyone that Karaf was more likely to yield to Banetsa rather than confront her directly.

If Banetsa wanted to see something, he would have undoubtedly considered and eventually opened the underground warehouse.

Fortunately, Karaf now placed no restrictions on her entering and leaving the palace.

She could freely roam the palace whenever she wanted, serving as its true mistress.

The historian, with a face that seemed to have aged ten years, sighed and said, “Please look as soon as possible. Even though I’ve experienced a lot, facing His Majesty and offering excuses right in front of him is a challenge for this old man with a weak heart.”

Aisha laughed and replied, “I’ll do that.”

The historian took her downstairs. As they descended the spiral staircase, a large warehouse locked with a padlock appeared.

Opening the heavy door, the historian said, “I occasionally come in to clean, but still, the air in the underground might feel a bit stuffy.”

Aisha nodded and walked into the room with creaking sounds.

Inside, portraits of the former emperor and Banetsa, along with their cherished belongings, items passed down to Karaf, and historical records from their rule, were neatly arranged like a library.

Aisha found Karaf’s father on the wall and stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening slightly.

In the frame, a man who looked strikingly similar to Karaf was smiling arrogantly.

As if proving the royal bloodline, his red hair and intense red eyes were vivid. Unlike Karaf’s dark and decadent expression, this man seemed cheerful and lacking any shadows on his face.

So, rather than the majesty of an emperor, he gave off the feeling of a ‘free-spirited libertine.’

Ricardo Rode Echeim.

He was infamous for his debauchery and licentiousness as an emperor, but he was also a key figure who greatly developed the cultural arts of the empire.

Due to his hobby of loving and collecting beautiful things, he had no prejudice against bringing in cultural artifacts from other empires.

The historian politely spoke from behind, “…”
“I’m reminded of the time when I painted that portrait. Painting portraits in the palace is indeed a significant event. To capture the Emperor’s beauty in a single painting, we invited painters from the empire known for their skills, tested their abilities, and only after a month of training did we instruct them to paint the portrait. That painting took a whopping six months to complete.”

Aisha was greatly surprised and asked, “Six months?”

“Yes. The former Emperor was particularly obsessed with his own portrait, and he was so critical that several portraits were discarded midway. At the same time, the painters’ wrists were almost flying off.”

It seemed he had great pride in his appearance.

Aisha now looked at the former Empress on the opposite wall.

Usually, the Emperor’s and Empress’s portraits were hung side by side, but these two were facing each other on opposite walls.

It felt as if the Empress wanted him to look at her, as her gaze seemed directed towards him.

Whether she didn’t receive his attention in her lifetime or wanted to captivate his gaze even in death was unknown.

Karaf’s mother was not as fatally beautiful as the beauties the former Emperor surrounded himself with.

Nevertheless, she had a delicate and refined appearance.

Like Aisha, she had blonde hair and eyes that were a green reminiscent of the blue fields, but within them, jealousy and bitterness were contained.

She smiled faintly in the portrait, but the smile seemed subtly uneasy and anxious.

Like the Empress, she displayed an expression of someone who could be threatened at any moment rather than the dignity of an Empress.

Denev Karen Dura.

The ‘golden chamomile’ is a flower that blooms and withers with the sun, and she truly set with the former Emperor.

In the language of flowers, the chamomile symbolized despair, and in the portrait, her face was filled with a young and disappointed expression.

Rumors had it that she detested women more beautiful than herself.

Later, she even fell into mental confusion, seeing them as demons coming to take away her husband.

It was a truly sigh-inducing family history.

In this thorny path, Karaf, who grew up alone and neglected, once again felt pitiable.

Both of them had no interest in the child born to them, born not out of love but forced into existence for the sake of imperial power.

Karaf was not a child born out of love; he was a child forced into existence for the sake of imperial power.

With a somewhat troubled expression, Aisha asked, “Are there no childhood portraits of Her Majesty?”

“Ah… about that…”
The chief steward hesitated with a troubled expression before speaking.

“Her Majesty, the former Empress, opposed the painting of His Majesty’s portrait….”

Aisha realized the meaning behind those words, and her face stiffened even more.