The Tyrant's Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11

Lowell Hessen is a dead person. That has been an established fact for over ten years.

Yet now, after all this time, they say no one even knows whether Lowell is dead or alive?

After Monique departed satisfied, Lowell found herself recalling their conversation and couldn’t help but let out a faint, involuntary chuckle.

‘Your attempt to test me is far too transparent.’

Only someone who assumed Lowell was a naive young lady unfamiliar with high society’s etiquette would say such a thing.

She had indeed acted that way on purpose, and it was true she’d deliberately spread such rumors—but she hadn’t expected anyone to fall for it so completely.

In fact, Monique seemed so pleased with Lowell’s reply that she even went so far as to say this to her:

[You may think of me as your mother, Lady Anette. I’ll support you in your life at the imperial palace from now on. If you ever need anything, just tell me.]

My mother’s husband has been dead for a very long time. Lowell wondered how Monique’s face would change if she heard that—but she didn’t bother saying it aloud. The moment Monique sought her out, she was already destined to walk her own path to ruin.

‘There’s no need to hasten the timing.’

After all, one should only gut their prey once it’s fattened. Until then, Monique would serve as a convenient excuse.

Lowell rose from her seat, leaving behind two teacups that had long gone cold. Waiting maids hurried over to drape a shawl over her shoulders.

“Lady Anette, shall we escort you to your chamber…?”

Slap!

With a sharp sound, the maid holding the shawl stepped back, clutching her stinging cheek. Her eyes welled with tears as her face rapidly swelled.

“L-Lady Anette… why on earth—”

“Why?”

Lowell retorted as if baffled.

“When an uninvited guest enters a house while its master is away, you cut the dog’s throat.”

What use was a dog that couldn’t even guard the house?

Especially if that dog was colluding with the intruder.

Before Monique, who had been waiting for Lowell, an array of refreshments had been neatly laid out. If Monique had merely forced her way in through political maneuvering, would she have received such treatment?

‘It’s no coincidence Monique happened to arrive precisely when I was away.’

Walls in the imperial palace have ears—it’s no mere saying. And for someone like Lowell, who hides so much, those eavesdropping walls must be torn down.

“Leave. All of you. I don’t need you.”

At this sudden declaration, the maids’ eyes sharpened.

“We’ve all been here far longer than you, Lady Anette. If you treat us like this…”

“Like this? Are you planning to kill me—or perhaps run to His Majesty to report me?”

“…N-No, that’s not it at all.”

The moment the Emperor’s name passed Lowell’s lips, fear flickered across the maids’ faces. It was only natural—they, who lived within the palace, knew better than anyone that the current Emperor was a man without mercy.

Though things seemed calm for now, anyone who knew the Emperor lived in dread of when his blade might be drawn—including these maids.

Watching them hastily bow their heads after glaring at her so venomously just moments before, Lowell scoffed inwardly.

‘Don’t give me that nonsense.’

She already knew that after she’d lost consciousness in the bath, the maids attending her had been punished.

Yet not only had Monique slipped in while Lowell was away, but she’d even been served refreshments—clear proof of their negligence.

No wonder they were so terrified at the mere mention of reporting to the Emperor.

Lowell remembered the whispers among the maids on the day she’d moved into this palace.

[Is that woman really the bride?] [Yeah. We even bet whether our heads would roll or our bellies get slit. Ended up losing our stakes.] [Does she really want to live that badly? Pretending to be someone else just to become His Majesty’s consort…] [Well, since His Majesty clearly favors her, all we can do now is bow and scrape.]

Half of them were likely reporting Lowell’s every move faithfully to the Emperor, while the other half had surely already formed their own connections elsewhere.

‘Though it’s not as if only they do that—replacing the maids would yield much the same result.’

But now that Monique had come and gone, replacing the maids actually made sense. At the very least, the next batch wouldn’t choose Monique as their patron.

‘Besides, I’d already planned to change the maids—so this works out perfectly.’

Monique had conveniently provided her with a good excuse.

“Anything else to say? If not, leave.”

Lowell jerked her chin toward the door, and the hesitant maids shuffled toward it. Their expressions darkened—they knew reporting to the head maid that they’d been dismissed by Lowell would surely bring punishment.

Just as the last maid slipped out and the door was about to close—

“Oh.”

Lowell spoke as if something had just occurred to her, gesturing to the maid still holding the doorknob.

“You, come back here.”

“M-Me? Are you speaking to me?”

“Yes. It’ll take time to assign new maids, so I’ll need at least one person to help me change clothes. You stay.”

The maid Lowell had called back seemed slightly wary but reluctantly returned.

“What’s your name?”

“Mabel… Lindel.”

“Oh? That’s a lovely name. It’s cold—let’s go inside.”

At Lowell’s compliment, a faint glimmer of joy appeared in Mabel’s gray eyes.

She seemed relieved—both to have avoided punishment and to escape further scolding from Lowell.

Watching her, Lowell recalled the information René had relayed.

She was already well aware of these basic details.

What caught her attention was what came next—family relations.

As Lowell headed into her chamber, she glanced back at Mabel following behind. Their eyes met—the gray eyes that were practically the Lindel family’s emblem.

Soon, those eyes would carefully observe her every move.

‘And faithfully report everything to Peter.’

Walls in the imperial palace have ears. Lowell intended to make good use of those ears.

[This is the timeline separator]

The next day.

“Please entrust me with Lady Anette’s protection, Your Majesty.”

Peter’s hand, which had been flipping through documents, froze midair. He stared at the knight standing before him. Simoren’s gray eyes were filled with resolve.

This wasn’t some jest. Concluding quickly, Peter let the documents drop from his hand with a soft thud.

“I thought you disliked Anette Martinek.”

“I still do.”

“Then what’s changed your mind? I’ve already heard she visited you and Noah yesterday. Did something she said move you?”

“Right after she visited Noah and me yesterday, I heard all the maids in the Shayen Palace were dismissed—except for my younger sister.”

Shayen was the name of the palace where Lowell currently resided.

“Even with my limited insight, it’s hard to believe all this is mere coincidence. Every move she makes seems suspicious—she must be aiming for something.”

“If you’re worried about your sister, I can reassign her to another palace.”

“Thank you, but my sister is fine. It’s just… I don’t know what Anette Martinek wants, and that’s troubling.”

Before coming to Peter, Simoren had already discussed this matter with his closest friend.

Noah was the smartest person Simoren knew, and since the topic concerned Anette, he couldn’t just talk to anyone about it.

“Noah, Anette Martinek’s actions seem highly suspicious. Yesterday she visited you too and said something strange—that Lowell Hessen might still be alive…”

“No, her actual question was whether His Majesty would search for Lowell Hessen if she were still alive.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No. It’s different.”

Noah’s tone was firm. Unbeknownst to them, he was the only one who’d grasped the core of Lowell’s question—and the only one who’d dared to challenge her.

He’d asked her outright: What exactly do you want?

That question was the key to understanding Lowell’s entire strategy.

“The premise that Lowell Hessen might still be alive is meaningless. What matters is whether His Majesty would search for her.”

“Why? Isn’t it more important what Anette Martinek knows?”

“What matters is that Anette Martinek was probing His Majesty’s intentions through us.”

And by planting the suspicion that Lowell might still be alive, she’d cleverly concealed her true purpose.

Noah had reacted far more sensitively than usual to Anette’s words. According to Simoren, he hadn’t been this tense since the day his favorite fountain pen broke.

Thus, with slightly darker shadows under his eyes than usual, Noah warned Simoren.

“Leave Anette Martinek alone, Simoren.”

“…Don’t ask why.”

“She clearly knows something about Lowell Hessen—and about what we’re searching for. But when it comes to playing cards at the same table, our hands are too different.”

Anette well knows that ‘Lowell Hessen’ is the card she can play effortlessly to shake them.

But what about them?

“We can’t recklessly approach her when we don’t even know what she wants.”

“We can just find out what she wants.”

Simoren simply couldn’t understand why Noah was reacting so strongly. Having worked beside Peter, he’d seen many tight-lipped people—and knew exactly how to make them talk.

“Whether through threats or persuasion, people eventually reveal what they truly desire. You know that as well as I do.”

“Simoren, you’re right. Rewards and punishments usually work well. However…”

But there was one thing Simoren didn’t know.

There are people for whom neither threats nor persuasion work at all.

“…It doesn’t work on someone who has nothing left to lose.”