Despite the incredible noise this produced, the door swung neatly shut behind them, seemingly undamaged.
The quality of the doors in the Royal Residence is really amazing!
Ophelia, who was mere moments away from losing consciousness and had begun dissociating, looked around the room with hazy eyes, only half-processing what she was seeing. All of the walls were ornately decorated with gold-gilded plaster bas-relief, and curtains made from a delicately embossed, luxuriously thick fabric formed an unbroken drape covering the windows. A number of heavy-looking spears and swords also hung on the walls as decorations, likely a special interest of the king’s.
Shaking off the hands of the guards who rushed forward to intercept him, Claudio stomped right into the center of the room.
“…It’s been a while since I’ve seen that unique door-opening technique of yours…”
A man sitting on a surprisingly simple but comfortable-looking sofa called out to Claudio, his face a mask of calm. His skin had a healthy beige complexion that complemented his chestnut hair. Even Ophelia, cut off from the world as she was, recognized the face of the well-built man dressed in loose-fitting formal attire. He was their king, a renowned lover of equestrianism. Seated on another sofa opposite the king was the pope, trying but mostly failing to conceal a smile.
“Your Majesty, Your Holiness, I beg your pardon for the intrusion,” Claudio said.
“You don’t look very repentant,” the king sighed, his brows furrowed and one hand reaching up to grasp his chin. This expression strongly resembled the one Claudio wore when he was thinking deeply about something.
“Is that so? You’ll have to forgive me; I’m here on urgent business. Your Holiness, it concerns the holy remains currently being kept in the chapel. They’re a fake. I suspect that they were swapped out with the real ones before being brought into the chapel.” Claudio spoke quickly, conveying the purpose of their unplanned visit, and the pope froze, eyes wide, a cup of tea raised partway to his mouth.
“…What makes you say that?”
“To make a long story short, we had reason to believe dangerous items were inside the chapel, and we discovered the truth about the holy remains during the search. The guards never once left the holy remains unguarded, not even for a moment. I opened the box personally. The only thing inside was a bunch of sticks.”
“I see.”
Without taking a sip from the teacup, the pope gracefully held back the sleeve of his robe with the other hand so he could set the cup back down on its saucer. When he raised his head, he glanced over at the king, seemingly signaling with his eyes. Claudio’s eyes widened ever so slightly at that.
“Claudio, who is that lady? Why don’t you put her down already, hm?”
“Eep!”
Ophelia gulped in a breath when the king’s and the pope’s eyes landed on her. The king, whom she’d previously only ever glimpsed in passing from such a great distance that she hadn’t been able to see his face, was now right in front of her! Her legs began to shake for an entirely different reason than usual, and she wasn’t confident she’d be able to stand if Claudio put her down. Ophelia clutched the sleeve of Claudio’s jacket and shook her head emphatically, drawing a huge sigh from him.
“This is one of my employees. For various reasons, she’s fine like this for now.”
“You always leave a lot out when you talk to me, you know that? I’d really like to speak with you more…”
“Your Majesty, there’s no time for that right now,” Claudio said. “Please order a search for the real holy remains. They could be anywhere, and I won’t be able to find them with just the resources at my disposal.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Claudio’s aura abruptly turned frigid in response to the king’s casual reply. Seeming entirely unfazed by this, the king exaggeratedly folded his arms and asked the pope, “It’s fine like this, right, Your Holiness?”
“Yes, just as you say, Your Majesty,” the pope replied with an elegant nod, still sitting on the sofa looking entirely relaxed.
“What’s going on here?” Claudio’s voice was so deep it almost seemed to slither along the floor. The pope smiled faintly at that.
“What, indeed?”
Claudio’s lip curled, and he fell silent, but the pope merely narrowed his eyes in a gentle smile, unfazed. It was exactly the kind of expression a patient and gentle parent might wear while chiding a stubborn child.
“Very well, then. You’re saying it’s okay for it to remain a fake?” Claudio glared unflinchingly at the two men. His arm holding Ophelia tightened.
“I’m saying no such thing. What I’m saying is that you don’t need to do anything,” the king slowly pronounced, the outside corners of his eyebrows drooping.
“Your Majesty!”
The king ignored Claudio’s frustrated outburst, taking a sip of his tea and averting his eyes. The pope chuckled when Claudio’s glare slid to him and looked over at Ophelia.
“I’m sure I’ll meet you again, young lady. Along with the duke here, no doubt.”
Ophelia, who was hiding her face against Claudio’s jacket with only her eyes peeking out, tilted her head to the side in confusion at the pope’s seemingly prophetic statement. Her body wasn’t shaking… Which meant that the pope wasn’t just saying this as a pleasantry. He truly believed that he would meet Ophelia again.
“Ngh!”
Just when she adjusted her position, trying to stand on her own, Claudio grabbed her again, causing her to make a strange sound.
“D-Director, it’s… hard to breathe…
“Enough. We’re leaving, Ophelia.”
“Oi, wait a minute, Claudio…” the king called out.
“We have nothing more to discuss!”
Claudio left the room, slamming the door shut behind him, and set off walking with long but not especially hurried strides. He was frowning deeply, his face the very image of “brooding,” so no one dared try to approach.
“Um, Director… You can let me down now…”
His eyes flicked down to look at her, and then Claudio finally released his grip on Ophelia. Somehow, she landed safely on her feet. Once stable, Ophelia timidly raised her face.
“Umm… Wh-What were His Majesty and the pope talking about back there?”
They maintained eye contact for a long moment until Claudio suddenly looked away, his mouth twisting in chagrin.
Then he set off walking again without answering.
“Did that mean they’re fine with the holy remains being stolen?”
“The holy remains that were brought here were likely a fake all along,” he finally said. “What I don’t know is if they always bring a fake, or if they’re only doing it this time for some reason.”
“Huh? Then the real holy remains are still at the Cathedral?”
“Throughout the entire conversation, at no point did you ever start shaking, right? Those two knew all along that the holy remains were a fake.”
It was hard to wrap her head around the fact that they’d enlisted so many soldiers to guard a box of sticks. Ophelia thought back to the grand procession she’d turned out to view that morning.
“Oh! Don’t tell me that when we visited the Cathedral, the sticks the pope was gathering weren’t for firewood… But for the fake holy remains…?” she guessed.
“Most likely. The broken tile, the suspicious footprints, and the pope’s lie… I’d thought it was strange you were shaking that badly.”
Due to the difference in their height, Claudio was walking at a leisurely pace, but Ophelia practically had to run to keep up. Unable to take her time to think it over, all Ophelia could do was turn Claudio’s words over and over again in her head.
“At that time, His Holiness didn’t seem to have noticed that someone had tried to sneak into the Cathedral. Do you think he had any suspicion before then that someone wanted to steal the holy remains?”
“I have no idea.”
Noting that Claudio’s stormy mood was on the verge of deepening into a raging tempest, Ophelia wisely chose to shut her mouth. In silence, she followed as Claudio navigated with comfortable ease through the Royal Residence, the private living quarters of the royal family.
Come to think of it, the director also grew up here, huh?
Ophelia looked around and noticed that everyone they passed stepped back to make way and bowed their heads to Claudio. The floor of the hallway they were traversing was made of stone polished to such a fine sheen that she could practically see her reflection in it, and the pillars lining both sides of the path were inlaid with detailed engravings from the base all the way to the ceiling.
She’d thought she understood it logically, but this experience really drove home for Ophelia the vast difference between Claudio’s social standing and her own.