Harrison, for reasons unknown, belatedly realized that there must have been a valid reason why Noxia had not introduced Rochel from the very beginning.

Harrison smiled amiably, pretending he knew nothing.

“Hoho, my apologies. I suppose age is making me lose my perceptiveness.”

Though it was evident he was feigning ignorance, neither Noxia nor Rochel had anything to say in response.

After all, it was the two of them who had initially chosen not to reveal Rochel’s identity as Crown Prince—and now, disclosing the truth would only make the situation more awkward.

“Hmm-hmm.”

Noxia cleared her throat unnecessarily to shift the atmosphere. Then, opening her notebook, she turned to Harrison and began speaking.

“You must have been startled by our sudden visit. As I mentioned earlier, I have a few questions—if you’ll just answer these, we’ll be on our way.”

Harrison had just finished preparing tea cups matching the number of people present and sat down.

“Understood. Please drink before the tea gets cold.”

Considering Harrison’s thoughtfulness, Noxia took a sip of tea before asking her questions. Unexpectedly, it was the floral tea she particularly enjoyed.

Internally, she was surprised. It had been quite some time since Harrison had left his position as steward of the Brellof estate, yet he still remembered the tea Noxia favored during her childhood.

“You haven’t forgotten my favorite tea?”

“Of course not. I spent half my life serving the Brellof family—it’s not something easily forgotten.”

As he spoke, Harrison offered a gentle smile. Noxia felt an inexplicable warmth in her heart.

Soon after, she picked up her pen as if pleased and asked Harrison,

“I’m glad your memory is so sharp. Actually, what I want to ask concerns what happened on the day my mother passed away.”

Clunk. Startled, Harrison set down his teacup with a slightly louder-than-intended sound.

“That day… what happened?”

“Yes. Where were you and what were you doing on the day my mother was murdered?”

Harrison ran his hand over his face, his expression clouded with sorrow. Suppressing his anguish, he answered in a deeply subdued voice.

“At that time, I had gone to the villa for rest. So, including myself, there weren’t many servants present. That morning, as usual, I assigned tasks to the maids and servants—but then discovered the food supplies scheduled for dinner hadn’t arrived.”

Noxia nodded.

She was diligently writing down everything Harrison said in her notebook.

She had already heard from other servants that the food supplies hadn’t arrived that day.

The young man responsible for delivering provisions back then had been from the Pelmira family. This was a fact Orland had uncovered while investigating poisons—something they hadn’t known before.

Although it had already been confirmed that the poison had entered the villa via that young man, Noxia chose not to mention it, fearing it might confuse Harrison’s recollections.

She simply listened quietly to Harrison’s account of that day as he remembered it.

“I finished my morning duties and hurried off to the village to buy provisions. After all, the villa was situated in a remote location.”

“When did you return from the village?”

She had heard from others that Harrison had gone out to buy food, but his whereabouts afterward remained unclear.

Perhaps because it was the day Charles died, the servants at the time seemed too shocked to clearly recall events after noon—even if morning activities were vivid in their memories.

“There wasn’t the food I was looking for in the village that day. I had to travel farther, which took longer… and by the time I returned, the mistress had already met her fate.”

At that time, Orland had planned to spend the day with Charles, but due to schemes by the Pelmira family, he had been away from the villa for several days.

Given the circumstances, Charles must have eaten dinner alone—the estimated time of her death being between 8 and 10 p.m., she surely must have had a meal.

“You returned to the villa that late? Normally, wouldn’t that still leave ample time to have dinner?”

Faced with Noxia’s sharp question, Harrison frowned as if struggling to recall, sinking into deep thought.

“It’s been so long that my memory is hazy, but I remember the mistress insisted on having that particular dish. She specifically ordered me to go buy it, even if it meant returning late.”

“I see.”

Noxia wrote everything down in her notebook.

Since Charles had died when Noxia was very young, she didn’t have many memories of her—but she was certain Charles wasn’t particularly gluttonous.

Both from the few memories she did have and from what Orland had told her—that Charles ate little and he had worried about it—it seemed likely Charles wouldn’t have minded skipping a meal or two.

“By any chance, do you remember what food Mother was so eager to eat?”

This was pure curiosity on Noxia’s part. If it was a dish Charles—who wasn’t fond of eating much—had particularly liked, it would feel special to Noxia too.

Harrison shook his head slightly, looking regretful.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t clearly remember that detail.”

“I understand. It’s unfortunate, but it’s been so long—there’s nothing to be done. So, you weren’t at the villa at all when Mother passed away?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

At the time of Charles’s murder, a large-scale investigation had been conducted.

The absence of any special records regarding Harrison likely meant investigators hadn’t considered him important—precisely because he hadn’t been at the villa during the murder.

Harrison, lost in reminiscence, spoke self-reproachfully.

“Even now, whenever I think of that day, regret floods over me. If only I had been at the estate… perhaps something might have turned out differently. I’m left with that lingering regret.”

“Don’t think like that. How could it possibly be your fault?”

Noxia sincerely comforted Harrison.

Once again, she felt how Charles’s death still remained a wound in the hearts of many.

A moment of silence passed.

Harrison and Noxia sank into sorrow, while the others shared in their mourning.

Tap. Noxia closed her notebook.

Though she had come to investigate because Harrison had been at the villa at the time, since he hadn’t been there during the actual time of the murder, there wasn’t much left to ask.

Just as Noxia was thinking it was time to stand up and turn her head—

‘Huh? That’s…’

Suddenly, she noticed a framed picture hanging on one side of Harrison’s modest house. The woman smiling brightly in the photograph was none other than Charles.

Though Charles had died when Noxia was young, Orland still kept her photo inside a pendant and always placed a framed picture on his desk—so Noxia was familiar with her image.

She instantly recognized the woman in the photo as Charles.

“Why are you keeping a picture of my mother?”

Harrison couldn’t hide his flustered expression. It seemed he hadn’t anticipated Noxia’s unannounced visit and thus hadn’t considered the presence of the frame.

“Oh, you saw it.”

“Why would you, Steward…?”

Noxia stared at Harrison, her expression showing she couldn’t comprehend.

No matter how loyal he was, keeping a photo of Charles—the lady of the household—seemed odd to anyone.

Understanding this perception, Harrison hastily waved his hands and explained.

“Please don’t misunderstand. Actually, I’ve known the mistress since she was a child.”

“Since Mother was a child?”

“Yes. As you know, Miss Noxia, the mistress was the daughter of the wet nurse. Since she practically grew up in the Brellof household, naturally I—the steward—also knew her well.”

Thinking about it, that made sense.

Charles hadn’t been a noble but a commoner—and specifically, the daughter of Orland’s wet nurse. Thus, her time living in the Brellof household overlapped with Harrison’s tenure as steward.

Harrison continued his explanation.

“Until she married the master, the mistress was like a daughter to me. I kept the photo simply as a memento of old memories.”

Hearing this, Noxia understood perfectly.

“Then, Steward, you must have also known my maternal grandmother well?”

“Of course. We were practically family, having once worked together in the Brellof household.”

Noxia’s maternal grandmother—whether fortunately or unfortunately—had passed away shortly before Charles’s murder.

Thus, Noxia had no relatives on her mother’s side. Having lost her maternal grandfather early, she and Charles had lived alone with their grandmother—the wet nurse—leaving no one she could truly call family.

“I didn’t know. I never imagined you were close not only to my maternal grandmother but also to my mother…”

Harrison smiled wistfully.

“It’s natural you wouldn’t know, Miss Noxia. You were very young then, and after the mistress passed away, it felt too delicate to bring up such stories.”

After Charles’s death, Orland had changed completely. Everyone knew his already cool personality had grown even colder.

“I see. I understand what you mean.”

Noxia gazed at the photo of Charles that Harrison had preserved in the frame. With jet-black hair like Tanashia’s and sun-like orange eyes, her bright smile radiated pure happiness.

Upon closer inspection, beside Charles stood a woman who appeared to be her maternal grandmother—and a young Harrison.

At first glance, it felt like a family photograph.

“The people standing beside Mother—are they my maternal grandmother and you, Steward?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“If you know anything about Mother, please tell me. I want to hear what kind of person she was when she was young.”

Moved by Noxia’s longing for Charles, Harrison nodded with a kind smile.

Rochel silently listened to their conversation. Not only Rochel—all those who had entered the house with them did the same.

But unlike the others, Rochel’s expression as he gazed at the photo of Charles seemed somehow unsettled.

Surprisingly, Noxia’s party stayed at Harrison’s house longer than expected.

After finishing their various conversations, Noxia stepped out of the house with a relieved expression and thanked Harrison for his cooperation.

“Thank you for everything—it must have been a sudden visit.”

“Don’t mention it. I wish I could have invited you to stay a few days if my house were larger—it’s a pity I couldn’t. Please visit again anytime you pass by.”

Touched by Harrison’s kindness, Noxia smiled warmly.

“Understood. I’ll be off now. Please take care of your health.”

“Yes, travel safely, Miss.”

After exchanging farewells, Noxia boarded the carriage parked in front of the house. Rochel followed her inside.

Soon, as they finished preparing to depart, Andrew looked toward the setting sun and spoke.

“I think it would be best to stay overnight in this village and move tomorrow. What do you think, Miss?”

“Yes. Since the sun will set soon, let’s stay here tonight.”

“Understood. I’ll hurry to find lodging.”

Just as Noxia settled into a comfortable position after arranging plans with Andrew,

she noticed Rochel, seated across from her, deep in thought.

Noxia asked curiously,

“Your Highness, what are you thinking about so deeply?”

“Ah, nothing much. I’m just somewhat preoccupied by the photo of your mother we saw earlier in the house.”

“What about the photo?”

“Keeping the photo itself isn’t ordinary—but even if we set that aside, assuming there’s a story behind it, the expressions in the photo are somewhat…”

At Rochel’s words, Noxia naturally recalled the photo of Charles she had seen moments ago in the house.

It was a harmonious picture of Harrison, her maternal grandmother, and Charles—three of them together like a family.

There didn’t seem to be anything particularly unusual…

‘Ah! Come to think of it, it was a bit strange.’

In the photo, Charles was smiling—but not looking at the camera lens; her gaze was directed elsewhere.

At a glance, it appeared warm and happy—but upon closer inspection, each person seemed disconnected.

Harrison wore a kind smile, the grandmother looked oddly uncomfortable, and Charles smiled while gazing elsewhere.

Yet, it wasn’t significant enough to outright call it strange.

While Noxia sank into contemplation, Rochel spoke in a low voice.

“Miss Noxia, you’ve compiled everything investigated so far in your notebook, right? Could I take a look? Perhaps I can help. Since this is a case that’s become a labyrinth, a different perspective than before may be needed.”

Though Rochel had previously offered to assist with the death investigation, Noxia hadn’t expected him to take such an active role.

She briefly hesitated over whether to show him her notes—but his reasoning made sense, and there was no real reason to hide them. She soon handed over her notebook.

Rochel began reading the contents with a serious expression.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Noxia’s heart pounded rapidly as she watched him.

‘The reason His Highness is helping me is probably because…’

It was because it was her matter.

Otherwise, Rochel would have had no reason to care about an old case.

Seeing his genuine interest in Charles’s case stirred unexpected emotion within her.

Every time she looked at him, her heartbeat quickened. She hadn’t understood what this feeling was—but now, she thought she knew.

To hide her reddening face, Noxia turned to look out the window.

Gazing at the dusky sky as the sun set, she thought of Tanashia, wherever she might be.

‘Sister, I think I’ve…’

If Tanashia had been nearby, she would have rushed to her immediately to seek advice.

‘I think I’ve fallen for His Highness, the Crown Prince.’

It was a relationship Tanashia had long tried—and failed—to bring together.

Yet, the wheel of fate had turned and turned again, now writing a new story different from the original.