The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned – Chapter 60

Author: alyalia

“This item is a precious portable dressing table brought in from another continent. Its distinctive feature is the iridescent sheen of the shell decorations. It has been donated by Marchioness Rosa! The bidding will start at fifty thousand rubrin!”

Fifty thousand rubles was about a year’s living expenses for an average family of four commoners. Before Shailoh could even be properly shocked by the unfamiliar auction and the huge sums being thrown around, hands shot up in an instant, and the item was sold off almost at once. One by one, the auction proceeded smoothly, and before anyone knew it, they were nearing the end. Shailoh was just wondering if, once the auction was over, Caleb would appear as the second prince.

“This item is a little special. I haven’t been given any particular explanation, but I’m told it’s an extremely rare piece, so valuable that it puts all the previous lots to shame. There will be no description. The bidding will begin the moment the white cloth is removed!”

At the auctioneer’s signal, a servant whisked away the cloth covering the final lot. At the same time, gasps of horror burst out from all around.

“Good heavens!”

“How can this be!”

In the air that froze solid in a matter of seconds, there was only one person who looked puzzled. Feeling the suffocating tension, Shailoh leaned toward Countess Rodon and whispered. “What is that?”

“It’s a portrait of the late queen. I’m sure… they burned them all.” Countess Rodon shook her head, her fan hiding her mouth.

“D-Does anyone wish to bid?”

Just then, someone raised a hand. “One hundred thousand rubrin.”

Every gaze in the hall snapped to one side.

“Baron Cal…?”

“What is he doing…?”

As if time had stopped, people even forgot to breathe. Caleb, however, calmly watched the auctioneer.

The auctioneer, who had been struck momentarily dumb with surprise, finally found his voice. “W-We have a bid of one hundred thousand rubles right away! Does anyone wish to go higher?”

The late queen’s portrait, said to have been burned to the last scrap long ago. No one could openly buy such a thing in a public venue like this. The invited guests glanced at one another, then began searching for the third prince with their eyes. They were all waiting to see how he would handle this situation, and in that expectant hush, no one dared raise a hand.

“One hundred fifty thousand rubrin.” From a corner, the third prince, who had been standing with his arms crossed, observing the scene, lifted his hand.

“One hundred fifty thousand rubrin! We have one hundred fifty thousand rubrin!”

A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd like a tide.

“Do you think Queen Ingrid knows what’s going on right now?”

“Of course not. Her Majesty personally ordered every last one of the late queen’s portraits burned, and now her son puts one up at this event.”

“If the reason she’s been avoiding public appearances lately is because of a rift with Prince Albert…”

Every tiny gesture, every casual word from the supreme holder of power was the subject of intense fascination. The growing buzz was cut short by the auctioneer, who still looked dazed.

“No further bids?”

“Two hundred thousand rubrin.” Under the weight of all those stares, Caleb raised his hand again.

“Two hundred thousand rubrin!”

Two hundred thousand rubrin was the price of a decent townhouse in the capital.

“We have two hundred thousand rubrin! Any more?”

The shock at the enormous sum lasted only a moment. The auctioneer, now thoroughly excited, swept his gaze around the room as he continued. Outwardly, his words suggested that everyone still had a chance, but anyone could see his question was aimed at only one person, the third prince.

When Albert gave a small shake of his head, the auctioneer, who had begun the countdown, promptly brought down his gavel. “Sold! To Baron Cal, at two hundred thousand rubrin!”

By sheer habit, the crowd broke into applause. As the thunderous clapping rolled on, the auctioneer looked back and forth between the two men.

“Then, Prince Albert, and Baron Cal, please come up to the stage!”

For the final lot, it was long-standing custom for Queen Ingrid’s side, as host, to hand it directly to the winning bidder. Faces alight with barely concealed excitement at this unprecedented spectacle, the guests watched the two men walk toward the stage at the same time.

Following protocol, the auctioneer respectfully held the portrait out to Albert. He was to accept it and then pass it on to the buyer. But Albert did not take the painting. The auctioneer’s eyes went round in confusion, and then Albert’s words crashed down like a bolt of lightning.

“This auction is invalid.”

“Pardon?”

“Because this man has been hiding who he really is.”

A fresh shock ripped through the hall. Baron Cal was a man who had naturally settled into the capital’s society with his neat good looks, smooth tongue, and sharp business sense. Everyone believed without question that he was Baron Cal. No one dared speak. They only watched each other, gauging the mood.

Albert broke into a bright smile and offered the other man his hand. “It’s been a while, Brother. Congratulations on winning the bid.”

“Thank you, Duke of Cornwall.”

* * *

Newspapers with these sensational headlines were selling like hotcakes from dawn. People were curious about what lay behind the sudden return of the second prince, who had been as quiet as a mouse all this time. They speculated endlessly about the intentions of the third prince, who had welcomed his worst political rival as if nothing were wrong.

Neither of the two responded to any of the speculation. The only clear things were that the two princes got along well, and that Caleb had refused to stay in the royal castle, which was as good as giving up his claim to the throne.

As unprecedented attention focused on the two princes, curiosity about Sasha Griche, the second prince’s protégée, also grew.

“Miss Griche, did you really not know Baron Cal’s true identity?”

“Are you two really lovers? Are you aiming to become the next crown princess?”

“What is Duke of West really after? Why did he come back? And what do you think about the rumors of discord between Queen Ingrid and her son, Duke of Cornwall?”

Reporters clutching notebooks swarmed in packs at the theater entrance, and wherever she went, she felt curious eyes on her. People no longer saw her as the singer Sasha Griche, whose talent had just begun to blossom, but as the second prince’s lover and his future mistress. That alone was unbearably uncomfortable.

“Please move. And don’t talk to her.”

“Don’t touch her.”

The bodyguards Caleb had assigned, along with Doris, flanked her on either side. Using the two of them as a shield, Shailoh didn’t react at all and quickly climbed into the carriage.

The moment the carriage set off, Doris let out a breath and grumbled. “The second there’s something to gossip about, they pounce like a pack of dogs. We told them clearly we wouldn’t be answering anything, and they still cling to you day and night. Journalists, honestly.”

“It’s not just them. The troupe people look at me differently now too.”

It hadn’t been long since she’d gone from a singer with powerful backing to a singer recognized for her own skill. The moment Caleb’s identity was revealed, people once again saw her as a shameless woman who’d climbed onto the stage on the shoulders of a man in power.

“Who dares say that about you, Milady?” Doris threw up her hands in outrage.

Shailoh gave a bitter smile. “Of course no one says it to my face, but you can feel it, you know? The way they act, the atmosphere, it’s different. There are people who take my side, sure, but still.”

“You have a lot of people on your side. And all this gossip will die down soon enough. You’ve already proven yourself with your talent.”

At that sincere comfort, the ice around her heart thawed a little.

“You’re always on my side. Thanks, Doris.”

“Not at all. Oh, and Jenin asked me to give you his regards. He said thanks to you, he and his little sister are doing well with a proper job and a decent place to live now, and he’s worried about whether you’re doing all right.”

“Really? Tell him I’m fine. I’m glad to hear he’s doing well too.”

“Yes. He also said if you ever need anything, just say the word.”

Shailoh was about to politely refuse, touched but ready to say she was all right, when she suddenly asked, “Come to think of it, I want to know more about Duke Yesiol.”

“Duke Yesiol?” Doris repeated the out-of-the-blue remark.

“You know, the kind of rumors that are going around. What sort of person he is, that kind of thing.”

“That’s not hard. I’ll look into it too. I’ll ask Jenin as well.”

“Thanks. And if it’s not too much…”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to find out more about the Sigurd Plateau too. Is there somewhere I can look up documents or records on it?”

All that was generally known about the North was that the land was barren and the people extremely closed off. She had been reading travelogues and scholarly works, but the information was sorely lacking.

Doris fell silent for a moment, thinking, then offered a solution. “I’ve heard the royal library has the largest and richest collection of books. They should have detailed information on geography and the northern territories, don’t you think?”

“I figured as much.”

“Why don’t you ask His Highness for help?”

“That might be best.” Shailoh nodded, but she had no intention of actually asking him. It felt too soon to bring anything up to Caleb when nothing was certain yet. Once she had something more concrete to hold on to, it wouldn’t be too late to tell him.