TOPWL 43

No matter how things had turned out, it seemed difficult for Sonia to sing at Yudit’s banquet. Yudit had no intention of pressuring her just because she had promised. Just attending had already made Sonia a potential target. Yudit wished that Sonia would choose her own safety, even if it meant selling him out.

“Brother.”

Just then, someone called out to Yudit. Unlike others, the voice came from below. When he looked down, he saw Azil looking up at him.

“Father isn’t feeling well, so he’s going to retire early.”

Azil spoke of the Emperor in an unusually familiar tone. He tiptoed closer and whispered in Yudit’s ear.

“But he wants to slip out quietly.”

If the Emperor left in the middle of the banquet, it could disrupt the mood. Perhaps this was a considerate gesture. Either way, Yudit was grateful for it.

“Thank you.”

He smiled as he replied to Azil. A rosy tint colored Asil’s chubby, pale cheeks.

“Brother, the banquet was wonderful.”

With a small bow, he turned and returned to the Emperor and Aisa. He tried to support the Emperor with his small body, less than half the Emperor’s size. The Emperor gave him a smile—one he had never once shown Yudit.

Yudit turned to a passing servant.

“Dim the lights and bring out dessert.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The servant signaled discreetly. Several staff headed toward the kitchen while others quickly brought out covers from somewhere, setting them on their backs. As the lights dimmed, the mood somehow grew even livelier. The guests let out murmurs of awe.

“Who crafted such a tapestry?”

“Who knows, but their skill is unquestionable.”

While murmurs passed between guests, the Emperor, Aisa, and Azil slipped out of the hall. Barely three minutes later, the servants returned carrying sherbet. Piled high with Herutian dates and generously topped with Adanauerian nuts, the sherbet looked mouthwateringly decadent.

“For dessert, we have date-and-nut sherbet. Please enjoy the rich sweetness of the dates. And now, we present a performance by Miss Sonia, the leading star of the Illensia Troupe. Please welcome her warmly with a round of applause.”

As Yudit returned from seeing off the Emperor, a servant had made a mistake. The performance had been scheduled, but Sonia was in no state to sing. Yudit looked toward her just in case. Reginald still had his arm draped over Sonia’s shoulder. Her complexion had gone pale.

Yudit knew that expression all too well. Reginald was using his Alpha aura to intimidate Sonia. Yudit had thought he cared for her, but to go this far—it was unexpected. A servant, readying the stage, looked at Sonia with puzzled eyes. Eventually, Sonia spoke in a small voice.

“I’m sorry. My voice isn’t in good condition today… I don’t think I can sing. I should have said something earlier… I’m truly sorry…”

Her face twisted with distress.

“Oh, what a shame.”

“I was really looking forward to it.”

Disappointed murmurs rippled through the guests. Because the lights were dimmed for the Emperor’s quiet exit, no one could clearly see Sonia’s situation. Only Yudit, who understood, felt sorrowful.

If things were left as they were, Sonia would be punished for trying to help Yudit. After a moment’s thought, Yudit approached her. Caught off guard, Sonia’s eyes widened in confusion. Yudit leaned in and whispered into her ear—loud enough for others nearby to hear.

“When I pulled you from that fire, this was the only condition I asked. And yet you say you can’t even do that? What a pity.”

Sonia’s eyes widened.

“You vile bastard. Of course it’d be you.”

Reginald, having grasped the situation from Yudit’s words, drew to Sonia closer protectively.

“I’ll make it up to you later. Now get lost.”

He growled at Yudit. Yudit stepped back, feigning disappointment. Only Sonia, who understood the truth, looked at him with an apologetic gaze.

Of course, Yudit had never asked for anything when saving her from the fire. He’d said that only to shield her from Reginald’s wrath. The hall was growing tense and uneasy. As Yudit considered how to smooth things over, a voice rang out.

“Then… may I sing a song instead?”

A hand had gone up. The voice was familiar—it was Isiah.

“Lady Isiah…?”

“She’s really going to sing?”

The crowd began to buzz with excitement. It was no wonder—Isiah hadn’t sung since over twenty years ago, before her marriage to the Emperor. At the peak of her fame, her farewell performance had become legend.

“It’s been some time, but I too was once a leading star of the Illensia Troupe.”

She looked into the distance with wistful eyes.

“If you would, it would be the highest honor of this banquet.”

At Yudit’s words, Isiah gave a faint smile. Somewhere, someone began to clap. Applause broke out around the hall. Yudit approached and offered his hand.

“It’s dim beneath your feet. Please be careful.”

She took his hand and stood gracefully. She made her way to the stage with a dancer’s poise.

“What song was originally planned?”

She asked quietly as she walked.

“‘Farewell of the Whippoorwill.’ But… you can sing something else if you’d like.”

Yudit would have been grateful for any song. Isiah smiled softly when she heard the title.

“Let’s stick with that. It was the last song I ever sang, after all.”

With that, she let go of Yudit’s hand and stepped onto the stage. There was no trace left of the woman who had once wept by a grave for her lost daughter. Yudit watched her, captivated.

Isiah stood before the sounding board and cleared her throat. A servant quickly brought her a glass of water. She accepted it naturally, took a sip, and set it down. As she looked toward the orchestra, they began to play.

And then, her voice rang out through the dimly lit hall.

Have you ever heard a voice tinged blue?

Oh, my dearly missed one

The traces left behind by spring—

Could they ever compare to the memory of you?

I send you the chirping of a whippoorwill

Oh, my beloved who’s gone

When winter returns like a veil,

Will it brush against your fading back?

Though I sing here now,

My world lies quiet like an island in the desert

Where are you now, my dear?

Think of me once when you pause to rest

Ah, let the breeze carry you to me

I’ll give you my spring in return

Where are you now, my dear?

Think of me once when you pause to rest

Ah, let the breeze carry you to me

I’ll give you my spring in return

It was a song drenched in aching longing. Some guests dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Others may not have understood, but Yudit knew exactly who she was singing for. This song was a lament for Lilia.

Reginald and Hiore were present as well. Singing before those who had taken her child from her—what must that have felt like? Yudit couldn’t begin to fathom her emotions.

When the song ended, the guests seemed to awaken from a dream. Then, a thunderous applause erupted. Isiah smiled quietly, as if content. Yudit clapped hard, his heart full. Her voice—clear and radiant—was impossible to believe coming from a woman of her age. Normally low and husky, where had such a voice come from?

As she walked back proudly, she caught Yudit’s gaze and nodded. He stepped forward to escort her.

“I used to sing for hours. Now just one song leaves me spent.”

“You poured your heart into it. Of course it’s tiring.”

Isiah looked at him thoughtfully.

“So Your Highness knew who I was singing for.”

“…How could I not?”

Yudit missed Lilia too. Through her loss, a strange bond had formed between him and Isiah. A bond born of shared grief, not joy—more bitter than sweet.