"What the—!"
The startled retainers all drew their swords at once.
However, the beam of light merely flashed brilliantly without causing any harm.
After a moment, once the brightness faded and their eyes adjusted, Lucian's group realized where the light was coming from.
"My lord, there are lines of light drawn across the floor!"
"I see them too. But…"
Lucian looked over the now-illuminated floor, examining the puzzle patterns.
Absurdly enough, the lines of light had nothing to do with the puzzle at all—they were drawn haphazardly, as if someone had randomly painted over the designs.
"…So there wasn't any secret to the puzzle in the first place. It was just a decoy."
"An old trick, really. You make fake keyholes on a door that doesn't even use a key, then hide the real locking mechanism somewhere else."
"Seems people think the same way, whether it's the past or the present."
"Well, it is effective. We somehow avoided the trap, but it looks like the fools who were here before us fell for it completely."
At Hugo's words, Lucian gave a wry smile and nodded.
They had merely painted it in convincingly similar colors—no matter how perfectly one aligned the puzzle, the picture would never be completed.
It was nothing more than a façade designed solely to deceive intruders, utterly devoid of real meaning.
Even if someone had miraculously solved it, all that would've happened was the completion of a single pretty picture—and that would've been the end of it.
"My lord, please look over there."
At that moment, Raymond pointed toward the opposite wall.
In the far end of the vast cavern—previously hidden by the darkness—were piles of chisels, picks, and hammers.
They clearly weren't prepared for carving something, but for destroying it.
"Looks like they intended to smash the floor panels of this underground cavern if it came to that."
"Do you think those men earlier were trying to stall us so they could break in here?"
"Possibly."
At first, Lucian had thought they were trying to take seals or marks needed to prove legitimacy.
The ones managing the estate here still didn't know that Lucian had obtained Asagrim.
It wouldn't have been strange for them to try anything to cast doubt on Lucian's legitimacy for their lord's sake.
But thinking about it now, it seemed more likely they had been buying time to enter the basement and destroy these floor panels.
"In any case, it's ridiculous. The floor panels are nothing more than decoration."
"Now that you mention it, why did the real locking mechanism suddenly release? We didn't do anything."
"No idea. All I did was brush the floor once—and that can't possibly have been the real key."
Click—clack.
In the middle of their conversation, the sound of machinery moving came from nearby.
When Lucian and the others turned their heads, they saw part of the wall sliding open to the left and right.
Once again, it had nothing to do with the puzzle—this was a corner beneath the underground stairs.
Lucian clicked his tongue at the meticulousness of whoever had built the underground cavern.
'With the mechanism hidden there, they couldn't just smash things recklessly. One wrong move and the stairs would've collapsed. I don't know why, but they were absolutely determined to hide whatever's beyond this.'
"My lord, what should we do?"
At Felicia's question, Lucian answered without hesitation.
"We go in."
"We don't know what might be inside. Are you sure it's safe?"
"If it were meant to trap us, something would've happened long ago. More importantly, House Calyx was running around freely, and nothing happened to them."
They had forcibly ripped out what had once been installed as lighting, shuffled the puzzle panels at will, and even prepared to destroy the place if necessary.
Given how wildly they'd behaved, the absence of even a single old bloodstain suggested there were no traps to speak of.
"It'd be one thing if they made the entrance impossible to find, but setting traps only inside the entrance doesn't make sense, does it? Let's go in and out quickly before Sir Glen notices."
"That's true. And above all, the entrance is so thoroughly hidden, yet everything else is this exposed… hmm."
Hugo swallowed the rest of his words and averted his gaze as if it were nothing.
Though he brushed it off, Lucian had a pretty good idea what Hugo had been about to say.
'This place feels like it was abandoned halfway through construction.'
Despite its vast interior, there was nothing inside but a massive puzzle meant to divert intruders' attention and a hidden door.
There were no traps—no striking decorations to draw the eye, not a single one.
Spaces this large yet so hollow were often characteristic of buildings left unfinished due to lack of funds.
'In a way, this space itself might symbolize the downfall of Grimaldi.'
With a bitter smile, Lucian headed toward the open doorway beneath the stairs.
After all, the answer to why this place had been built in the first place might be waiting beyond it.
***
When Lucian and his group passed through the hidden door, they were left at a loss for words.
Beyond it was a fairly spacious room—but the items inside were pathetically unimpressive.
'A bookshelf, a few books without covers, some ink and paper… and a single key?'
The bookshelf was an old, unremarkable piece of furniture, and the books looked crudely made—nothing more than paper bound together with string.
The ink and paper were likewise cheap goods that could be found anywhere.
The only thing even remotely noteworthy was the key kept inside an ornate display case, yet there was no way to tell what it was meant to open.
"My lord, let me check for a moment—urk!?"
Zap.
Raymond reached toward the display case, only to recoil in shock as sparks of lightning leapt out at him.
He managed to pull back in time, but the force was strong enough that it could easily have scorched his palm.
"Magic!? This is a magic tool!"
"Hah. No proper furniture to speak of, yet the security is airtight."
Clicking his tongue, Lucian picked up one of the books from the shelf.
It seemed the display case alone was protected by a magic tool—the book itself could be read without any issue.
—…Rejected again. Just like the previous Emperor, this one too refused Asagrim… How much longer must I wait? The glory of the past… has already fallen. How long… I'm growing tired.
'Asagrim?'
Most of the writing on the faded pages had worn away, making it difficult to read.
It wasn't erased deliberately—just poorly preserved over time.
Lucian carefully turned the brittle pages one by one, handling the old paper as though it might crumble at any moment.
'The old books are practically impossible to read, but the ones written relatively recently are still intact.'
After checking the contents, Lucian quickly realized what these books were.
They were journals left behind by successive heads of House Grimaldi.
Apparently, keeping such a journal wasn't mandatory, as there were gaps of a hundred to two hundred years between some entries, depending on the head of the family.
Tired of trying to decipher the older volumes, Lucian opened the most recently written journal.
'At least this one should be easier to read since it's the latest—what? What is this? It's all been erased?'
Lucian frowned at the pages stained black, as if someone had deliberately splashed ink across them.
The writing had bled in every direction, leaving nothing legible.
Fortunately, the very last page—apparently inserted after the journal was ruined—still bore clear writing.
—Grimaldi is finished. With my daughter having left the family, there is no blood relative left to succeed me. The Empire has endured for a thousand years and finally defeated Grimaldi. The dreams of our ancestors will vanish along with the extermination of House Grimaldi. It is bitter, yet in some ways, I feel relieved.
At the word extermination, Lucian shuddered.
From what he had researched beforehand, House Grimaldi was a lineage that had always passed succession directly down the bloodline, never adopting heirs.
The only time the line had been severed was during the era of Lucian's maternal grandfather—when only a single daughter remained.
If the writer spoke of having no blood relative to inherit the house, then this journal, too, must have been written by his grandfather.
—The ancestral legacy now survives only as lines of text, even the descriptions nearly erased. Long ago, I lost any motivation to cling to that old inheritance. I am weary of bearing the burdens of my predecessors without hope or recompense. How could a fallen Grimaldi ever reclaim Asagrim? Even if the Empire were to collapse, some other powerful force would seize it and drive us out.
That was true enough.
As the former capital of a kingdom, Asagrim was, in terms of location alone, a flawless prize.
Unless one were a legendary saint, no one would return such a strategic stronghold to its former owner without demanding a price.
—I have never seen Asagrim even once in my life. At this point, I cannot think of my ancestors' homeland as my own. My home is here. I will live here, and I will be buried here. I feel no lingering attachment to that fact—if anything, a sense of release. Still, it is regrettable that the royal legacy will remain buried forever beneath the throne. Whether it is me or someone else, a tool only has meaning when it is used by a person.
What does this mean?
A legacy of the northern royal family beneath the throne?
Lucian steadied his pounding heart and continued reading the next lines.
—I have decided to leave the key as it is. Destroying it just to expose my own narrow-mindedness would be laughable. Yet at the same time, I can't help but wonder what meaning it even holds. I am the last of the direct line, and even the collateral line with any claim will end with my maternal grandson. Even if the key remains, if there is no one qualified to use it, it is utterly useless—perhaps it will only earn me the curses of future generations.
"…Qualified?"
—Just in case, I have erased the recklessness of my youth, but I will leave this final page intact. If someone in the future discovers this place—and if they can take the key—then carry it to Asagrim and insert it beneath the Jade Throne of the White Palace. The legacy of the old royal family lies sleeping beneath it. If too much time has passed and it has all decayed away, then that cannot be helped.
That was where the journal's final page ended.
Lucian quietly closed the journal and rose from his seat.
A key. Qualification. The direct line and the collateral line.
Suddenly, a sentence he had seen not long ago surfaced in his mind.
—The second cannot use magic tools that are restricted to the imperial legitimate line.
Those were the Emperor's exact words in his letter.
Magic tools usable only by the imperial legitimate line.
When Lucian had first read that line, he had assumed it referred to ancient technology possessed solely by the Imperial family.
But now, after reading his grandfather's journal, another possibility emerged.
'If magical measures that respond only to specific bloodlines were commonplace a thousand years ago… and if not only the Imperial family, but other royal houses also possessed similar techniques…'
Having reached that conclusion, Lucian headed straight for where the key was kept.
At his unhesitating stride, the retainers—who had been keeping their distance—paled in shock.
"My lord, it's danger—!?"
Before they could rush forward, Lucian placed his hand directly atop the display case holding the key.
The lightning from before was nowhere to be found; the case accepted Lucian's touch without the slightest reaction.
And a few seconds later, with a small flash of light, the opening mechanism at the center of the display case unlocked.
Click.
"4…19."
"Just as I thought."
While everyone else stood there dumbfounded at the unexpected sight, Lucian smiled and grasped the key.
He didn't know what material it was made of, but the fact that it hadn't rusted in the slightest after so many years meant it was no ordinary key.
"H-how did this happen?"
"Read it yourself."
Lucian handed his maternal grandfather's journal to Raymond and the other retainers, who were still reeling.
As they read through it, they soon looked up at Lucian with stiff expressions.
"My lord…"
"You don't need to say it. I can roughly guess what's going on. It's probably tied to my bloodline."
At the same time, he felt he finally understood why the Emperor had refused to hand over Asagrim all this time.
Until now, Lucian had assumed it was simply to prevent the North from becoming independent, given their already distant relationship.
After all, as long as the Grimaldi bloodline remained intact, its symbolic weight was immense.
'But now that I see it, that wasn't the only reason.'
The Imperial family had been wary.
Wary of the possibility that other royal houses, like themselves, might possess hidden power.
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