Dominance of Veiled Hearts

A wide smile spread across my face as the truth of the ancient words unfolded before me.

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ʘⲠ𝖫𝖸 7#❍53 ᗵ#❍ ᜎᜒᜀᜇ᜔ ᜆ᜔ᜑᜒ ᜑᜒᜀᜇ᜔ᜆ᜔ 4Ⲡ 637 1Ⲡ7❍ 7#3 7ⲅⵡ7# ❍= ᗵ#47 7#3𝖸 ☥351ⲅ3. 〒#ⵡ5, 4𝖫𝖫 ᑭ❍ᗵ3ⲅ 4Ⲡ☥ ᗵ34𝖫7# ᗵ1𝖫𝖫 83 641Ⲡ3☥ ᗵ17#❍ⵡ7 4 8ⲅ❍|<3Ⲡ ᗶ1Ⲡ☥.

Translate:

Only those who 'learn the heart' can get into the truth of what they desire. Thus, all power and wealth will be gained without a broken mind.

"No, I don't think that's right, but we can still use what you said," I muttered, my mind racing. Ideas juggled in my head like a chaotic circus act.

"What?" The prince's voice snapped me back to reality, like a cold bucket of water thrown in my face.

"It's not love—it's the heart," I said, stepping closer. I placed my hand gently on his chest.

"⧨3Ⲡ1 4☥ ᗶ3." The ancient words slipped from my tongue—a phrase I'd encountered in one of the scrolls. If the power truly existed, then perhaps this word was the key to unlocking it. But all that emerged was a faint glimmer of light, like a weary firefly struggling to glow. This must be the power the prince senses, I thought, or perhaps just a reluctant spark.

"What are you doing?" the prince asked, confusion and suspicion mixing in his tone, as if he couldn't decide whether I was crazy or had a strange hobby.

'He's probably not the one with the key.' The realization hit me like a brick, but I kept my cool, fighting the urge to groan in frustration.

"I was told your royal family has two sons and one daughter. Is that true?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

His face darkened like someone had switched off the last light of his happiness. "My brother died protecting the border, along with my parents. So, it's just my sister and me now."

"So, she's the one with the heart problem," I said, more to myself than to him. His silence was confirmation enough.

"Silence means yes," I murmured, piecing it together like a puzzle that finally made sense. "Why do you want to know?" His voice was wary now, trying to figure out if I was a dangerous ally or a complete lunatic.

"If my theory is correct," I said, urgency creeping into my voice, "then His Highness must never get ahold of your sister." Panic surged through me. How did I almost miss this?

The prince stared, confusion mixed with reluctant admiration. It seemed I'd stumbled onto something important, even in my chaotic reasoning.

"That's what I'm trying to prevent!" he snapped, his frustration palpable.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed closer. Panic tightened its grip on me. In a rush ,I grabbed his collar, yanking him close enough to feel his breath on my cheek. 'Listen carefully,' I whispered, the weight of my words anchoring us in this precarious alliance.

"Richard, Prince of Homonhon—when you 'die,' I'll place a bottle in your pocket. Spray it over yourself when you wake up. The scent will help you escape into the woods and lose His Highness's people trail for at least a day. They'll believe you died in interrogation. I'll make sure all traces of you are gone."

His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—suspicion, confusion, and a glimmer of trust.

"I'll be waiting for you at the playground—that's what your sister left for you. Don't make me regret this," I whispered, my voice barely masking the tremor of doubt that snaked through me. My fingers clenched tighter around Richard's collar, the fabric rough and unyielding under my hands. His pulse beat erratically beneath my thumb, a stark reminder of what I was about to risk—for both of us.

I forced my hand to steady. This was the only way. The prince of Marceau wouldn't stop until he had what he wanted, and Richard didn't stand a chance against his fury. But even now, as the plan unfolded in my mind, I couldn't shake the gnawing thought: What if I was wrong?

Richard's eyes locked onto mine, searching for assurance I didn't have the strength to give. His trust weighed heavily on me, a burden I hadn't fully anticipated. What if the medicine didn't work? What if stopping his heart wasn't enough to fool them?

I leaned in closer, my voice barely above a breath. "We only get one shot at this," I added, just as the guard appeared.

"Hey, visit's over. They need you upstairs," the guard warrior barked.

"This is pointless," I growled, shoving the prince away with a feigned irritation, storming out to sell the act.

'I'm almost there. Just a little more, and I might finally go back!' My pulse quickened, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum. I felt a tremor run through my hands, but I clenched my fists to steady them. For some reason, I got involved with all these royalty people. Why do I always meet a prince but not a duke when this place feels like the northern part of this region?

As I emerged from the dungeon, a familiar voice called out, "Tuk! You're safe!" It was Sire Leon, his voice thick with relief as he hurried toward me.

I was glad to see everyone alive, but the weariness etched on their faces spoke of how hard it had been to survive. "Leon, everyone... I'm glad you all made it," I said, pushing Leon's head away playfully as he leaned in for a hug. "But I can't say we're really safe just yet. We've got a problem with the scroll."

The group fell silent, tension creeping into the air.

"W-what do you mean?" Marco asked, his voice trembling slightly. I could see the worry written on all their faces as they absorbed my words.

"See this?" I revealed a small scratch on my neck, a parting gift from yesterday's encounter. "The prince gave me this."

Their faces paled as the implications sank in.

"Should we heal our wounds before we go collecting new ones?" I said sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood as I led them toward the clinic.

The war was over, but the scars it left behind would take time to heal—or so I thought. Strangely, my wounds and scratches healed within just a few days. It was so fast, I started to wonder—are their doctors even normal doctors, or magical healers? Or is it because of the ointment they used? Could their medicine be more advanced than ours?

I'm so stupid! Now that I think about it, all their products seem familiar, like things from my own world. So, does that mean the elixir from the black market could actually be real? I can't help but feel guilty for experimenting on the prince, but if it works like the seller promised, that would be amazing. If not... well, Plan B it is hehe.

But seriously, what kind of era is this? If I'd known I'd end up here, I would've researched the isekai thing properly instead of just casually reading and watching stuff about it. Now I'm stuck, with no clue what I'm doing. I guess I have no choice but to go with the flow... even if that flow turns into a storm.

Marceau had emerged as the sole ruler of the land, and with that came the promise of sweeping changes. I'd taken too many risks and made too many reckless gambles. But how much longer can I keep this up? I tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, unsettling and insistent: Would I survive the changes that were coming, or would these world swallow me whole?