I Became a Side character in a BL novel

62- Ashamira's curse

At the dining hall...

The table was quieter than the last time. The nobles were groggy and tired from the banquet last night.

I was already seated, a piece of bread in one hand and zero appetite to go with it.

The Countess, ever composed, sat at the head of the table, elegant and strict as usual.

"My Lady," Marquis Rivalls spoke, lifting his cup toward her, "last night's banquet was delightful. A welcome reward after a fine hunt."

The Countess answered gracefully. "Thank you for your kind words. I am glad that you enjoyed it"

Then she set her cup down, fingers tapping lightly against the porcelain. "And speaking of rewards-has anyone had luck deciphering more of the Golden Fruit poem? Any insight into the treasure's whereabouts?"

Silence.

The excitement that was there yezterday had now fizzled into disinterest. Most of them weren't here for riddles-they came here for the hunting trophies, wine, and recreation. The crowd were already skeptical and now even more disinterested in the hypothetical treasure.

But two men did move.

Lassells and Droit exchanged glances and then Droit cleared his throat. "Countess-if I may?"

"Is there, by any chance, an oak tree within your estate grounds... one near a pond?"

My eyes widened.

I instantly remembered the memories of last night.

Slumped against the trunk, bottle in his hands, shirt loose, eyes bloodshot.

Christopher.

The crown prince of the nation.

"If I can't have you no one will."

No. Stop.

I cut the memory short. Pushed it down.

Now was not the time.

I forced my gaze to remain on my plate. Christopher was sitting away from me this time, out of my sight. But every cell in my body told me he was looking at me.

I didn't dare look at him.

The Countess said. "Why yes. There is an old oak-massive, quite ancient. It stands on the northwest edge of the garden, by a stone pond. Has been there since my husband's great grandfother's time- is what I have been told."

Droit gave a small, satisfied nod.

Beside him, Detective Lasells narrowed his eyes.

"And... does that tree happen to have a raven's nest?" Droit continued.

The Countess's eyes flickered with surprise, "Indeed. A very old one. Every spring, the same flock of ravens returns to that branch-generation after generation. How did you know?"

Droit smiled faintly. "The poem, My Lady. The first of its lines say that: Looking at it's crown in the mirror, The proud oak tree smiles. Where the cries of the ravens resounds.-a poetic suggestion that this oak tree stands beside a water body . The 'crown' it wears is not gold, but the nest of ravens!"

The room stirred, a few nobles perking up slightly, though many still looked unimpressed and confused.

I was correct then!

Last night I had been to that same tree near the pond as mentioned in the poem.

The Countess tilted her head. "So you believe the poem is describing this particular tree?"