The morning in Batavia always arrived with a stifling humidity. Julian sat on the back veranda of the Governor's Palace, watching the vines creeping up the massive white pillars. His mind was still back in Penjaringan—on Elena's wild gaze and the scent of salt clinging to his shirt.
"You returned very late last night," Friedrich's voice broke the silence.
The Governor sat at a round table, surrounded by plates of Pisang Goreng and colorful Kue Lapis. He looked relaxed, yet there was something sharp in the way he sliced his fruit.
"I just wanted to see the other side of this city, Friedrich," Julian replied flatly, trying to maintain his persona as Elias. "The docks have a charm of their own."
Friedrich chuckled, then placed a brown leather folder on the table. He leaned back, staring at Julian with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Enough with this charade, Julian Valerius van de Berg."
The name hit Julian like a bullet. The coffee glass in his hand trembled slightly. He hadn't expected Friedrich to drop that bomb so quickly, amidst a seemingly peaceful breakfast.
"Why is your face so pale, Julian? Did you think the name 'Elias' and a cheap linen shirt could hide the royal blood flowing through your veins?" Friedrich opened the folder, revealing a copy of the documents Julian had stolen in The Hague. "I know about your uncle's safe. I know about those secret files. And I know you came to find the bastard, Adrian."
Julian took a sharp breath. The entire "hahahihi" scenario he had built collapsed instantly. "Then why did you let me into your palace if you already knew who I was?"
"Because you are my best bait," Friedrich pushed a small saucer of bright red Sambal toward Julian. "Adrian is hiding somewhere among those rotting canals. He has a network of protectors, and I need someone with an 'innocent' face like yours to infiltrate them. Use Kartikasari, use that harbor woman. Find your brother, or I will make sure the world knows their favorite prince died a gruesome death in the colonies."
Julian stared at the plate before him. He took a small dab of the chili with his finger, feeling the heat sear his tongue instantly. It wasn't just the spice; it was the taste of the noose tightening around his neck.