Chapter 17
Prina stared blankly at the wine Declan had taken away.
What on earth have I done?
To save Hugo, she had lingered around an assassin, switched out the wine from Daisy Hall, and on top of that, even replaced poisoned wine…
She had tried to save Declan Caesar.
“You can’t.”
“…What?”
A gentle voice drifted down from above her head. The empty glass tilted once more at the tip of his fingers.
“That’s how people get confused. Did you think I was Draven?”
The corners of Declan’s eyes curved with terrifying beauty.
Who was Declan Caesar?
A man powerful enough to crush someone’s skull from afar with a mere gesture, a cruel monster who never hesitated to torture, imprison, threaten, or violate others.
And that man…
Was Hugo?
The knight who had suddenly been addressed flinched beside them.
“This guy’s too stiff to be entertaining.”
Declan smiled as if amused, but Prina—and everyone else—froze like stone.
His voice carried a light laugh, but what lay beneath it was not a question. It was confirmation.
A warning disguised as curiosity.
“…”
“This is my first time experiencing something like this.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“So I’m wondering… how I should react.”
It meant he already found her suspicious. He knew she had switched the contents.
A chilling coldness closed around Prina’s throat.
The sensation crawling down her spine was so vivid she couldn’t even deny it.
This is definitely…
I’m completely screwed, aren’t I…?
“You may leave now.”
His voice was soft, but to Prina it had always been frightening.
He had been scary enough as Hugo, but now the terror had doubled.
“Oh, and one more thing—this isn’t a farewell.”
He smiled brightly.
An absurdly beautiful smile, as though nothing at all had happened.
Prina fled the banquet hall and practically ran back to the imperial kitchen.
No! Nooo—!
She simply couldn’t process the situation.
“F-first, c-calm down… calm down and l-let’s organize the situation…”
At this point, even she had no idea what she was saying.
- Hugo is Declan Caesar.
- But then why was he dating me…?
- He even confessed it was love at first sight.
- Again, Hugo—no, Declan—confessed to me.
- But he doesn’t seem to remember me. Probably…
- And I boldly ruined his plan right in front of his eyes…
“Argh!”
Her brain cramped.
She said she’d organize things, but nothing was organized at all!
The whole “love at first sight” confession was suspicious from the beginning!
But back then, Prina had fallen for it. Why?
Because Hugo’s face had been ridiculously beautiful…
I thought it was just transmigration-protagonist luck…
…She must have been insane.
But real life was brutal.
Hugo is really Declan?
Then why date her?
Why her…?
Every action taken by Declan Caesar in the novel had been the result of meticulous calculation.
He was a man incapable of loving anyone by nature, and he never allowed anyone truly close to him.
But whenever necessary, Declan seduced people without hesitation.
As a result, countless people had fallen for his disgusting performance.
Believing completely that he loved them, they followed him all the way into ruin.
…But do I even have any value worth using?
At that moment, a line from the novel—one that had only briefly passed by—surfaced in her memory.
Doesn’t one’s memory become clearer at death’s doorstep?
[He lured in a bastard child who lived like the dead by exploiting their anxiety with sweet words and destroyed them; he approached a noble on the verge of ruin wearing the face of salvation; and to the knight who pledged loyalty…]
Prina’s thoughts naturally stopped on a single phrase.
“A bastard child who lived like the dead.”
Wait… is that me?
Honestly, it really sounded like her.
Somewhere in the distance, she could practically hear the bell tolling for her life.
Outer grounds of the imperial palace.
A rocket pendant floating in midair glimmered beneath the moonlight.
Click.
The pendant opened, revealing a bloodstained portrait inside.
The person’s face was completely obscured by blood.
Declan stared intently at the pendant.
Why hadn’t he thrown away this piece of trash yet?
He couldn’t understand it.
Something felt as though it was about to surface in his mind, yet never did. At this point it had gone beyond irritation and become thirst.
Whenever he looked at the pendant, an urge to return to the past rose within him.
If he hadn’t splattered blood inside that enemy castle back then, perhaps he would have recognized the owner of the face that irritated him so much.
He couldn’t even remember why he had injured his head in the first place.
It was certain that part of his memory had been erased.
He had thought it wasn’t severe enough to interfere with daily life.
That assumption had been mistaken.
It bothered him immensely.
He almost wished the misunderstanding had lasted longer.
“…Your Grace, why did you personally drink the wine?”
Leaves rustled in the cold wind. Beneath the tree, the aide watched Declan slowly roll the pendant between his fingers.
According to the original plan, the wine was supposed to be drunk by Draven, the knight planted by Count Seighton.
The traitorous spy was meant to receive the consequences of his actions there and then.
Declan had merely intended to leisurely watch Count Seighton’s face turn pale.
But suddenly, he changed the plan.
“There wasn’t any poison in it to begin with.”
“…What do you mean?”
The servant who had delivered Count Seighton’s ceremonial wine was an assassin they had bribed.
And they had already received confirmation that the mission had succeeded.
“Investigate the maid who brought the wine.”
“Yes. I’ll look into it immediately as ordered.”
Lenia Felt.
There was no doubt she had interfered.
He needed to know why.
Was she truly one of Count Seighton’s spies…?
“You’re one of Lord Caesar’s knights, aren’t you?”
Why had that voice suddenly resurfaced in his mind?
The people who benefited most from the poisoned wine disappearing were Draven—who had been supposed to die smoothly—and Count Seighton, who would otherwise have been framed.
Did she try to save Draven?
There were too many contradictions in her behavior for her to simply be a spy, so his thoughts naturally reached that conclusion.
Perhaps that was why it irritated him.
Which was why he kicked the man collapsed at his feet.
“Ghk!”
“Sir Draven, you’re bleeding quite a lot. Does it hurt?”
Declan gazed indifferently down at Draven, who lay dying in a pool of blood.
The foolish knight had ambushed Declan the moment the banquet ended.
Apparently, Declan’s unarmed back had looked defenseless.
“Well, what can you do? If you were going to live like a dog, you should’ve chosen your master more carefully.”
“Urgh… y-you too… someday… you’ll never escape unscathed either, you monstrous bastard…”
Even in the thick black silence, countless stars glittered overhead.
Declan seemed to fall briefly into thought before slowly smiling.
“I suppose I should send Count Seighton one more gift.”
Declan slowly picked up the longsword lying on the ground.
Originally it had hung at Draven’s waist, but now it rested fully in Declan’s hand.
This was an abandoned corner of the imperial palace.
Which meant he had all night to carve flesh apart and savor the screams.
“…And, Your Grace, I have a report regarding the stolen Caesar family heirloom.”
“Go on.”
Declan answered absentmindedly while leveling the sword tip.
The item that had vanished without a trace while he was away at war.
The ring he always wore.
Who had stolen it, and how?
Declan’s crimson eyes darkened coldly.
Even if someone had stolen it, they would never escape unharmed.
The moment the ring—bound to the head of the family—recognized someone other than its true owner, it would unleash a dreadful curse and wither the thief’s body into a miserable death.
“A tracking relic was reportedly discovered at the Arke Highlands. It’s expected to appear at auction soon.”
At the unexpected news, Declan rested his chin on his hand.
“It seems we’ll recover the heirloom before long.”
The life of the thief whose whereabouts had remained unknown was already as good as resting in the palm of his hand.
