CHAPTER 74……………………
: Illeon’s Lust
“Wahahahaha!”
Balt burst into a loud laugh.
“You—do you even realize I’m a Swordmaster? Do you really think you can kill me?”
“……”
“You think the claws of some mere cat could ever reach me?”
Cellya stared at the mocking Balt with calm eyes.
“If you can so much as leave a single scratch on my body, then I’ll cooperate with you.”
At those words, Cellya’s lips curled.
“If you can leave even a claw mark on my face, I’ll lend you my strength. How about it?”
“Will you really keep that promise?”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Unlike that bastard Illeon.”
“Then shall we test it?”
“Test what?”
“Whether you’re stronger—or I am.”
“Go ahead, if you think you can.”
The moment Balt finished his words, the scent of hyacinth flowed out of Cellya’s entire being.
The sweet fragrance enveloped Balt.
The instant it brushed past his nose, Balt’s mind went hazy.
He couldn’t blink. Couldn’t speak.
Time had stopped completely for him.
Frozen and numb, Balt sat motionless while Cellya regarded him with cold eyes.
She rose from her seat and stepped toward him.
His bronzed skin, smooth and unmarred, glistened faintly.
Overconfident in his own strength, he had walked right into her trap. Cellya smiled faintly.
She drew a dagger from her robes. The blade, housed in a white sheath etched with unknown letters, was the very dagger Dietrich had given her.
She lifted it to Balt’s thick neck for a heartbeat, then shifted and drew a thin line across his left cheek.
A streak of blood slid down.
Then Cellya withdrew the scent.
Time, halted, began again for Balt.
Blink. Blink.
As if struggling to recover his lost focus, he blinked again and again—then felt something warm running down his cheek.
He touched it. Blood stained his fingers.
“……You.”
The dagger gleamed in Cellya’s hand.
Balt’s eyes widened.
A moment ago, they had only been speaking. Now, a wound had appeared from nowhere.
“You… what in the hell are you?”
His face showed utter disbelief.
“What did you just do to me?”
“If you want to know—”
Cellya had no intention of revealing her gift to him.
“First, keep your promise to cooperate with me.”
‘So it begins.’
Locked in his cell, Dietrich smirked with an untroubled face.
No one looking at him would believe he was a man stripped of his dukedom.
Outside the iron bars stood rows of Illeon’s knights. Shackles weighed on his wrists and ankles, leaving no room for escape.
And yet, most of the imperial knights still answered to him.
Hours later, a knight disguised flawlessly as one of Illeon’s men entered the prison to deliver Dietrich’s meal.
Inside a piece of torn bread was a small note:
—My lady has succeeded in winning Balt over.
A few days later.
Dietrich was still imprisoned. But the outside world had changed. Even while he sat behind bars, imperial ministers continued to be slain one by one.
Those who had suspected him of the murders began to wonder if perhaps he had been falsely accused.
Inside Illeon’s office—
“There must be an accomplice,” one of his men said, brows furrowed.
“An accomplice…?”
“Yes. Perhaps you should summon and interrogate his closest aides.”
The man glanced toward the closed doors.
Illeon stroked his jaw.
“We haven’t even caught the one who burned the Hall of Ministers. How can there be no progress in the investigation?”
“……What sort of man would dare burn the Hall? Duke Calypso is locked away. This is nothing less than blasphemy.”
Blasphemy.
A man who defied the gods.
Illeon’s lips parted slowly.
“……Balt.”
But why would Balt suddenly turn against him?
Yes, Balt had never approved of his rule. But to act with such reckless defiance? That wasn’t like him.
‘Why now?’
Another face crossed Illeon’s mind.
“Cellya. Bring Lady Cellya to me at once.”
Cellya was summoned.
“Cellya.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Her face before him was calm, unshaken. Not the faintest tremor.
With wide, innocent eyes she looked at him, feigning ignorance.
Those deer-like eyes, pretending not to know a thing.
Illeon, lounging in his chair, uncrossed his legs and smirked.
“The night the Hall of Ministers was engulfed in flames, you too left the palace, didn’t you?”
“……”
“Tell me, who did you meet that day, Lady Cellya?”
Cellya opened her eyes wide.
“Your Majesty, I only left for a walk. The palace was stifling. Someone as powerless as I—what could I possibly plot?”
Illeon twisted his mouth in a mocking smile.
“A walk, you say?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then let me ask you something else. Do you know anything about the ministers’ deaths?”
“Pardon?”
She looked at him with parted lips.
Illeon waited in silence. Finally, Cellya spoke again.
“How could I know? I don’t even know their names.”
Illeon narrowed his eyes, chin lifting.
Cellya bristled at this tedious exchange.
Even with Dietrich imprisoned, the killings had not stopped. To be summoned because of it—how irritating.
Of course, she and Dietrich, along with Balt, were behind it.
She couldn’t kill Illeon yet. Not yet.
He had to first taste despair in full before he died.
Still, sitting before him, unable to act, filled her with disgust.
“So that’s it. You’ll play innocent.”
“I truly know nothing, Your Majesty.”
Cellya wanted nothing more than to escape this suffocating room.
The weight of his arrogance pressed down unbearably.
Would he still wear that arrogance after losing everything, as she had? She intended to see.
“Cellya Brillion.”
Illeon gazed at her with a strange emotion.
His eyes traced her lips slowly.
That small face, the large eyes, the sharp nose. And those full, rosy lips.
At last he understood why so many men had been bewitched by her.
“Come closer to me.”
Lust darkened his predator’s gaze.
“……”
Cellya’s brows furrowed.
She did not obey.
“What’s wrong? Frozen?”
“……”
“Then I suppose I’ll come to you.”
He grasped her chin.
The instant his touch met her skin, goosebumps raced over her. She forced herself not to bolt.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
His blue eyes gleamed sharp as blades.
Her emerald eyes quivered.
“Truly… astonishingly so.”
“……”
Cellya knew that look. All too well.
No matter how skilled Illeon was at hiding his feelings, he could not conceal his lust.
She had seen it countless times in the eyes of men who wished to devour her.
With his hand on her chin, she jerked her head away.
His touch slid to her cheek.
Her skin was soft as fresh-fallen snow.
She scowled openly.
“Now I see why so many men craved you.”
“Dietrich is the only one who will ever have me.”
“Such certainty.”
Illeon’s smile twisted with amusement. Her defiance only intrigued him more.
“I like things of value.”
“……”
“The rarer they are, the more precious. The harder to obtain, the higher their worth.”
“……”
“Cellya Brillion—or rather, Princess Anastasia—you seem to understand that truth well.”
Looking down at her small form, Illeon considered what to do with her.
“What should I do with you?”
“……”
“How do you wish me to treat you?”
“I wish you would let me leave this place.”
Silence fell.
Then—
“Hahahaha!”
Illeon’s laugh thundered through the room. Cellya’s brows knitted tighter.
“Leave? That’s what you truly want, Cellya Brillion?”
“Then allow me to ask—what is it that Your Majesty truly wants of me?”
“Well…”
He studied her calm eyes.
“What I desire—is it your death? Or your life itself?”
His gaze narrowed.
“Perhaps… both.”
