CHAPTER 72……………………..
: The One Who Takes, The One Who Is Taken
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“What in the world is this disaster!?”
The imperial palace was in an uproar.
The people of the palace had believed that after Illeon became emperor, no more murders would occur.
But two ministers loyal to Illeon were found dead in the palace gardens on the same day, at the same hour.
The other ministers trembled in fear.
If the two leaders were killed, then perhaps they would be next.
“Who suddenly did such a mad thing!?”
A knight, who had been examining the corpses for a long while, shook his head.
“It seems difficult to conclude that this was murder.”
At the knight’s words, the ministers could not contain their fury and shouted.
“How could that be? Two perfectly healthy men as of yesterday are now dead, and you say they weren’t killed?”
“One of them was even the winner of the hunting tournament! Speak if you have a tongue! There’s no way such a man would end his own life!”
“The autopsy is utter nonsense! Bring Duke Calypso here at once!”
The knight pressed a hand to his forehead, troubled.
“There are no stab wounds, nor any signs of poison. Not a single mark on their bodies. How can I call this murder?”
“What nonsense! Did not Her Majesty the Empress and His Highness the Crown Prince also die like this? Surely there is a vicious murderer lurking in the palace!”
The ministers shouted in heated voices.
“What is this commotion.”
At the low voice, the ministers all fell silent at once.
Unlike his usual relaxed expression, Illeon’s face was weary as he walked in slowly, accompanied by his aide.
“We greet the radiant sun.”
The ministers bowed, clinging to Illeon as if he were their lifeline.
“Your Majesty, just yesterday the marquis and the count were both perfectly fine, and now they have been murdered! What are we to do?”
Illeon, already informed by his aide, was not surprised.
He had deliberately arrived late, even though he knew.
For Illeon, the deaths of a few ministers were insignificant.
After all, there was only one man who would have done such a thing.
Dietrich.
He must have done this knowing it would serve as a warning.
To kill without even drawing a blade—what terrifying talent.
And wasn’t he imitating Arthur’s exact killing method?
What on earth is he?
Illeon frowned in displeasure.
The ministers, seeing his ice-blue eyes turn cold as frost, felt a chill run down their spines.
“Nothing found on the bodies?” Illeon asked the knight.
“No, nothing inside either.”
“Hmm.”
Illeon pressed his tired eyes. Recently, his leisure had been vanishing quickly.
He resented wasting even a moment of his time on such trifling deaths.
Everyone was incompetent, and it infuriated him.
Can’t they handle such things on their own?
Feeling the need to reshuffle the ministers, Illeon spoke words he didn’t mean.
“Give them a proper burial. We cannot let the dignity of imperial ministers fall further.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The knight bowed deeply and began handling the bodies.
“…The dead speak no more. Return to your posts. You will be informed when the matter is concluded.”
“Your Majesty! Thank you. We trust only in you.”
The ministers, repeating their gratitude, withdrew.
Illeon narrowed his brows as he watched their retreating figures.
If he had been like the previous emperor—indulging in women and neglecting his duties—no minister would ever have sought him out like this.
Once they were out of sight, Illeon returned to his quarters.
He spoke to his aide.
“Replace the ministers with competent ones.”
One sentence was all it took to initiate a purge.
“And bring Duke Calypso before me immediately.”
The Emperor’s Audience Chamber.
Illeon lounged sideways on the golden throne upon the dais. Behind him, countless shadows flickered—his ever-present subordinates.
Soon, Dietrich entered in black armor.
Illeon disliked that jet-black hair.
But what he loathed most were Dietrich’s blood-red eyes.
Eyes impossible to read.
Eyes dry and disinterested in everything.
Unlike others whose hearts could be seen through easily, this man alone could not be read.
And granting him the title of duke had been a fatal mistake.
Damnable curiosity.
A piece not even on the chessboard, yet crawling up from nowhere.
That curiosity had now become a noose tightening around his own neck.
If he could return to the past, Illeon would never have granted him the dukedom.
Even if he held no lands, even if it were only in name, that title made him “duke.”
Illeon looked down at Dietrich below the dais.
“Why did you do it?”
He asked bluntly.
“What are you referring to, Your Majesty?”
Dietrich’s reply twisted Illeon’s mood.
“Do you take me for a fool, Duke?”
“I have no idea what Your Majesty is speaking of.”
Illeon rested his chin on his hand, smirking coldly.
“You think I would not know it was you, when the deed was done in Arthur’s exact manner?”
Illeon rose sharply from his seat.
“From this moment, I strip you of your dukedom. I gave it to you, so I may take it back without complaint.”
“…Are you anxious, Your Majesty?”
Dietrich lifted his head. At that instant, Illeon was struck speechless.
Not by the words, but by the expression in those red eyes—something he had never seen before.
Calm. Peace.
Eyes like still waters untouched by even a breath of wind.
Dietrich possessed something Illeon had always craved yet could never obtain.
An unshakable serenity.
It was something Illeon, bound to prophecy, would forever yearn for but never have.
“Does my existence now threaten you, Your Majesty?”
Dietrich’s words hit the mark.
“Even without this incident, were you not already planning to strip me of my title soon?”
While Dietrich’s face remained tranquil, Illeon’s twisted in fury.
“For scorning me, I will strip not only your dukedom but also your post as Captain of the Imperial Knights.”
Even with Illeon’s relentless words, Dietrich’s expression never changed.
“What is it you fear so much, Your Majesty?”
The taker and the taken.
Between the two, it was the taker who feared, and the one taken who remained at peace.
As Dietrich said, Illeon was afraid.
It was fear of an entirely different nature.
Illeon knew its source.
“What is it you see through me?”
Those crimson eyes, looking down on him as if from above.
At their sight, Illeon remembered the prophecy passed to the first Duke of Gredrick.
In the pitch-black darkness, a demon with red eyes appears.
Before him, no life, no matter how long, can escape death.
He shall cover eyes, block ears, devour all, and bring forth ruin.
The demon’s fluids heal the dying, a panacea for all ailments.
Until now, no one had understood the prophecy.
There had been others with red eyes before Dietrich, but none bore any such power.
Since prophecy was all metaphor, Illeon had been certain that “red eyes” was symbolic, not literal.
But now—he realized the prophecy had come true.
“You…”
Illeon’s blue eyes gleamed sharply.
“You dare.”
Dietrich had deceived everyone. No one had noticed. Even the late emperor must have died unaware that Dietrich possessed the power of healing.
He was not a mere chess piece—he had been above the board all along.
And that realization shattered Illeon’s long-held composure.
Ten long years.
Ten years Dietrich had lived as the emperor’s “mad dog,” biding his time, crawling low, only to bring Avalon to ruin.
Illeon had known that Dietrich’s role as mad dog was an act—but only now did he see it was all to deceive him.
“Did you place me on the throne on purpose?”
Dietrich did not deny it.
“After the crown prince’s death, you refrained from rebellion only to keep me trapped in the palace? To stop me from going down to the provinces? That was all within your calculations?”
Illeon laughed bitterly.
A crushing sense of defeat washed over him like a tide.
To think he had been toyed with by such a man.
With bloodshot eyes, Illeon gave an order to the subordinates standing behind him.
“Seize him at once.”
