~Chapter 50~
Empress Dowager’s Palace.
Roselia sat in her office with the most peaceful expression on her face.
It’s over now, Killian Winters.
There was even a faint smile on her lips.
From her point of view, it was only natural. At last, she had managed to get rid of the thorn in her eye—Killian. How could she not be pleased?
It had been days since she’d felt this happy. Perhaps never before.
“Evidence? Why would I need something like that? I just named Killian Winters as the culprit.”
Of course, Roselia knew better than anyone else. She wasn’t blind.
“Then the culprit of this case is Killian Winters—no matter the circumstances!”
She knew full well how reckless her actions were.
But what did that matter?
What she had declared in front of the nobles was nothing but her truth. Even if Killian wasn’t guilty, the moment she decided to brand him as guilty, he became guilty.
That was all there was to it.
Still… one thing lingered in her mind.
I should have finished this more thoroughly.
They had yet to catch the true publisher of Sunday’s Exposé.
“……”
Roselia’s calm face twisted slightly as her hand tightened around the latest issue of Sunday’s Exposé.
Perhaps the real winners are those who sit safely inside peaceful halls, gossiping while watching the war unfold. The ones always blessed by fortune, the privileged who never need to risk themselves.
“Ha…”
In the highest places of the palace, they call this victory ‘good luck’ or ‘divine blessing.’ What refined, noble words those are.
But doesn’t Duke Killian Winters always seem lucky? Or perhaps it should be said… always favored by the gods.
Someone once said that justice was for everyone.
But if this victory had truly been “justice,” then why were the names of the ones who bled forgotten, while the names of those who raised a toast were remembered?
If only those born flawless could dream of justice, then it is not justice at all—but a childish game of power. True justice must be something everyone can dream of.
Of course, Roselia suspected Aisha.
In fact, it would be stranger if Aisha wasn’t the publisher—if she wasn’t “Bibi Bubblemouth.”
But unfortunately, Roselia had no proof.
“Tell me, Lady Aisha… do you enjoy writing, perhaps?”
She remembered their first meeting in the Emerald Palace.
“Would you share my hobby, Lady Aisha? I’ve been collecting poems written by ladies of the court. If you compose one right here and now, I’ll treasure it dearly.”
That little stunt—pretending it was a hobby—had been nothing more than an excuse to test Aisha’s handwriting.
At the time, Roselia hadn’t been completely certain. But she had watched Aisha’s reaction closely.
“It may be lacking, but I hope it pleases you, Your Majesty.”
Shameless thing.
You dare put on such an act before me?
Roselia tossed aside Sunday’s Exposé and picked up another sheet of paper—Aisha’s so-called “poem.”
Justice does not choose by birth. It calls to those who can bleed. A heart born from the edge of a sword cannot be judged by the tip of a tongue. The names remembered longest are those who fought. All is for the peace and safety of Drakxion.
Even reading it again, it was absurd.
But she couldn’t use this poem against Aisha. After all, Roselia herself had demanded it, and the content—at least on the surface—was harmless.
Yes, she could nitpick the earlier lines, but the final stanza erased all suspicion: All is for Drakxion’s peace and safety.
No one could argue with that.
A calculated move, no doubt, written in just a fleeting moment.
And Roselia hadn’t even achieved her true goal. Aisha’s handwriting was entirely different from Bibi Bubblemouth’s.
Even so, Roselia didn’t give up.
But no matter how much she investigated, she couldn’t trace what Aisha Ashton had been doing after leaving the Ashton family. It was as if someone had deliberately erased every trace.
Aisha Ashton is being protected. By someone else.
But she never suspected Killian. She knew exactly what kind of man he was. If he had been tied to her from the beginning, he never would have allowed such articles to be written.
Whoever erased her tracks must be someone with great skill. Someone strong enough to hide their own identity as well.
Her suspicion narrowed to one possibility.
…The Dark Guild, Rune.
Roselia’s instincts were sharp. And they were rarely wrong.
Yes, she was certain—Aisha Ashton and Rune were connected.
If only I had tied Rune into this as well.
Killian Winters and Rune—the two thorns that forever irritated her. If she could remove them both at once…
No. Rune can wait. What matters now is getting rid of Killian Winters.
Rune was already despised by the empire’s citizens. Roselia wasn’t the only one who hated them.
But Killian was different.
His threat came not from hatred but from power. More and more people had begun to follow him, and his political influence had grown steadily stronger.
Perhaps Killian himself never wanted it, but Roselia didn’t care.
She only needed him gone.
Everything will proceed as planned. All I must do is wait here for the results. Soon, Killian Winters and Aisha Ashton will be dragged before me.
Roselia smiled in satisfaction.
But at that moment—
“Empress Dowager! Your Majesty!”
From outside, Bill’s voice rang out—breathless and desperate.
