CHAPTER 83………………………
: The Scapegoat
Having warmed her body enough, Celia stepped out of the lodging with Dietrich.
The rain that had poured down endlessly had already stopped completely.
In the darkened sky, countless stars were twinkling.
After hailing a passing carriage and getting off near the imperial palace, the two immediately sensed that the atmosphere was quite different from when they had first left the palace.
Despite it being late at night, the streets were crowded with people.
Everyone held a torch in hand, eyes wide with suspicion.
Dozens of eyes—men and women, young and old—were fixed on Celia and Dietrich, brimming with distrust.
Amidst the murmurs that sounded like a noisy marketplace, Dietrich looked around at the crowd.
“What’s going on here?”
At his words, an old man standing in front flinched.
But only for a moment—soon, the old man glared sharply at Dietrich and shouted:
“Is it true, what the papers say? How could the new Commander of the Imperial Knights dare to imprison His Majesty the Emperor! Emperor Illeon Gredrick Basilisk is the true ruler of Abelon!”
Though Illeon was locked in prison, his influence could not be ignored.
Even though I blocked any rumors from leaking outside the palace… and yet the people learned through the newspaper. In less than half a day, no less.
Dietrich’s eyes narrowed.
“This is all because of that witch, isn’t it! They say the only reason the Commander of the Knights is doing such things is because he has fallen under that woman’s spell. Is that rumor true?!”
This time it was a young woman who shouted.
“Do not insult my beloved with such foolish words.”
Dietrich said this while clasping Celia’s hand.
But Celia herself didn’t mind being called whatever people wanted.
People could call her a saint, or claim she deserved to be torn apart—it didn’t matter.
The first love of all, the Angel of Brillion.
They had once showered her with flattering nicknames, and now they branded her a witch.
“As citizens of Abelon, it is our right to protect our land. They say the witch feels no pain even if pierced with a sharp needle.”
An old woman leaning on her staff stepped forward and spoke.
“Here and now, we must confirm whether the Duke of Calypso’s lover can feel pain.”
“Hand the witch over!”
The people shouted with faces twisted in madness.
“Truly, you people are outrageous.”
Dietrich rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
At that single gesture, the frenzied crowd instantly faltered.
To Celia, these people looked utterly ridiculous.
Indeed, Abelon deserved to perish.
The women’s eyes burned with envy and jealousy, while the men’s eyes brimmed with lust and desire.
All they needed was a scapegoat.
Someone to vent their frustrations on, someone to satisfy their desires.
Celia’s gaze stopped on one particular spot in the crowd.
Among the torch-bearing masses, a young man with a face dripping with lust stared at her intently.
Celia knew that face all too well.
Vincent, the eldest son of the Viscount of Brillion—no blood relation of hers.
Quiet until now, Celia slowly parted her lips.
“Who is behind all of this?”
At her words, people exclaimed all at once.
“Th-the witch speaks!”
“Witch!”
“What do you gain by branding me a witch? You praise me when it suits you, and slander me when it doesn’t—how am I supposed to keep up with such tunes?”
Vincent cut into her words.
“Celia, stop denying it. I overlooked you sucking away my energy every night, but this is the end of my tolerance. Are your undergarments still red with rose patterns?”
The crowd’s murmurs grew louder at Vincent’s words.
Dietrich almost tore Vincent limb from limb on the spot, but sensing Dietrich’s murderous aura, Vincent slipped away quickly, vanishing into the mob.
Dietrich moved to chase after him, but Celia grabbed his arm.
“Dietrich. He’s just making up lies to turn things against us. He’s trying to use this easily-swayed crowd to get his hands on me.”
Her words calmed him.
“I’m fine.”
Celia gave him a soft smile.
That smile, as if she was too used to such things, made Dietrich’s heart ache.
He could only imagine what hardships she had suffered in the Viscount’s household.
Dietrich knew he could never truly understand her pain.
Unless one had endured it themselves, empathy would only ever be a hollow comfort.
Celia had been forced to use her powers to protect herself from scum worse than trash.
Her organs were ruined, her lifespan shortened—she became a terminal patient.
And with that broken body, she was summoned to the Emperor’s chambers and ended up killing him, believing him to be her true enemy.
“These vermin…”
A growl like a beast erupted from Dietrich’s throat.
The crowd, cowed by his aura, shrank back like frightened turtles.
Dietrich was truly furious.
People like these were always weak before the strong, yet endlessly cruel to the weak.
He had wormed his way into the filthy imperial court and become Commander of the Knights because he needed undeniable power—power that no one could look down on.
He had endured, flattering the Emperor who scorned him, until he became indispensable. He honed his swordsmanship to madness and eventually even attained the rank of Duke.
The dead Emperor had been nothing but a puppet, yet by no means a good man.
Dietrich had long wanted to rip him apart when he outlived his usefulness, but Celia had mercifully ended him with a dagger.
And still, the people would not leave this kind woman alone.
They exploited her without hesitation, and even now, knowing she was his lover, they branded her a witch and schemed to seize her.
Disgusting, vile creatures.
“Hand over the witch!”
“The lewd witch!”
Dietrich finally snapped.
“As Commander of the Imperial Knights, I hereby order every criminal present to be imprisoned!”
The people’s faces turned pale.
“You mean to side with that depraved witch?!”
“Come to your senses!”
No matter their cries, Dietrich did not retract his order.
He had the mob thrown into the capital’s prison.
“Duke Calypso!”
“To imprison His Majesty and now even us common folk—you’ve been deceived by the witch!”
Dietrich gave a low order to the prison guard.
“If they keep spewing nonsense, kill them without hesitation. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
At his words, the people instantly fell silent.
“And if you find any members of the Brillion household, bring them straight to me.”
“As you command.”
Dietrich then left the prison with Celia.
Before long, they arrived at the imperial palace.
One of the knights guarding the grand golden gates spotted Dietrich and rushed over.
“What is it?”
“…Please look at this!”
The knight pulled something from his cloak and handed it to Dietrich.
It was today’s newspaper.
Dietrich quickly unfolded it.
“A Harbinger of Abelon’s Fall: Who Is the Devil Who Burned the Sacred Great Temple?”
On the front page, beneath the large headline, were two portraits of suspects: Dietrich and Celia, side by side.
“The devil is said to come to you in the most beautiful form. Perhaps every tragedy in the imperial court is tied to these two.”
The article dripped with malice.
Dietrich’s eyes narrowed. He turned the page.
“Rebellion of the Commander of the Imperial Knights: His Majesty Imprisoned”
“Where is this paper published from?”
“By Duke Gredrick—no, by His Majesty the Emperor’s press.”
Illeon was still in prison.
Yet such a paper had been printed, spreading chaos among the people.
That meant Illeon still had spies inside the palace.
“Are you certain no one left the palace today?”
The knight nodded.
“Yes. There was one who tried to take advantage of the heavy rain to slip out, but as per your orders, we prevented it.”
“…”
“And yet this paper still came out, which must mean—”
Dietrich cut him off.
“Who was it that tried to leave?”
“A maid of the palace. But… she was blind from birth.”
A figure came to Dietrich’s mind.
“What was that maid’s name?”
