Episode 5
Maid Yulia spoke gently, as if to comfort Isabel.
“Please don’t worry too much, Sister. If it’s the eastern tower, not the western one, you’re still fine.”
“Still fine?”
“Yes. It means His Highness still has expectations of you. Please take it that way.”
It seemed Lionel had been disappointed today and lowered his evaluation — but not enough to dispose of her outright.
Isabel let out a small sigh, unsure whether that was something to be relieved or worried about. Yulia encouraged her brightly.
“So please, do your best tomorrow.”
“Do my best… at what, exactly?”
“Isn’t that something you should know, Sister?”
It was a fair point, but Isabel’s head still ached whenever she thought of Lionel.
After crossing the castle and climbing flight after flight of stairs, she arrived at a room far humbler than her previous quarters.
Still, it was better than being thrown into a dungeon — that much, she was content with.
“I’ll bring your things and bedding, Sister. I’m glad I can serve you until tomorrow.”
“…Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I’ll be back at noon. Please rest.”
After Yulia left, Isabel looked around the small room and sank down onto the bed.
Now, she understood.
Yesterday, Lionel had admitted defeat twice — and she’d been rewarded with a fine chamber.
But today, she had failed both as a preacher and as a nun, and was sent to this cold, worn place.
One could call it a transparent system, but changing her treatment so drastically in a single day — that was nothing short of manipulation through fear.
“So this is how he plays his games…”
She murmured and stared up at the ceiling, her conversation with Lionel looping endlessly in her mind.
The fact that she hadn’t managed a proper rebuttal gnawed at her.
But regret was useless now.
As much as Isabel had tried to read Lionel, he had already seen right through her — his insight simply sharper than hers.
“So I have to face him again tomorrow…?”
She had already accepted she might die doing this.
Instead of despair or resignation, a flicker of defiance rose within her — a desire to strike back.
She had never imagined being toyed with like this, but now that she’d seen his methods, she had a sense of the battlefield.
At least it wasn’t completely one-sided. There might be a path to turn this around.
“Hmm…”
She closed her eyes and recalled Lionel’s black hair.
He was every inch a prince — commanding and ruthless, merciless in spotting and exploiting weakness.
Yet, when someone intrigued him, he gave them chance after chance. The fact that he hadn’t crushed her outright proved that.
The question was how to steer that interest to her advantage.
Preaching is only part of it.
He had demanded a sermon, but it didn’t have to remain within that form.
Setting the holy text down beside her bed, Isabel realized she likely wouldn’t be reading from it tomorrow.
The next morning, Isabel was summoned again to the audience chamber.
Just like before, Lionel dismissed his attendants and set down his quill.
“No discomfort, I trust?”
“None, Your Highness.”
Though the cold had made her shiver through the night, she refused to show weakness.
Lionel asked in his usual dry tone,
“You seem in better spirits today. Then — are you ready to preach?”
“Your Highness, before that, I have a request.”
She spoke abruptly.
After a day of pondering how to take control, she had reached one bold conclusion — she would strike first.
“If Your Highness will confess your sins, I will hear your confession.”
“…What?”
For the first time, Lionel looked genuinely taken aback.
“Do nuns in the Mineth faith have authority to perform confession?”
“No. But is that really important right now?”
“Heh.”
Performing confession without priestly authority was a grave overreach, one punishable by excommunication — but Isabel didn’t care. She already knew Lionel wasn’t the sort of man to bother with such formalities.
“Very well. Do as you please.”
As expected, Lionel accepted — not out of generosity, but curiosity.
Isabel lowered her veil to cover her face — turning the chamber into a confessional booth. She would not meet his eyes.
She had taken the lead. Now the real test began.
“Have you confessed recently, Your Highness?”
“It’s been over five years.”
“Then please tell me of any sins you have carried since.”
“Sins…? Recently, I’ve threatened and detained a nun.”
A cutting reply.
The brazenness nearly left her speechless, but she kept her composure.
“Why did you do that?”
“I’m still looking for the reason. I may never find it.”
She didn’t ask what he meant — she understood it was his way of reminding her she was being tested even now.
She could feel his eyes fixed on her through the veil — two locked gazes divided only by cloth.
Then, Lionel broke the silence.
“Do you forgive sins without reason?”
Isabel hadn’t expected to hear that word — forgive — from his lips. She steadied her voice.
“You must first seek your reason.”
“I asked if you forgive them.”
“…There are no sins beyond forgiveness.”
As a nun, she had no choice but to answer that way.
And yet — this wasn’t how she had planned it.
She felt as if he were playing her like an instrument. Adjusting her veil, Isabel pressed on.
“Please speak of another sin.”
“Killing those who must die — that’s no sin, is it?”
“That depends on the cause.”
“If I start explaining every cause, we’ll be here all day.”
“Then confess over several days.”
She meant it sincerely. She would hear all of his sins if that’s what it took.
But Lionel had no such patience.
“Forget the past. What about sins I will commit?”
The atmosphere shifted.
This was no longer a sparring match — his true cruelty surfaced.
It was as if he were vowing to sin with all his strength.
Confronted with that naked malice, Isabel clenched her trembling hands. Old memories crawled up from her skin like fire.
“What sin will you commit, Your Highness?”
“Anything.”
“…Will you kill the nun you detained?”
She knew even asking could cost her life — yet she asked anyway.
Lionel’s answer came like the edge of a blade.
“Yes. I’ll kill her. I’ll kill the nun, the duke, my sister — all of them. Every last one.”
He recited the vow with chilling calm — no trace of irony or exaggeration.
Something was driving Lionel to the brink, though Isabel couldn’t tell what.
Just as she felt the urge to lift her veil and see his face, Lionel spoke again.
“Isabel.”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
“You’ve won today. Go.”
Victory and defeat meant little to her now. What she wanted was to continue — to reach him somehow.
But this wasn’t the moment. If she pressed further, he’d crush her without hesitation.
So she stepped back.
Yulia entered on cue, and Lionel ordered her to move Isabel’s quarters once again.
Outside the chamber, Isabel lifted her veil, and Yulia smiled.
“You did it, Sister. Congratulations.”
“…Is that really something to celebrate?”
“Of course. If His Highness acknowledged you, that’s no small thing. Cases like this are rare, you know?”
Yulia chattered cheerfully as she escorted Isabel back to the fine guest room she’d had the first night.
“Would you like anything special for lunch? His Highness will allow it — I can request something.”
“No, thank you. Bread is enough.”
“So modest, honestly.”
Still smiling, Yulia left and closed the door.
“I’m exhausted…”
Once alone, Isabel finally felt her tension drain away.
But instead of lying down, she sat by the window, fingers brushing her veil.
Lionel’s voice echoed in her mind — the same voice that had once threatened her life, now filled with raw, terrible intent.
He had promised to kill her. She knew he wasn’t joking. He had already ordered her death once — and spared her only out of whim.
And yet, instead of fear or anger… Isabel felt an urge to comfort him.
“I must be losing my mind…”
She had long suspected she wasn’t entirely sane —
but today, she was forced to face that truth more clearly than ever.
