CHAPTER 49……………………….
Unlike a moment ago, Trisha lifted her head and stood with confidence.
The emperor’s expression twisted briefly, but only for an instant.
He skillfully concealed it and asked in a benevolent tone,
“If you knew the real culprit, why did you not say so from the beginning?”
“I believed that once it was proven that His Grace the Grand Duke of Winchester was not the culprit, the true offender would naturally be revealed.”
“And what if the real culprit had not been revealed?”
At the relentless questioning, Trisha fell silent for a moment. The emperor continued.
“Do you dare to stand before me now and attempt to shield the one who tried to poison the princess?”
“I have committed a crime worthy of death, Your Majesty!”
Trisha bowed her head to the floor once more.
“But I could not bring myself to accuse my aunt—the Marchioness of Devon—with my own hands!”
“…What?”
“It was my aunt who ordered the poisoning of Her Highness the Princess. These are the letters exchanged between the cook and my aunt.”
Trisha took several letters from inside her dress.
Though the subject was vague and the contents ambiguously written, the handwriting was unmistakably similar to that of the Marchioness of Devon.
“If you require more conclusive evidence—”
“That is enough.”
The emperor cut her off.
His face was contorted with what seemed like anguish.
Instead of pressing him further, Trisha quietly rose to her feet.
“If I must be punished for this matter, I will accept it willingly.”
“……”
“However, considering that I confessed in advance and sought leniency rather than having this revealed through investigation, if you would spare my aunt’s life—”
“Did I not say that is enough?”
The emperor interrupted her once more.
Only then did Trisha close her mouth and lower her head.
“It would be best to end the banquet here.”
“Your Majesty…”
“The interrogation of the guilty cook shall be entrusted to Count Bourbon.”
“…I am deeply honored, Your Majesty.”
With Count Bourbon’s bow, the emperor left the banquet hall.
It was no wonder he was shaken—he had been betrayed twice by the Marchioness of Devon, once his former lover.
“It would be best to follow His Majesty’s words and conclude tonight’s banquet here.”
The one who stepped in to tidy the emperor’s departure was Hestia—the very person who had nearly been poisoned.
“Let everyone return to the ballroom and continue enjoying the festivities.”
Hestia’s face looked strangely lonely, and Trisha felt she understood why.
She probably had a vague idea of how the emperor would handle this matter.
“Trisha, are you insane?”
On the way to the ballroom, Edwin exploded with anger as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Then, perhaps realizing his voice was too loud, he dragged Trisha into a nearby empty room.
“You knew Aunt was the culprit—so why let that bastard Millard go?”
He raged that it would have been better to let Millard take the blame entirely. Trisha remained silent.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? You were talking just fine earlier.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you beforehand.”
Trisha began gently.
“But I thought if things went wrong, it would be better for me to take all the blame alone.”
Unlike Rizaina, who always demanded something of him, Trisha’s depth of thought softened Edwin’s heart slightly.
No. That wouldn’t do.
He shook his head and pressed her with a stiff expression.
“Fine, let’s say that’s true. But what about accusing Aunt?”
“Aunt left decisive evidence while preparing this scheme.”
“Decisive evidence?”
“Her Highness the Princess already knew everything.”
“…Sister Hestia?”
As Edwin’s eyes widened, Trisha nodded.
Then she produced letters she had not handed to the emperor earlier.
“Th-this is…!”
“While I was frequently entering the palace on Her Highness’s orders, I happened to gain access to her room.”
She laid the letters before him, saying she had found them there.
“These were all in Her Highness’s secret drawer.”
Ignoring Trisha’s casual remark about having luckily smuggled them out, Edwin began reading.
The letters described someone plotting the princess’s poisoning. Though the culprit was vaguely described, anyone familiar with the Marchioness of Devon could easily infer it was her.
As Edwin’s eyes wavered, Trisha sighed as if in regret.
“You have no idea how shocked I was when I first saw them.”
It was a lie.
The letters were all fabricated for plausibility.
That was why she had waited until the emperor’s judgment might be clouded before presenting them—so he wouldn’t detect they were fake.
In truth, even if he realized they were fake, it wouldn’t matter.
Once suspicion had taken root in the emperor’s heart, the authenticity of the letters was irrelevant.
Aunt had already squandered every opportunity His Majesty had given her.
There would be no next time.
Thanks to that, Trisha had been able to proceed boldly with her plan.
“You weren’t involved too, were you?”
“What? Of course not!”
At Trisha’s probing tone, Edwin jumped in alarm.
With a relieved sigh, she retrieved the letters. Edwin was unlikely to see through the forgery that had fooled even the emperor—but one could never be too careful.
“It might even have been Her Highness’s doing that peaches were served for dessert today.”
“…That was Sister Hestia’s doing?”
“His Majesty loves peaches, but Her Highness cannot eat them. She likely chose something she could safely refuse under the pretext of allergy, considering the risk of poison.”
“Now I understand. I wondered why His Majesty looked so displeased at the peach tart…”
“He was probably thinking of Her Highness. Since he couldn’t reveal her allergy to everyone, he simply ordered a different dessert.”
As Edwin nodded in understanding, Trisha swallowed her inner laughter.
In truth, she herself had suggested serving peach dessert at tonight’s banquet.
She clearly remembered how, in her previous life, Millard had been framed as Hestia’s poisoner.
This time, she had proposed peaches to ensure there would be proof he could not possibly be the culprit.
And yet the emperor had still tried to interrogate Millard.
His willingness to punish someone he currently despised rather than seek the truth was truly despicable.
At the same time, Trisha pitied him.
He had now completely lost the affection of the daughter he cherished most.
As you sow, so shall you reap.
Suppressing her smile, she continued gently.
“If this matter is exposed, even the Grand Ducal House of Mason might suffer. I judged it better to accuse Aunt and seek survival.”
“I… suppose so…”
Edwin frowned, rubbing his chin.
For the sake of the family’s future, it was the right choice. Yet guilt toward his aunt surfaced belatedly.
“Don’t worry. Since I was the one who accused her first, His Majesty must be thinking deeply about it.”
Trisha anticipated even that emotion.
“Though I claimed to have decisive evidence, he didn’t ask what it was. That suggests he has no intention of taking her life.”
“But Sister Hestia won’t stay silent.”
“She won’t—but she won’t be able to do anything either.”
Edwin tilted his head.
“What do you mean?”
“If Her Highness intended to accuse Aunt, she would have done so the moment she obtained those letters.”
“That… makes sense.”
“She likely thought accusing her would be useless.”
The emperor would not take the Marchioness of Devon’s life over an attempted poisoning.
Even if the victim had been his most beloved daughter.
It didn’t mean he valued the marchioness more. It meant that the reverse was equally true.
“So there’s no need to worry. His Majesty will never harm Aunt.”
“…Really?”
“Of course.”
Trisha nodded with a faint smile.
The emperor would not take the Marchioness of Devon’s life.
However…
He would sever her limbs—metaphorically—so she would never again dare to touch Hestia.
For someone who had attempted to poison a member of the imperial family, it was a lenient fate.
It would be a lie to say she felt no regret. But the emperor’s feelings for the marchioness were that deep—there was no alternative.
Instead, His Majesty would feel a great debt toward Hestia because of this incident.
And in equal measure, he would push the Marchioness of Devon further from his heart.
For now, that was enough.
After all, living on in misery could be far more painful than dying in an instant.
