Chapter 15
Both the Emperor and Berthold turned to me at the same time, eyes wide in surprise.
But me, Cici—
I was the bold little girl the Emperor himself had acknowledged.
“My dads told me so. If you fight with a friend, you shouldn’t bottle it up—you have to settle it right away.”
“I told you, too much time has already—”
“Even if you didn’t settle it right away, you still have to talk it out someday.”
Silence.
“If you don’t, they said you’ll even kick your blanket off in your sleep, like this, and dream about it too.”
Still silence.
“And a huge rock will form in here, making your heart feel heavy for the rest of your life.”
That, for the record, was something my dads told me the day I came home after fighting with a friend.
And they were right. I really did toss and turn for days until we finally made up. Even dreamed about it.
“Hah… what you say is true, but—”
This time, Berthold spoke before the Emperor could.
“—grown-ups have their own circumstances, you know.”
I shot him a secret glare.
If Dad Kyle were here, he would’ve said: What’s it to you? If it doesn’t concern you, stay out of it!
“Sometimes, though, the eyes of a child are needed too.”
The Emperor, meanwhile, seemed lost in deep thought. He murmured again, this time not even looking at me.
“A conversation, you say…”
My heart jumped. Could this be… a sign of reconciliation?
“Whether that man would even grant me a conversation, I do not know.”
Ouch. Painfully accurate self-awareness.
I pursed my lips. He was right.
There was no way Dad Harzen would simply agree to talk with the Emperor, not after all these years.
But… what if I stepped in here?
If I intervened, maybe—just maybe—they’d talk, even once.
Of course, that would only work if…
“Then I’ll talk to him myself. I’ll make sure of it.”
…if that meddling man weren’t in the way.
I glanced at Berthold, smiling as always, and jutted out my lip.
As if his will had played no part at all in driving Father and the Emperor apart? Impossible.
No. He’s the one who wanted Father unhappy. Perhaps Father grew up so lonely in the palace because Berthold plotted it that way from the start.
If I want to save Mother, I’ll have to stop this man first.
I’ll have to dig into everything Berthold has done, and shatter the illusion Father still clings to.
And so—
“Later, you and I need to talk. Together.”
I flashed him a bright smile, as if nothing had happened.
Good luck shaking me off. I’m Cecilia—the girl even my dads acknowledge for her stubbornness.
Anyway!
Berthold surveillance mode: ON.
And so, the surprise tea-time with the Emperor came to an end. After Mother and Father returned—
“Would you consider speaking with His Majesty, Harzen?”
“Is that really necessary?”
Father shot Berthold a look of outright distaste, as if to say, Why would I torment myself further when I already feel this way?
I glanced at Mother, caught awkwardly between the brothers, and rolled my eyes.
Berthold, unsurprised, simply went on smiling.
“I regret pressing you so soon after your return. Still, I thought perhaps it would do you good to talk at least once.”
Father said nothing.
“After all, you never know. Perhaps time has softened His Majesty, and—”
“I doubt it.”
Father cut him off coldly.
“I have no wish to squander my emotions on something so useless.”
Cold.
Too cold!
“But, Dad—my dads always say you have to make up with your friends—”
I couldn’t hold back anymore and blurted it out.
Father turned toward me, his smile as warm as always.
“Some bonds cannot be mended with words, Cici. Someday, when you’re older, you’ll understand.”
Translation: Stay out of grown-up matters.
I pouted, and Father chuckled softly, that practiced smile of his—the one meant for others to see.
“At least His Majesty has treated you kindly. That, at least, is something I am glad for.”
Why did that sound… laced with thorns?
“Perhaps he really has softened a little, with age.”
“Then—”
“Not that it changes anything.”
Argh! Seriously!
Frustrated, I rolled my eyes toward Berthold.
He only chuckled, shrugging as if to say: What else did you expect?
That look—so smug, so certain, as though he had seen it all coming—was infuriating.
“Well, since this matter is settled, let us move on.”
He turned his attention away from me, and instead addressed Father.
“How is your mother? You’ve seen her yourself.”
My mouth fell open.
If he wanted to ask about the Empress’s condition, shouldn’t he be speaking to Mother?
Why was she being treated like a bystander—like some decorative screen?
My mother was the heroine, for goodness’ sake!
“Her condition is not good.”
But Mother answered calmly anyway, her voice polite and composed.
Only then did Berthold finally shift his gaze to her.
“Perhaps you already suspected, Your Grace, but the Empress’s illness did not stem from an ordinary disease.”
“Of course. Otherwise the finest physicians in the capital would not have been powerless.”
“Then I needn’t explain further. I believe… the Empress has been poisoned.”
Berthold tilted his head.
“Poison, you say?”
Naturally. They were brothers, after all. Even their mannerisms mirrored one another—though their hearts were worlds apart.
“If poison, then a poison it is.”
Mother’s eyes darkened as she continued.
“We don’t yet know how she was exposed, but…”
She bit her lip, deep in thought.
Berthold pressed gently.
“You suspect some particular toxin?”
Mother nodded.
“Not an ordinary toxin. I believe a lethal concentration of magi was forced into her body.”
“Magi?”
The moment the word left her lips, Berthold echoed it in disbelief.
I too froze, eyes widening.
The Empress was ill because of magi?
The same magi said to seep out of the Demon King’s Castle?
“The magi within her body was as dense as the kind found deep within the castle itself.”
In the original story, this was described in detail: the suffocating miasma accumulated over centuries in the castle depths—so toxic that ordinary people collapsed within moments.
“But wasn’t all of that magi purified by you?”
Exactly.
The narrative had highlighted it only to shine a brighter light on Mother’s accomplishments.
Even the Demon King’s foul miasma was nothing more than a backdrop to glorify her and Father.
Still, the text had been clear: for ordinary humans, it was poison.
“Yes. Even if there had been flaws in my purification, the Empress would never have gone near that place. Which is why I believe—”
“That your suspicion is correct.”
“In this world, magi may linger faintly in the air, like mana itself, but this degree of concentration cannot build up naturally. Not here, not in the capital.”
“Then in the end…”
“Yes. Someone deliberately injected the Empress with magi.”
