Chapter 14
The Duke fell silent for a moment before bowing deeply.
“I have committed a grave mistake. I offer my sincerest apologies to both Your Majesties.”
“Leave,” the Emperor commanded.
It was a clear dismissal. Duke Celeste immediately bowed again, impeccably formal, and withdrew from the chamber.
Well, all those meals and nights I fed you finally paid off…
I forgive you for being grumpy, dear male lead.
Moved by the Emperor’s rare show of loyalty, I wiped a tear from my eye and murmured,
“Thank you, Your Majest—eeek!”
Before I could even finish, the Emperor suddenly lifted me up as if I weighed nothing and strode briskly toward the Empress’s Palace.
“Y-Your Majesty?”
“Be still.”
Without a word more, he carried me straight to the bedchamber—fast delivery, royal express.
By the time I gathered my senses, I was sitting on the bed while Lauren wiped my face gently with a warm towel.
Huh?
The Emperor was seated in a chair nearby, watching me silently. I tilted my head.
“Your Majesty, why are you just sitting there like that?”
“Drink,” he said, nodding toward the cup of hot tea Lauren had just handed me.
I rolled my eyes but obediently downed the tea in one go. Meanwhile, he dismissed every servant in the room.
“Lie down,” he said.
Before I could protest, he took the empty cup, set it aside, and gently pushed me down onto the bed.
Why’s he treating me like a patient?
He hadn’t even heard the Duke’s nasty words, so maybe it was because the Duke had grabbed my wrist earlier?
Wrapped up to my chin in the soft blanket, I blinked up at him.
“I’m fine, Your Majesty. Really, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Sleep,” he said.
“Already? But it’s barely evening…”
“You talk too much.”
Then—just like that—he lay down beside me, closed his eyes, and went still.
So grumpy again.
But since he’d defended me today, I decided to let it slide.
I sniffled quietly, still a bit stuffy from crying, and turned toward him.
“Are you tired, Your Majesty? Should I tell you another story tonight?”
“…All right.”
A curt reply, lips sealed afterward. Honestly, this man was incapable of admitting when he wanted something.
Pouting a little, I thought hard about what kind of bedtime ASMR to give him today.
“Hmm. This is a secret, but… I have a bit of a drinking habit. When I first became an adult, I tried mixing a bunch of high-proof alcohols together…”
And so I began sharing the tale of my “drunken disasters.”
Maybe because of the emotional whiplash from earlier, I was more tired than usual.
Though it was still early evening, before I knew it, I’d drifted off—right beside the Emperor, who lay motionless.
Two hours later, in the Empress’s bedchamber—
Sian opened his eyes and turned to look at the sleeping Empress.
“…”
Her eyelids were still faintly red, her nose slightly pink.
He recalled how she’d tried so hard not to cry when her wrist was seized by the Duke.
Even as she trembled, she’d called him “Father” in that fragile voice.
The image wouldn’t leave his mind—how delicate, how pitiful she had seemed.
‘Your Majesty, I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.’
Lies.
Sian brushed a few strands of her soft silver hair away from her face.
Under the moonlight, her slightly sharp, elegant features softened.
Her brows twitched faintly in her sleep.
He remembered the reports: how the Empress made her four “male attendants” actually work, not entertain her.
A side only I’ve seen…
Even the attendants who had once been her chosen favorites knew nothing of this side of her.
His expression shifted. Something unfamiliar stirred in him.
Sian lay back down beside her, lost in thought, his gaze lingering on her face in the dark for a long, long time—
Until dawn broke.
It was, fittingly, the first night the Empress’s bedtime stories had failed to put him to sleep.
When he finally left the bedchamber at dawn, a dull headache throbbed behind his temples.
Even a faint ringing echoed in his ears from the lack of sleep.
But strangely, Sian felt no irritation at all.
It was… odd. Very odd indeed.
* * *
“It really is strange,” I said, frowning seriously. “I got tested by the palace physician again—came back completely normal.”
Across from me, Lindo flipped through the medical chart.
“No reaction to any blood tests either. You’re not poisoned or ill.”
“So no chronic disease, no toxins. Then what the heck happened when I got sick in front of my father?”
That morning, I’d gone straight to the palace doctor for a checkup, then summoned Lindo to talk through what happened with Duke Celeste.
“In cases like this,” Lindo said, snapping the chart shut, “there’s usually only one explanation.”
“Really? What is it?”
As expected of a genius, I leaned forward eagerly.
“Alchemy.”
“…Excuse me?”
Was he just saying something impressive because he didn’t know the answer? I gave him a suspicious look.
“Alchemy—as in, turning rocks into gold?”
“That’s ancient nonsense,” he said flatly. “Modern alchemy includes metallurgy, processing, astronomy, astrology, and even sorcery.”
“Keep showing off, and I’ll cut your allowance.”
“Specifically,” he said quickly, “I think it’s a sorcery-based branch of alchemy. My minor was in that field, so I know a bit.”
Good boy. His tone instantly became polite again as he explained it simply.
“It’s a discipline that can’t be explained scientifically. In the past, people called it magic.”
After about thirty minutes of his lecture, here’s the summary I managed to piece together:
When mana—the source of magic—disappeared from the world, humans developed sorcery that uses physical mediums to channel similar power.
The materials needed are rare, and the wish behind the spell must be strong and specific.
Most importantly—the medium must be a living creature related to the caster’s wish.
“The medium must remain intact until the sorcery is complete,” Lindo continued. “But since it suffers side effects—good or bad—constant maintenance is required.”
I frowned.
“This is starting to sound… disgusting. Are you saying I’m being used as a medium for sorcery?”
“If there’s an ailment medicine can’t diagnose, it’s often the case,” he said.
That creepy man… not content with a political marriage, now he’s using his own daughter for dark magic?
“Wait—does that mean he’s trying to kill me?” I asked, face tightening.
Lindo shook his head.
“I don’t believe so. Why would the Duke want to kill the Empress, his own daughter?”
He had a point. The man wanted an heir, not a corpse. Still, I didn’t like it.
“So you’re saying I’m definitely the medium for some sorcery.”
“Exactly. We must first find out what kind of spell it is.”
Great. Just what I needed—more problems. I only wanted to live long and healthy, was that so much to ask?
Sighing, I tapped my forehead lightly.
“Can’t you analyze the potion from my blood or something?”
“Not unless it’s right after ingestion. It’s too late now.”
“Some expert you are.”
At that jab, Lindo’s eyes narrowed.
“In that case, perhaps you don’t need the antidote I made, either.”
“Wow, suddenly you’re the most wonderful expert I’ve ever met.”
“As they say, affection is best shown through money,” he said smoothly, holding out his hand.
Rolling my eyes, I unclasped my diamond necklace and handed it over.
He pocketed it quickly, then produced a small vial from his coat.
“A universal antidote.”
“Whoa—this is rare!”
Sanctus, the choir of my inner angels sang. With this, I could finally say goodbye to poison—well, maybe not yet.
I was about to drink it on the spot but hesitated, shoving it back toward him.
“You first.”
“You still don’t trust me? How hurtful,” he said with a mock pout—the classic traitor line.
“Don’t act innocent,” I said flatly. “You’re probably hoarding money behind my back too.”
“Ah, so you found out,” he said with a shrug.
Honestly, this man was the definition of a sly fox. But at least he was transparent about it.
He took a sip of the potion and handed the vial back.
“This is a prototype. Ingredients are scarce, so you’ll need to add new components as we go and take more doses later. The first ingredient is mine.”
“What ingredient?” I sniffed the liquid suspiciously, tilting the bottle.
“My hair,” he said.
“Ew!” I slammed the cap shut and made a face.
“Your Majesty, I already drank it!” he protested.
He looked genuinely aggrieved, so I sighed and gestured for him to keep explaining.
“The universal antidote is made by blending strong detoxifiers with various poisons—like a vaccine,” he said.
“However, if the poison enters the body too fast, it becomes lethal. To stabilize it, we mix in part of a human body where toxins accumulate most.”
“And that’s… hair?”
“Yes. Hair absorbs the most toxins, so it’s widely used. It’s sterilized during the process, so it’s safe.”
“Usually, about ten thousand strands complete the cure.”
“Oh, that’s easy! Want to change your hairstyle?” I asked, eyeing his glossy blond hair.
He recoiled instantly, sliding his chair back.
“For reference, they must all be from different people. Otherwise, the variety of toxins is insufficient.”
Damn. There went my shortcut.
“Well, at least I learned something.” I popped the cork again. “Once this antidote’s complete, I won’t have to worry about poison anymore.”
“Also,” he added, “studies show male hair works best. Women’s hair doesn’t store as many toxins.”
So now I had to collect ten thousand strands of men’s hair.
“Fine. It’ll start rumors, but I can begin with the attendants in my palace.”
Soon, the Empress would have a new nickname: the Hair Collector.
Making a living shouldn’t be this hard…
I grumbled and took a sip of the potion.
“Hmm, not bad. Sweet, actually.”
At least it didn’t taste as gross as it sounded.
Satisfied, I stood before the mirror, checking for any weird side effects.
Then I heard a sudden cough beside me—Lindo’s.
When I turned, there was blood at the corner of his lips.
