Chapter 31
The Emperor spoke unexpectedly.
“The color that symbolizes Erexion is teal. Similar to Serilda’s, yet different.”
Unlike Serilda, Erexion was a demon whose frenzy cycles were short, requiring frequent resealing. Lucretia had seen the floor turn a sea of teal more than once during her childhood.
Teal was neither a common nor a popular color. Nobles who needed it often settled for the more popular shades of green or blue.
This time, the Terrarocia Guild had purchased three colors: teal, green, and blue. The branch manager explained this while pleading.
“Even buying unnecessary blue gems caused us enormous losses. We fully understand Your Majesty’s anger, but we have not profited solely from the Empire! We beg for mercy…!”
In other words, according to his claim, the only one who gained significantly from this partial information leak was Marquis Zephyr. The one and only beneficiary.
“The instability of Serilda’s sealing stone, as opposed to Erexion’s, was discovered just a week before the Hunting Festival. It was around then that the decision was made to summon Serilda instead of Erexion.”
Lucretia began to understand what the Emperor was implying.
He looked down at her sternly and continued.
“If it had been the Royal Knights or the Chamberlain who leaked the information, they would have focused on purchasing green. Yet the Terrarocia Guild bought green and blue.”
Lucretia parted her lips, hesitant. According to the timing, it seemed likely that the leak came from her—she had seen the documents just before Erexion was replaced by Serilda. Even she had suspected it.
But she could not allow herself to pay for a crime she did not commit. She opened her mouth to protest—but the Emperor spoke first.
“The third.”
At the cryptic word, Lucretia’s eyes widened.
In an almost flat tone, the Emperor said,
“This is the third time you almost deceived me.”
A cruel smile twisted his lips, the kind that could have appeared before he sliced the branch manager’s wrist.
“Listen carefully.”
His voice commanded the bedroom. A presence was heard outside the door.
“As of this moment, the Empress is placed under house arrest!”
With a bang, the bedroom door opened. Knights standing outside filed in.
“Your Majesty!” Lucretia cried, startled.
“Do not allow her to step outside this room,” the Emperor ordered.
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
The knights stood guard at the door, watching Lucretia instead of the outside. Their stance made it clear: the threat was her, not any intruder.
The Emperor took a step back. She could not let him leave. Lucretia, sensing that this might be her last chance, shouted as if spitting out blood:
“Your Majesty! You haven’t heard my full explanation yet!”
She had failed to persuade him—before she could even try.
Kirion’s gaze descended on Lucretia, cold as ice, as he held yet another decisive piece of evidence.
He had not ruled out the possibility that the Marquis had presented the branch manager with a woman posing as the Empress. His informant had submitted a report: a guest log from the masked ball months ago at Count Seldin’s estate.
The Empress had secretly left the palace to attend the ball. At the time, it seemed insignificant; they only assumed it was a plot meeting. But the guest list revealed the branch manager’s name as well.
“At the time Your Majesty entered the guest chambers, the branch manager was also present.”
Back then, he was just a foreign merchant, not yet a branch manager. But now, seeing the report again, the pieces of the puzzle fit together.
“From that moment, it seems Your Majesty… had been in league with the branch manager.”
Kirion let out a quiet, bitter laugh. His fingers traced Lucretia’s name in the report.
Truly loyal. If the Marquis commanded it, you would give even your body. He recalled her trembling yet resolute voice:
“I will bring evidence that Marquis Zephyr is colluding with the Minister.”
For a fleeting moment, Kirion had taken her words seriously.
“I will deliver what I promised before Your Majesty.”
The thought of her betraying the Marquis and siding with him had been strangely delightful. Kirion smiled. How absurd that he had once taken this liar seriously. Perhaps the sedative had clouded his mind—or perhaps his brain had deferred its reasoning to his lower instincts.
Kirion turned his back and walked toward the door.
“Your Majesty!”
Lucretia’s voice, hot and stifled, called after him. Kirion did not turn. He left the bedroom that would become her permanent cage.
The key to this cage was in Kirion’s hand, and there would be no more unlocking it for her sweet, helpless pleas.
‘What day is it now?’
Lucretia stared blankly out the window. Only the moon shone in the dark night sky.
Night. How many nights had she spent trapped in this room? Her mind was foggy. She shut her eyes tightly, but the haze in her head remained.
Pressing her aching chest, she drew a deep breath. The withdrawal symptoms weighed heavily on her.
The supply of Lapine flower perfume had run out on the second day of her confinement.
Elnash leaves could not replace it—Clara could not access the room. No one could enter.
‘I have to pull myself together…’
She was the only one who could rescue herself. But her pounding headache made clear thought nearly impossible.
Leaning against the cold bedpost, she felt some relief as the chill touched her skin.
‘How did Father uncover the secret?’
While imprisoned, she replayed the Emperor’s words over and over. If the Marquis had learned the secret, she must have been involved. But how?
‘Did I unknowingly leave a clue…?’
Impossible. She hadn’t known enough to leave any clue.
‘Father is definitely hiding something from me.’
But what? The answer teased her just out of reach.
“Ugh…”
Grabbing her forehead, Lucretia felt her thoughts snap under the intense headache. She needed clarity, yet her mind only grew duller.
The withdrawal worsened by the hour. She laughed weakly at herself, thinking:
‘Withdrawal…? No. It’s mana addiction.’
This pain was proof of mana surging uncontrollably in her body—proof that fairy blood ran through her veins. Thinking that way made the tightening, heavy pain feel almost shameful.
She shut her eyes. A long-forgotten song her mother had sung resurfaced, comforting her through the pain. The only remaining memory of her mother.
Ah… ah…
Silent, wordless notes flowed from her parted lips. Her mother’s touch, long forgotten, seemed to lend the melody to soothe her.
Her brain forced sleep to protect her from pain. Lucretia’s consciousness faded again.
The First Palace, where foreign envoys stayed, was nicknamed the Summer Palace.
Sunflowers and hydrangeas bloomed, and envoys from Alora laughed and chatted.
“Really, everyone was wearing only green?”
“It’s so funny! In Alora, trends exist but not like this. Some even avoid it because it’s a trend!”
“Exactly. Yet here, green is everywhere, and so expensive. The Empire really is rich.”
Hearing this, Rai entered the palace and asked his attendant:
“Have I received any letters today?”
“Of course!” the attendant replied, smiling as he handed over a stack.
The young, handsome envoy from a foreign land drew the attention of many ladies. Invitations to tea and balls poured in daily.
Rai sifted through the letters and sighed. No letter from the sender he sought had arrived.
Lucretia Larenne de Winchester.
A week had passed without any reply from the Empress.
‘Strange…’
Rai had met her two months ago. By now, her supply of Lapine perfume should have run out. He had sensed the immense mana within her body—a strong trace of fairy blood.
With that much mana, her mana addiction would be severe. Without an antidote like Lapine perfume, it would be nearly impossible to calm.
A week ago, Rai had sent a letter promising to replenish her perfume—but no reply had come. How she endured the withdrawal without it, he wondered.
‘Could she be using Elnash leaves again?’
Rai frowned. Elnash leaves were the worst choice. They would ease pain temporarily but caused greater long-term harm.
‘I must go myself.’
He decided to go directly to the Empress to receive her reply.
‘Last time we met, she didn’t seem to avoid me.’
Before returning to his homeland, Rai wanted a proper, deep conversation with Lucretia. Their brief tea had revealed little. All he knew was that she was breathtakingly beautiful, cloaked in undeniable loneliness, and ashamed of the fairy blood coursing through her veins.
