Chapter 33
“The Emperor has given permission?”
That can’t be. He was the one who ordered no one to enter the Empress’s quarters…
Even allowing a palace attendant was one thing—but a priest? There was no way the Emperor would permit that. Recalling the icy glare he had cast at Lucretia the last time he looked her way made it even less believable.
“How are you feeling?”
The priest asked.
Lucretia exhaled slowly. Compared to the dazed state she had been in earlier, she felt somewhat better.
“I… think I’m feeling much better.”
It was impossible to cure mana poisoning with divine power. Mana poisoning occurs when an excessive amount of mana surges through the body, and divine magic cannot counteract that process.
But healing spells weren’t entirely useless—they could ease the outward symptoms. Like taking medicine for a cold: it doesn’t cure the illness itself, but it can ease the discomfort.
A temporary fix, at best.
Still, seeing her heartache ease even slightly suggested that the priest possessed remarkable healing skills.
Only then did Lucretia notice the emblem on the priest’s epaulet—a symbol marking him as one of the high-ranking priests.
“The Marquis sent word,” the priest said, lowering his voice as if conscious of the knights watching from behind.
“That he knows you desperately need El Nash leaves.”
Lucretia’s chest thumped wildly. It seemed her father, who was acquainted with the Grand Priest, had sent a message through him.
Had he also secretly brought the El Nash leaves?
Her trembling eyes fixed on the priest. Thanks to Rai’s warning, she now knew that El Nash leaves were not an ordinary herb. Yet, whether herb or poison, she desperately needed something to ease her pain.
“But…”
The priest continued in a dry tone.
“He also said he doesn’t see why anyone would risk danger to save Her Majesty at a time when the Emperor’s wrath is so volatile.”
A sigh escaped Lucretia.
It felt as if the pain, barely subdued by the priest’s magic, was rising again. She clutched her chest, and the priest’s eyes widened in concern.
“Are you all right? Is it still painful?”
“Was that all the Marquis had to say?”
“Not entirely…”
Reading the priest’s expression, Lucretia had a premonition: the rest of the message would bring little comfort.
“He said… that though you’ve been the Emperor’s wife for months, you haven’t spent even a single night together. Since there’s no visible reward in risking yourself, at least show some minimal achievement.”
As expected.
Lucretia closed her eyes weakly. She looked like someone who had given up entirely. The priest hesitated, then spoke.
“Your Majesty, it’s not over yet…”
“Go on,” Lucretia whispered, her voice so small and frail it barely carried.
The priest felt a twinge of unease. He had witnessed all manner of corruption and filth during his rise to high office, yet facing the Empress left him uneasy. She resembled a dried, fragile petal—one wrong touch and it could crumble.
Was it really safe to deliver this message to someone so fragile?
Well… it’s not my concern, he decided, brushing off his petty sympathy.
“This is exactly what he said: ‘If the Emperor asks, claim full responsibility. Beg unconditionally, saying that blinded by greed, you lost your senses for a moment. Ensure no harm comes to your family. We, myself and His Majesty, are working to save you and secure forgiveness. Once that’s done, we’ll grant you whatever you desire—El Nash leaves or anything else.’”
The priest recalled the anxious expression of Marquis Zepher as he had relayed these words. The man had clearly not slept well; his face was haggard.
Lucretia gave a bitter smile.
Seems his schemes have collapsed.
He had acted blinded by greed, and now, unable to manage the aftermath, he was in a panic.
It was the first time Lucretia had considered the Marquis so objectively. She had always believed, like her father, that he acted with some higher purpose. But now, she saw him plainly: a man ordinary at best, floundering when plans failed, resorting to absurd schemes.
“I’ve used all the healing spells I can. I’ll take my leave now.”
The priest’s expression flickered with unease—he must have felt they had lingered too long. He had sent the knights away temporarily, as his magic required solitude, but he could not stay indefinitely.
In previous reigns, priests could move freely through the palace without fear, even before royalty. But under Emperor Kirion Winchester, only a few years into his rule, everything had changed.
What a terrifying tyrant…
The priest felt humiliated by his need to hurry, conscious of the Emperor’s gaze, and exited the Empress’s quarters.
Left alone, Lucretia stared blankly at the ceiling. Thanks to the priest, the pain was now bearable—but her mind swirled like a tempest.
“Beg for forgiveness… it’s all my fault.”
Recalling her father’s words, a bitter laugh escaped her lips. Being driven into a corner could break one’s mind. Perhaps that explained the strange, uncontrollable laughter as she imagined herself groveling before the Emperor, begging for mercy.
There’s no way I’ll be forgiven.
Her father did not understand the Emperor. Only she, who had met his gaze up close, knew. The Emperor would never listen to her again, nor grant her another chance.
The thought filled her with a black, suffocating despair. Lucretia closed her eyes with effort, wishing only to sink deep into the earth and think of nothing.
Lucretia woke to a clattering sound.
Ah, her meal had arrived, she thought dully.
Unlike last time, when she had clung to the knight bringing her food, she no longer had the strength to lift herself, let alone the utensils.
“Your Majesty, you need to eat. Shall I assist you?”
A cautious palace attendant asked. Lucretia shook her head. The helplessness she had felt before sleep still weighed her down.
Is there any hope left at all?
Having lost the Emperor’s favor, she felt utterly powerless. Begging blindly, even with her father’s schemes, would change nothing. Though he surely worked tirelessly outside to remedy her situation, any success would likely only tighten her constraints further.
She thought of escape.
Perhaps I should run.
A bitter smile formed. Even if she tried, her current state would leave her collapsing before taking a single step out of the Empress’s quarters.
Struggling to sit, she reached for the meal tray. The food was still warm—perhaps she had not lain down for long. She picked up a spoon.
Huh?
As her fingers touched the utensil, a faint, tingling sensation ran through her.
Was it just static electricity? she wondered. But as she reached again, a familiar fragrance wafted from the spoon.
Wait… this scent…
Her eyes widened. It was the scent of Rapine perfume.
What’s going on?
Sensing potential danger, she spoke to the attendant.
“Draw the bed curtains. The light is bothersome.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The attendant gently closed the curtains, seemingly reassured that the Empress intended to eat.
Within the dimmed enclosure, Lucretia examined the spoon again, sniffing it, turning it in her hand. After a while…
“Ah…!”
The spoon warped and transformed before her eyes. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Moments later, where the spoon had been lay a small note.
“Your Majesty? Is something wrong?”
“No… it’s nothing.”
What is this…
Her lips parted in shock. Opening the note revealed even more astonishing contents.
