Episode 7
Exceptional talent never dulls, no matter how much one tries to ignore it.
The moment she grasped the sword, the instincts of a swords woman surged through every part of her being.
But Isabelle realized once again—she had no choice but to lock that talent away in a cage.
She didn’t even think to wipe away her ceaseless tears. In unbearable pain, resentment welled up inside her.
Isabelle glared at Lionel and asked,
“Was this your goal?”
“My goal?”
“You saved me and brought me here just so you could watch me become something this pitiful, didn’t you?”
For a brief moment, a shadow of conflict flickered across Lionel’s face.
In the end, he chose not to lie.
“Yes. That’s what I wanted… once.”
“Then you’ve won, Your Highness. I’ve denied God—so I’m no longer a nun. I have no right to preach, nor any will to become anything else.”
As if there was nothing more to say, Isabelle firmly took off her veil. Having cast away even her last identity as a nun, she had nothing left.
Realizing this, Isabelle let out a hollow laugh.
“Well then, you’ve seen everything worth seeing. You might as well kill me now.”
“From the looks of it, you don’t seem worth killing.”
“Ahaha. Then shall I give you a reason to think otherwise?”
With venom in her eyes, Isabelle stared straight at Lionel. It seemed she intended to provoke him—even if it meant insulting the imperial family—to draw death from him.
But Lionel didn’t permit even that.
“Have you forgotten the convent when you abandoned your vows as a nun?”
At those words, Isabelle could no longer laugh.
The gentle sisters of Chardonnay Convent—she could not betray them.
Realizing that even the freedom to die had long been taken from her, Isabelle collapsed weakly to the floor.
“Julia. Come in.”
The maid Julia, who had been waiting outside, entered the office at his command. Even upon seeing Isabelle sitting helplessly on the floor, Julia showed no sign of surprise.
“Take her to the west tower.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Julia carefully supported Isabelle, who moved like a lifeless doll in her arms.
Reports from Lionel’s faction—sent from battlefields and across the Empire—piled up on his desk at Otchirchen Castle.
As he read through them, Lionel felt a faint unease.
The Duke of Wiesenstein sent more troops?
The Duke of Wiesenstein, Princess Laura’s most powerful supporter, was a cautious man.
Lionel and his strategists had assumed the duke would consolidate his power over the winter without making any aggressive moves.
Yet now, the duke had boldly pushed additional troops to the frontlines. Lionel studied the related reports for some time, piecing together the information.
While his mind was occupied with these unseen battles, a knock came at the door.
“Your Highness. Lady Julia requests an audience.”
“Let her in.”
There was only one person under Julia’s care.
She entered with quick, measured steps.
“I’ve come to report and make a request regarding Sister Isabelle.”
Lionel recalled the earlier report.
Since being confined to the west tower, Isabelle had refused both food and water.
Knowing that an ascetic determined to fast could endure for quite some time, Lionel had refrained from giving orders. He had simply allowed Julia to handle it and observed from afar.
It had now been four days.
“She’s still refusing to eat?”
“That’s what I came to report. I finally managed to get her to eat breakfast this morning.”
“How did you manage that?”
He couldn’t help but be genuinely curious—how had this maid persuaded such a stubborn woman?
Julia lowered her voice carefully.
“Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but people like her can’t be forced. Even if you shove a spoonful of soup into her mouth, she’ll only spit it back out.”
“And so?”
Seeing his genuine interest, Julia couldn’t help but think he should have taken this attitude much earlier.
“I told her that if she wouldn’t eat, I would starve with her. I stayed with her all day and night. Eventually, she surrendered.”
“…”
“I believe she’s given up on fasting for good. You needn’t worry anymore.”
Lionel wasn’t a fool—only a prince who had never imagined handling things that way.
Still, a capable maid who achieved results deserved praise. But the word “worry” in her final remark irked him slightly.
He was about to warn her not to presume the thoughts of royalty—but caught himself.
This maid was sharper than most.
He sighed deeply and gestured with a finger.
“Then what’s your request?”
“May I bring her some books?”
“Books? Did she ask for anything other than scripture?”
“No, but… rather than have her sit there idly and lose her mind, I thought reading might help her stay grounded.”
Her words subtly hinted at the severity of Isabelle’s mental state.
Instead of reacting to the maid’s prompting, Lionel asked quietly,
“Do you like her, Julia? You’re quite devoted.”
“I only follow Your Highness’s will.”
“I never told you to keep her alive.”
“No, Your Highness didn’t say it outright.”
“How insolent.”
“I’ll be more careful.”
His rebuke only betrayed the fact that Isabelle still lingered in his mind.
Lionel frowned and looked back at his reports.
For four days, even as he handled countless affairs of state, a corner of his mind remained preoccupied with her fate.
And still—he hadn’t reached a decision.
Pathetic.
When he’d first chosen her as a target, his intent had bordered on malice.
He’d already resolved to kill countless others; crushing and killing a righteous nun felt like nothing more than another cruel necessity.
But the more he faced her—the more they spoke—the more that malice twisted into something else.
Her elegant yet slightly clumsy Imperial tongue, her beige hair beneath the black veil, the gentle curve of her brows, those deep turquoise eyes—
He wanted to know more.
He now spent more time thinking of Isabelle than of whose head he’d claim tomorrow, or which province he’d ravage next.
And that time spent on her was slowly consuming him from within.
If I truly meant to kill her, I’d have done it long ago.
Isabelle was intelligent, daring, and never hesitated to strike when given an opening.
Lionel had admired that about her; their verbal sparring had been his way of peeling off her mask while maintaining balance.
But when he learned of her past, his emotions had warped completely.
Offering her vengeance—that had been sincere.
“Hah…”
While Lionel sank into his thoughts, Julia, who had waited in silence, spoke softly as he exhaled.
“Your Highness, if you still have an interest in Sister Isabelle… might I suggest being a little kinder to her?”
“…What?”
“Will you let a flower wither before your eyes?”
First a bird, now a flower.
Lionel let out a faint laugh. He could almost understand now why Isabelle had defied him.
Julia’s counsel was not without merit—but Lionel shook his head.
“And what good would kindness do? To crush her soul even further?”
“…”
Julia cast him a sidelong glance, as if to ask how he could say such a thing. It was the sort of act that could have cost her her head—but Lionel didn’t punish her.
He had indeed broken Isabelle completely, but it had been a reckless, impulsive act.
He couldn’t say he didn’t regret it.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. You may go.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll continue to give regular reports on Sister Isabelle.”
Julia bowed gracefully and left the office. Lionel pressed his fingers against his eyes and looked out the window.
Despite the cold winter, sparrows flitted about outside.
Those little birds were so free—so why were humans not the same?
The old question lingered in his mind.
In the darkness, Isabelle opened her eyes.
She remembered having soup for dinner, reading for a bit, then dozing off out of sheer boredom.
With no real duties to attend to, she spent her days either sleeping or staring blankly into space. She hadn’t prayed in days.
She still remembered vividly the moment she had begged Lionel for vengeance.
She had meant it. And with that memory, she couldn’t bring herself to pray again.
I’m going to hell, aren’t I.
After all her suicide attempts, and even denying God—such sins could never be forgiven.
She didn’t even feel wronged. She only wondered idly whether her soul’s fingers would still be intact in hell.
Lost in such bitter thoughts, she gazed out the window at the night sky—
—when suddenly, a scream echoed outside.
“Hm?”
It was faint, but her sharp ears caught it instantly.
She opened the window of the tower room and looked out.
Nothing was visible—but the rough wind carried a sense of chaos. Something was happening.
“What’s going on?”
Her instincts sharpened. Slowly, she stepped outside her room. The door wasn’t even locked; with a light push, it opened.
As she carefully scanned the corridor, she heard footsteps approaching from afar.
And then—
“Enemy attack! We’re under attack!”
The blaring of alarm bells filled the castle.
