Chapter : 160 We Are People, Not Flowers (11)
“Actually, your approval isn’t strictly necessary.”
Ilyas dipped his fingertips into the liquid. On his fingers, a golden-tinged amber fluid clung. After checking it, he immediately sprinkled the liquid from the container into the prison. Half of it splashed onto the iron bars, while the rest landed on Marquis Duha’s body. Before long, the amber liquid began to spread into a vivid blue.
“If it turns red, it means it’s not a bloodline. Blue…”
“Means it is a bloodline, then.” Ilyas swallowed words he didn’t need to say and smiled faintly. The liquid moved as if alive, then returned to the glass amber container. Once he confirmed that all the liquid had been collected, Ilyas closed the container’s lid.
Marquis Duha now stared at him with a pale, bluish face. Ilyas regretted the lack of a torch—if only it were a bit brighter, he could clearly see that expression.
“…My sister died without even marrying, succumbing to illness. What nonsense are you talking?”
“Hm, I didn’t expect you’d refuse to believe this here.”
“Who would believe such a trick?”
“There’s Dniha Duha right upstairs. Shall we try it with you, Your Grace?”
“…Why is that child here!”
Finally, the chains rattled violently. Ilyas calmly watched as Marquis Duha lunged right up to the bars. For the first time, Ilyas’s expression disappeared. With a blank face, he leaned forward, bringing his face close to the bars.
“Isn’t it natural that when a father commits the crime of assassinating royalty, his direct descendants are dragged along as well?”
“Bringing an innocent child here won’t make them say anything!”
“Then it seems Your Grace knows something.”
Ilyas simply stared at Marquis Duha. Even though Duha must have known there was evidence here, his posture remained stiff. After staring at him silently for a long while, Ilyas suddenly straightened, then relaxed into a comfortable seated position, averting his gaze from Duha.
“Well, the accusation of royal assassination can be discussed with His Highness the Crown Prince. I am here not for that, but to seek vengeance for my parents.”
“My sister died without even holding a wedding. I don’t know what nonsense you want to spout…”
“—Do you know what this is?”
Ilyas carefully placed the artifact he had received from Ambrose into his possession. Though the Marquis denied it, it was clear he was unsettled. That effect alone was more than Ilyas had hoped the artifact would achieve.
Ilyas then pulled another notebook from his possession and presented it before him.
“….”
“It’s written here: what happened about twenty years ago, what poison was acquired, what assassins were used, which local lord was bribed. This notebook even has the signature of the lord of that territory. Don’t you recognize it?”
The expression on Marquis Duha’s face looked as if his heart had been pierced. He seemed too overwhelmed to deny anything. Ilyas watched that expression quietly before turning his attention back to the notebook.
This notebook, filled with personal content, was something he hadn’t seen when he stole the secret ledgers from Duha’s private archive. He had found it thanks to the information Dniha Duha had provided via Ferensiana. No doubt, Duha had kept it in a location even more secretive than where the ledgers were stored.
“So Dniha Duha brought this here…”
Without this, Ilyas could not have confronted Marquis Duha so boldly and easily. Duha’s strained expression indicated he knew no one outside could have leaked this notebook.
“Well, I’m not really here expecting you to admit you killed Karam Duha yourself.”
Ilyas put away the notebook he had just shown. Then, he pulled out something else: a small, very old notebook, roughly half the size of the previous one. Brown stains dotted its surface—old bloodstains.
“Do you recognize this notebook? You may not. It’s been over twenty years since you last saw it.”
Even as Marquis Duha instantly recognized the notebook he hadn’t seen in over twenty years, Ilyas pretended not to notice and slowly shook it in front of him.
“…This is Karam Azel Duha’s diary. Aren’t you curious about its contents?”
The sound of chains tangling and clanging erupted violently. Ilyas, finding it majestic like an orchestral chord, rested his chin on his hand. The noise reverberated through the prison alongside violent voices, loud enough that a distant guard came back to investigate. Ilyas, smiling faintly, gestured for them to leave.
“Wouldn’t you like to see it? My mother recorded everything until just before her death. Seems the siblings do resemble one another.”
The clatter of chains continued. Contrary to his sweet voice, Ilyas’s expression remained blank as he silently observed Marquis Duha. Living clinging to the sister he had killed, yet abandoning his own child—what had he really done?
“If you tell the truth about what you did to my parents, to your sister Karam and her husband, I will give you this diary.”
Ilyas added that the diary itself contained the truth, so it could be verified. Then he tucked the diary back into his possession, hidden from Marquis Duha’s view.
Ilyas’s emotionless black eyes quietly gazed into the cell.
“…Yes. I sought to assassinate His Highness and used my retainer Kartal.”
“….”
Though the sun was setting, the depth of the underground prison made it impossible to gauge the time. The Crown Prince glanced over. Ilyas, standing impassively, shrugged once.
Inside the bars sat not a person but something corpse-like. Marquis Duha appeared as if some monster had consumed his soul, sitting with a blackened, lifeless face. Since the Crown Prince’s arrival, the chains binding his wrists and feet had made no sound.
“Do you also admit to conspiring with Lord Kiran to murder Prince Terencia?”
“…Yes, I do.”
“….”
The Crown Prince looked at Ilyas again. Ilyas shrugged once more. Marquis Duha admitted to almost everything the Crown Prince mentioned. There was no chance to present the evidence they had prepared. The accompanying officials looked flustered, yet no one could make Duha speak differently inside the prison bars.
The interrogation did not last long—it did not need to. One official scolded, asking if Duha thought this was a joke, but Duha’s attitude barely changed. By the time Ilyas and the Crown Prince emerged from the underground prison, the sun’s red glow lingered near the horizon.
“I don’t know what magic the Count used.”
“It wasn’t magic… Perhaps more people should be stationed?”
“More people? Do you think the Marquis might escape?”
“No, that’s not it.”
Ilyas denied calmly without giving further explanation. The Crown Prince gave no further questions, simply ordering reinforcements. Ilyas glanced back at the prison gate leading underground.
The diary left by Karam Azel Duha—recognized instantly by Marquis Duha—was enough to make him reveal everything about the events from over twenty years ago, which he had kept secret until now. Whether he had no intention of challenging Ilyas, or whether he had waited for a moment of repentance, his words flowed smoothly and swiftly.
Nothing contradicted what Ilyas had already learned. Duha openly admitted, “I killed my sister because she had you.” The explanation of how he killed her was calm, showing little emotion, but revealing that he spoke only to obtain the diary of the sister he had personally killed.
After listening to everything, Ilyas drew a breath, then threw Karam Duha’s diary to him and turned away.
The diary contained Karam Azel Duha’s resolution: after her wedding, she had decided to pass the family headship to her younger sibling.
