Chapter 126 …
The Name of the Soul
The mansion was rather noisy. The windows of the reception room had all been shattered, and it was taking time to repair them.
Since the reception room couldn’t be used, Ridel had no choice but to meet the saint in Bella’s room.
“Where is the Duke right now?”
Ridel asked, glancing around the room. The saint pointed in one direction.
“On the bed. Though a soul has no concept of lying down, it seemed better this way. In many ways.”
“And his consciousness?”
“His rationality has returned, but he immediately lost consciousness.”
The saint’s face darkened as she explained.
After barely calming the rampaging soul of Cheire, he had lost consciousness and become a faint, amorphous lump. The saint, seeing something she had never witnessed before, had instinctively scooped up the lump of a soul and placed it carefully on the bed. That was the best she could do.
“This is serious. I suppose I’ll have to head to the capital to check on Bella. If the Duke loses his rationality again…”
“That’s the limit of what Cheire can do right now. I know he doesn’t trust me, but it’s better to leave the mansion matters here and go to the capital quickly.”
“Was this predicted?”
The saint glanced at the bed at Ridel’s question. The sluggish mass showed no intention of taking a human form.
“A prediction? Rather than that, the fact that Cheire, connected to Bella’s soul, is this unstable means that something has happened to Bella.”
“…!”
With a clatter, Ridel jumped up. His twisted expression was full of worry.
The saint watched Ridel silently.
“Go quickly.”
At the saint’s quiet voice, Ridel hurriedly bowed and left the room.
Alone, the saint’s gaze fell upon Cheire.
“What could Bella possibly mean to you to cause this?”
“….”
The sluggish soul seemed to start sobbing again as soon as it regained consciousness.
Could someone so blindly hold another in their heart? The saint blinked slowly.
“I want someone to worry about me too. Why is it that people are always so busy unloading their worries onto me? Because I am a saint?”
“….”
There was no answer. So the saint simply buried her face in her hands.
“I never chose to be a saint…”
The one who wanted to sob was the saint herself.
Cheire Prelode. She had come here to claim him, yet all her goals, love, and plans were crumbling.
“Ugh!”
Bella gasped and gagged under the rough hand pressing her neck.
Someone tore off the queen’s crown as if yanking hair, throwing it into the hallway, while another seized her cloak, ignoring whether Bella’s neck was being strangled.
“Well, well, what a rare sight,” a mocking voice said. Bella forced herself to lift her chin, and the expressions of those around her hardened.
“What? That’s not the queen!”
“Where did the queen go?”
The murmuring crowd alternated their gaze between the queen’s portrait and Bella, sighing deeply.
“The queen… she’s already fled. Not sure where she went…”
“Shut your mouth. If she’s not the queen, she means nothing to us.”
One man flicked Bella’s head with his shoe. They were thoroughly enraged at losing the queen.
“What should we do with her?”
“Do? She’s probably just someone who clung to the queen. We’ll kill her.”
“Yes, that seems right.”
The whispering died down, and one man, armed with a sword, stepped forward toward Bella.
With a chilling metallic sound, the blade gleamed under the torchlight.
“Don’t blame me too much. You’ve eaten well under this palace too, haven’t you?”
As the man raised his sword high, Bella saw the descent of the blade in slow motion.
Hael had been entrusted with something, so even if Bella died here, nothing in the future would be disrupted. Yet, human desire always appeared at the last moment as lingering regret.
“…Cheire. I’m sorry.”
“Wait! What did she say? What?”
Hearing Bella’s muttering, the man next to the attacker tapped him to stop, nodding at Bella as if encouraging her to say more. He seemed to think she might reveal the queen’s whereabouts at the last moment.
Alone, gasping while her neck was nearly crushed, a man poised to strike her. An isolated moment—she could only think of her end.
“…Ah.”
She remembered the royal event day.
Would he come again, like magic? Even if he had lost all his power and was about to vanish?
A smile blossomed on Bella’s lips. Even if she died, there was one last word she could speak.
And Bella’s lips slowly parted.
“Cheire Prelode.”
That was his name.
“Prelode? Who’s that?”
The man tried to press Bella further, but she had already closed her eyes.
Silver hair scattered in the air, and Bella’s upper body, which had not bowed even in the last moment, collapsed.
“What the—?”
The startled man stepped back.
Though none spoke, they all felt the same: something strange. Fear.
Bella opened her eyes. Her strangely shimmering violet eyes were no longer human.
“You think you can handle all of us?”
As Bella staggered to her feet, the men laughed and drew their weapons.
Bella surveyed each of the men around her, then parted her lips.
“So, it’s you. The ones who made Bella afraid.”
“What—”
Bella’s hand shot out, striking a nearby man’s neck and seizing his sword.
Now everyone would know.
“You seem to have forgotten me?”
Bella—or rather, Cheire inhabiting her body—spoke quietly and readjusted her grip on the sword.
Like that day, that night. The slaughter had begun.
“Argh!”
“It’s a… monster!”
“Run! Something strange has awakened!”
The revolutionary army, tracking the king and queen through the palace, watched their fleeing comrades with puzzled eyes.
Behind them, a woman appeared. Blood-red clothes, a sword in one hand, silver hair and violet eyes.
“Run just because of one woman? Ha! This is absurd!”
“Shut up and get out of the way! If you flee, she won’t attack first!”
One of the fleeing comrades grabbed the oblivious troublemaker and ran.
Curious about why everyone feared her so, the companion turned to look.
“Ugh…!”
Covering her mouth, she ran faster than the man holding her arm.
What he saw was one woman—but she was not human. She couldn’t be.
She tossed a man aside with one hand, broke a neck lightly, and the sword she swung never missed a vital spot, as if drunk on blood.
“What… the hell…?”
Hiding in an alley, the two caught their breath and glanced around. They had escaped the chaos, which now felt distant.
“Just by calling that name, the weak human changed like that!”
“A name?”
“Yeah! What was it… miss…”
Scratching his head and swearing nervously, the companion muttered a single name.
“Prelode.”
“What did you just say?”
The man’s eyes widened in shock as he shook his companion.
“She said… Prelode… and her eyes changed suddenly.”
“That name…”
“Do you know them?”
The companion exhaled hollowly. He knew Prelode.
A forgotten name, yet one that must never be forgotten.
“A name? It’s not just a name. It’s the spirit of this revolution.”
“What do you mean? Weren’t we supposed to put the decadent queen on the guillotine?”
“Revolution isn’t about killing one person. We came here determined to change our rotten selves.”
The man pressed his throbbing head and lowered it.
Who is truly worthy to hold the sword of judgment when the day of reckoning comes?
His trembling hand rummaged through his clothes and drew out a portrait. A woman who had begged him to never be harmed.
Bella Oshik.
“Our? The rotten ones are the royal family monopolizing wealth and pleasure, and the nobles!”
“You don’t understand. If it was indeed that person calling Prelode…”
“What are you saying? I can’t understand a word!”
“That was him…”
Frustrated, the companion shouted, but the man staggered back along the path he had fled.
“Where are you going!”
The companion shouted from behind, but he did not stop. His trembling hand clutched the paper with the portrait like a lifeline.
Bella Oshik.
A fallen noble, yet she sold her title and lived as a commoner, rising from the bottom.
“A blessing has descended on this lowly madness…”
The man stopped.
The queen’s palace, the Rose Palace, burned. As the massive gates toppled with a crash, he saw her.
Bella Oshik, sword in hand, atop the steps.
“The king is fleeing through the north gate. If you pursue now, you can catch him.”
A quiet voice echoed in the garden. Only then did the man realize whose soul inhabited Bella Oshik.
“Duke Prelode… is that correct?”
“That’s not important. What matters is what you hope to gain from this.”
Step by step, Cheire descended the marble stairs, and the man shivered with cold.
“You came to judge us?”
“No.”
“….”
Cheire passed by the man on the ground.
“I came to protect, to save, and to ultimately love.”
