CHAPTER 41:
You Are My Concubine
“You’re saying he said there was nothing?”
Jeremy flew into a rage after hearing the knight’s report.
“He was absolutely certain, Your Highness. When we searched the estate earlier, we didn’t find a thing…”
“And you call that an excuse?”
Jeremy roughly grabbed the reporting knight by the collar.
Faced with Jeremy’s twisted face, the knight involuntarily furrowed his brow.
“Look at me properly. Who is your master? It’s me! Not that dog of a bastard!”
“Your Highness…”
“You mean you just took that bastard’s word for it and didn’t even bother searching the place? How dare you!”
Jeremy looked visibly unstable.
He hadn’t been like this before his face was disfigured.
Once exuding leisure and confidence, Jeremy now reeked of desperation.
Suddenly, Jeremy drew the knight’s sword from his waist in a single motion—
And slashed the knight across the neck.
Schlack—
Blood spurted in all directions, staining even the armor of nearby knights.
“Guh!”
The knight clutched his neck, glaring up at Jeremy in disbelief.
After all those years of loyal service—such a meaningless death.
Soon, the knight’s body collapsed limply to the floor.
The nearby servants were stunned in horror.
“Well? The rest of you—got any real excuses?”
“Your Highness!”
At that moment, an aide rushed forward and grabbed Jeremy’s wrist in alarm.
“Your Highness, now more than ever, you must keep your wits about you. Perhaps it is time to seek help from Her Majesty the Empress…”
Jeremy’s crazed eyes turned to the aide.
“I have no mother.”
“…”
“What happened to that knight, Ben? Why is there still no word from him?!”
Jeremy shoved off the aide’s hand and even threw the sword he was holding to the ground.
Clang!
The sharp sound echoed through the corridor.
Two people had died by Jeremy’s hand just today.
Even among the knights and throughout the imperial palace, resentment toward Jeremy was growing.
If word of what happened inside the palace leaked outside, Jeremy’s position would become even more precarious.
People had thought him smarter than his father, but now it was clear—he was a lunatic.
The aide seriously considered switching allegiances, even at this late stage.
But Jeremy was the only one left with royal blood, and the Empress had the powerful House of Grand Duke Gredrick backing her.
As he debated what to do, a group of knights who had gone outside returned from the end of the corridor.
“Your Highness! We’ve found the knight named Ben. He was discovered in a deserted alley near the harbor.”
Jeremy’s eyes, gleaming violet between melted patches of skin, flashed sharply.
“Was he captured?”
“He was already dead when we found him. Murdered in an apparent attack… But we did find this in his hand.”
The knight held up a dazzling red ruby from his cloak.
“Anything else?”
“We searched even inside his sleeves, but aside from the ruby, there was nothing.”
Jeremy stared at the ruby.
What a strange coincidence—Erephia’s favorite gemstone also happened to be a ruby.
His blood boiled, but Jeremy forced himself to stay calm.
“Investigate the origin of this ruby thoroughly.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Clack.
Dietrich set a basket of food down on the table.
Inside were red cherries, fruits, freshly baked egg tarts, and fresh milk.
Celia, watching this, asked Dietrich:
“How are you planning to deal with the fallout?”
“…”
“If the crown prince finds out you lied and said I wasn’t here, he won’t let you off easy.”
Dietrich silently placed a cherry between Celia’s lips.
Celia chewed the cherry, watching him quietly.
“Are you… worried about me right now?”
Celia answered immediately.
“Yeah.”
Dietrich’s hands paused as he was picking the stems off cherries to feed her.
“…Worry about yourself first. I have my own plans.”
To shut her up, perhaps, he pressed several cherries to her lips.
Rather than ask more, Celia ate them.
The soft, sweet cherries melted on her tongue.
“You look like a bird being fed.”
Dietrich chuckled quietly, still diligently removing stems.
Feeling a bit awkward being the only one eating, Celia asked:
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I don’t need to.”
Celia picked up an egg tart from the basket and held it to his mouth.
Dietrich slowly blinked and said:
“I don’t really like sweet things.”
“Then maybe try liking them—starting now?”
“People can survive on the bare minimum. Sweet or bitter—it’s all the same to me.”
Celia thought that maybe he wasn’t talking about food. Maybe that was just his worldview.
She didn’t push it. If he didn’t want it, she wouldn’t force him.
Taking a bite of the egg tart she offered, Celia said:
“You’re like a monk. What if I wake up one day and you’ve vanished?”
“No. Maybe you’re the one being too carefree.”
“Worrying won’t make things better, will it?”
“…”
“And why should I worry when you’re here?”
At her words, Dietrich paused and looked down at her.
His calm red eyes reflected her image.
“You.”
He reached out and gently wiped a crumb from her lips.
“In this palace, don’t trust anyone. Not even me. Got it?”
His words were strange. Was he… genuinely worried for her?
“No. I’ve decided to trust you.”
Or rather—half trust him.
Once he told her everything, then she’d believe him fully.
Dietrich’s eyes darkened. He leaned toward her.
“Why? Because I took your little test without hesitation?”
“Don’t call it a test. It was just a kiss.”
Dietrich looked a bit angry.
With a furrowed brow, he continued:
“Just a kiss? Do you go around kissing people to test them? That’s your method?”
Celia couldn’t understand why he was so upset.
She lost her appetite and set the egg tart down.
“Why are you so mad?”
Dietrich didn’t answer. A shadow fell across his face.
“You’re not just anyone.”
“…”
“I’m your master. You said it yourself—you handed me the leash.”
He could’ve killed her but didn’t. He always showed up in her time of need.
Because he was the only man who didn’t look at her with desire, she had no choice but to test him that way.
“So kissing me upset you that much? Weren’t you the one who tried to test me first?”
He was the one who had handed her the dagger and told her to stab him.
“You even said you’d give me your abilities if I needed them. So what’s the problem? It’s not like you’re losing anything.”
A flicker of sorrow crossed Dietrich’s face.
Celia didn’t understand why he looked so sad.
He was the one who tried to use her first, yet he looked like a man deeply hurt.
The sadness on his face was fleeting—gone before she could be sure she’d seen it.
When his expression returned to its usual stoic calm, his voice turned icy.
“You’re right.”
“…”
“It’s just a deal. Nothing more, nothing less. But…”
Dietrich trailed off as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“No matter how short your time left, value your life. Don’t make me lose the will to protect you.”
And with that, he turned and walked out of the room.
Celia stared at the closed door.
She thought:
Dietrich is not a bad man.
Compared to someone like Illeon, who disfigured someone’s face without a second thought—he was an angel.
Whatever his secret was, she could tell he was burdened just like she was.
“Besides my kingdom, the only other nation with gifted powers is the Duchy of Inata—our ally.”
Even if she tried not to be curious, she couldn’t help it.
His actions were always calm. His touch held no lust. And that made her feel safe.
—In this palace, trust no one. Not even me.
She knew she shouldn’t.
But strangely… she wanted to believe him.
Celia slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes.
She picked up another cherry from the table, but it no longer tasted sweet.
Illeon’s Quarters
“Your Majesty, what troubles you? You look so flustered.”
“Duke!”
Erephia clung to Illeon’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline.
“Something’s gone terribly wrong. Ben betrayed me! He poisoned Jeremy, not that girl!”
“Ah…”
Illeon feigned sympathy.
“I actually saw His Highness earlier—he looked absolutely dreadful.”
“Why would Ben do that? He’s been loyal to me for over twenty years! Now Jeremy thinks I disfigured his face—he’s completely convinced! Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
Illeon calmly offered her some tea.
“Your Majesty, please calm down. Have a cup of chamomile—it’s perfect for nerves.”
Erephia nodded and sat down.
Illeon poured the tea himself and handed it to her.
“Someone’s clearly trying to frame me! Let me ask you something…”
Her suspicious eyes turned on Illeon.
“You don’t think you’re the culprit, do you—?”
“Your Majesty.”
Illeon cut her off.
“After all I’ve done for you, you’re now lumping me in with that traitor Ben? I’m deeply offended.”
He stood up, clearly insulted.
Panicked, Erephia grabbed at his sleeve.
“I’m sorry—I’m just so shaken. Please forgive me, Duke.”
“…”
Illeon reluctantly sat back down.
Relieved, Erephia sipped her chamomile and continued:
“Ben couldn’t have planned this on his own. I have no idea who the real culprit is.”
“…But I think I might.”
Erephia’s eyes grew wide as saucers.
“Who?”
