CHAPTER 75…………………...
Witch Hunt
“Your Majesty.”
Celia straightened her back, lifting her chin high.
“You shall have nothing of mine.”
Celia gripped the hand of Ileon that had touched her cheek and continued speaking.
“My life, my death—they are entirely my own.”
“…….”
“I beg you, do not covet what you cannot have.”
With that, Celia gently pushed Ileon’s hand away and smiled softly.
Her large green eyes folded gracefully within her delicate features, and the corners of her red lips drew a perfect curve.
Ileon could not scold Celia for daring to reject him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her radiant smile.
It wasn’t merely that Celia was excessively beautiful.
It was her unyielding spirit, the dignity that seemed to flow from every fiber of her being, the fierce, intense gaze fixed upon him—
It stirred something deep within Ileon.
“……Do you hate me?”
Ileon grabbed Celia’s shoulders roughly as he spoke.
“……Do you despise me so much, the one who destroyed your kingdom?”
The veins on Ileon’s hand stood out as he clutched Celia’s shoulders.
Despite his strength, Celia did not grimace; she simply smiled calmly.
“So you burned the Grand Temple? Because you hated me, who took everything from you, and wanted to take from me what was precious to me?”
Even in this moment, Ileon found her pomegranate-red lips tantalizing.
He bit down on his lower lip to suppress his impulses.
His gaze, fixed on Celia, glimmered with desire.
“Princess. Did you survive by selling even your body, with such beauty?”
Celia silently laughed at Ileon, who did not yet know of her abilities.
“Well…”
“…….”
“If there was anything to sell, I may have sold it all… or perhaps I didn’t sell anything at all.”
Ileon’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. His mouth dried, a burning thirst spreading through him.
“If you’ve finished speaking, I would like to leave now.”
“I… cannot let you go.”
Ileon tightened his grip on her shoulders.
“The moment you leave this place, I will take your lover’s life in prison and hang his head upon the castle walls for all to see.”
Ileon’s eyes darkened with a murky light.
“The remaining flesh will be pecked at by hungry vultures, and your lover’s soul will wander eternally, unable to reach any resting place.”
Celia, having removed all trace of amusement, looked up at Ileon with a dry, composed expression.
Ileon felt as if she were looking down at him from above.
Yet, rather than feeling discomfort, a shiver ran through him—it was strange.
“Now, what will you do?”
The massive Grand Temple in the capital was engulfed in flames.
Bright red fire roared, scattering sparks into the air.
Shiny statues, lavishly adorned windows with tapestries, pristine chapels, hidden underground rooms for training executioners, and the ceremonial altar—all were consumed by fire.
People scrambled to put out the blaze, but the inferno, fierce and unyielding, reduced the magnificent Grand Temple to ashes in an instant.
No charred remains of bodies were left in the ruins.
The culprit who burned the temple had yet to be caught, even days later.
“Th-the wrath of the gods!”
Fear gripped the people, who had nowhere to turn.
For days, they locked their doors tight and avoided the streets at night.
Though it was supposed to be the bright noon, the sky was shrouded in heavy, dark clouds.
Beyond the towering walls, golden spires pierced the sky.
The capital streets visible from the palace were crowded with people of all kinds near a large leafy tree.
“Brillion’s angel is clearly a witch! Because of her, Duke Calypso has been imprisoned!”
A young man in white silk shouted dramatically in front of the tree.
“The Grand Temple burning is proof! The woman we called an angel was in truth a witch, luring men to hell! And so, all the men who coveted her met horrific ends!”
People murmured among themselves at the man’s claims.
“Indeed… ever since she entered the palace, strange things kept happening.”
“……Could she really be a witch?”
“The Grand Temple burning, Duke Calypso being imprisoned… it could all be the work of a witch.”
The easiest way to dispel fear was to place the blame on someone else.
For the frightened, Celia became a scapegoat.
“Even the late Emperor and the Crown Prince met tragic ends because they coveted that beautiful witch. The Grand Temple burning is God’s warning to us! Bring that witch out of the palace and execute her!”
The man’s words, waving the white silk, drew nods of fervent agreement.
“Yes. Soon after she entered the palace, the royal family began dying one by one.”
“No wonder her face could charm anyone.”
“Perhaps she’s using black magic. Her beautiful face is only a mask; underneath, she’s an ugly old crone.”
People spoke as if their imagination were reality.
“The great Emperor will hand that witch over to us. The witch who disrupts Abelon will be ours to deal with.”
People agreed with fervent nods.
From the bushes, a man in black robes silently watched the scene.
His bright yellow eyes glinted sharply, like a snake.
For a moment, he slid smoothly into the palace, like a snake slipping away.
In the dark, unlit underground prison of the palace, torches flickered precariously along the walls.
The air was thick with the stench of rot and mold.
The prisoners, confined in cages like animals, emitted a terrible odor, making the knight delivering meals wrinkle his nose.
He walked toward the prisoner in the innermost cell.
Thud, thud.
When he reached the large iron cage at the far end, the prisoner was revealed.
The torchlight illuminated him fully.
His body was like solid rock.
Every breath made his perfectly formed muscles swell and relax.
Though shackled at his arms and legs, he did not falter in his breathing.
Even imprisoned, he seemed utterly composed.
The knight wondered if the prisoner was not imprisoned by force, but by choice.
Forgetting to deliver the meal, he stood in awe.
The prisoner’s face was equally flawless.
A sharp nose, defined jawline—nothing was imperfect.
A pure sense of admiration and reverence welled up in the knight.
Though he had seen this face before, the awe only deepened.
“Duke Calypso.”
Even though he was no longer a duke, the knight addressed him as such.
Dietrich’s red eyes, emotionless, met the knight’s gaze.
The knight swallowed instinctively.
“……Meal.”
Clatter.
The knight placed the thin soup on the floor.
“How’s the situation outside?”
Dietrich spoke without looking at the food.
The knight replied.
“People are trying to hunt the witch. Officially, it’s a witch hunt, but in reality…”
The knight couldn’t continue.
“Speak.”
Urged by Dietrich, the knight continued.
“Some nobles are scheming to claim you for themselves.”
“…….”
“And His Majesty the Emperor… has summoned her separately…”
Dietrich’s eyes turned icy.
“Are the two of them together now?”
“Yes. The Emperor threatened to kill you if she wasn’t with him, so they are together in the Emperor’s chamber.”
Dietrich slowly blinked.
“Anderson.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Thank you for handling the palace ministers on my behalf.”
Anderson bowed deeply.
“……It was nothing. My duty.”
“Being imprisoned should be sufficient for now.”
“I’ll remove the shackles immediately.”
But Dietrich needed no help.
He freed the heavy restraints on his limbs simply by tensing his body.
Clank.
Anderson gasped in shock.
He had never thought anyone could remove such heavy shackles without a key.
Dietrich twisted his wrist and spoke casually.
“Go.”
