CHAPTER 82…………………………………………..
: The One Who Desires, the One Who Is Desired
Gabriel, called by name by the knight, feigned ignorance, answered “Yes,” and sat down in the chair.
“Speaking falsehoods as if they were truth and throwing the people into confusion is a grave crime, my lady.”
“…I don’t understand what confusion you claim I’ve caused.”
At Gabriel’s words, the knight narrowed his eyes.
“The burning of the Grand Temple has already unsettled public sentiment. And in such a situation, to accuse an innocent woman of being a witch—how is that not stirring up confusion? Especially when she is of your own house.”
In response to the knight’s interrogation, Gabriel widened her eyes.
“Are you saying I fabricated lies out of nothing? Do you truly believe all those people were fools, chasing after Selia as a witch for no reason?”
Before the knight could speak, Gabriel hurried on.
“You must know this well, sir knight. How many men who lusted after Selia ended up dead? Regardless of their status.”
“…”
“Would I ever dare slander my own kin falsely, when it could bring ruin upon our entire house?”
The knight fell silent, and Gabriel played her last card.
“And besides… there’s something I saw that night…”
Gabriel walked out of the interrogation room unharmed.
Hariel, who had likewise been released without questioning, ran up with a startled face.
“What on earth did you say to make the knights let us go?”
“I didn’t say much, Mother.”
Gabriel kept her words brief, even to Hariel.
To know for sure what she had witnessed that night, she needed to see her brother.
“Come to think of it, where are Father and my brothers?”
Anderson kept his eyes on the imprisoned Illeon.
For someone locked in a cell, Illeon looked far too calm.
He slept well, ate well, and carried himself as though he had expected to end up here all along.
Even shackled with heavy restraints, he acted as if he were at home.
As if sensing Anderson’s thoughts, Illeon smiled, his eyes curving.
“Sir, you look rather uneasy.”
“…Nonsense. I was only looking because it is strange to see you so unruffled, despite your imprisonment.”
Illeon replied in a leisurely tone.
“To wail and despair when the situation turns bad—that’s the behavior of a loser. One who cannot even govern his own emotions—how could he hope to govern a situation?”
Snake-like bastard.
The muscles in Anderson’s jaw tensed.
“What do you think you can do in this situation? The Imperial Palace is already entirely in the hands of my lord, Duke Calypso.”
Illeon twisted his lips in a mocking smile.
“Do you truly believe the palace belongs to Dietrich?”
He leaned back against the wall. The shackles scraped his wrist with a metallic clink.
“The whole of Abelon is under my dominion. You are very dull-witted, Sir.”
“…”
“If you would cast another down, you had best be ready to fall yourself.”
Illeon smiled again, his eyes of ice-blue glinting with strange light.
“Don’t you agree, Sir Anderson?”
Anderson longed to cut out that serpent’s tongue at once, but Dietrich had not yet given the order.
“…So. Did you touch my lady?”
At those words, the smile vanished from Illeon’s face as if erased.
“My lady? Don’t tell me you mean Selia Brillion.”
“Yes. Do you know how much she has suffered since coming to the palace? You must pay for dishonoring the woman who is to become my lord’s wife.”
Anderson’s bloodshot eyes glared at Illeon through the bars.
“Dishonored…?”
Illeon murmured softly.
He had never dishonored her. If anything, it was she who had dishonored him.
The silver-haired woman had drugged him, thrown him in a cell, and fled into Dietrich’s arms.
She had destroyed her own kingdom, lost everything she had, all because of him.
Guilt?
Such a thing had no place in him.
He was the true apostle of God, executing prophecy.
The prophecy had never once erred.
If he had not destroyed the kingdom of Shan, it would have destroyed him instead.
And yet—
The princess who survived the chaos had been so fragile, so delicate.
—Even if such a moment comes, I do not wish to use such cowardly means.
Despite having endured the crushing weight of men’s desire, she had dared to call his means cowardly.
So Illeon had dismissed Selia as no threat at all.
Perhaps the prophecy was mistaken.
For the first time in his life, he doubted the will of God.
Perhaps, deep inside, he even wished that woman could never bring him harm.
—Because you, my lord, are not a good man.
Those clear green eyes had seized his gaze.
The Angel of Brillion, everyone’s first love.
The rumors did her no justice—Selia was truly breathtaking.
But for a powerless woman, such beauty was nothing but tragedy.
A life of being endlessly desired by men.
Within that cycle of lust, Selia had chosen Dietrich as her only companion.
She must have believed only Dietrich could understand her.
But a man who plotted for ten years to bring Abelon to ruin could hardly be called sane.
Depthless resentment and hatred.
They shared the same darkness.
So perhaps it was only natural that these two alone could truly understand one another.
Illeon suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
All his life, he had seized whatever he desired.
Wealth, power, even people’s hearts—and at last, the throne itself.
But this—this he knew he could never have.
He would never win Selia’s heart.
The moment he realized there was something he could not own, his desire only deepened.
When her lashes trembled like a butterfly’s wings, unknown cravings rose up within him.
Illeon’s eyes clouded over.
No matter.
Once Dietrich was gone, everything would fall smoothly into his hands.
Even if the Grand Temple had burned, even if the palace had fallen to Dietrich, Abelon’s skies still belonged to Illeon.
An inn on a street in the capital.
Harsh rain battered the windows without pause.
“I should never have let Selia go to the palace. Curse that Hariel—who could have guessed she’d use our absence to send Selia there!”
Baron Brillion gnashed his teeth, glaring at the downpour.
On the table before him, empty glasses lay scattered.
His face was flushed from drink.
Vincent, seated across from him, silently watched his father’s twitching mustache.
“She’s the daughter I found and took in, and that wretched woman went and sold her off to the Emperor! Damn her!”
The baron slammed his half-filled glass on the table with a bang.
Vincent could hardly endure any more of his father’s lamenting.
Even now, Selia was surely with Dietrich.
Whether she was accused of witchcraft or not—Vincent didn’t care.
What gnawed at him was that the man beside her was Dietrich, not himself.
When he and his father had gone to a resort, he had idled away with every silver-haired woman he could find.
“Who knew, after such a delightful trip, something like this would happen. We never should have gone.”
Vincent sneered inwardly at his father, who now regretted what he had already enjoyed to the fullest.
In the time he hadn’t seen her, Selia had become even more beautiful.
The memory of her leaving in Dietrich’s arms made Vincent’s blood boil.
He remembered the way she looked at him.
Those emerald eyes, staring as if at a disgusting insect.
What man would not turn his gaze toward a beautiful woman?
What was wrong with harboring desire for a stepsister not bound by blood?
Had it not been for his father, Selia would have wandered the streets. She should have been grateful all her life simply for being taken in by the family.
But instead of gratitude, she had ignored them. She had treated both him and his father as strangers, and brazenly left in Dietrich’s arms.
Dietrich Calypso!
Commander of the Imperial Knights, who controlled Abelon’s military might.
Though stripped of his ducal title by the Emperor, all still called him “duke.”
Vincent was no exception.
“…If only I had trained Selia properly while she was still in the house. Then she would never have dared spurn Father and me, or run away into the Duke’s arms.”
At Vincent’s words, the baron snapped his head up.
“Come to think of it—didn’t you used to slip into Selia’s room often?”
It was true.
Vincent, unable to contain his burning desire, had stolen into Selia’s chamber several times at dawn.
But…
“…Though I did slip into her room several times, strangely, I have no memory of what happened afterward. None at all.”
The baron’s brows rose at this new revelation.
“What are you saying?”
“When I woke, I was back in my own bed, Father. Isn’t that strange? I remember entering Selia’s room, and yet when I woke, I was in my own chamber.”
“And you only tell me this now?”
Vincent did not confess that his intent had been to claim Selia for himself completely.
His silence made the baron’s face glisten with vile desire.
“…Then, are you saying Selia is still untouched?”
