~Chapter 08~
Fresh, clear, smooth skin contrasting with lips that seemed to hold a freshly ripened peach.
Mysterious purple hair cascading down to a slender waist.
Eyes as clear as blue hydrangeas.
From Ivyn emanated an air of innocence mixed with an indescribably subtle charm.
This was, how to put it…
It was like something that, if you *snapped* it with your hand, would release a sweet-bitter fragrance.
The gaze of the young Emperor, who had been examining her carefully, narrowed slightly to the side.
“That I secretly left the castle at night with my servants to contact a secret society called the ‘Dark Covenant,’ which studies forbidden magic… is a misunderstanding, Your Majesty.”
Though her hands grew cold and her body trembled slightly from nervousness, Ivyn tried to convey her words clearly.
“During the interrogation, they said there was a witness, whose identity could not be revealed by the Theocracy… but this is truly absurd. In my view, I suspect it was false information spread by one of the factions hostile to the Kinzell family…”
Just as Ivyn was trailing off ambiguously…
*’No, my daughter Bean…!’*
*Choke.*
Dylan clenched his fist tightly, as if something was surging inside him.
He wore the intense expression of an over-immersed fan getting emotional.
*’…How can she state her opinion so maturely with that adorable appearance? Especially after experiencing such a terrible event not long ago, she must be disoriented… Truly like my daughter, she’s my daughter! Our Bean, hooray, hooray!’*
As Dylan was looking at his daughter with proud, moved eyes…
“That person is lying, Your Majesty.”
Archbishop Bernas, who had been watching the father and daughter with hate-filled eyes, abruptly interjected.
*Crack.*
A vicious fissure appeared over Dylan’s sky-blue pupils, which had just been soft and dewy as he looked at his daughter.
*Bang!*
The sound of Dylan slamming the table followed.
“What did you just say? *Lying*?”
“Yes, I said that. Ah, but then. Isn’t lying like the very air that demons breathe?”
“You creature worse than a beast…!”
As Dylan rose roughly from his seat, angrily exploding, the officials around him flinched like startled birds, slightly pushing their chairs back.
They seemed taken aback by his tiger-like intensity.
“Are you now comparing the Archbishop of the Holy Theocracy to a brute? Ha! In my view, it is Duke Kinzell, who defies the laws of nature and commands the dead, who is truly…!”
*Tap, tap.*
The young Emperor, who had been watching the argument with indifferent eyes, chin propped, tapped the armrest.
“Enough, enough of that.”
Finishing his words, the Emperor let out a big yawn.
He still seemed fatigued from his provincial tour.
He filled his empty glass about a quarter full with amber-colored liquor.
“I do not wish for you to start a war. The Kinzell family here, as you all well know, is a long-time loyalist family to the Wieg Empire. In the past, they have protected the royal family in various large and small threats and wars. And the Holy Theocracy here…”
As the great hall fell silent, the Emperor extended his glass toward the Holy Theocracy representatives.
“…is a place where religious figures who oversee the foundations of the religion as established by Wieg Empire law are gathered, is it not?”
Having finished speaking, the Emperor abruptly stood up.
It was clearly the hurry of someone eager to end the session.
“So, settled, right? Mediation concluded!”
Roshiniol smiled brightly and looked around the assembly.
Ivyn was speechless at the absurdity of the situation.
“But…!”
At Ivyn’s voice, sharp as a small dagger plunging deep, the Emperor, who was about to leave the meeting hall, stopped in his tracks.
“What?”
Roshiniol’s platinum eyebrows rose slightly.
As if to say, now that you’ve started, go ahead and finish what you have to say.
It wasn’t just Roshiniol who focused on her.
Everyone in the great hall was looking at her.
The officials began whispering amongst themselves in low voices.
“This… this isn’t quite right…”
“This? What exactly?”
“Well…”
“…?”
“Th-they abducted and detained me with no clear evidence, only suspicion! I… I don’t think this is a matter that can be simply brushed aside like this.”
“*Simply*…”
The Emperor chewed on the word that had come from Ivyn’s lips and turned his gaze toward where the Theocracy representatives sat.
With an attitude that seemed to be probing something, carefully gauging.
“…”
Archbishop Bernas’s face was still stiff with anger.
The moment their eyes met was very brief, but Ivyn didn’t miss the subtle current that passed between them in that instant.
More precisely, the strangely ironic atmosphere of the young Emperor seeming to check the mood of the old Archbishop and the Theocracy.
“Hmm…”
Roshiniol gave a slight nod toward Ivyn, who was standing tall.
“Lady Kinzell, please come with me for a moment.”
“But Your Majesty! My daughter is…!”
Dylan reacted sharply to the young Emperor’s suggestion.
“Duke Dylan, it seems your daughter is very tense in this public setting, so I will listen to her story separately in a place with fewer eyes, a more comfortable place.”
*Comfortable place?*
How many people could truly speak their mind freely in a private audience with the Emperor?
Whether aware of the contradiction in his own words or not, the young Emperor finished his piece and leisurely exited the great hall.
Following him were numerous court officials and the royal guard.
“Separate conversation…?”
As Ivyn stood stiffly, hesitant, the Emperor’s aide approached her and Dylan.
“His Majesty wishes to speak with Lady Kinzell for a moment. It seems he wishes to offer some words of consolation.”
At this point, it was no different from an imperial command.
Having grasped the situation, Dylan let out a short sigh.
Then, as if there was no choice, he bent affectionately toward his daughter, who was clinging tightly to his side.
“Bean, just tell His Majesty honestly what you experienced. Dad will be standing guard right outside the door, so don’t worry too much. Our daughter can do it bravely, just like earlier, right?”
“Yes…”
“You are the most precious gem and pride of our Kinzell family. Be confident even before the Emperor! Don’t be intimidated!”
Dylan stretched out his large hand and straightened his daughter’s slumped, hunched shoulders.
“Our princess, fighting!”
“Fi… fighting…!”
Ivyn, who had shown a determined little fist shake toward Dylan, followed the Emperor’s aide and stepped out of the conference hall.
How long did they walk across the vast, whale-back-broad halls?
Following the guidance, they finally arrived at the audience chamber.
The young Emperor, who had departed before her, was lounging on the throne as if he were a wet rag, waiting for her.
Ivyn approached near the throne and once again offered a respectful bow toward the Emperor.
The Emperor observed her for a moment without a word.
Just like in the conference room, it was a gaze that seemed to carefully appreciate something about her.
Eyes of light blue that seemed somehow timid yet shone intelligently, an elegance inherent to a ducal family that couldn’t be erased even in her slightly hunched posture.
In the young Emperor’s heart, pure curiosity toward her was surging like a summer fountain.
“Ivyn Kinzell.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“From what I’ve been told, you secretly slipped out of Kinzell Ducal Castle under the cover of night. Is that true?”
“It is.”
“…”
“So, what is it you want? Revenge? Or restoration of honor?”
Caught by Roshiniol’s direct question, Ivyn fell into brief thought.
*What should I answer here?*
…A massive compensation?
But Ivyn immediately shook her head inwardly.
The Kinzell Ducal family was already plenty wealthy.
*’Then…’*
She carefully reviewed the situation she was in now.
According to the original work, after Ivyn died in the dungeon, using that as a pretext, the Kinzell family declared a massive war on the Holy Theocracy.
The name the Theocracy gave the war was the ‘Holy War.’
After half a year of war, the necromancer family vanished from history forever, and the young Emperor Roshiniol was dethroned.
The reason was his usual closeness to the Kinzell family.
Afterward.
Holy Knight Theodor and Saintess Pavella, having heightened their prestige once more as war heroes, embarked on a large-scale ‘purification’ campaign, absorbing the Empire under the banner of religious unification, giving birth to a theocratic society…
‘But this time, it’s completely different. First of all, Ivyn… no, *I* survived. Because of that, the Kinzell family’s war declaration was thwarted.’
So, how will the story’s probability flow now?
What happens to the necromancer family now?
Dad and my brothers…
And even my fate.
Can we all survive, without dying, until the end of the story?
However.
Judging from the novels Ivyn had read, whenever the original story changed, corresponding new events were invariably added.
In stories where Character A avoids a destined death for some reason (transmigration, regression, etc.), there was the cliché of new dangers continually arising, leading to death in a different form.
It was an event sometimes called probability adjustment or the aftermath of probability.
The conclusion she could draw now was one.
If she wanted to protect her family and her own life…
‘I have to delete or change the death-related flags as much as possible.’
Having finished her thoughts, Ivyn slowly parted her red lips, which she had been pressing together tightly.
“What I want… is peace.”
“What? Peace?”
The Emperor sprang up from his rag-like slouch and asked Ivyn again in a voice raised a tone higher.
