Chapter 72
I wondered how much time had passed.
“…Pii?”
Luda regained consciousness before Cecilia did.
“Pip? …Piii!”
After confirming that Cecilia was still asleep, Luda darted her head around, searching for Lionel.
But he was already gone. Only after circling Cecilia’s bedroom four times did Luda realize this, her tail feathers bristling in frustration as she hovered in midair.
“Piiiit!”
How dare he leave me behind!
Grumbling indignantly, Luda flew to Cecilia, who was still lying in bed, pressing her forehead against hers.
Through their touching foreheads, magic flowed from Luda into Cecilia.
Now that their names had been properly called and they were perfectly linked, Luda could transfer her magical vessel to Cecilia.
“Pii…”
But Luda—or more precisely, Cecilia’s instincts—didn’t want that.
If they were to chase Lionel all the way to the north and help with monster hunting, it was better for Luda to keep the magical vessel.
But how could she help with monster hunting from here?
“Piiit, pip… pip!”
A sudden idea seemed to strike her. Luda spread her wings wide and soared high into the air.
Before leaving the bedroom, she hovered down once more, rubbing her head gently against Cecilia’s forehead.
“I’ll be back!”
With a farewell to her other half, the bluebird flew boldly toward the towering peaks of Mount Hayton.
Perhaps it was exhaustion, but my vision blurred as if I were dreaming.
The western sky had turned a deep crimson at sunset. The countless screams that had echoed from the Crown Prince’s palace windows had long since shifted into cheers.
Even the strange, indistinct sounds—whether shouts, wails, laughter, or cries—from the neighboring room gradually fell silent.
Then, I heard the bedroom door creak open. But stubbornly, I kept my gaze fixed outside the window.
After a moment, a voice called to me.
“I have come to see Her Highness, the Crown Princess.”
It was a dry voice, completely devoid of emotion.
I turned to look at the woman, who offered a formal, if simple, gesture. Her face was as taut and strained as her voice had been moments ago.
“Is that a mockery?” I asked.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Since the Crown Prince is no longer the Crown Prince, why do you address me that way?”
Today’s rebellion had claimed the lives of the Emperor and Empress, and my husband, the First Crown Prince, had lost his position.
Judging by the silence from the neighboring room, he too had likely met death—probably a death foreseen, like a prophecy.
What drove him to his demise? A shattered dream of becoming the next Emperor? The humiliation of losing everything to someone he’d spent a lifetime being robbed by? The realization that all that awaited him was disgrace and ridicule?
Whatever it was, he lost everything—and with that, I was no longer the Crown Princess.
Archbishop Nicole seemed to realize this belatedly. She glanced at me briefly before speaking in a quiet voice.
“Should I address you as Lady Roheim?”
“Just call me Cecilia.”
It had been three years since the name Roheim had been taken from me. Now, the word felt foreign.
“Lady Cecilia.”
It had been a long time since anyone called me that.
No one had used my name since I entered the palace.
I realized then that even my name had been taken from me.
“What will happen to me now? Guillotine? Hanging? …Ah, I suppose not. My fate isn’t complete yet.”
A bitter laugh escaped me, but Archbishop Nicole did not respond. She only lowered her gaze and moved her lips quietly.
“I feel remorse for you.”
“For what?” I asked.
“….”
Nicole said nothing. I didn’t care about her guilt, so I asked another question.
“If you held such resentment against the royal family that you plotted a rebellion, why did you treat the First Crown Prince?”
“….”
“Was it to deepen his despair? To place him higher so the fall would hurt more?”
“I didn’t know at the time.”
Nicole finally looked me straight in the eyes, her tone unwavering.
“I didn’t realize then that what I needed was revenge, not atonement.”
-
Aaaaah!
A piercing scream came from outside the window—a terrifying, deathlike shriek.
I instinctively rubbed my shoulder. Nicole, who had also been looking out the window, spoke to me.
“The Roheim family owes you a debt. We will send you home.”
“Home?”
Even at the height of tragedy, I laughed. The word sounded absurd.
Was there even a place I could call home now?
“You won’t be able to appear in public, and your name can no longer be used…”
“Do you think I can really do that?”
I raised my left hand into the air.
The massive gem on my ring, heavy and cumbersome, felt like shackles. It wasn’t of my choosing—and I couldn’t remove it.
“This is my fate, inevitable… That’s why I had to hold the hand of the man I despised and come here. But that fate isn’t complete, so I cannot die.”
Knowing it was meaningless, I pulled the ring from my left ring finger and let it fall to the floor.
Thud. Thud. The gem was too large to roll—it bounced a few times before resting on the blood- and dust-strewn floor, glinting stubbornly.
“You want me to go home now? No, I’ll stay here. This is my fate.”
“But…”
Nicole, as if trying to persuade me, paused, a sudden realization dawning on her.
“You don’t mean…!”
I smiled faintly, knowing exactly what she was thinking.
At that moment, the half-open door creaked, and the figure behind it emerged—the very instigator of the rebellion, Lionel, holding a bloodstained sword.
“Lio…”
Did he realize that the name I muttered was his?
His violet eyes, like those of the other knights, showed no trace of mercy.
He could never have imagined that his fate, once destined for greatness, would play out this way—becoming a tool caught in another’s vengeance, his will erased from the world.
Tears ran down my cheeks, unstoppable. Through the haze of my vision, he advanced toward me with sword in hand.
“Lio.”
When I called him, I could still picture him in my dreams, answering me with my name. Now, until my death, I would never hear it from him again.
Did he know how much I longed to die by that sword?
I faced him squarely.
Whatever you give me, I’ll accept.
Pushing away the last tear clinging to my eyelid, I closed my eyes.
The heavy footsteps stopped right before me. I held my breath, trying to sense him.
But the next sound wasn’t his breath—it was the sword hitting the floor.
A strong, chain-like arm wrapped around my waist.
A bloodstained hand gripped my back, as if marking me with a scar. Trapped, I was held against him.
Tears flowed like never before.
I no longer deserved to be in his arms, or to cling to him.
“Lio, I…”
My tears blurred my vision entirely, leaving me unable to see anything.
But I felt one thing clearly.
The hot, rough, fiery breath of the man against my lips.
“Cecil!”
As my eyes flew open, I felt tears streaming down my face.
The remnants of the dream had crushed my tear ducts mercilessly.