Chapter 168
Chapter: 168
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 168
>Chapter Title: Warning (1)
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That evening, the final banquet of the three-day Nativity Festival, which had stretched across those days, was held.
The atmosphere at this banquet was quite subdued. Since most of the familiar faces had already exchanged greetings, it was now time for deeper political conversations to flow between them.
Sungjin formally introduced Charles, the young lord of Rabijuri, to Amelia.
“You sent such a precious gift, young Lord Rabijuri. Gazing only at the flower buds in the greenhouse, I missed the splendid news of spring arriving in the garden itself.”
“Not at all. In Your Highness’s presence, no flower’s fragrance could hold its own. I now realize just how inadequate my preparations were.”
The two seemed to get along quite well, chatting amiably.
When Amelia was with her siblings as usual, she would speak in a warm and affectionate tone, revealing her true feelings openly.
But in formal settings, she was surprisingly adept at the florid rhetoric of noble speech.
Come to think of it, hadn’t she once said something like this to Sungjin?
-People love hiding their true intentions in flower language or flowery words. But most of the time, they’re not really trying to hide them—they expect the other person to figure it out naturally.
She’d said she didn’t engage much in social activities due to her usual shyness, yet watching her now, she exuded more seasoned poise than Isabella, the so-called queen of high society. It was truly remarkable.
That aside.
‘That guy’s subtly promoting Brittany’s prince again.’
Sungjin glared at Charles with a sullen expression. He could clearly see the little schemer pushing for a marriage alliance between Delcross and Brittany, and it didn’t sit well with him.
[Why are you making a fuss when you’re the one who introduced them?]
‘Because if Brittany wants something from Sis, she’ll surely get something from them in return.’
Just like that engagement with that Mores creep, where it was all just talk.
Moreover, Sungjin had the feeling that Amelia wanted to build connections far and wide during this Nativity Festival—especially with nobles from Rohan and Brittany. Since the only contact Sungjin could help with was Charles, he could grudgingly overlook a bit of displeasure. Apparently, House Rabijuri held considerable influence in Brittany.
‘Besides, whoever she talks to, it’s better than that Rohan swallow bastard, right?’
[...You really hate that guy, huh?]
Yeah. Why was that?
For some reason, just seeing that guy made him want to drag him off somewhere and bury him where no one would find him.
Was it those psychopath eyes?
[Who’re you calling a psychopath?]
‘...Shut up!’
In any case, both Amelia and Charles appeared satisfied with the meeting.
‘How beautiful and elegant this princess is. She’d pair perfectly with Prince Philip! When I return to Brittany, I must convince Father to push forward with the royal marriage in earnest.’
‘Philip of Brittany becomes a rational monarch in the future. When the Holy War breaks out, he’s the second to join the alliance and stands against Leonhard. Building a good relationship with him now will help with all sorts of things down the line.’
Watching the two of them, Sungjin thought.
‘Maybe I should introduce Chloe to Sis while I’m at it...’
In Sungjin’s mind, Chloe was already the future head of Delcross’s foreign affairs.
She was just studying foreign languages as a hobby for now, but if it suited her, what other talent could be more useful for diplomacy?
With her quick mind, she wouldn’t come back at a loss from any negotiation table.
Sungjin didn’t know what Amelia wanted to do in the future, but Chloe would surely become her wingwoman someday.
‘It’s a bit tight on time before departure, but I should still try to set something up!’
Since Amelia was deep into her studies, the two might even hit it off and start a language study group.
‘Though it’s a shame about connections within Delcross...’
With a royal marriage on the line for their own country, foreign dignitaries were desperate to forge even the slightest good rapport with Amelia.
In contrast, Delcross nobles treated the princess coolly, figuring she’d soon marry off to some foreign land anyway.
They fawned over the Empress or Empress Consort Elizabeth instead, giving Amelia little room to breathe.
‘Without someone well-versed in high society to bridge the gap, it’ll be tough.’
Isabella’s face suddenly flashed in his mind.
The queen of high society, who might have become another wing for Amelia if not ensnared by Sigurd Sigurson’s curse.
Lost in thought, someone sidled up to Sungjin and whispered softly.
“...Bethelra!”
“......”
Sungjin shot a glare at Leonhard, who was grinning foolishly beside him. Even with the sharp return glare, this annoying bastard just chuckled and downed his drink, clearly in high spirits for some reason.
“Time flies in the blink of an eye—three days gone just like that! It’s a shame we’ve barely built any rapport and must part already, don’t you think?”
Be grateful the Nativity Festival lasted only three days, you punk.
If it had dragged on even a day longer, letting you pester Sis more, I’d have buried you myself, diplomatic issues be damned!
“Oh, right. I was thinking of setting up a get-together with my friend soon. When works for you?”
Hmm. Sungjin pondered with a sullen face.
He’d initially planned to dig into that shady ‘brothers’ group or whatever, but Leonhard circling Amelia was starting to grate more and more.
“Probably tough for a while. Got plans to head out right away.”
Orden Zigsmunt planned to return to his territory immediately after the Nativity Festival ended.
Since Sungjin was publicly accepting the grand prince’s invitation to visit the territory, he had to align his schedule. And he intended to slip the monster task force into his entourage discreetly.
If the task force officially investigated the territory, the margrave would surely pull out all the stops to boot Sungjin’s group out.
But Leonhard replied leisurely.
“No problem. There’ll be banquets popping up everywhere even after the Nativity Festival. I plan to linger in Delcross, hopping between invited events. Just contact me whenever you have time.”
And then he shot another sly glance at Amelia!
A vein throbbed on Sungjin’s forehead.
‘You got nothing better to do, you swallow bastard?!’
And so, this year’s Nativity Festival drew to a close.
That very night, word arrived that Isabella of House Scarzapino had regained consciousness.
* * *
Upon waking, Isabella—unlike Ricardo—managed to stay composed.
Had her original self abandoned her, she’d have panicked amid tampered memories.
But now, the original was cornered too. She still had a way to become the main body.
Though the connection was severed, she knew where the real Sigurd Sigurson was—precisely because she knew who the last remaining avatar was.
‘It was a crisis bound to come someday.’
Isabella... no, Sigurd thought.
After his flesh was slain by the Holy Emperor years ago, he’d barely clung to life by hopping his soul from puppet to puppet.
Parasitizing others’ bodies had side effects. He preferred puppets with weak egos, but even then, he couldn’t escape their influence gradually eroding his own self.
And of all things, the last avatar left to his original self was the one he’d most wanted to avoid.
A man with such a strong sense of self that, despite preparations from childhood, he’d never fully controlled him.
‘I can’t know how long he can maintain my identity...’
Driven by circumstance, he’d had no choice but to leave her body, but if he could just confront that avatar, the Puppeteer would surely return to her form.
‘For now, let’s leave Delcross as soon as preparations are ready.’
From the night she awoke until the next morning.
She planned her journey sleeplessly. Her mind was filled only with the urgency to meet that final avatar.
As she steeled her resolve, an unexpected morning visitor arrived: Prince Mores, incongruously carrying a bouquet.
“Hey, Sigurd Sigurson. You look healthier than expected?”
After setting out simple refreshments in the drawing room and dismissing the servants, the prince sat across from Isabella with a smile.
Yet his gray eyes, fixed on her, held not a trace of warmth.
Feeling an eerie chill, Isabella spoke in a trembling voice.
“He has left me, Your Highness Mores. I am now Isabella...”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Your Highness...”
“I held out a sliver of hope that some Isabella remained, but no such luck. His presence clings to you entirely—that sticky, filthy parasite vibe.”
“......”
Isabella, or rather Sigurd Sigurson, fell silent.
Prince Mores was the next Oracle. In this stalled Delcross, the only living thread of causality.
Even after his personality shifted, that fact never changed—his insight-piercing gaze gleamed with sharp silver-gray light.
Clutching the shawl on her shoulders, trembling, she watched as the prince, after scrutinizing her, finally spoke.
“Lady Isabella.”
His voice feigned gentle reassurance, like soothing a child.
“By nature, I don’t let potential dangers linger. I can’t tolerate something like you still breathing beside Sisley. But Father saved you. So, out of respect for his will, I’ll give you one chance.”
“A chance...?”
“Yes.”
The prince nodded and continued.
“A chance to become Lady Isabella.”
Sigurd was taken aback.
Become Isabella? How?
“Why, don’t you have that trick you’re good at? Cast enchantment in the mirror, implant suggestion, whatever. Why not try puppeteering yourself like you did the puppets?”
“That’s absurd...”
“Use any method you’re capable of. The deadline is before I return from Zigsmunt territory.”
He lifted the teacup before her and brought it to his lips. Apparently not to his taste, he grimaced after gulping a mouthful.
“You need to grasp this clearly. Right now, you think you can’t be anything but Sigurd Sigurson. But he’s your enemy—the one who made you lose yourself. He stole your body, your mind, everything that makes you you. And yet you still strive to become him?”
“......”
“Scarcely any trace of her remains in you now, but consider it consideration for my fiancée, Lady Isabella. Succeed in becoming her fully, and I’ll help you get revenge on the one who did this to you.”
Her voice trembled as she replied.
“But... how could I possibly do that?”
Tears began to spill from her beautiful turquoise eyes.
“I’ve already learned of that grand plan! I’ve seen that beautiful world, those intricate tales with my own eyes! How can I return to being a mere human?!”
But a brutally cold response came to her plaintive question.
“Because your survival depends on it, obviously. For your life, you must cling desperately—plans and tales be damned, what use are they?”
Prince Mores stared straight into her wavering eyes, enunciating each word.
“Listen well. When I return from the north and see you again, you’d better be a perfect Isabella Scarzapino, at least on the outside. Fail that, and I might just take revenge on you first. Our little one’s vengeance still festers unsatisfied, so honestly, my mood’s foul even now.”
He curled the corner of his mouth toward her.
“So remember this. If you’re still Sigurd Sigurson when I return...”
For a moment, his eyes flashed, silver-gray light gleaming.
“You’ll die by my hand for certain. Understood?”
“......!”
A bone-chilling cold pierced her to the core, and she realized.
The chance to become Sigurd Sigurson once more would never come again.