The Poison in Her Bosom
Octavian von Roseria was in a foul mood, utterly unaware that the poison tucked inside his half-sister’s robes was slowly turning ice-cold. No—more precisely, there hadn’t been a single moment in the past several days when his mood had been anything but foul.
“Damn it all.”
Slumped deep in the chair of his office, he pressed hard against his temples with his fingertips. Beyond the window, the spires of the Imperial Palace rose arrogantly into the sky. The heart of a thousand-year empire that would soon belong entirely to him.
Yes. It would all be his.
The eldest legitimate son. The Crown Prince, already designated as the next Emperor. In this empire, no one should have been capable of standing in his way.
…And yet.
“Kyle Lowenheim.”
Merely uttering the name made Octavian’s brow twist on its own. The Emperor’s Sword. Vice Commander of the Imperial Guard. That stubbornly upright man who had swept the swordsmanship tournament in his youth and single-handedly halted the massive army of northern nomads.
His father, the Emperor, could not praise the man enough.
—With Sir Lowenheim at my side, I can sleep with both legs stretched out.
Whenever the Emperor opened his mouth, such accolades poured forth. The problem was that this loyal hound had chosen to side with the youngest sibling.
Victoria von Roseria… that low-born girl with no mother, who nevertheless dared to lift her head high and call herself a princess. She should have been crushed once and never dared raise her head again. Instead, she always slipped away from harm by hiding in the shadow of that stubborn sword.
If Octavian tried to fire a barbed remark at a banquet, Kyle would step in at once, declaring, “Her Highness the Princess is also a member of the imperial family.” If he attempted to humiliate her, everyone would fall silent, intimidated by the prestige of the so-called Emperor’s Sword.
“Hiding behind him and acting so arrogantly…”
Octavian tapped his fingernails against the armrest with sharp, rhythmic clicks. A woman who couldn’t even swing a sword was using the empire’s strongest man as a shield to run wild through the imperial court. The sight irritated him beyond measure. Every time he witnessed it, rage burned like a thousand fires in his chest.
…He had to teach her a lesson. One she would never forget. In front of the entire court, he would trample her pathetic pride and make her understand that a low-born creature should crawl on her belly like the vermin she was.
But to do that, he first needed to remove one obstacle.
That shield. That detestable loyal hound.
“If only Lowenheim were gone…”
He had never considered confronting the man head-on. Only fools did that. How many people in the empire could possibly defeat him in a duel? Provoking him would only make Octavian look ridiculous.
Therefore, the direct approach was discarded. What he needed was justification. A plausible excuse to send the man far away for a short while. That would be enough. A few days would suffice to break the youngest princess’s spirit.
…The only problem was that such a convenient justification refused to appear.
Octavian irritably drained his wine glass. He needed a pretext compelling enough to drag the Emperor’s Sword out of the palace. A flimsy excuse would never work. His father would never willingly separate himself from that loyal dog, so the reason had to be one that even the Emperor could not refute—one that demanded the Emperor’s Sword take action personally.
Such a thing would not simply fall into his lap—
“Your Highness!”
At that moment, a servant burst into the office in a panic.
“What is the meaning of this commotion?”
“I-it is… urgent news has arrived from the border!”
Octavian waved his hand in annoyance, but froze at the servant’s next words.
“A pack of Manticores has appeared! Their numbers are so great that an entire border village was reduced to ruins overnight… Three subjugation forces were dispatched, yet all of them were completely annihilated!”
“…What did you say?”
“Especially the enormous leader of the pack—it is impervious to arrows and swords… At this rate, the entire border region is in grave danger. The official report states—”
The servant’s voice trembled, his face pale as death.
But as Octavian listened, a smile slowly—very slowly—spread across his lips.
“…Hah.”
A pack of Manticores. Three subjugation forces annihilated. A leader immune to arrows and blades. Could there be a more perfect justification?
“Haha… Hahahaha!”
Octavian finally burst into laughter. The irritation that had plagued him moments ago vanished without a trace, replaced by the deep satisfaction of a hunter who had spotted his prey.
Yes. A border threat so severe that three subjugation forces had been wiped out. No one could object now. Even if the Emperor’s Sword himself had to step forward, who would find it strange?
Of course, Octavian knew the truth. A mere pack of magic beasts like that would be nothing for Kyle Lowenheim. The man would sweep them away in a few days and return. His martial prowess was overwhelmingly superior—something Octavian hated to admit.
But it didn’t matter.
A few days. No, even a single day. If that man disappeared from the palace for just one day, it would be enough.
While he was out there drenched in the blood of magic beasts, a grand banquet would be held within the palace walls. And at that banquet, the youngest princess—now without her shield—would suffer a fate that made Octavian’s mouth water just thinking about it.
“Excellent.”
Octavian rose from his seat and approached the window. Gazing down at the palace that would soon be his, he murmured softly.
“I must inform Father. As a filial son deeply concerned for the crisis at the border.”
The justification to send the man away and the stage to crush that girl had all been prepared in one stroke.
“Wait for me, Victoria.”
The corner of Octavian’s mouth curled into a cruel smirk.
“This time, even that splendid shield of yours… will not be able to come save you.”
Caw.
With a low cry, black wings settled onto the windowsill. It was the same crow Victoria had encountered at the crossroads a few days earlier. In its beak was a small box.
「Your Highness. I have obtained the item you commanded, though it was no easy task.」
A low, human voice—not that of a bird—flowed from the crow’s beak.
“You were faster than I expected.”
「The price was… considerable. It nearly emptied one of the treasuries. But since it was Your Highness’s command, how could I delay?」
The crow gently dropped the box it had been carrying into Victoria’s palm.
「……With this, any beast can be silenced without a sound. Even the Emperor’s Sword.」
There was a strange weight behind those final words, as though the speaker already guessed what she intended to do with it.
Victoria offered no reply.
「…Then I shall take my leave.」
The crow asked no further questions and flew back into the darkness. Not asking questions—that was how her people showed their loyalty.
Left alone, Victoria slowly opened the small box. Inside lay a single glass vial. It was tiny, no larger than a finger joint. The liquid within was neither blood-red nor pitch-black, but a viscous substance that shimmered with an ominous, shifting hue depending on the angle of light.
It was poison. And no ordinary poison. Rarer than any jewel, so deadly that trading an entire nation’s treasury for it would not be considered a loss. A single drop could fell an ox; this quantity could stop even a dragon’s heart.
With this… even the celebrated Emperor’s Sword, even Kyle Lowenheim—who no one in the empire could defeat in direct combat—could be silenced forever with a single sip, without so much as a sound.
Victoria placed the tiny vial in her palm and stared at it quietly.
How truly absurd… This small, insignificant thing. This fragile glass vial that would shatter at the slightest flick of a finger could steal the life of that upright, strong, and warm-hearted man.
In her previous life, this was exactly what she had chosen. Because he was a wall she could never break head-on, she had used not a blade, but this insidious drop. She had poured it into the bowl he had offered her without the slightest suspicion.
The moment that memory resurfaced, Victoria’s hand trembled faintly.
“……”
She slowly tightened her grip on the vial. Break it. This cursed thing. This horrible thing that might kill him again… Smash it to pieces right here, right now.
If she did, she would never repeat that foolish choice again.
Strength flowed into her fingers. The glass let out a thin, creaking scream. Just a little more, just a tiny bit more pressure and—
…Be calm.
Do you not understand the uncertainty of the world? Nothing ever flows exactly as we wish.
At that instant, Victoria’s hand stopped dead.
A cold, ruthless voice whispered from deep within her mind—the voice of the Empress who had survived a lifetime of suspicion and betrayal.
Who can say what moment might arrive? Even if you regret destroying it later, this is an item you can never obtain again.
Victoria bit her lip.
…In the end, she could not break the vial. The strength drained from her fingers, and the small glass bottle remained perfectly intact in her palm. She hesitated for a long time, unable to smash it or throw it away, before finally tucking it deep inside her robes.
Just in case.
Only as a precaution.
…Even though she did not want to think too deeply about what that “case” might be.
“……”
Victoria pressed a hand to her chest and let out a long, heavy sigh.
…It was fine. This was merely preparation for the worst. She would never have to use it. Had she not already decided? She would abandon the throne. Rather than covet that empty seat again, she would protect him instead. No matter the cost…
Therefore, this poison would simply sleep forever within her robes.
…That was what she told herself to calm her heart.
Then, suddenly, something flashed through her mind.
The upcoming banquet.
“……”
Victoria’s face turned deathly pale.
Yes. She had forgotten. Or perhaps she had wanted to forget.
In a few days, a grand banquet would be held at the palace.
…That day. In her previous life, in that very banquet hall, she had suffered a humiliation so horrific she could barely speak of it. At the hands of her own brother. Beneath the mocking laughter of her siblings.
That insult had shattered something inside her forever. That very night, she had made her resolve: she would burn this filthy imperial family to the ground.
That terrible day was approaching once more.
Her entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.
…It can be avoided.
There is still a way, is there not? Simply do as you did before the regression. Raise the banner a little earlier than planned. To do that, you must first remove the greatest obstacle. And conveniently, you already carry in your bosom the poison that can silence him—
“—No!”
Victoria cried out without thinking, cutting the voice off. Breathing hard, she shook her head violently.
No. No, that is the past. No—it is nothing but an illusion of a future I myself abandoned. I am no longer the Empress. I am no longer a princess who covets the throne. I am simply…
Simply…
A woman who loves one man…
Victoria wrapped her arms around herself as if embracing her own body and repeated the words again and again. Like a spell. Like self-hypnosis. Over and over.
I am not the Empress. I do not desire the throne, nor revenge, nor anything else. I will only protect that one person. For him, I will gladly lay down everything.
“…Yes.”
Victoria forced a smile onto her trembling lips with all her strength.
Even if she had to endure that day’s humiliation again. Even if she were trampled once more before the eyes of the entire court… she could bear it. She would endure, and endure, and endure again. As long as she could remain by his side.
…Yes. That much, she could do.
In that way, Victoria steeled her resolve—unaware that the poison in her bosom was growing colder with every passing second.