Chapter 187
Chapter 187
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 187
Chapter Title: Wesley's Curse
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The small room in the annex where Gail was receiving treatment. Faint, warm light kept spilling out through the crack in the door. The floor was littered with blood-soaked clothes and towels indiscriminately, and servants fetched warm water centered around the three mages.
“Wipe this area more.”
“Yes, Mage.”
“There’s no sign of the bleeding stopping. Pump more mana into the pressure points. Just a little, a little more.”
“If we put more in here, it’ll affect his breathing.”
“Of all places, he had to slash his throat…….”
“Good, good. That’s it.”
Sweat trickled down the bridges of the mages’ noses. Most suicides involved slitting wrists, but Gail had stabbed the spot where his nape met his collarbone.
“Make more blood. More.”
“Hey, go get blood tonic from Captain Acorella. Bring every kind they have, no need to pick and choose.”
“Yes, understood.”
While the three mages handled the bleeding and regenerated flesh inside, the doctor meticulously sutured the wound and administered a sedative.
Ziiing. Ziiing.
Whether from the heat of mana or the medical staff’s fervor, the room was stiflingly humid. Once Gail’s condition stabilized, the mages wiped their sweat with bloodied towels and caught their breath. They had saved him, so their job was done.
“That should do it.”
“If His Highness regains consciousness or shows any unusual behavior, inform us immediately. We’ll be resting in the next room. Doctor, you’re done too.”
The servants bowed at the mages’ command and acknowledged. They had heard of magic’s greatness, but hadn’t imagined it to this degree. Not only saving someone whose nape was torn open but stabilizing them too. It seemed no exaggeration that healing magic was the pinnacle of magic.
Creak.
“You’ve all worked hard.”
“Lord Ian.”
At that moment, Ian entered the room. The stench of blood and disinfectant was overpowering. Gail was bandaged not just around his neck but also his waist, arms, and shins.
“He’s still unconscious.”
“Yes. But his natural constitution is so strong that there’s no issue absorbing the magic. He should recover quickly.”
“I heard he was muttering in his sleep.”
“Ah, that.”
The mages gave awkward chuckles and glanced at Gail. He was a criminal now, but still a prince. Knowing it was indiscreet, they lowered their voices as much as possible to report.
“He was calling Lady Melania’s name and saying something. Hard to make out properly because of the neck injury, but it seemed like he was cursing her for betrayal or something. Mentioning a curse and such.”
Ian pulled over a chair and sat by the bed. He checked his watch and instructed the mages.
“Rest. I’ll leave in a couple of hours.”
It had been three hours since Duke Haiman entered the palace and was effectively detained. Ian wanted to catch the moment when the duke’s patience bottomed out and rebounded into resignation.
If Gail woke during those remaining couple of hours and spilled info on Lady Melania, it would be perfect.
“Yawn.”
“Lord Romandro, the report.”
Romandro, who had chased after with puffy eyes, handed over the sorted reports. The scratch of the pen nib echoed quietly again in the bedroom.
Slap!
“…….”
“Ha, haha. Don’t mind it.”
Aside from Romandro occasionally slapping his own cheek to fend off sleep, the silence was so peaceful it was serene.
How much time passed like that.
Ian noticed Gail’s fingertips twitch.
“Prince Gail.”
“…Ah.”
Gail grimaced at the unfamiliar metallic sound. His nape felt stuffy, so he tried to scratch it with his hand, but it only tugged at the bandage stitches. Ian lightly stopped him with his pen and spoke.
“It’s fortunate you woke on time. We have much to discuss, but considering our situations, let’s keep it short. First, your end won’t be a deathbed but a courtroom.”
In other words, don’t even think about suicide for some honorable death. Gail scowled and looked up at him with faded gray eyes.
“Duke Haiman and Lady Melania have entered the palace and are waiting. If there’s anything you want conveyed to them, I’ll pass it on.”
Gail let out a scoff at Ian’s words. The mana armor that House Haiman had promised to provide was missing, which had clearly decided victory and defeat. That’s why he was lying here now.
“…You want something to convey.”
His slow, labored voice was precarious. But Ian just nodded without particular reaction.
“Of course. If there’s nothing, I’ll convey what I see fit.”
With the third faction now controlling the palace, everyone knew House Haiman would deny ties to the two princes, especially Gail. So Ian had no choice but to create leverage in the name of Gail’s testimony.
“If you hand over evidence of collusion with House Haiman, I promise a death more honorable than Prince Marib’s.”
Gail laughed lowly at Ian’s offer. The best of what remained for him now was just such a death.
“And one more thing.”
“…What is it.”
“I’ll protect the tree in His Majesty’s chambers.”
The peach tree the emperor had stared at blankly after dreaming of Gail’s birth mother. The peach tree his own mother had cherished so much in life that her remains were buried beneath it. Gail covered his eyes with his arm and sighed.
“You can find the collusion documents if you look for them.”
“Thanks to whom, I have so much to handle.”
“…Were your eyes always like that?”
Gail suddenly questioned, puzzled by Ian’s gaze. They had never been ordinary, but somehow… now Ian seemed even more…
“You look like the master of the palace.”
“Your throat’s in no state for chit-chat.”
Shut up and answer what’s asked. Gail chuckled and let everything go.
“I never exchanged direct letters with House Haiman. We both know the right people, don’t we? In exchange for aiding in blocking Marib with mana armor and such, I’d elevate Melania to empress. Not only that, but tax benefits for House Haiman, key positions for his wife’s nephews, trade privileges for the kingdoms tied by blood.”
“You planned to carve it up quite neatly.”
Ian paused to organize his thoughts. Beyond the empress position for Melania, more had been promised to Haiman than expected. So why hadn’t they helped Gail at the end?
“House Haiman’s support seemed lacking.”
“Didn’t you seal the gates?”
“Entering the palace to prepare before the deed is basic protocol. According to survivor testimonies, you received only half of what was expected.”
Gail avoided Ian’s gaze. It looked as if he knew the reason but couldn’t say it.
“Besides, Lady Melania seemed to adore you.”
“Adore? Me? Have you ever met a woman?”
“…….”
Ian furrowed his brow. He had no real counterargument. But if that scene back then wasn’t lovers, what was it? She’d seemed utterly lovesick.
“Melania doesn’t adore me.”
Gail muttered with conviction.
“Wesley made her that way.”
“How does Wesley’s name come up here?”
“Curious about her curse, right?”
Then he fumbled across the table as if searching for a mana cigarette. No awareness of his neck wound at all. Ian handed over the mana cigarette but had Romandro take away the lighter.
“Didn’t I say once? It’s a personal curse.”
“Yes. You proved it with truth serum.”
“I will never be loved by anyone.”
‘Gail, you arrogant fool who trampled me—you’ll never be loved like I was, forever.’
“So I knew from the start. That what Melania wanted wasn’t me, but the prince’s position. I said I’d prepare countermeasures, but it ended like this.”
Gail chewed the mana cigarette between his teeth. Then, even he couldn’t pinpoint House Haiman’s change of heart. Ian dusted off and stood from the chair, snatching the mana cigarette away.
“Rest well. Truth is, just you waking up is good news for me.”
Now he had a card to press and check House Haiman directly. Nothing more solid than Gail’s testimony.
“And Marib?”
“You’ll meet him soon.”
In the courtroom.
Ian turned without hesitation and left. Gail sighed and closed his eyes. Now that they knew he was awake, they’d put him under 24-hour close watch so he couldn’t die. He was in a position where he couldn’t end it even if he wanted to.
Click.
As soon as Ian stepped into the corridor, he sternly instructed the guards.
“Increase manpower and watch without gaps. Contact the Imperial Palace Guard if possible.”
“The Palace Guard, sir?”
The guards asked puzzled. Blocking Gail’s suicide attempt was all that was needed—why call in the Palace Guard? The palace reconstruction already lacked manpower.
“Does my order need a reason?”
“Ah, forgive us. We’ll see to it.”
Ian drew the answer with a reprimand instead of lengthy explanation. Romandro followed him, then asked as soon as they boarded the carriage.
“Because of House Haiman?”
“Yes. Now that the prince has safely woken, they might make a move.”
With things as they were, the doomed prince could be killed before trial to sever ties with Haiman on the surface.
And above all, if the princes died from external attack here, the barely subsided chaos could swell again.
“To where Duke Haiman is waiting.”
“Yes, understood.”
Neigh!
Ian announced the destination and checked his watch.
Seven hours and forty minutes.
The time the duke had waited after entering the palace to meet someone. For a lofty figure called the core of Variel, it was quite a long wait.
“Have you met Duke Haiman, Lord Romandro?”
“Didn’t we see him once at the New Year’s banquet? Or not?”
“I think we saw the young master then.”
Duke Haiman hadn’t stuck in memory. Ian recalled that when he was emperor, the 11th duke had been Haiman—now he was curious what the current head was like.
‘Bloodlines don’t lie, so probably similar enough.’
Ian thought so as he headed to the building where the duke was detained. Far off, soldiers guarded the entrance gate.
“How’s the mood outside the palace?”
“Vague rumors are starting to circulate bit by bit. No one who entered the palace has come out—this is a first. We should make an official statement soon.”
It couldn’t drag on forever. Ian resolved to roughly wrap things up in three days, exactly three, and gazed out the window. House Haiman’s carriage was waiting.
Creak.
“Is Duke Haiman inside?”
“Yes, Lord Ian. He’s waiting.”
“Relay this.”
Ian entered the building guided by the soldier.
The doors to the reception room opened to either side.
Ian faced Duke Haiman, sitting rigidly upright.