Chapter 167
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 167
“Sir Astaroth. If a bystander watched you die, and then that same person got hurt, would you show them any mercy?”
Jeremia considered the question for a moment. She remembered the knights who had presented her to the Emperor while a hole was bleeding in her stomach. She recalled their cold, watching eyes. If they had been hurt, she too would have ruthlessly turned away.
“So, it’s only natural that I refuse to treat Dame Musetta.”
The logic was sound, yet it felt incredibly wrong. Had Dame Musetta ever turned a blind eye to Tenebrae getting hurt? An imperial princess was someone for whom holy water would be brought out for a tiny scratch from a blade of grass.
“Are you saying Dame Musetta watched you get hurt, Lady Tenebrae?”
“It’s funny, isn’t it? Yes. She watched me.”
Tenebrae affirmed the absurd claim without hesitation.
“When my damn father dragged me to the dungeon and whipped me, she was always there, laughing from behind. How she must have enjoyed watching the gloomy princess get beaten to death! My fingernails were being ripped out, my back was tearing open! And still, she stood by the Crown Prince, pretending to be some loyal knight, acting all faithful as if she’d lay down her life for the imperial family!”
Jeremia was certain Tenebrae was spouting nonsense. There was no way Dame Musetta would do such a thing, and above all, their father would never have whipped Tenebrae.
She was crazy enough to kill her own twin sister and steal her identity. This must be paranoia. Jeremia concluded that Bishop Marik must have brainwashed Tenebrae, just as she had done to Hena. That had to be it.
Tenebrae’s fingernails dug into her skin as she began to scratch the back of her neck hysterically. As if she felt no pain, her neck quickly flushed red before blood beaded on the surface. Was this why Bishop Marik had told her not to pay attention to Tenebrae’s injuries?
“Lady Tenebrae.”
When Jeremia called her name, Tenebrae snapped out of her trance. She gasped, horrified, upon seeing the blood trapped beneath her fingernails.
“I can’t—I can’t do this. Jeremia doesn’t have such an ugly habit.”
Tenebrae rushed over to a drawer and pulled it open. Inside were dozens of vials of holy water. Jeremia knew they hadn’t been there when she was the room’s true master; Tenebrae must have prepared them herself.
Tenebrae wiped her neck with the holy water and began to scrub her hands vigorously. Only after checking her reflection in the mirror several times did she seem to regain her senses. It was like watching someone with a severe obsession with cleanliness.
Jeremia felt a strange unease watching Tenebrae in this half-mad state.
She had killed her biological father and twin sister to steal her very position. With Bishop Marik—who supposedly held the Emperor in the palm of her hand—backing her, the throne would be hers as long as she dealt with Oratorio.
Jeremia had assumed Tenebrae would be living in absolute bliss. That was why she had been burning with a desire for revenge, but what was this miserable sight?
Tenebrae’s abnormal behavior didn’t stop there.
When a maid served tea, Tenebrae took a single sip before throwing the teacup against the floor, shattering it. The maid, realizing she had displeased the princess, looked utterly terrified, as if her life were over. Fearing the maid would get caught in the crossfire, Jeremia quickly ushered her out. Fortunately, Tenebrae didn’t even spare the maid a glance.
“You know, I think someone poisoned my cup. Do you think Jeremia did it?”
How could I? You killed me.
Jeremia swallowed the retort.
“Isn’t Lady Jeremia already dead?” she asked instead, kneeling to clean up the broken shards. Since she had sent the maid away, Jeremia had no choice but to tidy up herself, but even that didn’t go smoothly.
Drops of blood splattered onto the floor, soaking into the carpet. Looking up, Jeremia saw that Tenebrae was clutching a piece of the broken porcelain, though she hadn’t noticed when Tenebrae had picked it up.
“Right? Exactly. I know. I saw her corpse, but sometimes it still doesn’t feel real… Everyone acts like Jeremia is still alive. Don’t they? Ah, right… since I’m using Jeremia’s name, I guess that’s only natural.”
Tenebrae rambled incoherently, squeezing the broken shard tightly. Her hand was soon covered in blood, yet she didn’t seem to feel any pain. When Jeremia tried to stop her, Tenebrae flew into a rage. As the wound grew deeper, Jeremia had to pry the shard from her grasp by force.
Whether someone like Tenebrae went mad and harmed herself should have meant nothing to Jeremia, but for some reason, it was deeply uncomfortable to watch.
In the end, Jeremia had no choice but to use another vial of holy water to treat Tenebrae’s hand. Why am I healing the woman who betrayed me and drove me to my death? Jeremia couldn’t help but feel her own situation was pathetic. She decided to chalk it up as penance for foolishly helping set fire to the Rohanson Mansion.
Tenebrae, who had been quietly receiving treatment, suddenly spoke.
“Sir Astaroth.”
“Yes, Lady Tenebrae.”
“You think I’m crazy too, don’t you? Is that why… Bishop Marik is trying to discard me? Because I’ve gone mad?”
Her tone was incredibly sorrowful. It was clearly a one-sided relationship, but Tenebrae seemed keenly aware of the power imbalance.
“The Bishop has another successor to the throne besides me. She probably doesn’t care what happens to someone like me, right?”
“Are you referring to Lord Oratorio?”
“No. Why would she care about someone like him?” Tenebrae replied, her face contorting. Though Bishop Marik had promised to place Tenebrae on the throne, it seemed she had already moved against Oratorio.
“That bastard Oratorio got a scar on his face that can’t be healed even with holy water. How could they present him to the public? It would have been cleaner to just kill him, but His Majesty the Emperor is desperately trying to hide him.”
A scar on his face? If it couldn’t be healed with holy water, it was likely inflicted by Azazel—the very man who had killed Jeremia.
Jeremia clenched her fists, recalling the moment she was stabbed in the stomach by the man she had trusted. Her heart pounded so violently it felt as if it would leap from her chest. She forced her anger down and tried to maintain a calm expression.
“Would he even dare try to ascend the throne with a ruined face? A wound like that is proof of a curse, a sign that one has been denied the grace of the Sun Goddess. Who would ever recognize him as Emperor?”
“If Lord Oratorio is in that state, then what is the problem?” Jeremia asked, trying to keep her voice even. You’ve harmed all your blood relatives, so what more could you possibly want?
Tenebrae’s reply was sharp. “The Bishop… brought a prince.”
“A prince…?”
“Yes. My uncle.”
Her uncle? Jeremia had no idea who Tenebrae was talking about. Starting with their father, all of Jeremia’s older relatives were dead, weren’t they?
“Oh? You don’t know, Sir Astaroth?” Tenebrae’s eyes lit up when Jeremia shook her head. “Is that so? …Then, do you want to go see him?”
Jeremia had no reason to refuse. Even if Bishop Marik discovered her whereabouts later, finding out what was happening—and who this suddenly appeared prince was—took priority. The fact that Bishop Marik had brought him made it all the more concerning.
Jeremia followed Tenebrae. She was being led to the dungeon. Jeremia couldn’t understand why a prince, her uncle, would be kept underground. Furthermore, Tenebrae’s steps toward the dungeon were completely unhesitant.
Jeremia had only known that a dungeon existed; she had never known its location. Tenebrae should have been in the same position, yet she navigated the path without getting lost once. It made Jeremia wonder, even though she was certain Tenebrae's claim of being whipped there couldn't possibly be true.
After smoothly slipping a gold coin to the guard, Tenebrae stopped in front of a cell meant for the worst of criminals—a place where death row inmates were kept before their execution.
“Say hello. This is my uncle.”
Tenebrae gestured into the cell. Jeremia peered inside and saw a familiar—an all too familiar—face. She blurted out his name before she could stop herself.
“Sir Gabriel?”
Jeremia was utterly bewildered, unable to process the situation. Gabriel, recognizing her, blinked in acknowledgment. Since he was gagged, he could only greet her with his eyes. A sickening wave of nausea washed over her at Gabriel’s serene demeanor.
Why was the man who had returned with the Pararos Knights here?
She had clearly seen Gabriel being helped into a carriage by the Pararos Knights when they were returning to the temple with Bishop Marik. The Bishop had even said that she had merely vented her anger and sent Gabriel back.
Afterward, Bishop Marik’s subordinates had searched for Gabriel. Since he and the rest of the Pararos Knights were missing, Jeremia had assumed they had gone into hiding under the protection of Lady Rohanson.
She never expected to run into Gabriel so suddenly in the Imperial Palace. And in a state where he clearly hadn’t received proper treatment, no less.
“Why is a paladin here?”
“I told you. He’s my uncle. He’s a prince, so isn’t it only natural for him to be in the imperial castle?”
And what was this about him being her uncle? Jeremia’s head spun, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.
“Sir Gabriel is a prince?”
“Yes. I was surprised at first, too. You must have heard the story of the tragically deceased youngest prince. My goodness, it turns out my uncle was alive all along!”
Tenebrae giggled, openly mocking Gabriel, before her laughter abruptly ceased. She glared into the cell with murderous eyes.
“Though as you can see, he’s currently tied up like an idiot, unable to even move properly!”
“…Did Bishop Marik bring him here?”
“She didn’t bring him herself. He is a prince, after all, so Dame Musetta escorted him personally. When was it… Ah, was it the day we heard that the Rohanson Mansion had burned down?”
If Tenebrae’s words were true, Gabriel had been kidnapped and imprisoned in this dungeon that very day. Jeremia gritted her teeth. It was now clear that Bishop Marik suspected her and was on guard.
“The Bishop is probably planning to pull my uncle out and use him if she decides I’ve gone completely mad and can no longer be used as a pawn. Ah. If I just kill him now, the Bishop won’t abandon me…”
Coming from a demon who had already killed her own father and sister, the words did not sound like an empty threat. It was a profound relief that iron bars separated them.
Oblivious to Jeremia’s agitation, Tenebrae brought a hand to her lips with a look of innocence.
“Sir Astaroth, it’s a secret that I want to kill my uncle. It’s also a secret that we came to see Sir Gabriel. Got it? You must never tell the Bishop. If she finds out… I’ll be abandoned. Then I’ll go back to being miserable again…” Tenebrae babbled on.
For Jeremia, this was a welcome turn of events. There was no benefit in Bishop Marik finding out that she had discovered Gabriel’s whereabouts and the secrets surrounding him, especially since the Bishop had hidden his location from her. However, she couldn’t understand why Tenebrae, who was essentially Bishop Marik’s puppet, was revealing such secrets to her.
“Why are you telling me this when I might report it to Bishop Marik?”
When Jeremia asked, Tenebrae smiled.
“Report it? You would never. You looked at me with pity.”
“…I did?”
“Was I mistaken? But you treated my injured hand… If you didn’t feel sorry for me, why did you help me instead of just watching?”
Jeremia couldn’t bring herself to answer. The reason she had stopped Tenebrae from harming herself, despite her hatred for the girl, became painfully clear now that Tenebrae had voiced it herself. It was an emotion Jeremia had refused to acknowledge until now.
“So, please. You are the Bishop’s bodyguard, aren’t you, Sir Astaroth? You understand that I could be abandoned by her at any moment, right? So, help me. Help me so that the Bishop won’t discard me. If she asks, tell her I haven’t gone mad. Tell her I was perfectly fine.”
Jeremia found the fact that she had pitied Tenebrae horrifying, but she had no choice but to nod. A sticky thought clung to her mind: perhaps, out of all the nonsense Tenebrae had spouted today, the claim of being whipped in the dungeon was the one truth.
“I will not speak of this to Bishop Marik.”
Jeremia made her promise. Since the person she would report her findings to was Evangeline, not the Bishop, she wasn’t lying.
Does Lady Rohanson know that Sir Gabriel is confined in the imperial dungeon?
She might have heard that Gabriel was injured, but she likely had no idea where he was. Much less would she know that he was being treated like a death row inmate without proper medical care. Jeremia let out a deep sigh.