Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: They're All the Same
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“Your Majesty.”
It came as a surprise to everyone when Rubid called out to Nihil. Especially Iura, who glared at his younger brother with bulging eyes. But Rubid wore his usual brazen expression. Meanwhile, Nihil stared at him blankly, as if unaccustomed to it, then muttered softly.
“The Northern Duke’s brother.”
“I have something to say.”
Rubid reported curtly. Nihil looked at him curiously, then remembered that this one had brought the heart and nodded slightly.
“Go ahead.”
“It was the Proxy of the Southern Duke who extracted Hiems’s heart yesterday.”
Rubid confessed without mincing words. At the unexpected revelation, not only the dukes but even Nihil fixed his gaze on Rubid. Nihil tilted his head slowly, then lifted his foot from the Southern Duke’s head. And with the exact same tone he’d used to press the Southern Duke, he asked.
“Then what did you do?”
“I brought the crown.”
“Lena Rubel was the one who felled the king, but you’re the one who brought it?”
Nihil asked again with his transparent eyes. Then he muttered lowly.
“Are you trying to deceive me?”
“It’s not deception. I’m just informing you since you didn’t seem to know.”
At Rubid’s response, the dukes were flustered—not just Iura and Lin, but even the Southern Duke with his head still on the floor. But Rubid alone stood tall. He looked at Nihil with eyes that said he’d done exactly as ordered, so what was the problem? That one crumbling trash heap of a palace—what was the big deal?
“What on earth is he thinking…….”
Lin swallowed his panic and looked at Rubid. His actions right now were tantamount to suicide. And he couldn’t understand why he’d handed over credit that he himself could have claimed to Lena. He suspected some ulterior motive, but unfortunately, Rubid had none. In truth, he was doing it out of inner irritation, sheer disgust, a feeling that he couldn’t stomach it anymore. He knew the emperor’s savage temperament, but Rubid himself wasn’t one to bow obsequiously to others. Especially when he felt justified. Until now, Rubid had believed he needed to rack up achievements to gain the emperor’s recognition. He thought that was the way to survive, to prove his worth. But the events in the tomb this time had changed his mindset. It wasn’t fully sorted out yet—he was still confused—but at least one thing was clear. He’d been putting on a utterly pathetic puppet show. And the emperor viewed the dolls he manipulated as utterly worthless. The prince who had gone through hell and back felt disillusioned with it all. So he was reporting it exactly as it was, a way of saying enough already. Reading that intent, Nihil asked, somewhat surprised.
“Don’t you want to live?”
Rubid opened his mouth to reply. But before he could get a word out, Iura kicked him.
“Guh!”
Kicked in the side, Rubid went tumbling. He coughed painfully, and as soon as he caught his breath, he bared his teeth at Iura.
“You……!”
“Shut up.”
As Rubid tried to get up and lunge, Iura stepped squarely on his fearless little brother’s shoulder. Rubid writhed in pain, but Iura showed no mercy and pressed down hard. It was all for the emperor’s benefit, but Nihil was far from satisfied.
“Shutting up isn’t enough.”
Nihil stepped toward Rubid, leaving the Southern Duke behind. His face was expressionless as always, but Iura and Rubid could feel it. The cruelty in the emperor’s eyes. They hadn’t noticed when those eyes were on the Southern Duke. But facing them now, it was clear. The emperor intended to kill someone right here.
“Do you even know whose presence you’re flapping your mouth in?”
It was then, as Nihil slowly reached out toward Rubid.
“Your Majesty.”
Another voice cut in abruptly. It was Clavis, who had been watching silently from behind. Perhaps unable to stand Nihil’s unusually persistent irritation any longer, Clavis descended from the dais and spoke.
“I understand your distress over the collapse of Do-um Palace.”
“Well, these ones don’t seem to.”
Nihil muttered that and glanced back at the dukes. And as he said, the dukes didn’t know. Why the emperor had summoned them just to vent his frustration. To most, it was treated as ruins, but to Nihil, Do-um Palace held its own special meaning. So the moment he heard it had collapsed, he’d decided to kill one of the dukes. That was how he planned to vent his anger.
“But Your Majesty, we obtained Hiems Grasha’s heart earlier than planned, and we blocked the wraiths that poured out. And the collapsed palace will be restored in the North, just as before.”
Clavis said that and looked at Iura, who replied while still stepping on his brother’s shoulder.
“If you command it, I will obey.”
“The Northern Duke answers thus as well, so please grant one more chance.”
Clavis pleaded with a faint smile, and Nihil looked at the mediator.
For a brief moment. Whether Clavis’s persuasion worked or not, Nihil lost interest in the Southern Duke and Rubid and turned away. Then, sitting back on the throne, he commanded.
“Rise.”
At Nihil’s order, Iura lifted his foot. Rubid shoved his brother’s leg away with his arm, dusted off his clothes, and stood. The Southern Duke slowly rose as well. Blood trickled from the forehead of the man now standing straight. His head had been stomped so hard that lights flickered before his eyes, but the Southern Duke showed no sign of it and stood rigidly toward the throne.
“The sin of destroying that palace is grave, but I acknowledge the merit of claiming the heart.”
Nihil said from where he lounged askew on the throne.
“And in my mercy, I shall remind you once more. Of what qualification you have to play at being kings.”
In a posture utterly devoid of dignity—more wild beast than emperor—Nihil continued.
“Your existence is made possible by mine. Your power derives from me, and your safety is only assured because I stand behind you. You merely parasitize me without protecting me, and what I need is not you, but slaves to wield my Authority. I chose those close to me by blood in the old way, but across generations, even that has lost its color.”
Nihil’s blue, transparent gaze took in each duke’s face one by one. Nihil didn’t know their names. He forgot them as soon as he heard. Referring to them by direction was enough; no need to memorize. As long as Nihil lived, they would soon vanish, replaced by others in the same garb. To Nihil, they were no different from seasonal indoor decorations. So what he said now was truly mercy.
“Thus, prove your worth. So I won’t doubt your value.”
With that, Nihil rose from the throne. And without a backward glance, he departed. But even after the emperor left, the dukes didn’t stir from the spot. Each needed time to bear their respective emotions. Breaking that silence was, once again, Clavis.
“Fortunately, we got through it well. Our Majesty is merciful indeed.”
At Clavis’s jest, some squeezed their eyes shut, others swallowed sighs. One vented his frustration. Rubid. He glared fiercely at his brother standing beside him, then stormed out, slamming the audience chamber doors. At the resounding noise, the Southern Duke’s expression grew even more somber. He was desperately feigning composure in front of the young ones, but his heart was indescribably wretched. He felt like a piece of street trash. He’d thought he was already sick to death of the emperor’s irresponsibility, but there was a deeper bottom. A monarch must punish vassals with care. Especially if resolved to kill—never back down. For a resentful vassal might rebel at any time. But Nihil was free not just from norms and etiquette, but from the rules of lord and retainer. Even the dog guarding a house wouldn’t be treated this way, and the thought that his own lot was worse than a dog’s brought the Southern Duke agony. The pain in his forehead was barely noticeable.
. . .
But the Southern Duke’s ordeal didn’t end there. He had returned to his quarters, treated his wounds, and barely calmed his turbulent mind when the emperor suddenly sent a massive gift to the South.
“What is this?”
“His Majesty has bestowed it.”
The Southern Duke clamped his mouth shut and stared at the enormous gift before him. Velvet cloth draped a square frame, hiding the contents, but its size suggested it was no ordinary item. The Southern Duke nodded stiffly, and the servant who brought it pulled back the cloth. What emerged was a glittering golden dress. To even an outsider’s eyes, it looked magnificent, filled without gap with gold thread and jewels. Puzzled by the unexpected gift, the Southern Duke looked askance, and the servant reported gravely.
“Tomorrow evening, a victory banquet is to be held.”
“And?”
“So this dress has been bestowed upon Lady Lena.”
Bestowing a dress on someone who might not even wake. As the Southern Duke eyed the dress anxiously, the servant added softly.
“His Majesty personally bestowed the garment, commanding that she must wear it and attend tomorrow without fail.”
At the servant’s words, the Southern Duke’s mind went blank for a moment. Driving the point home to the flustered Southern Duke, the servant said.
“It is an imperial decree.”
That meant if she didn’t wake by tomorrow, she’d be killed. The emperor truly treated even his loyalists like dogs. At that nauseating reality, and the crisis arriving without a moment to breathe, the Southern Duke felt darkness close in.
***
While the emperor’s tyranny raged outside, Lena, in her unconscious state, unaware of it all, was cursing the emperor.
“You’re all the same to me, you lot.”
“The same?”
Hiems echoed Lena’s words with amusement. When she asked why he followed the emperor, why he thought the emperor right, Lena had answered thus. To Hiems, it was a most intriguing reply.
“What do you mean by ‘the same’?”
At Hiems’s question, Lena smiled brightly without a word. After all, she didn’t fancy speaking coarsely in her lady’s attire. As Lena answered with silence, Hiems smiled knowingly too. Making the situation somewhat awkward. Pretending composure, Lena pondered what on earth was happening. Hiems, who had trapped her, suddenly appears, serves tea, attempts conversation. What was his reason? Was this part of the trap too? Lena kept her guard up, suspecting Hiems’s true intentions. But Hiems’s motives were actually quite pure.
“It seems I misunderstood you.”
“Misunderstood?”
“I thought you struck at us to win the emperor’s favor. You’re still alive, after all—if you stay by the emperor’s side, you’d prosper. But apparently not.”
At the absurd misunderstanding, Lena let out a hollow laugh. Then Hiems confessed cautiously.
“In truth, I tried to steal your memories.”
Lena’s ever-smiling face hardened briefly. Hiems quickly made excuses.
“Rest assured, it failed. In the pathway of your memories, the you from the time you slew the Serpent King stood guard. So in the end, I saw nothing.”
“I didn’t realize you were so interested in me.”
“How could I not be.”
As Lena spoke in an unkind tone, Hiems lowered his posture further and grinned slyly. Then he whispered insinuatingly.
“I want to understand you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t.”
A response noble in good light, foolish in bad, tilted Lena’s head. Hiems kindly elaborated.
“You claim not to be a king yourself, yet the power and ability you now hold are undoubtedly a king’s. I want to know why that was permitted. You, who lacked both the innate and acquired qualifications to wear a crown—why you became our equal, that’s what I mean.”
Lena mulled over Hiems’s words. Then she replied, as if complaining.
“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re asking that.”
It wasn’t intentional mimicry, but she’d phrased it just like Hiems had earlier. So this time, Hiems’s head tilted, and Lena added, thinking him foolish.
“You’re curious why I became your equal. Sorry, but your question’s wrong from the start.”
“Wrong how?”
“We were equals from the beginning. You just overlooked it.”
You don’t know. Nihil Grasha, who uses the dukes like chess pieces and discards them; Hiems Grasha, who burned a woman; Chelleste, who regrets too late; the King with Many Hearts or the King Who Caged the Lion. Even Lena’s beloved father, His Excellency Marquis Cardo Rubel. They all, one and all, don’t know. What those they used and discarded truly were, what those abandoned and trampled became. The kingly faces oblivious to it all seemed both loathsome and pitiable, and Lena laughed to herself.
“Really, no wonder they’re all the same bastards.”