Part 2, Chapter 7
Part 2, Chapter 7
Translation: godsn
Dianzel's grip had turned Rachel's arm red.
"My apologies, Miss Rachel."
Dianzel grimaced as he apologized, looking slightly startled.
"Could it be... the wound from the ghoul attack hasn't healed yet?"
It had been weeks since Rachel injured her arm during the ghoul assault.
'It's already been weeks since the Saintess injured her arm during the attack... and the wound still hasn't fully healed?'
While King Pelleus and the Agema guards were nearly fully recovered after receiving Rachel's holy power, the very source of that healing power—Rachel herself—was healing at a slower pace.
"Holy power doesn't work on my own body. So... I have no choice but to rely on medicine or my natural healing ability."
Rachel let her eyebrows droop as she offered a sorrowful smile.
"If the Goddess gave me the power to help countless people, and the only price is that my own wounds heal slowly, then I can only be grateful."
Her warm voice and genuinely humble demeanor, as if she were truly thankful, made it clear why the Goddess had chosen this country girl from the outskirts to be the Saintess.
"Even so, we can't just leave the wound untreated. Why didn't you say something sooner? Had you done so, we would have called a physician to treat it."
If the Saintess was injured, Valdina would be held responsible. It was a sensitive matter, and Dianzel's brow furrowed.
"Given how slow the healing is anyway, and being in unfamiliar territory, I couldn't just show it to anyone. Besides, if word got out that the Goddess's representative was injured, wouldn't morale suffer? So only His Majesty knows, and he personally bandaged it for me."
She lowered her eyes as if embarrassed.
Only then did Dianzel realize she was a woman of marriageable age and awkwardly stepped back. He could understand her reluctance to expose herself carelessly.
"Actually... that's why I came to see His Majesty today. It's not something I can easily tell others..."
Rachel glanced sidelong at Pelleus.
Her flushed cheeks gave the impression that the secret shared between her and the King involved more than just an injury.
Unfortunately, Pelleus was the kind of man who neither recognized nor cared to recognize a woman's subtle advances.
"Royal Physician Hertos is discreet. You needn't worry about rumors spreading, Miss Rachel."
Without any change in expression, he offered a solution to Rachel's excuse-laden purpose.
"But, Your Majesty... You don't understand how damaging rumors can be to a woman's life. And I'll soon be entering the temple, so it's an even more sensitive matter. Please forgive me, Your Majesty. You're the only one here I can trust..."
Rachel blinked her dewy lashes, looking utterly pitiful.
It was only natural that a woman who had lost her entire family to ghouls would place blind faith in Pelleus, who had suppressed the Wave.
Nor was it strange that, struggling to adapt to the unfamiliar palace environment, she lingered near the one person she knew even slightly.
'But if His Majesty is displeased, it won't do. Still, we can't just leave her wound untreated...'
Dianzel found himself in a dilemma, understanding both sides of the situation.
"Then I'll help."
At that moment, Medeia, who had been silently observing their exchange, spoke up.
Rachel froze. The unexpected offer left her both startled and flustered.
"What, do you not trust me—your King's own sister?"
"N-no, of course not."
Rachel reflexively shook her head at Medeia's pointed question.
"It's just... my wound is... dirty with blood and filth. Someone as noble as Your Highness would be shocked to see it."
"Don't be ridiculous. Have you forgotten Valdina has been at war this entire time? I'm quite accustomed to bandaging wounds. Come here."
Without waiting for Rachel's response, Medeia took her by the arm.
"Miss Rachel, Her Highness is far more courageous and wise than any knight—you needn't worry in the slightest."
Dianzel, who'd been uneasy that his own carelessness might inadvertently tarnish the young woman's reputation, felt both grateful and relieved at Medeia's words.
'Her Highness truly spares no effort when it comes to His Majesty's affairs, regardless of her personal feelings.'
"Then I shall entrust her to Your Highness."
"I-is this really alright...?"
Medeia led Rachel toward a small adjoining chamber within the office.
"......"
Pelleus silently watched his sister's retreating back as she guided the Saintess away.
The tiny room where the King took brief respites from his duties was a windowless, confined space.
Click.
The door closed.
Only Medeia and Rachel remained inside.
"I-I've spoken out of turn. I'm utterly ashamed to show such an unsightly sight to someone as noble as Your Highness. Please, let me tend to it later by myself—"
For some reason, Rachel found this sudden isolation uncomfortable and tried desperately to excuse herself. The Princess paid no heed.
"Unwrap your wound. We'll need to apply medicine and fresh bandages."
"But it's... rather gruesome to look at..."
"......"
Unable to withstand the unspoken pressure, Rachel reluctantly unwound her bandages.
Her claim about being attacked by a ghoul hadn't been false.
A hideous wound, as if claws had raked through flesh, was revealed.
Medeia studied Rachel intently.
"My. This is quite deep. It must have hurt terribly."
Though her voice remained gentle, her emerald eyes betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
That detached gaze—as if assessing a piece of meat—made Rachel flinch."Why do you look at me so?"
"......"
Confronted with Rachel's harmless, guileless face so devoid of malice, a long-buried darkness surged within Medeia's chest.
"Mother, I don't want to go to the Imperial Palace. Can't I stay by your side?"
"If I remain by Father's side, I can protect you and Lea, can't I? Very well, I'll go."
He'd been merely seven years old—still so fresh with life.
Rian had been far too mature for his age.
Even his death had been so brutally one-sided that Medeia often imagined—through wine-drenched nights—her son's final moments as he perished alone in the palace.
Rian, you must have called for your foolish mother, didn't you?
Did you writhe in terror, your small body convulsing as you screamed?
How desperately I prayed your death had been swift—that you hadn't suffered overmuch.
"......"
As if hearing her son's final breath, Medeia shuddered violently.
The calm in her eyes ignited into sudden flame.
Beneath her sleeves, the sharp bite of nails digging into flesh pierced through the fog of memory.
Medeia's gaze returned to the beautiful woman before her.
Rachel. In this life, she had done nothing—yet.
But she was far too dangerous to leave unchecked.
She had stolen Medeia's position and achievements without shedding a single drop of blood.
'After poisoning Rian, she played the victim—the unjustly accused Empress—winning the people's pity.'
A wolf in sheep's clothing, hunting serpents. The moment you let your guard down, you'd find yourself ensnared in her coils.
Which was why she had to be dealt with—now that the opportunity had arisen.
'Pelleus and Dianzel are just beyond that door.'
Eliminating Rachel without their notice would be difficult.
But though she might not convince them, this was Valdina. Medeia was confident she could smooth things over.
Her emerald eyes, after a brief deliberation, cooled into icy resolve.
Just as Medeia adjusted her grip on the sharp dagger concealed beneath her sleeve—