Part 2, Chapter 8
Part 2, Chapter 8
Translation: godsn
Knock, knock.
A sound of knocking echoed at the door.
"Your Highness, news has arrived from the border. The Holy Knights have reached our frontier."
At Dianzel's report, Medeia let out a short sigh.
'Damn it, I missed the perfect timing.'
The Holy Kingdom's movements were too swift.
Pelleus had barely returned to Valdina for less than four days, yet they'd already reached the border.
They must have been desperately awaiting the Saintess's arrival.
Once the Holy Knights arrived, they would immediately seek Rachel.
In this situation, whether they staged it as murder or disappearance, time was now critically short—making it nearly impossible for Valdina to evade responsibility.
'The imperial proclamation ceremony is approaching. If we make enemies of both the Kazen Empire and the Holy Kingdom while already confronting Kazen, Valdina will be at a severe disadvantage.'
Medeia had no intention of sacrificing the homeland she'd painstakingly rebuilt just to settle a grudge from her past life.
"...Your Highness?"
"You truly are... fortunate."
The blade of the dagger vanished back into her sleeve. Rachel failed to notice that swift, concealed movement beneath the fabric.
"...Pardon?"
"At least your wounds haven't worsened further. I'll summon the Royal Physician again, so rest comfortably. The Holy Knights will soon arrive at the royal castle—you'll want to present yourself well, won't you?"
Rachel bowed her head slightly.
"I am... grateful for Your Highness's consideration."
"Then."
Click.
The princess left, and the door closed.
The moment she was completely alone, Rachel—who had been leaning against the wall—slumped down as if her legs had given way.
All strength drained from her body. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to stand. An inexplicable chill crawled up her spine, seizing her entire being.
'Why...?'
There hadn't been the slightest hint of hostility in that pale face.
Yet, while Medeia had been deciding her fate, Rachel had been frozen like prey before a predator, unable to move a muscle.
"Why on earth...?"
It took Rachel a long while to regain her composure.
Stepping out of the room, Medeia immediately headed outside.
The bright sunlight and crisp air flooded her lungs.
Which was why she noticed a moment too late.
"Pelleus."
Her elder brother, leaning against the wall.
"Ah, Rachel's wounds were deeper than expected. I thought it best to have Lord Hestos examine her."
Medeia smiled brightly as she explained her absence, then turned toward where the Royal Physicians were stationed.
Or at least, she tried to.
"Dea, why did you try to kill that woman?"
If only Pelleus's words hadn't stopped her in her tracks.
"Kill her? Brother, what are you talking about?"
Medeia shrugged lightly.
"With the Holy Knights practically at our doorstep, who would even consider such a thing? Unless they wanted the entire continent to know they'd made an enemy of the Saintess."
Her younger sister's rational response made Pelleus wonder:
'If I hadn't heard from Dianzel about the Holy Knights' arrival...'
Would Medeia have answered the same way?
"Dea, you don't need to lie to me."
Her brother's eyes, fixed solely on her, were clearer than the blue sky above.
Those piercing azure eyes—capable of detecting even the faintest shadow—had precisely discerned Medeia's murderous intent toward Rachel.
"......"
"If there's no reason, then what?"
"You wouldn't do such a thing without one."
At Pelleus's confident reply, Medeia's lips curled faintly in something resembling a sneer.
"Pelleus, what if there truly is no reason?"
"Dea."
"What if I simply cannot bear to exist under the same sky as that woman? Could you still understand me then?"
Her icy voice carried an even deeper chill.
Pelleus swallowed his surprise at Medeia's question.
Beneath her pale face, beneath the expression feigning indifference, he seemed to glimpse the abyss his younger sister had been concealing all along.
"Dea, what in the world happened? Was there something else—someone else—who hurt you besides Claudio?"
"......"
Medeia didn't answer. No, she couldn't answer.
This debt of vengeance stemmed from her own past foolishness, her own mistakes. And her brother Pelleus was a victim sacrificed by those very mistakes.
Therefore, this burden was Medeia's alone to bear from beginning to end.
It wasn't a weight she could share with anyone—least of all with Pelleus.
This karma was hers to carry entirely.
"It's nothing......"
Medeia swallowed a soundless breath.
"It's nothing at all. Just a joke."
Beneath her faint smile, she concealed the razor-sharp shards of her past life.
The scars left by her memories seemed to scream in silent agony.
"Dea, you—"
"I'll be going now. Waking at dawn has left me rather weary."
With a gentle smile, Medeia turned away. Pelleus didn't stop her.
A small mercy.
Had her brother reached out to hold her back, the fragile composure she'd barely maintained might have shattered entirely.
'Don't worry, Pelleus. I'll see this through to the end with my own hands.'
Even if this peace was as thin as ice about to crack, as long as she didn't drag her brother into her petty revenge, that alone would give it meaning.
The Cottage House within Valdina's Royal Palace.
The mother and daughter of Duke Claudio, who had once been its masters, had fallen in disgrace.
Yet the Cottage House still boasted interiors so lavish they'd shame any but the palace's finest chambers.
Rachel bit her lip as she sat before the vanity.
Even after returning to the Cottage House—her one secure sanctuary—the chills running down her spine refused to subside.
The grand oak mirror reflected the image of a beautiful woman.
'Why... was I afraid of the Princess?'
Her heart pounded uncontrollably as she recalled the moment they'd been left alone. Rachel drew a shuddering breath.
Yet the Princess had neither threatened her nor tried to kill her. That she still couldn't relax made her despise her own cowardice.
Rachel gnawed at her lip. She looked exactly like some trembling prey animal flinching before a predator.
"Get a hold of yourself. There's nothing to fear."
She spoke to the beautiful woman in the mirror.
"It won't be you—soon enough, she'll be the one fearing you."
Slowly.
The bandage Medeia had wrapped around her arm came loose, revealing an ugly, lacerated wound with raw, red flesh.
Rachel placed her hand over the injury. At once, a black sigil shaped like a goat's horn materialized upon her palm.
The air twisted unnaturally in that instant.
Sssssss—
The grotesque clot of congealed blood was sucked into the horn-shaped sigil. Like a ravenous maw, the black mark devoured the blood mass in an instant before vanishing without a sound.
"......"
Rachel brushed her arm. The skin reflected in the mirror was smooth and white, as if never wounded.
"Ahaha, ahahaha!"
Though her throbbing headache made her grimace, Rachel burst into quiet laughter.
"See? Why would someone like me ever be afraid?"
She gazed down at her palm where the sigil had disappeared.
Healing. Miracles. Divine power.
The very forces the continent revered and coveted lay within her grasp.
"Whether it's real Holy Power or not—what does that matter? I am the chosen one."
Rachel recalled the Princess.
Those endlessly arrogant eyes that looked down on her as something beneath notice.
"Medeia... oh, Medeia."
That overwhelming pressure that had weighed on her shoulders, that radiated from every inch of her being.
"Know this—the only reason you can scorn me so is because I've taken nothing from you yet."
Her own wretched self, forced to its knees like a terrified beast beneath that gaze.
"But you ungrateful wretch never realized that, so now I'll have to show you."
By all rights.
That vaunted bloodline, her family's love, her vassals' loyalty, her people's devotion—all of it should have belonged to Rachel.