Part 2, Chapter 35
Part 2, Chapter 35
Translation: godsn
She knew full well that dreams and reality were different.
Yet whenever Iason saw Medeia's indifferent face, he couldn't comprehend why this inexplicable resentment kept welling up inside him.
Medeia froze.
Her fingertips trembled, and her delicate eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly's wings.
'To dream of dreams.'
A dream where Iason and Medeia were together. No—in truth, it was a reality that had once existed.
Somehow, she felt she knew without even hearing it.
What he saw in that dream. What memories he was reminiscing about.
"I love you, Medeia. I am you, and you are me. We are like one body."
Back then, he had seemed like her sole savior, the one who would pull her out of her lonely reality.
"If I become Emperor, you will stand by my side, and our child will rule the Empire."
She had liked the future she envisioned beside him, walking that path together. That was why nothing she gave to him ever felt like a waste.
"......"
Medeia opened her eyes again.
At the same time, the lingering memories floating around her shattered mercilessly into fragments.
She stared at Iason, who wore an enraptured expression. A strange light flickered in his green eyes.
'Goddess, are you testing me?'
Just how long could she keep this man alive?
"Sometimes... Your Grace has a way of rendering all my endurance utterly powerless."
"Y-You... don't tell me you've had that dream too? You can understand me?"
Iason's face brightened as he interpreted Medeia's words in the way most favorable to himself.
"...I regret what happened with the children. But at least you have me, so you won't be lonely. What a relief."
The face of Emperor Iason overlapped with his smooth features, now brimming with unmistakable joy.
Even those pitiless eyes that had looked down at her as she clutched her daughter's bloodstained pouch and wailed.
"Farewell, Medeia. I shall deeply remember your service."
Her vision wavered.
Logically, she understood—she was drifting further from reality, her reason growing faint—but her heart refused to accept it.
'What are you waiting for? He's right in front of you.'
A dark voice whispered temptingly.
'The chance is now.'
In that instant, an intense bloodlust spurred her on.
Neither the fact that Iason was a member of the Kazen imperial family nor that this was the Continental Festival, where envoys from across the nations had gathered, could extinguish the blazing impulse.
It was as if a crimson haze of hatred had clouded her vision.
Just then, the sword hanging at his waist caught her eye.
Medeia reached out toward Iason.
'Three steps.'
In her mind, she calculated the trajectory—drawing the sword, pulling Iason close, and driving it through his heart.
"Iason..."
"...!"
Hearing his name called, Iason, overcome with soaring joy, unconsciously took a step toward Medeia.
'Two steps.'
Only one step remained.
Just as Medeia was about to take that final step and extend her hand—
"Do you mind moving out of the way?"
A smooth motion seized her wrist, and a dark back blocked her view.
"Tch!"
At the same time, Iason was sent flying by a tremendous force that struck his flank. The sudden impact left him dazed.
"In such a crowded place full of people—and wolves. Hmm?"
"Cesare—! What is the meaning of this?!"
Unable to comprehend what had just hit him or how, he soon spotted Cesare and contorted his face in fury.
"What do I mean? I'm rescuing you from trouble, dear brother. It's quite unbecoming for a Kazen royal to be so flustered."
A disgrace to the nation.
Though his tone was friendly, the languid lilt of his voice seemed to taunt Iason to the fullest.
At the same time, behind his back, he lightly tapped Medeia's wrist twice before letting go.
"......"
It was a brief touch, but it was enough to bring Medeia's reason back.
As she took a step back and swallowed hard, Cesare bent down as if to help Iason up.
"Cut it—"
"If you came as His Majesty's dog, then you should only bark as commanded."
A whisper so low only Iason could hear.
"Your arrogance pierces the heavens, Cesare. Do you think the entire world lies beneath your feet? I am the head of the diplomatic mission appointed by His Imperial Majesty—"
"That's precisely why."
Cesare shrugged slightly. He leaned forward slightly to meet Iason's eyes.
"Let's stop here. Wouldn't it be troublesome if it were discovered that a hunting dog was wagging its tail elsewhere?"
He jerked his chin toward the back.
There stood the chamberlain, watching Iason—a reminder that he was still under the Emperor's surveillance.
"...That is none of your concern. Keep your unsolicited advice to yourself."
Iason glared at Cesare with a face gone pale.
That was the first moment she approached me.
The First Prince, who had barged in at that critical juncture and shattered his opportunity, was utterly detestable.
Like smoke slipping through his fingers—it was maddening. Iason's eyes burned crimson.
"Medeia, I—"
"Brother."
The moment Iason uttered her name, Cesare's golden eyes darkened.
"Did my words sound like advice to you?"
Despite the faint smile, the sharp energy grazing his nape made Iason freeze. There wasn't a trace of amusement in those golden irises.
"......"
Iason furrowed his brows, tension tightening his forehead.
Under that piercing gaze, he felt as though his ribs were being crushed.
At this moment, retracing what action of his might have provoked the prince's displeasure—was this the instinct of the weak yielding before the strong?
"......"
Simultaneously, his mind recalled Medeia's presence behind Cesare.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his voice steady.
"Princess, my apologies for the discourtesy. We shall continue our unfinished conversation another time."
"......"
"Let go. I'll walk on my own."
Brushing off the knight of the First Prince standing behind him, he finally took his leave.
"......"
She must be watching this wretched sight.
His back burned as if scorched by fire. Iason clenched his fists.
Never before had he loathed his damned cousin so fiercely—for denying him even a chance to maintain dignity before the woman he cherished.
Yet at the same time, he felt it deep in his bones.
How utterly reversed their positions had become in three years.
Medeia was now a princess of the Valdina Empire, no less, while he was merely a fallen imperial, surviving as the Emperor's lapdog, driven away by a single glance from the First Prince.
With every step Iason took, shame, unease, and self-loathing at his own wretchedness surged up, seizing his very footsteps.
Medeia watched Iason depart.
From the way he stiffly held himself upright, she could discern the emotions he felt.
Because they were the same hues she had once felt toward him in her past life.
Perhaps Iason hadn't been entirely wrong when he said they were connected.
Iason. Now it's your turn to become me.
Though neither had intended nor desired it, a stage had been set where they fully understood each other's positions.
But this wasn't the end yet.
Feel it more deeply.
The moment love walks away. The moment sacrifice is betrayed. The moment when, in the end, nothing and no one remains by your side.
Just as embers began to flicker anew in her calm green eyes—tap. tap.
A light, fleeting touch brushed against her before vanishing.
"As there are degrees to the gravity of events, so too are there degrees to how people are used."
A voice, cool yet rich, whispered softly, tickling her ear.
"While some are treasures beyond measure, others are unworthy even of the dust beneath one's feet."
"What are you—"
The tone was affectionate, as if instructing a child, yet its content was scathing.
"I'm merely informing Her Highness the Princess that my elder brother's life isn't quite so precious."
Startled, Medeia lifted her head.