Chapter 71
Chapter 71
Translation: godsn
The woman reluctantly unwound the filthy bandage with a resigned air. A sticky sound of blood and fabric pulling apart followed.
Only after clearly spotting the horizontally slashed wound did the Shadow lower their guard.
The smell of blood must have been coming from that injury.
Yet an uneasy feeling still lingered when the woman whispered,
"You said you're from the Royal Castle guard? My husband's older brother also works in the guard—if it's not too much trouble, could you deliver something for me? There's some laundry he asked us to take care of. His name is Ryan Enold—"
"On official duty, so that won't be possible. We'll take our leave now."
The Shadow hastily withdrew before their true identity could be exposed.
"To the North Gate—!"
The Shadows departed from the alley.
Cesare regained consciousness around the time the Imperial Consort's Shadow disguised as a guard knocked on the door.
Thud! Thud!
The noise made him instantly tense, his eyes snapping open.
Reflexively, he touched his face. The mask remained securely in place, still covering his features.
The Princess apparently hadn't been curious enough to look at his face. His attire and condition were exactly as they'd been when he'd lost consciousness earlier.
Cesare blinked. His vision was bleary.
What did they put over me?
He soon realized that a coarse fabric smelling faintly of sweat and dust was draped over him like a covering.
"......"
He pondered briefly. He'd lived his entire life in utmost luxury.
Born and raised to be emperor, Cesare had never once covered himself with a filthy blanket, not even during his mercenary days.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind—shouldn't he kick off this wretched blanket right now and reclaim whatever dignity he had left, Shadow or no Shadow?
But then, a delicate voice reached his ears.
"I'm sorry, but my husband isn't home right now."
He nearly laughed aloud at how naturally she claimed a husband when she'd likely never held a man's hand before.
When she said she'd cut herself on fabric, he'd tensed, wondering if she'd been attacked while he was unconscious. When she lied about having family in the guard to shake off the Shadow, he was impressed.
Soon after the Shadow left, the faint, panting breaths like those of a small animal caught his ear.
He could tell just how tense she'd been.
As the door closed, Medeia collapsed against it as if her legs had given out. Her vision swam, and she closed her eyes briefly.
"The Princess truly has no shortcomings."
Medeia lifted her head.
He had risen at some point and was now unwinding the dirty bandage wrapped around her hand.
"Didn't know you were such a good actress too."
Though the mercenary's face was still pale, his voice carried a hint of laughter.
The cool touch of his long, straight fingers jolted her back to full awareness.
Medeia tried to pull her hand away but winced at the sharp pain.
Meanwhile, he retrieved a medicine bottle from his pocket and poured its contents over her wound. Surprisingly careful hands—quite unlike the ruthless ones that had wielded a sword earlier.
A soothing warmth spread, instantly easing the pain.
"I'm in your debt."
The cuts left on her pale hand were deep and red. The laughter that had lingered in his golden eyes vanished.
Gazing intently at her wounds, he said,
"Princess, since you saved me, I'll repay this favor someday."
His voice was softer than she'd ever heard it before.
Standing so close, Medeia could study his face clearly.
Even with the mask, his sharp jawline and refined bone structure were unmistakable. His long, elegant fingers bound her wound with a clean handkerchief.
A deep, rich woody scent wafted from somewhere. Like a faint, refreshing breeze through a dense forest.
"I wonder how enchanting it must be outside..."
Why did this remind her of a noblewoman's murmur at some banquet long ago?
"Wipe your blood before speaking. You look unsightly."
When Medeia realized the scent was coming from him, she swallowed a scoff.
'Really, every little thing about him is irritating.'
But in the end, he was just an outsider.
"We have some welcome guests."
The mercenary seemed to have already anticipated the arrival of the assassins.
The Empire's assassins had also targeted only the mercenary. Had he drawn them here himself?
Since when had her country, Valdina, become a playground for the Kazen to run rampant?
Her calm, emerald-green eyes swept over him with icy scrutiny.
"Then speak your demands now. Cease stirring unrest in Valdina."
Her voice was frigid, as though today's events—slaying the Magic Beast together, even injuring herself to conceal his presence—had never happened.
A faint displeasure lingered in the haughty tilt of her chin.
His gaze held something between a smile and something else entirely as he replied,
"I'll keep that in mind."
As if that was all there was to say, Medeia rose from her seat.
"Until next time, Your Highness."
Bang—! The door shut without a response.
The street, now devoid of assassins, was eerily quiet.
"Your Highness!"
Soon, Medeia reunited with Neril.
"I saw the signal. I should have come sooner, but... it took time to escape the chaos."
Neril, already in the carriage, fussed over Medeia. The moment she noticed the wounds still on her hands, her face darkened with shock.
"Did this happen while dealing with the Magic Beast? Have you been treated? There might be scars. Should I summon the Royal Physician?"
"It's fine. Don't worry so much. It looks worse than it is—the inside's mostly healed."
Medeia brushed it off, patting Neril's shoulder reassuringly.
"I'm ashamed, Your Highness. No matter what you say, I should have been by your side from the start..."
"I told you, it's fine. If you had been, things might have turned worse."
After all, the leader of Facade had been waiting in the office.
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. I'll explain later. For now—what of the Count's estate?"
"The fires still rage. The guards and fire brigades arrived too late, paralyzing the entire district near Sector 2. Nearly all of the Count's people perished—burned alive or slain by the assassins."
A heavy silence followed Neril's words.
"But, Your Highness... you don't look well. Was the Regent's name not on the Signature Document?"
"No, look. It's right here at the top. Below it, Samon and all his lackeys—every last one."
Medeia pulled the scroll from her robes.
"This is enough to bring down the Duke. Keep it safe."
The true moment for this document would come later.
When the Rebel Army storms the Royal Castle, this will expose the Regent's ambitions to the world.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Taking the document, Neril studied her mistress's face once more.
Amidst tonight's chaos—the burning estate, the assassins' intrusion—the Princess had undoubtedly secured what she wanted.
Yet her expression was clouded with unease.
"Remember those assassins in the Count's estate, the ones with white cords tied around their arms?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Even to my eyes, their swordsmanship was... unusual."
"Good observation. They were using the Imperial swordsmanship."
They had tried to kill the leader of Facade.
"Valdina's meager forces are nothing compared to the Empire's. These bottom-feeders act as if they own the place, letting wolves run wild. Pelleus must return as soon as possible."
Medeia rubbed her temples and sighed.
Gazing out the carriage window, she saw the dim light of dawn breaking.
Somewhere beneath that sky, Pelleus would be.
"We must find a way to aid Pelleus and hasten the end of this war."
The Ducal House of Claudio.
The Regent, having belatedly received the news, struck Samon across the face with brutal force.
"Have you any idea what you've done?"
Crash!
The teacup he hurled shattered into pieces.
"I warned you not to act recklessly—! You swore only the estate would burn!"
"Grandmother was already sentenced to execution anyway! If that vile woman hadn't toyed with the servants and smuggled them out, this wouldn't have escalated so far! Or have you forgotten, Father, what she did to us siblings at that grand banquet?"
Samon laid bare his true feelings.
"You still shouldn't have been so ruthless! Do you have any idea how the survivors will speak of your father now? Did it never occur to you they'd brand him a heartless monster who slaughtered his own allies' kin?"
Was this child truly so short-sighted?
The Regent clutched his throbbing head.