Koschei the Deathless
Time and again, Titania had repeated those words: that she had changed after brushing so close to death.
She had also told Bibi not to concern herself with her, reminding her that she had precious things of her own to cherish.
‘I wish you could have something precious of your own too, Sister.’
Bibi considered herself blessed to live a second life. Now she could repay every grace and settle every grudge. For the first time in her existence, she was being loved within the safe, warm haven of a real family.
That was why she could not simply look away from Titania—a girl who had seemed so precarious, as though she might close her pale eyelids forever at any moment, reassured that Bibi had been saved and that her own role was finished. Surely this person deserves at least one chance like that too. That was how she felt.
“Then let me ask just one thing.”
The woman, who had been lost in thought, raised her eyes.
“Who on earth is this ‘nemesis’ targeting both the Castrein Duchy’s treasured youngest lady and us at the same time?”
As if waiting for that very question, the young girl smiled brightly.
“A mad archmage.”
In stark contrast to her radiant, sunflower-bright smile, her voice dripped with raw, lingering malice.
“The Magic Tower Master from two generations ago, long believed to be dead. A monster who would stop at nothing to attain eternal youth and immortality... the self-proclaimed Koschei the Deathless!”
“—O Great Master, I am loath to report this, but the tower is empty.”
In the empty air, a skeleton clattered its jaw together.
It looked as though it had only just been unearthed from a fresh grave. Yet, within its ribcage, a deep red orb pulsed rhythmically like a living heart, and an eerie crimson light smoldered inside its hollow eye sockets in place of eyes. Draped in a pitch-black robe, the skeleton peered nervously this way and that before slumping to the floor with a mournful wail.
It was inside a hollowed-out tower. Or rather, whether it could even still be called a tower was uncertain; it was nothing more than a ruin. All that remained were pulverized stones and scattered debris from walls and pillars that bore no trace of their former shape. Not even the mice, flying insects, or spiders that ought to thrive in any dark corner could be found.
“—Not a single trace remains of that wicked Power of Light of which you spoke.”
A heavy silence fell.
“Foolish creature.”
The voice echoed directly within the skull, heavy and suffocating. A chilling aura rolled off it, as though woven from compacted frost, darkness, soil, and ash.
“Do you not see the traces of Belobog left behind right before you?”
The skeleton hastily whipped its head around. A sharp crack resonated as bone grated against bone. Before it lay the floor, so pale it looked as though it had been carved from pure white marble. And resting upon that surface were a few extraordinarily fine strands of hair.
They gleamed with faint, delicate gold.
A skeletal finger reached out and touched the strands. Szzzt. A spark of static erupted—an unmistakable reaction of rejection.
“I made a mistake.”
“—O-O Great One...”
“I assumed my servants would soon be liberated from the underworld, and I grew careless.”
“—C-Could it truly be that... an isolated, forsaken imperial girl was genuinely chosen by Belobog? A mere slip of a girl, comprehending the true weight of her choice...?”
“Did you not claim there was no one in the current imperial bloodline capable of receiving Belobog’s favor?”
“—M-Master!”
“When the Castrein Duchy stepped forward and claimed there was no need to execute her, you were the one who whispered that there was no reason to arouse suspicion before our great enterprise over a mere rat.”
“—F-Forgive me! Have mercy!”
The skeleton threw itself prostrate, slamming its skull repeatedly against the stone floor with dry, hollow clangs.
“—This lowly, miserable Koschei has erred! Master! The Castrein Duchy stormed my workshop and incinerated my physical vessel, and fear clouded my judgment!”
“I never imagined another mortal would make a choice akin to that contemptible wench Gloriana.”
“—Yet, Master...” The skeleton gingerly lifted its skull, gauging the oppressive presence. “—Gloriana was... to put it bluntly, though humans hardly even remember her name now... she was still a Saintess in her own right, was she not? It is thanks to her sacrifice that the barrier dividing the underworld from the surface still holds, even now when Belobog has weakened to the brink of extinction...”
“Indeed. How much power could a single foolish imperial girl truly muster? Yet seeing that she has already forged a contract, she will pose a grave threat to me if she successfully ascends to the rank of Rubedo.”
The voice declared its chilling decree:
"I must bring forward the war."
The apocalypse that would burn all of creation to ash was at hand.
Roughly a week had passed since the demonic beast attack on the Imperial Palace.
For the time being, the fallout left Imperial Consort Cleo and Prince Brian looking like dogs barking at the moon—thoroughly thwarted and empty-handed.
The Emperor had taken deep offense to the incident. When Prince Brian finally regained consciousness and cried out for his father, the Emperor coldly ignored him, issuing a flat command: ‘Even if that wretched fool seeks me, do not announce him. Tell him to sit in quiet reflection.’ Upon hearing those words, Brian went on a hunger strike.
A clandestine order of heretics venerating dark powers was officially blamed for orchestrating the palace raid. However, no definitive mastermind had been pinned down. The Castrein Duchy conducted its own discreet inquiries into whoever had delivered the incriminating ‘evidence’ to Consort Cleo, but they soon hit a brick wall. They managed to trace her correspondence back to the Landt Marquisate, her maiden family, but past that point, the trail went entirely cold. With Cleo lying low alongside Brian, digging up anything further proved nearly impossible.
I quietly returned Gloriana's Insignia, declaring one of my two debts cleanly settled, and brought my temporary cooperation with the Castrein Duchy to an end.
High Priest Ilian performed one final examination of my condition. Smiling warmly with that grandfatherly chuckle of his, he shook my hand and took his leave, remarking on how thrilling this entire ordeal had been. He told me to reach out whenever I needed anything. For an elderly cleric, he was surprisingly boisterous.
Now that I was officially on my feet, the retainers of the Castrein Duchy who had been quartered in the Empress’s Palace were preparing to depart as well. I returned every single extravagant gift they had brought. Predictably, they bristled, insisting that the duchy’s honor was at stake and asking how on earth they could take back presents bestowed upon their savior.
My reply was simple.
‘My stay in the Empress’s Palace is officially over, and the Rose Palace is smashed to pieces and under construction. Where am I supposed to put all this?’
Even the mighty Castrein Duchy had no rebuttal to that logic and took everything back. Well, to be precise, it had not been entirely smooth.
Bibi had beamed up at me and casually dropped an outrageous proposal.
‘Oh! Then, Sister! We can just gift you an estate to hold all those things! Papa told me that if you’re going to give a gift, you should always think big!’
‘No! I’m an imperial princess! I have to live in the palace! I’ll just wait for the Rose Palace to be repaired!’
At any rate, having weathered one disaster after another, the Rose Palace required an extensive overhaul. Whispers had already spread across the grounds that it looked more like a haunted ruin than a royal residence. The incident was simply too massive to conceal, and rumors had inevitably leaked beyond the palace walls. The mere fact that demonic beasts had breached the imperial court was more than enough to stir up panic.
Fretful over the unsavory talk surrounding a palace inhabited by a princess—not even an imperial prince—the Emperor issued a stern decree: ‘Conduct a thorough reconstruction and silence these ridiculous rumors at once.’
Seizing the opportunity, I volunteered to depart early for the southern Offering Festival. The Emperor agreed without a second thought.
“He is troubled by the whispers circulating among the common folk—rumors that you appeared like a Saintess reborn, wielding a blade of holy light,” the Empress remarked cynically.
Prince Adrian, chewing thoughtfully on a scone, chimed in.
“Naturally. His Majesty has the narrowest mind in the entire realm, after all.”
“Besides, even if the consort is supposedly reflecting in seclusion, remaining here while she gnashes her teeth feels uncomfortable. The Rose Palace is being rebuilt, and lingering any longer in the Empress’s Palace would only invite political chatter.”
“Even so...” The Empress hesitated, her regal tone softening with maternal concern. “...Shall I send Constance with you? Traveling all the way to the southern border in this blistering heat is by no means an easy trek.”
Countess Constance was a chief lady-in-waiting whom the Empress trusted implicitly. She was making the offer because she knew I did not possess a single trustworthy servant. I fell silent.
The retainers of the Rose Palace had been swept clean. To be precise, everyone except Head Maid Natalie—whom I could not dismiss due to Consort Cleo’s lingering political influence—had been driven out. To be even more precise, I did not even know where the rest had vanished to. Having attempted to ruin me through the maids and failed miserably, Cleo had flown into a towering rage. The likelihood that she had left her planted pawns unharmed was slim to none.
Consequently, I was left without a single lady-in-waiting or maid.
Having never made a proper debutante appearance and possessing no noble companions of my own age, lacking a lady-in-waiting was somewhat understandable. But having not a single maid was a glaring problem. Under normal circumstances, the only person who could assign maids and attendants to me without stirring scandal was my birth mother, Imperial Consort Elaine. If I dragged the Empress’s most trusted confidante across the continent and an accident occurred, the political fallout would be catastrophic.
“Yes. I shall attach a few capable maids to your retinue as well,” the Empress offered gently.
“Or... should I just accompany you?” Adrian asked, his expression furrowed with genuine worry.
“Prince Adrian. If you do that, I will almost certainly spend the entire journey warding off assassins sent by Imperial Consort Cleo, so please reconsider. Besides, the Castrein Duchy has already promised to dispatch reliable escort knights and maids.”
“Ah, really?” Adrian’s eyes widened.
The Empress spoke in a noticeably eased tone.
“Indeed... Given how fiercely protective they are regarding your safety, that is only fitting.”
“However...”
“However?”
I paused, hesitating for a moment.