“I entrust Carla to you.”

“No. I failed to protect Carla, my lady. So please don’t go. Please.” Merche reached out her hand towards the direction of the voice, weeping.

But her outstretched hand only grasped at empty air in vain. There was no one to take her hand.

Because Mariette was dead. Because Mariette Venenum was no longer alive. Because she had been murdered at the hands of the prince.

Mariette Venenum was dead.

Finally grasping the weight of that death, Merche collapsed, feeling her breath constricting.

“My lady! It’s truly urgent news, I beg you…!”

A servant anxiously pleaded, holding a letter preciously to his chest. At the sound of his voice, the figure lying on the bed stirred for a moment, and Rude’s expression twisted savagely.

“Shut up, will you? Shut that trap before I smash it to pieces and close it myself.”

Even as he nearly spat out curses, his hand stroked the golden hair as gently as he could manage.

Merche’s breathing, which had briefly reacted to the servant’s voice, returned to its original pace and settled back into the quiet state unique to her sleep.

Only after observing for a long while to ensure Merche was properly asleep did Rude finally lift his body that had been nearly leaning on the bed.

“…You know, if you had woken her up, you’d have been turned into a lump of meat and thrown to the wolves. You get that?”

He had even put on slippers, which he normally wouldn’t even glance at, to muffle his footsteps. He glared at the servant without a smile, his eyes wide open.

Seriously, trying to get himself killed. I had just managed to get her to sleep, and he tries to ruin it.

At the monotonous and ominous muttering, the servant flinched and hunched his shoulders.

Ah, this is dangerous. This seems to be a truly urgent situation.

His master, who was cursing openly while stroking Merche’s hair, looked the most on edge he had ever seen.

No, beyond being on edge, it was as if his nerves were about to snap from being wound up so tightly.

The servant belatedly recalled the advice a certain maid had carefully whispered before he entered this place.

“Well, you should be careful as much as possible. Our lord has been in a terrible mood these past few days since that happened to the other lord. Since Lady Merche fell ill, it’s been utter chaos…, sigh. No, this is something you have to experience for yourself to understand.”

Lady Merche. Even when she was at the Lupinus estate, she was the lord’s weakness, and it seems that hasn’t changed.

The servant swallowed secretly and stood on tiptoe to steal a glance at the figure lying on the bed.

From what he heard, the lord of Venenum had been skipping all meals and holing up in the lord’s office all day since the death of the other lord. Judging by the situation, it appeared Rude had forcibly dragged her out and put her to sleep.

“Hey. You gonna get those eyeballs out of here or what?”

Gasp. How did he notice that brief moment? Rude was sitting on the bed, glaring at him with fire in his eyes.

Meanwhile, his hand was smoothing out the blanket covering Merche. It was somewhat contradictory, but the servant had no room to find it amusing as he immediately lowered his head.

“No idea how that kind of thing has survived without getting its neck sliced till now. Doesn’t even listen to its master’s words, barging in without being called and babbling that it has something to say…. Do you have a death wish or something?”

“That, that’s… It’s because the news is truly urgent, so I had no choice but to…”

“Who told you to make excuses? I told you to keep that mouth shut until I let you open it. Seems like you forgot that already, since your head is full of rocks.”

“…Yes, yes. I apologize.”

“If you get it, then stand there with your mouth closed like a corpse.”

Even though it was a day that showed no signs of summer yet, he had lightly tossed aside his clothes as if he were hot, wearing only a light gown as he took listless, careless steps.

His destination was in front of the servant. The place where the unwelcome guest from Lupinus, who had been calling for Rude since half a day ago, stood.

“What business do you have? Spit it out briefly.”

At Rude’s begrudging permission to speak, the servant swiftly held out the letter he had been holding to his chest.

“It’s a message from Lady Elizabeth. She said to immediately leave Venenum and seek refuge, as there may soon be a rebellion in the palace, so you must flee…”

Bang!

While the servant was rapidly spilling out his words, the door suddenly opened with a loud noise.

“Lady Merche!”

…What the hell is that?

Following the servant in front of his eyes, an ear-piercing clamor accompanied the intrusion, and blue veins immediately bulged on Rude’s neck.

“What the hell is this commotion, you lunatic? Hey, you wanna die? Get lost right now!”

Rude tried to approach the intruder with a murderous aura, but before he could put his thoughts into action, Merche, who had awoken from sleep, recognized the intruder’s identity first.

“…Iller?”

Ah, damn it… How the hell did I manage to put her to sleep! Rude ground his teeth as he shot a look that could kill that person.

But Iller Widentia, who had barged in through the door, showed no signs of hesitation whatsoever.

The sound of him gasping for breath, as if he had run out of air from the urgency, was the only thing that echoed in the still space for a moment.

“Iller, what’s going on…? Ah. Rude. What day is it today…? No. How long have I been asleep?”

Merche, who had not yet noticed Iller’s anxious complexion, blinked her sticky eyes slowly.

Her body felt heavy, not yet freed from the drowsiness of sleep.

The last memory that remained blurry was entangled with fragments of various pasts, creating confusion on its own.

I stayed up for several nights in the lord’s office, and then Rude dragged me to the bedroom to lie down… How much time has passed?

Perhaps as a side effect of skipping dozens of meals and even sleep, her thoughts were not flexible and kept getting cut off.

In reality, it had only been a few hours since she had lain down on the bed and fallen asleep. But Merche could not gauge how long she had slept and fumbled through her memories as if groping.

“Lady Merche. There’s truly no time now.”

But the situation was too urgent to wait for Merche.

“Urgent news just arrived.” Iller, who had managed to catch his breath with difficulty, spoke with a serious expression he could not hide.

“Prince Magnus has assassinated the king.”

The floor smoothly polished from white rock, the spacious corridors, the luxurious texture of the silk… Everything was red.

Magnus walked the bright red path he had personally created, smiling like a snake.

The screams had stopped echoing.

Of course. The people who could scream, in other words, the living, were not many left in this palace now.

The only ones breathing and alive in the palace were Magnus, his subordinates, and the one prince he had specially kept alive until the end.

“…Ah. San. My one remaining brother.”

“Bro-brother. Hic…!”

“What great timing. I was just about to go look for you.”

Prince San, who had been hiding his body behind a thick pillar, crumpled miserably.

It was the doing of Magnus’ subordinate who had approached him from behind at some point.

Splat. As his head was shoved into a dark red liquid, a nauseating stench deeply penetrated San.

Brother, brother please… San wept endlessly, not even knowing what he was saying.

“Here. I’ll make this brotherly reunion happen. Come on, don’t close your eyes and look closely. Your father is right here, you know?”

Magnus knelt down on one knee in front of San and held out something in his hand so San could see it.

San, upon making eye contact with ‘that’, trembled without even being able to scream.

That… The thing that met his gaze was… the eyes of the murdered king.

“Sp-spare me. Spare my life, brother. I, I will never! I will never co-covet your position, brother! Please, please…!”

“Hmm? San. What are you saying?”

Magnus tilted his head slightly and asked San, who was completely prostrating himself with his whole body pressed tightly to the ground.

“Are you saying you tried to covet my position before?”

No, no I didn’t!

San, who had turned deathly pale, shook his head violently from side to side with all his strength, lifting his head that he had desperately raised.

He reached out his hands, grabbed Magnus’ black shoes, and begged over and over again. Spare me. Please spare my life….

“Shh… San. Stop that and listen for a moment.”

Magnus whispered softly and stroked San’s fluttering hair.

As he smoothly combed through it with his fingers as if brushing it, the black strands spilled out between his fingers and flowed down like waves.

“The king is dead, and all the other royals except you are also dead. You’re the only remaining royal besides me now, San.”

Each time he counted a number, the fingers he had used to count folded and unfolded repeatedly.

There were so many to count that he had to fold all ten fingers at least twice.

Finally, Magnus, who had kindly counted all the numbers while comforting and soothing the sobbing San, suddenly looked down at his own hand that had no more fingers left to count.

Ah, he let out a short sigh.

“Was there one left…?”

Merche Venenum. I forgot about that.

A single index finger that had slowly risen stood upright and remained unfolded for a long time.

After silently stretching his lips into a long, crooked smile, Magnus eventually raised his other hand and firmly pressed down on that sole standing index finger.

This one will die soon anyway, so let’s fold it for now. Is that alright, San?

Not knowing what he was being asked, San nodded frantically.

But the hand that had been stroking San’s hair suddenly stopped, and a terrible silence fell.

“San. Do you remember what I said before?”

“…Wh-what did you say. Hic, hic.”

“That I don’t trust people. That I don’t trust anyone and only trust myself. I told you that once, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes…! I, I remember, brother.”

“Good. Then you’ll understand without further explanation.”

Shing—. With a chilling sound, the cold edge of a blade settled on San’s neck.

Bro-brother…? San’s eyes, drenched with tears and blurred pupils, groped towards Magnus.