“What do you want to take from me?”

“The rest of my life and death, all of it.”

I should just let Merche have it. Let her completely possess him. And let him never escape from her grasp.

Rude stared only at Merche’s lips. The thought that Merche might coldly refuse even this filled him with anxiety, rising like smoke.

But unexpectedly, Merche smiled.

As if grasping what she should have grasped long ago, like a born monarch’s heir placing a crown upon their head. Merche spoke.

“I shall do so. I will take the rest of your life and death.”

So my death is also yours.

Rude was entranced by her calm, gentle eyes and voice, like a wanderer who keeps walking forward even when his entire body is submerged.

Looking back, he was already submerged. In a blue-green and chilly lake, like an abyss.

The morning meal with Rude, the purpose of which was unclear whether to dine with Merche or to monitor if Merche ate sufficiently, quickly passed with the morning.

“I’m going to vent my anger, so sleep some more.”

Where exactly he was angry and where he would vent that anger was unknown.

There were many unknowns, but Rude disappeared without any particular explanation.

As a result, Merche was left alone in a bed that was too large and comfortable to lie in alone.

Should I embroider something? I can’t hear news from Magnus or the palace anyway, since all the castle gates are blocked and isolation has been chosen.

As cloud-like thoughts passed one by two, the anxiety that had been pushed aside little by little was about to creep in.

At that moment, an unexpected visitor came to Merche.

“I wanted to confirm something yesterday as well, but you look quite haggard.”

The scent of richly brewed black tea filled the room.

Elizabeth Lupinus made no sound as she took a sip of the tea.

It was indeed the elegant demeanor that Merche had endlessly admired in her childhood.

“You are deeply troubled by Prince Magnus’s affairs, are you not?”

“I cannot help but be troubled in this situation. I apologize if I have caused you concern.”

“It is natural to lose sleep over worries when a crisis strikes. It is even more so for the wise.”

Elizabeth turned her head for a moment to look out the window.

The sky was clear and blue as always, as if it had nothing to do with the battles unfolding throughout the kingdom.

In truth, Elizabeth did not deliberate long on this matter. No, it was a situation where she could not deliberate for long.

Since her son, Rude, had imprinted on Merche.

From the moment Merche was confirmed as Rude’s partner, Merche’s danger was Rude’s danger.

So Prince Magnus was Rude’s danger, and Elizabeth’s enemy whom she must eliminate.

Elizabeth’s gaze returned to Merche.

Although they were not close enough to attend to each other’s every need, she had watched over this child for more than ten years.

How could she fail to read the sorrow and despair on the face of such a child?

Although she appeared quite calm and composed, Elizabeth could see Merche’s perilous state of mind.

“…Where should I begin…?”

It was quite a difficult problem.

Merche seemed like a festering wound that would burst open with the slightest touch, and if the first button was misaligned, the usefulness of this conversation would be worse than a leaf lying on the ground.

But she could not leave Merche as she was.

Now that Elizabeth was bound to the same fate as Merche, it was as good as her duty to make Merche the victor of this war.

Elizabeth fidgeted her fingers as if grasping a pen out of habit, then opened her mouth to speak.

First, it would be best to confirm what cards they held. That would be the best course of action.

“There are a few things I would like to ask you. May I?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then, this question should come first. Merche, you are not Ashtad’s biological child, are you?”

“…No. I am not.”

“Then, could your identity perhaps be of royal blood?”

“That is also not the case.”

Hmm. Taking another sip of black tea, Elizabeth nodded her head.

After a few exchanges, she was convinced. Merche clearly knew her identity and who she was.

“If you know who you are, could you give me a hint as well?”

“……”

“If it is difficult to answer, let me ask differently. I believe you are the protagonist of the prophecy. I would like you to tell me if my assumption is merely a delusion or a deduction that pursues the truth.”

Merche did not answer. But from that silence, Elizabeth found her answer.

“So my assumption was correct.”

Elizabeth did not need evidence or plausible explanations to prove that Merche was the protagonist of the prophecy.

Elizabeth knew Merche well.

Merche was far from someone who could skillfully fabricate lies, and whenever she was certain of something, that certainty was always correct.

“About Prince Magnus…”

Elizabeth, who was about to discuss if there was no way to defeat the prince or find even the smallest clue, immediately changed the subject upon seeing Merche’s darkened eyes.

Bringing up the prince now would yield nothing.

It would only further entangle Merche’s emotions.

“It would be better to discuss him next time. Although all the castle gates are closed, I have at least one way to learn of the news from outside, so it would be better to gather more information before discussing it.”

The smoothly folded story disappeared as if it had never been brought up.

And instead of introducing a topic that might agitate Merche, she brought up a subject that Merche might find somewhat pleasant.

“Do you know where Rude has gone now?”

– Go to the underground dungeon. The person you should meet at least once will be there as well.

Elizabeth seemed to think Merche would not know who was imprisoned underground, but that was not the case.

Merche already knew who was imprisoned where her steps could reach.

Clank. The shackles on the man’s ankles and wrists made a loud noise.

As soon as the man saw Merche, he turned deathly pale as if struck by lightning, then shouted with a face full of madness.

“You, you…! Merche!”

“Sir Genovefa. So we meet again like this.”

She could not bring herself to ask if he had been well.

Anyone could see that Genovefa’s state was miserable. To the extent that one could roughly estimate the countless tortures he had endured.

It seemed Rude’s resentment towards Genovefa far surpassed what she had thought.

Merche lightly shook her head. To shake off the sympathy for Genovefa that had somehow arisen.

“I should have killed you somehow…! To let someone like you tarnish the Lupinus name, my Lupinus…”

“It is unfortunate. Contrary to your wishes, Sir Genovefa, I survived. And I became Rude’s partner as well.”

“…So? Do you think you can kill me?”

Genovefa’s bloodshot eyes bulged as he trembled.

“That can’t be… I know you. Better than anyone. You can never kill me. Because you were born with a foolishly weak disposition.”

A chattering sound came from his mouth.

It was the sound of his few remaining teeth constantly clashing due to his shaking body.

Genovefa had gone through such terrible torture that he could no longer live without trembling.

His eyes, caked with dried black blood, did not fully open, and even the barely opened eyes had faded to gray, making it difficult to see ahead.

Yet he glared at Merche’s blurry figure as if to kill her.

“Rude… That lowly thing said you would kill me, but he was wrong.

A fool who grew up stupidly is no different from an incurable disease! To think you could kill me, what an absurd notion.”

Rude Lupinus, his son who dared to overthrow the family head and turn the living into a corpse imprisoned underground.

Genovefa knew.

Rude wanted him to die by Merche’s hand, so he had subjected him to all sorts of torture but kept him alive.

But he would survive in the end.

Because that Merche could not kill him! Merche was an incomparably weak wench who could not kill a single person.

“I will endure this hardship and survive, kill you and that lowly bastard, and make the Lupinus name shine in glory once again. I will surely survive this humiliation and disgrace…”

“It’s strange. Why do you call Rude lowly?”

“What?”

Why is that bastard lowly? Is it not because he was born of noble blood but raised as a slave and could not shed those habits!

Genovefa was so busy panting and gasping for breath that he failed to notice one ominous fact.

The Merche he knew could never defy him in any way, but the Merche just now had casually cut off his words.

The more he insisted on Rude’s lowliness, spitting as he spoke, the colder Merche’s eyes looking down at him became.

Eventually, a chilling determination arose in her blue eyes, erasing even a shred of compassion as if cut away with a knife.

“The lowly one is not Rude. Sir Genovefa, you are the lowly one.”

“…What? How dare you!”

“What else would harming others under the pretense of acting for the family be called if not a lowly act? Even if you were born a noble, the path you have left in life is lowlier than anyone else’s.”

Merche no longer addressed Genovefa with even light honorifics.

Genovefa also belatedly felt an ominous feeling under her cold gaze that seemed to suppress him.

Surely she cannot kill me… She cannot dare to have such intentions… But why?