In This Life, I'll Assist You (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 9

“This one is from the North. We took him in as an orphan wandering the streets. We have no idea why a stable boy would poison the Grand Duke’s food. By the time we found the boy, his tongue had already been cut out! Could it be that you people from the North know this child?”

Know him?

At Medea’s repeated pleas, the Red Caterpillar let out a sigh.

“Arrogant Northerners! Lady Medea begs you so sorrowfully, yet not one of you steps forward?”

I see.

So this is how you appear in the eyes of common folk, Medea.

A fragile, grieving daughter of a Grand Duke, doing everything in her power to resolve this matter.

But I see clearly. Her words are, in truth, a provocation aimed at the North.

To ask whether the Yellow Caterpillar—the very person she dragged here, accusing him of being the poisoner—might have known anyone from the North?

After a moment, the entrance to the Blue Pavilion opened.

Arcadia stepped out. His platinum hair shimmered under the moonlight, radiating icy fury.

A cold voice escaped Nugent’s lips.

“What do you hope to achieve by asking if we knew this child?”

“Oh, Lord Nugent—‘hope’? His Grace the Grand Duke lies gravely ill. Shouldn’t every possibility be thoroughly investigated? We simply have no idea what this child intended; that’s why we asked. Please, if there’s any misunderstanding, let us clear it up.”

Medea cried out plaintively, ensuring everyone could hear.

Misunderstanding.

So bitter it left the taste of blood in my mouth. Without realizing, I clenched my fists.

“This child was always fond of the North, praying constantly that Northern knights would remain unharmed in battles against the barbarians.”

“If he cherished us so dearly, why not allow him to return to the North?”

Arcadia’s indifferent reply already carried a note of anger.

Ah, no, Arcadia. If you lose your temper, she’ll drag you in.

Medea did not miss the rising fury in Arcadia.

“We wished to, but the distance was too great, and his frail health made it impossible to send him alone on such a journey. And yet, at the very moment the Northern knights arrive, he commits such an act. We did confirm he was the culprit, but now we can never learn his motive—hence our question to the North.”

“……”

Arcadia fell silent. Medea continued.

“But even asking this might be impolite. What I truly beg is that you not let this incident cast doubt upon the South’s friendship with the North. Regardless, this happened due to our negligence, so we will bear the consequences ourselves.”

Medea lifted her slender wrist toward the air. At that signal, the man standing beside the Yellow Caterpillar drove his sword into the boy’s back.

I clamped both hands over my mouth.

Ah…

Cruel Medea.

‘We will bear the consequences ourselves,’ you say?

It’s not you who lost your life—it’s the Yellow Caterpillar.

The boy died without uttering even a final cry.

Black Worm spoke.

“Remember this well—it is the fate of those who show no loyalty.”

[This is the timeline separator]

The only time I saw the Yellow Caterpillar defending the North was the day before the victory parade. At the training grounds, he had merely argued with the Red Caterpillar.

All he’d said to the Red Caterpillar—who condemned the Northern Grand Duke’s demand for a parade as shameless—was that the North had endured immense hardship.

[“If you don’t know, stay quiet! You don’t even know how far it is from the North to the Southern border!”]

That was all.

[“They say it’ll be the most pathetic victory parade ever seen. I heard a maidservant say they’ll barely serve rice. I don’t want that.”]

Those few words, spoken only to me.

And now they claim this boy attempted to poison the Northern Grand Duke?

No one else may know, but I do. The Yellow Caterpillar must have been unwittingly dragged into this. He was likely the victim of grave injustice.

[This is the timeline separator]

The Caterpillar’s body was moved to the outskirts of Rachel Forest.

On that pitch-black night, with even moonlight hidden behind clouds, I went to where he’d been abandoned.

This was the first death I’d witnessed since my return. At the very least, I wished to place a single flower upon his remains.

With every step, my conviction grew stronger—the Yellow Caterpillar could not have been the culprit.

Otherwise, there would’ve been no reason to cut out his tongue. They silenced him because he must not speak.

Had he been able to speak, he would’ve declared his innocence.

He lay facedown, carelessly dumped in the grass.

I approached and stood over him.

Southern winter nights were cold, yet midday here was as warm as spring elsewhere. Left like this, the boy’s body would soon return to nature.

I wanted to bury him. So I reached for his body.

‘!’

Something felt wrong.

His back was cold—but unlike a corpse, his body wasn’t stiff.

I examined him more closely.

‘He’s alive! Breathing, ever so faintly!’

My hands searched the wound where the sword had pierced.

‘The blade did enter near the heart—but at an angle.’

It had narrowly missed the heart, tearing only the tissues between heart and lung.

He’s alive. What more reason do I need?

I gathered the Yellow Caterpillar into my arms.

I couldn’t bear to witness another unjust death.

Sneaking the boy back to my quarters demanded even more effort than slipping into the Grand Duke’s chamber through the secret passage.

Drenched in sweat, I laid the Caterpillar atop a pile of hay, then began disinfecting the wound and crushing medicinal herbs.

Assassins are trained to heal ordinary wounds themselves, so my room was stocked with various herbs and remedies.

[This is the timeline separator]

I tended to him all night, yet his condition showed little improvement. He remained unconscious.

A slender beam of light filtered through a palm-sized window—dawn had broken.

“Today, then.”

On this very night in my previous life, Arcadia died.

But this life is different. This time, Grand Duke Belfast drank the poison, and the South now bears inescapable responsibility.

Even if they executed the Yellow Caterpillar as the assassin, few would truly believe he was guilty. In fact, it’s suspicious they uncovered the culprit so quickly.

If word of this situation leaks beyond the castle walls, rumors that the Southern Grand Duke orchestrated the Northern Grand Duke’s poisoning will reach the capital in no time.

That’s why it puzzled me.

Medea, who must have foreseen all this—why resort to such clumsy theatrics? Was she truly that desperate?

Not even the Emperor—who favored Lahert above all—could overlook the assassination of an Imperial Grand Duke. This could easily turn against the South.

At the thought of the Emperor, a sharp ache pierced my chest.

I leaned my head against the wall.

“Yellow Caterpillar. Grand Duke Zion Belfast. Arcadia. Medea. Yellow Caterpillar. Northern Grand Duke. Arcadia…”

Unaware, I kept murmuring the names of those involved.

“Arcadia… Medea… Northern Grand Duke…”

Then I abruptly fell silent.

In my past life, Medea conspired with her own father to assassinate Arcadia and sent me to do the deed. But this time, that plan must have collapsed entirely.

The attempted assassination of the Northern Grand Duke has already entangled the South. Yet Medea tried to tie the poisoning to the North.

Last night.

[“By the time we found the boy, his tongue had already been cut out! Could it be that you people from the North know this child?!”]

Medea had clearly said those words.

‘Does this one know someone from the North?’

I know Medea. She always achieves what she desires—by any means necessary.

She said that hoping, intending, for it to be concluded that the Caterpillar knew someone from the North.

But why?

If the would-be assassin knew someone within the Northern knights, it implies the North colluded with the killer.

It’s tantamount to claiming the plot originated from within their own ranks.

To shift blame for the South’s crime onto the North?

But there’s no evidence.

This is clumsy—unlike Medea.

She is meticulous, weighing every possible outcome. That’s how she secured her place as the Emperor’s adopted granddaughter in my previous life.

She took me in, foreseeing far into the future, and on the very night before becoming his granddaughter, she killed me—likely preserving my blood to later falsely claim she was the one who turned the Sacred Sword ‘Lucella’ gold.

That’s how methodical she is. She wouldn’t speak so recklessly without proof.

Unless… she’s already fabricated evidence that the poisoner is from the North?

For example… if the poison came from within the Northern knights?

‘……!’

A cold premonition crushed my chest.

If that poison is found in Arcadia’s quarters, he’ll be branded the traitor who colluded with the assassin.

And if Arcadia dies—as he did in my past life—

They’ll declare he took his own life, overwhelmed by guilt for attempting to poison his liege.

“No… surely not even that far.”

But the instinct wouldn’t release me. She’d already planted the seed of suspicion in everyone present at the Blue Pavilion—that the Yellow Caterpillar’s accomplice might be within the North.

That seed would sprout differently in each person’s heart.

That very night, as soon as the sun fully set, I ran toward the Blue Pavilion.

I pulled a black cloak over my head to conceal myself and fastened at my waist the white sword Medea had once given me.

‘Please, let it not come to using this blade today.’

[This is the timeline separator]

Hours earlier.

Medea Lahert was in her private office with her father, the Grand Duke. He had built this office himself for her twenty-first birthday, arriving in a month.

Among its refined features, she especially cherished the elegant birch bookshelf trimmed in gold. She stood before it now, running her fingers over the spines of countless books she’d read.

“Medea, I know you’re clever—but this plan carries risk. Not just some risk, but immense danger.”

Her father, Grand Duke Lahert, spoke gravely.

Medea thought to herself: beneath his dignified appearance, her father was cautious and fearful.

“Father, news that the Grand Duke was poisoned here in Lahert will reach the capital far sooner than we expect.”

The Duke frowned, pressing a hand to his brow.

“I’ve already prepared what to say to His Imperial Majesty.”

“Yes—no one in this world could do it better than you, Father.”

“And yet?”

“We haven’t gained nothing from this.”

“Gained?”

He gazed at his daughter—golden hair like the sun, proud crimson eyes—his pride, Medea.

And now this daughter insisted they must gain something from a crisis where merely preserving honor and integrity was already a struggle.

“Yes—we shall gain something.”

“Tell me then—what is it?”

A smile curled Medea’s red lips.

“Killing a nameless Caterpillar won’t easily clear our name. Calling it a scheme by the Northern Grand Duke raises too many questions—he’s a war hero, after all. Better, then, to stage something even less believable.”

“Less believable?”

“They’ll whisper that the Southern Grand Duke, blinded by miscalculation, tried to poison the Northern Grand Duke at precisely the wrong time—and that’s obvious to all. To silence those whispers, we create an even greater blunder: someone who committed an even less forgivable crime—Arcadia Nugent.”

Lahert swallowed hard.

“He’s the mastermind behind Zion Belfast’s poisoning? How splendid!”

“But the risk is great.”

“Arcadia, long suspicious of my father’s death, attempts to assassinate the Northern Grand Duke—but overcome by guilt, takes his own life. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“……”

“And while we’re at it…”

Medea’s smile turned bitter.

“The Northern Grand Duke, still gravely ill from the poison, follows his subordinate into death—precisely because he refused our physicians. What do you think?”

The Grand Duke shot to his feet.

“Is that… possible?”

“Sometimes, the most astonishing lie holds more power than truth itself. The Northern Grand Duke will pay for staging this farce, Father. With Arcadia gone, the knights will falter—and worsening the Grand Duke’s already critical condition will be simple.”

The Duke spoke with genuine admiration.

“Medea… you’re my daughter, yet far too precious to waste. The Emperor will surely recognize your worth.”