“Don’t you?”

And Ophelia blinked once. Netepel faced himself reflected in those large, deep blue eyes. It felt like falling into cold water.

For the first time in a while, a chill ran down his spine. Though uncertain of exactly what or how much Ophelia knew, he needed to respond more carefully than ever. Netepel parted his trembling lips.

“……Ophelia.”

“I thought about it. They say you drugged my drink, should I return the favor?”

At those words, Netepel recalled everything he had eaten and drunk since entering Sigrasal Castle. Nothing seemed different from usual, but he couldn’t be certain.

It was then that Ophelia’s words dropped.

“But that would be too simple.”

And she raised one corner of her mouth. Ah, are you scared? Her gentle eyes curved into round crescents filled with mockery.

Netepel froze as he realized she was ridiculing him.

“I thought about what method would be effective, and this seemed better.”

Her crisp voice continued, as if settling a debt.

“From now on, wherever you go, I will send someone to kill you. If you’re lucky, they’ll succeed on the first try.”

But even if not the first time, wouldn’t they eventually succeed after two or three attempts?

Though her pronunciation was clear, he couldn’t quite understand. Netepel sat blankly, blinking. Did Ophelia just express murderous intent towards him? Ophelia?

As reality dawned, he clenched his fist with a trembling hand.

“Y-you, how dare you say such things to me?”

Ophelia should not have dared to do this. Considering the years he had lived only for her, even if she wasn’t immediately within his grasp, how dare she, how dare she…

An anger surpassing his patience rose up. Netepel stood from his seat. Ophelia was still looking at him with a calm face. Her pale, delicate face was filled with mockery.

It was then that he felt as if something snapped inside him.

“You think the Grand Prince of Aglante is clean? That man is as much as I…”

When he came to his senses, he already had his hands on her neck. Netepel was taken aback as he realized he had laid hands on Ophelia’s body. Ophelia. He called her name in a shrill voice. It was then that the sacred object of House Mevasa hanging around her neck touched his hand.

In an instant, a burning pain shot through him. Reflexively releasing her neck at the searing sensation, Netepel covered his face. Embarrassment and shame from his impulsive action overtook him.

He looked through the gaps between his fingers at the woman bending over. She was rubbing her neck that had just been choked. He could see her bony white hands trembling.

Unable to discern her expression with her head bowed, Netepel tried to excuse himself, still covering his face. Ophelia, just now I, I…

It was then that Ophelia burst out laughing.

With a hoarse voice from the sudden violence, she cackled. Netepel blankly stared at the laughter flowing from beyond her lowered head and hunched shoulders.

“Netepel.”

Ophelia called his name and raised her head. Slightly disheveled hair flowed over her flushed cheeks.

With her face flushed bright red from an unknown source, she whispered. I’ll try my best to kill you somehow.

“You struggle and die for me.”

I made a mistake with Ophelia.

Netepel rubbed his face as he watched the servant packing to return to Brinwell. His eyes were dry from not sleeping a wink all night.

Yesterday, he did something he should not have done. To put his hands on Ophelia’s neck. Among the countless things he wanted to do with her, violence was not one of them. If he were to touch her body, Netepel wanted to do it more gently and tenderly.

However, what kept him awake was not regret for what he had done. Those blue eyes looking at him. Even now, remembering those eerily deep and calm pupils sent chills down his spine.

In that moment, Ophelia seemed completely insane.

No, she might really be insane. Netepel could no longer find in her the image of the girl he had known. Though her appearance was still as beautiful as ever, her gentle and kind personality seemed to have completely evaporated.

The Ophelia in his memory was someone who couldn’t even stay angry for long. But now she didn’t even blink at the sight of a severed head.

What changed her? Sitting on the bed with his face in his hands, Netepel thought of every possible variable. What changed Ophelia? What…

Was Haslen Rakmata the problem?

No, no. The only son of the Rakmata family had a gentle and kind nature. He had treated his fiancée, who was of much higher status than himself, like the snow of spring.

So Haslen Rakmata could not have changed Ophelia like that.

Then was Prince Reden the problem?

But Mahanas Mevasa had been by Ophelia’s side since she was born. If she was going to change because of Prince Reden, she should have been different from those early childhood days. Rather, the reason she had been so docile was partly because she had been trampled on by Mahanas.

It was then that his thoughts turned to another man who had appeared in her life.

Idren Sigrasal.

And suddenly he felt like he had found the missing piece. Netepel took a deep breath. Yes, the Grand Prince of Aglante must have been the problem.

From the start, it was suspicious that a mere illegitimate son had ascended to the throne over his older brothers. Netepel was convinced that the Grand Prince must be hiding something.

Otherwise, how could a man who had nothing have trampled on his relatives and seized the throne?

The pinnacle of a country was a goal that even he, who had made a deal with a god, had not yet achieved. No, Netepel had never desired the imperial throne in the first place. What he wanted, from the past to the present, was only one thing. Ophelia.

But surely a mere woman couldn’t be harder to obtain than the throne.

So the Grand Prince of Aglante had achieved even more than that. Moreover, he not only had the throne. Ophelia was also in his hands.

There was no way the Grand Prince had accomplished all that by his own hands.

And Netepel realized what he had been missing all along.

He had achieved his current position by making a deal with a god.

The Grand Prince of Aglante, who had been in a situation not much different from his own, had no guarantee that he had risen to his current position by his own power.

Realizing that the man was no different from himself, Netepel burst into a hollow laugh. See, Ophelia, I told you he was no different from me.

It was then that the door burst open.

Idren, who opened the door and entered, looked down at the prince laughing like a man who had lost his mind.

Overnight, Netepel Runtalis had changed to look like a madman. His complexion was pale, and his hair, which he always kept neatly arranged, was disheveled.

“Ah, Grand Prince. I actually had something to ask you.”

“I think that’s my line.”

Last night, Idren had discovered red marks on Ophelia’s neck.

He had almost missed it. When he entered the bedroom, Ophelia had the lights off, unlike usual.

At first, he thought she was sleeping, so Idren had no intention of turning on the lights either.

But Ophelia wasn’t asleep. Though she said nothing, just like a sleeping person, Idren realized this fact when he saw her tossing and turning.

Since returning to the castle, he had sometimes watched Ophelia sleeping, and she never moved an inch once asleep.

Realizing that she was pretending to sleep on purpose, Idren lay still, holding his breath. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by letting on that he knew the truth.

Unable to understand why she was avoiding him, Idren quietly gazed at the woman’s back, his mind in turmoil. He couldn’t sleep, not knowing what he had done wrong.

It was after Ophelia had truly fallen asleep that he learned her turning away from him was not due to his fault.

After the woman’s breathing had become sufficiently even, Idren carefully lit an oil lamp. Though he didn’t know what the problem was, he wanted to see her face in case she avoided him again tomorrow.

And what he discovered under the dimly lit lamp, just bright enough not to disturb her sleep, were the red marks on her neck.

The marks weren’t very dark, but they weren’t so faint that he couldn’t discern what had caused them.

Realizing that the red marks were handprints, Idren at first doubted his own eyes. Who on earth would leave handprints on Ophelia’s neck? And in his castle, no less.

After the mass purge of the elder faction, people in the castle were careful even about letting their fingertips touch Ophelia. Everything that reached her ears or eyes was also under his control.

But the skin he carefully traced was definitely swollen. It was a trace of burst blood vessels from pressure.