64. Speak clearly!

2023.12.03.

The Emperor drew a sword from the waist of a palace guard standing beside a pillar and, without a moment’s hesitation, beheaded the servant who had just delivered the champagne.

“Aaaahhh—!”

The servant’s face, frozen in shock and disbelief, rolled lifelessly across the floor.

Blood gushed like a fountain, splattering directly onto Yuan, the people around her, other palace guards, and even onto Clade, who was hastily carried away on the back of another guard.

“How dare this happen right under my nose—me, Igor Euphris.”

The temperature of the debutante ball, a dream event for every young woman of the Euphris family, plummeted instantly to freezing.

“How dare someone attempt to poison my nephew under my own roof. No one responsible will leave this palace alive today.”

As Yuan followed the unconscious Clade out of the ballroom, she caught one final glimpse of everyone in the hall prostrating themselves before the Emperor, who still held his drawn sword.

***

By the time the atmosphere in the ballroom had frozen over like a sheet of ice,

Clade, lying in the guest chamber, remained unconscious, drenched in cold sweat.

Hille, his personal physician who had come along as a precaution, arrived with the imperial doctor shortly after Clade was laid down.

The imperial doctor, accustomed to cases of poisoning, immediately inserted a silver needle into Clade’s mouth and pulled it out again, clicking his tongue when he saw no discoloration.

Seeing the doctor force a red medicinal pill into Clade’s mouth, Yuan urgently asked,

“How is he? What kind of poison was it?”

“Please calm down, Your Highness. He is not in danger of dying.”

“How can you be sure? You haven’t even checked his pulse or listened to his chest—”

“The Imperial Euphris family undergoes training from early childhood to build resistance to poisons. They do not easily succumb to ordinary toxins. Precisely because of this, however, more unusual and potent poisons are often used against them.”

“Then!”

“It seems the Highness spat out the poisoned drink immediately, and I’ve seen similar symptoms before—I can treat it. It’s fortunate. Had it been a more potent toxin, or if he had swallowed more, even his natural resistance wouldn’t have saved him, and he would have died instantly.”

Her body, which had been leaning against the bedpost, slowly collapsed.

Hille startled and quickly supported her.

“If the condition progresses well, he may wake as early as this afternoon. If it takes longer, perhaps by tomorrow. Your Highness should rest a little as well. Your complexion is poor.”

The imperial doctor, his white beard hanging low, bowed deeply with utmost courtesy, yet spoke with deliberate distance. He handed Hille a pouch of medicine, instructing her to administer one pill every hour, then stood.

Yuan stood dazed, listening to the imperial doctor’s final instructions to Hille.

Wiping away the cold sweat gathering on Clade’s smooth forehead, Yuan suddenly lost strength in her legs and sank onto the edge of the bed, resting her forehead against his shoulder and silently swallowing her tears.

If only she had insisted on not coming.

If only she hadn’t numbly taken the hand of this man who acted as if he were eager to be her partner, just like everyone else.

If only she had tried her plan to test Marquis Companni or her uncle, to uncover Bollonico’s true intentions.

‘I can only stand here, helpless, watching you bleed…’

Endless regret and self-reproach swirled violently in her mind.

Then, from behind Yuan’s shoulder, a strange murmur spilled out.

“Hah… Even here, in the imperial palace…”

It was a whisper, light as wind.

But to Yuan’s hypersensitive ears, it sounded like a shout pressed directly against her eardrum.

It could have been an innocuous remark.

Perhaps just a sigh of disbelief—how could such a thing happen even in the imperial palace?

But now, it was different.

“…Even in the imperial palace?”

Yuan snapped her pale face upward, her eyes piercing.

Hille flinched under her gaze.

Yuan, her eyes bloodshot and wide open, demanded sharply,

“Even in the imperial palace—what do you mean, ‘even’?”

Hille stared back, pale and speechless, as if he had just been slapped.

The instant she saw Hille’s frozen expression, Yuan stepped forward with sudden certainty.

“There were incidents like this at the mansion too, weren’t there?”

“I, I—! That’s not what I meant—!”

“Speak clearly!”

Hille, stunned by Yuan’s sharp cry, remained frozen, unable to respond.

Yet, trapped by the deep fury and inexplicable conviction blazing in Yuan’s dark eyes, he couldn’t look away.

Overwhelmed by Yuan’s suddenly venomous presence, as if her personality had transformed, Hille blinked twice with difficulty and replied, his face a mix of despair and defeat.

“Actually…”

***

The personal physician of the Black Mansion.

Hire Hatarun was a provincial from the western desert region of the Empire, who had come to the capital to study.

Though selected as a scholarship student, he was pushed aside by the financial advantages of wealthier peers and, during his six-year academic period, lost his scholarship for two years—leaving him burdened with debt.

For heirs—third or fourth sons—of prestigious families who studied medicine “as a hobby,” or for affluent commoners who chose it as an honorary profession, career paths were diverse.

The only route respected by nobles was that of physicians who had given up on making money.

Since opening a private clinic required family support, Hille’s only viable option was to join a state-run imperial hospital or become a court physician.

Despite graduating at the top of his class, Hille failed to secure a court physician position for unclear reasons and had no choice but to apply to a regional hospital in the western desert.

Wealthy commoners from more desirable regions like the capital, east, or south dominated those postings, so he had to give up before even trying.

“Damn it. Is this what you call a country?”

A top graduate of the Academy, reduced to a regional physician in the western desert.

Returning to his homeland, yet the taste in his mouth was bitter.

He felt ashamed to face his parents, who had dreamed only of seeing their son become a court physician, and his younger siblings trailing behind.

His only hope was to climb the ranks—perhaps even become hospital director.

So, gritting his teeth, enduring the wretched desert winds day after day,

he rose to become the youngest deputy director, his eyes now fixed on the director’s chair.

“Hire Hatarun. Would you like to become a court physician?”

“A court physician? Hah. If it were possible, I would’ve become one when I graduated top of my class.”

“What if it’s not too late now?”

He thought the aging, stern director had suddenly begun to watch him with suspicion.

But the director, revealing a sharp glint from beneath his drooping eyelids, quietly showed Hille the offer that had come from the royal household.

“You know the Crown Prince, don’t you?”

“Of course. After that uproar ten years ago, anyone who doesn’t know would be a spy.”

“You’re to become his personal physician.”

“Oh, that rumored terrifying Black Mansion? No thanks. No matter how desperate I am, I won’t walk into a place to die. Just because you serve royalty doesn’t mean you’re a court physician.”

“The stories about people dying there are all lies. At least, nothing’s happened to the personal physician.”

The director traced the air with his gaze, then suddenly glared intensely at Hille.

“What the royal household needs isn’t a physician, but a spy. Who could possibly cure that man’s illness? All one can do is fake treatment. You know well enough that becoming a court physician isn’t just about skill. I, too, was once a brilliant talent who dominated the Academy. Look at me now—wasting away in the middle of the desert until I die.”

The director spread his arms wide, as if displaying his own fate as a warning to Hille’s future.

Seeing Hille’s face grow serious, the director smiled reassuringly.

“I’m old—my days are numbered. But you still have a bright future ahead. To marry off your younger siblings and build a respectable family of your own, it’ll be impossible here. And you already have quite a debt, don’t you?”

He had recently taken on a massive debt to honor his late parents.

Seeing the strong tremor in Hille’s eyes, the director swiftly signed a recommendation letter he had already prepared and handed it over.

Hille ran his fingers over the stiff, expensive paper, then carefully tucked it into his robe.

***

“You were sent to spy on the Crown Prince. And on me. You reported every word I ever trusted you with.”

“To be precise, not to the royal household—but to Prince Bollonico.”

Hille lowered his gaze under Yuan’s sharp tone.

Now kneeling on both knees, he wept quietly, his face filled with regret.

“When I arrived in the capital with the recommendation, a man named Marquis Companni was waiting for me. My task was merely to conduct routine medical checks and monitor the mansion’s activities. I never told anyone about you… I never told anyone.”

“What about me?”

“Information like your extraordinary talent, or that you were the true creator of the cleaning solution. I only ever said you were a graceful lady of the house, intelligent and admirable.”

“And the Crown Prince?”

Hille clutched his knees tightly, tears dropping to the floor.

“After you arrived, he became much… brighter. He began going out more often… I thought these were harmless details… I guess I was wrong.”

“Keep going.”

“The moment I mentioned his outings… I received orders—multiple times—to poison the Crown Prince. I had never received such orders before.”

“!”

Yuan froze, staring blankly at the crown of the man’s head kneeling before her.

She felt as if her blood had turned to ice, draining out of her body.

“There are others besides me spying in the mansion. You’ve probably noticed—the guards at the main gate are all sent by the royal household. Among them, there must be more spies.”

“You speak as if you’re proud.”

“I know it sounds like an excuse. But I always mixed antidotes into the Crown Prince’s pain medication. The first time they tested the leftover food for poison, I thought my heart would stop. Fortunately, the Crown Prince is of royal blood, so he has natural resistance, and with the antidote, he’s remained safe so far… But I never expected them to act so boldly in the imperial palace.”