“Arthur Servantes, I didn’t expect you to act so recklessly like this.”

That was the first thing Ileon said upon finding Arthur.

Arthur was smiling broadly, seemingly indifferent to Ileon, as he gazed at the flower blooming in the pot placed on a long shelf.

Water swelled and rippled in Arthur’s palms, drenching the violet blooming in the pot.

“Hmm? What? Didn’t you want to sit on the throne?”

Arthur spoke without even glancing at Ileon.

“So you sent me a letter calling me here, right? And I quietly took care of both of them cleanly—no complications. I really don’t understand what you’re dissatisfied about~”

Arthur lovingly gazed at the silver violet, even humming a little tune under his breath.

“I have no interest in the throne. If you want it, take it yourself. I love beautiful things more than anything in the world. Celia, Celia……. Ah! Celia!”

Arthur suddenly trembled violently, as if merely thinking of Celia had excited him.

“Celiaaaaaaah!”

Arthur covered his face with both hands and screamed her name.

Ileon stared at Arthur as if he were a madman.

He knew Arthur was someone who couldn’t resist beauty, but he never expected him to be utterly obsessed with Celia like this.

“By the way, did you know? The Celia you adore so much is supposedly in a romantic relationship with Dietrich.”

Arthur’s body stiffened at those words. His face, which had been gazing at the flower, twisted grotesquely with creaking sounds before turning toward Ileon.

“What did you say?”

“You didn’t hear? The one you desire already belongs to someone else. Dietrich.”

“…Who is Dietrich?”

Ileon opened his mouth to say something, then immediately shut it.

Arthur had hardly ever appeared in the imperial palace.

Even when Dietrich was granted the title of duke, Arthur had been holed up in his private chamber, delegating everything to his steward—so he knew nothing about it.

Just how isolated had he been from the world?

“How could you not know Dietrich?”

“I have no interest in anything that isn’t beautiful.”

“So it’s not because he’s a man?”

Arthur swept his platinum hair back with a smug expression.

“There’s no man in this world more beautiful than me, so naturally, I can’t be interested in other men, can I?”

His golden eyes, set against pale skin, gleamed a sharp yellow.

‘His narcissism is overflowing so much it’s dripping out.’

Ileon swallowed a curse inwardly.

Judging from what he was saying, Arthur clearly had no idea that Celia had entered the Emperor’s private chambers.

Had he known, he would’ve abandoned his secluded life long ago and rushed straight to the palace.

“Therefore, Celia belongs to me. To no one else.”

Arthur’s pupils clouded over, speckled with possessiveness.

The sight of his snake-like yellow eyes drenched in obsession and madness was far from pleasant.

“Locked forever in my private chamber, perfectly preserved…….”

Arthur muttered darkly.

“Unlike Jeremy and Erpia, Dietrich won’t be easy to kill. That man is a Swordmaster.”

“…A Swordmaster?”

“Yes. If you are one who has reached the ultimate peak of magic, then he is one who has reached the ultimate peak of swordsmanship. Even you couldn’t kill Dietrich.”

Ileon shrugged and walked toward the door.

“I have to discuss this with the ministers because of what you’ve done. I’ll take my leave now.”

Thud.

The door closed.

Left alone in the room, Arthur looked down at the silvery violet.

The silver violet, shimmering like Celia’s hair.

“Celia…….”

Arthur closed his eyes and imagined Celia, whom he had seen only briefly.

Large, clear green eyes reminiscent of a fresh forest, lips slightly parted in surprise, delicate wrists that seemed fragile to the touch, smooth, pale skin.

And then, and then.

-Arthur Servantes?

Those soft, red lips that had called out to him.

“Celia, Celia, Celia, Celia……!”

Arthur screamed her name like a madman.

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen in his life.

If he could, he wanted to preserve Celia forever in his private chamber.

The most beautiful woman in the world—alive, fresh, exactly as she was.

“When I came to deliver breakfast, he was already dead like this.”

Upon the knight’s report, Dietrich examined Jeremy’s body closely.

Jeremy’s corpse, slumped at the top of the tower, bore not a single wound.

“Poison?”

“There was no sign of poison. Perhaps he took his own life out of despair…….”

Dietrich opened Jeremy’s tightly shut mouth and inspected his tongue.

The tongue was clean, with no sign of having been bitten.

“This wasn’t suicide. It was murder. The late Empress was also killed by the same person, with only a short interval between the two.”

“…Murder? With Duke Calypso right here, who would dare commit such an act?”

Dietrich thought he knew who the culprit was.

Only someone who had transcended the limits of humanity could kill so meticulously.

“Someone who can kill without using any weapon. Someone who fears nothing at all.”

“This is terrible. All the imperial family inside the palace have been murdered. There are no imperial relatives left.”

If Abelón were a nation that would vanish just because the imperial family was gone, it would’ve already perished by his own hand long ago.

Dietrich concealed his thoughts and gave a slight nod.

“…So, what should we do now?”

“Give the imperial family a grand funeral, but limit the mourning period to just one day.”

“…One day?”

The knight looked flustered, clearly surprised by how short the mourning period was.

“The throne has been vacant for over a month already. Prolonging the mourning period won’t do any good in this situation.”

“…I see. Then, what about the throne…….”

“Since the imperial bloodline has been completely severed, someone else must take the throne. And no one will oppose it.”

Celia Brillion was sitting on a black bench near the tower.

She had come with Dietrich, but since showing her a corpse wasn’t appropriate, he had left Sir Anderson with her while he went up the tower with the knight.

Seeing Celia looking bored, Sir Anderson quietly took out a macaron from his pocket.

“I made these this morning. Since you like sweets…… would you like to try one?”

“Thank you.”

Celia sat on the bench and ate the pink macaron.

The sweet macaron melted softly, spreading richly across her tongue.

“…How is it?”

“It’s good.”

Celia chewed the macaron slowly. With her cheeks puffed full, she looked just like a squirrel.

Anderson had a sharp eye for people. He could somewhat understand how Celia had captured the heart of Dietrich, who had always been utterly cold toward women.

Celia had something that made people feel good.

Beyond mere beauty, she had a way of making others feel at ease.

Of course, those who focused solely on her beauty would never understand that.

After finishing the macaron, Celia wiped the crumbs from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’s really delicious. Thank you for the tasty food.”

“Thank you!”

Anderson smiled happily.

Someone was secretly watching the two of them from behind a pillar.

A man, draped in a black robe, suddenly stepped out in front of them.

“Celia!”

The one who burst out screaming her name was none other than Arthur Servantes.

He had appeared out of nowhere, without a trace of movement.

Anderson glared at the intruder with intense suspicion.

“…Who are you?”

Arthur ignored Anderson’s words completely, as if he didn’t care about him at all.

His gaze remained fixed entirely on Celia.

“Celia! Call my name like you did before, okay?”

Celia had no idea why Arthur was acting so familiar with her.

He seemed extremely dangerous—someone who wouldn’t even blink after killing two people.

Seeing that Celia didn’t respond, Arthur grew anxious and rubbed his hands together.

“Celia, if you like sweets, I can make as many as you want.”

Arthur mumbled something incomprehensible.

Soon, colorful macarons popped into existence one after another in his hands.

“Here!”

Pop, pop, pop.

Celia stared at Arthur’s hands in confusion, watching macarons repeatedly materialize from nothing.

“…Magic?”

At Celia’s words, Arthur nodded repeatedly, clearly delighted.

“Yes! I can create anything you desire with magic.”

“…Who exactly are you?”

The smile vanished completely from Arthur’s face, disturbed by the interruption of his pleasant moment with Celia.

Though his hood hid his eyes, the part of his face visible showed clear displeasure.

Celia quickly grabbed Arthur’s arm.

If she didn’t stop him now, she feared Arthur might harm Anderson.

“…Ah, ah! Haaaaa!”

The moment Celia grabbed his arm, Arthur groaned and began trembling violently.

Numerous macarons that had sprung from his hands tumbled down, piling up on the ground.

Celia let go of Arthur’s wrist and turned to Anderson.

“Anderson, go find Dietrich right away.”

“…What?”

“Quickly! I’ll handle this.”

“No, how can I possibly go up there and leave you alone with such a strange man! Absolutely not!”

Celia felt slightly resentful toward Anderson, who was just as principled as Dietrich.

First of all, this Arthur person clearly wasn’t in his right mind.

Just from having a brief conversation with Anderson, Arthur had already stiffened and started fidgeting.

If she were alone with Arthur, she could use her abilities to stop him if needed, but with Anderson present, she couldn’t use her powers at all—leaving her in quite a predicament.

Meanwhile, Arthur kept inhaling deeply, as if sniffing the scent from the wrist Celia had just held, then exhaling repeatedly.

“Who is that man?”

At that very moment, Dietrich, who had just emerged from the tower with the knight, spoke.

“Dietrich.”

At the sound of her voice, Arthur lunged toward Dietrich.

It was a swift movement—too fast to even attempt to stop.