Gabriel, called upon by the knight, pretended not to know anything and simply replied “yes” before sitting down.

“Spreading baseless lies as if they were truth, thus causing public unrest, is a grave crime, my lady.”

“…I don’t quite understand what kind of unrest you believe I’ve caused.”

At Gabriel’s words, the knight narrowed his eyes sharply.

“The民心 has been thrown into chaos due to the fire at the Grand Shrine. In such circumstances, accusing an innocent woman of witchcraft—especially one from your own family—what else would you call that if not causing unrest?”

Staring wide-eyed at the knight interrogating her, Gabriel replied.

“You truly believe I fabricated a lie out of nothing? Do you really think so little of so many people, that they’d blindly turn on Celia Brillion as a witch?”

Before the knight could respond, Gabriel quickly continued.

“You yourself know well how many men who desired Celia have died—regardless of their social standing.”

“……”

“If I were to falsely disgrace a woman of my own house, it could bring ruin upon our entire family. Why would I ever do such a thing?”

When the knight remained silent, Gabriel played her final card.

“And besides… there’s something I saw that night…”

Gabriel walked out of the interrogation room looking perfectly unharmed.

Hariel, released without being questioned, came running over with a startled expression.

“What did you say for the knights to let us go like this?”

“Nothing much, Mother.”

Gabriel kept her words to Hariel to a minimum.

To truly understand what she had seen ‘that night,’ she needed to meet her elder brother.

“Now that I think of it, where exactly are Father and my brothers?”

Anderson kept watch over Ileon, who was imprisoned.

Ileon appeared remarkably calm for a man locked in prison.

He slept well, ate well, and acted as if he had known all along this was where he would end up.

Even with heavy restraints on his hands and feet, he carried himself as though he were in his own home.

As if sensing Anderson’s thoughts, Ileon smiled faintly, his eyes half-closed.

“Sir, you seem rather uneasy.”

“…That’s impossible. I’m merely observing you because it’s strange how composed you appear, despite being imprisoned.”

In a soft, smooth tone, Ileon replied to Anderson.

“Crying, wailing, and despairing when things turn bad—that’s the behavior of a loser. How can one who cannot even control their own emotions possibly control the situation?”

Damn snake.

A muscle twitched in Anderson’s jaw.

“What do you think you can possibly do in your current state? The Imperial Palace is already entirely under the control of my lord, Duke Calypso.”

Ileon twisted his lips into a faint smile.

“Do you truly believe the palace is now in Dietrich’s hands?”

Leaning back against the wall, the restraints on Ileon’s wrists clinked with a metallic sound.

“The entire kingdom of Abelon lies within my dominion. You are truly dull, Sir Anderson.”

“……”

“If you plan to cast someone down, you must be ready to fall just as far yourself.”

Ileon smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly. His pale eyes gleamed with an eerie light.

“Isn’t that so, Sir Anderson?”

Anderson wanted nothing more than to rip out that serpent-like tongue of Ileon’s, but he still awaited Dietrich’s orders.

“…So, did you lay hands on the lady?”

At that, the faint smile vanished from Ileon’s face as if it had never been there.

“The lady? You don’t mean… Celia Brillion?”

“Yes. Do you have any idea how much suffering she has endured since arriving at this palace? You will pay the price for dishonoring the woman who is to become my lord’s wife.”

Anderson glared at Ileon through the bars, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

“Dishonored… you say…”

Ileon murmured softly.

I never dishonored her. If anything, it was she who dishonored me.

The image of the silver-haired woman surfaced in his mind—she who had drugged him, imprisoned him, and ultimately fled into Dietrich’s arms. He had destroyed her kingdom and taken everything she once possessed.

Guilt?

He had no such thing.

He was merely the true apostle of the divine, fulfilling the prophecy as it was meant to be.

Never once had the prophecy failed.

If he hadn’t destroyed the kingdom of Shan, it would have been he who was stripped of everything.

Yet.

The princess who survived the chaos was so fragile, so delicate.

—Even if that moment comes, I never want to resort to such a cowardly method.

She had endured the weight of men’s desires to the point of barely surviving, yet still called her own methods cowardly.

Thus, Ileon had come to see Celia Brillion as no threat at all.

Perhaps the prophecy was wrong.

For the first time since his birth, he questioned the will of the divine.

Perhaps, deep down, he had hoped that she would never harm him.

—The Duke is not a good man.

Those clear, shining green eyes had captivated his gaze.

The first love of countless men, the angel of the Brillion house.

Celia’s beauty far surpassed even the wildest rumors.

But for a woman with no power, possessing such extraordinary beauty was a tragedy.

A life endlessly desired by men.

Trapped within that cycle of lust, Celia had chosen Dietrich as her sole companion.

—Surely she believed only Dietrich could understand her.

The very fact that he had spent ten years crawling on the ground, plotting the downfall of Abelon, was proof he was not sane.

An unfathomable depth of resentment and hatred.

Both carried the same darkness within.

Thus, it was only natural that, in this world, only the two of them could truly understand each other.

Suddenly, Ileon felt a tightness in his chest.

He had always been able to obtain anything he desired.

Wealth, power—yes. But even the hearts of men bent to his will, and eventually, even the imperial throne had fallen into his hands.

Yet now, Ileon realized there was one thing he could never possess, no matter how much he desired it.

Celia’s heart.

The moment one realizes something cannot be owned, the craving only grows deeper.

Each time those butterfly-like lashes fluttered, a hidden, long-suppressed desire stirred from the depths of his soul.

Ileon’s gaze darkened.

“It’s fine.”

Once Dietrich was removed, everything would fall smoothly into his hands.

Even if the Grand Shrine burned, even if the Abelon Imperial Palace fell into Dietrich’s grasp—the sky of Abelon still belonged to Ileon.

A tavern located in the capital city.

Heavy raindrops relentlessly pounded the tavern windows.

“We shouldn’t have left Celia in the palace. I never thought that damned Hariel would seize the chance while we were away and send Celia straight to the palace.”

Viscount Brillion gritted his teeth as he glared at the pouring rain.

On the wooden table before him, empty wine cups lay scattered haphazardly.

His face was flushed red from excessive drinking.

Opposite him, Vincent silently observed his father’s trembling mustache.

“My own daughter, whom I found and raised—she dares sell her off to the Emperor! That wretched woman!”

The Viscount slammed his half-filled wine cup onto the table with a loud thud.

Vincent could no longer bear listening to his father’s self-pity.

Even now, at this very moment, Celia was with Dietrich.

Vincent didn’t care whether Celia was accused of witchcraft or not.

All that gnawed at his nerves was that the man by her side was Dietrich, not him.

Back when they had gone to the resort together, he had indulged freely, always choosing silver-haired women.

“To finally enjoy myself after so long, only to return and face such an unforeseen disaster. I should’ve never gone to that resort.”

Vincent sneered inwardly at his father, who now regretted after having indulged in every pleasure.

Without him noticing, Celia had become even more beautiful.

Recalling the image of Celia leaving, wrapped in Dietrich’s arms, Vincent felt a surge of heat rush to his head.

He remembered the way Celia had looked at him.

Those emerald eyes, filled with disgust—as if gazing upon a repulsive insect.

Any man would naturally be drawn to a beautiful woman.

What was wrong with harboring desire for a stepsister who shared no blood?

Celia, who would have been left wandering the streets had it not been for his father, should have spent her entire life grateful for being taken into their family.

Yet instead of gratitude, she had turned her back on them.

She had treated him and his father as strangers, blatantly fleeing into Dietrich’s embrace.

‘Dietrich Calypso!’

He was the Commander of the Imperial Knights, the man who held the military power of Abelon.

Though recently stripped of his dukedom by the Emperor, everyone still called him Duke.

Vincent was no exception.

“…I should’ve taken better care of Celia while she was still at the estate. Then she wouldn’t have turned her back on us, nor fled into Duke Calypso’s arms.”

At Vincent’s words, Viscount Brillion suddenly lifted his head.

“Now that you mention it, Vincent, didn’t you frequently sneak into Celia’s room?”

That was true.

Vincent had, on several occasions, secretly climbed through Celia’s window in the dead of night, unable to contain his burning desire.

But…

“…I admit I did sneak into Celia’s room a few times, but strangely, I have no memory of what happened afterward.”

The Viscount raised his eyebrows, hearing this for the first time.

“What did you say?”

“When I woke up, I was back in my own bed, Father. Isn’t that strange? I clearly remember entering her room, yet I woke up in my own bed.”

“Why are you only telling me this now?”

Vincent said nothing of his desire to completely possess Celia.

Watching his son fall silent, the Viscount’s face flickered with a filthy lust.

“…So then, does that mean Celia is still pure?”