Amelia laughed hollowly. But even as she spoke sharply to Ivan, it was Amelia who felt the hurt. Amelia buried her face in her trembling hands. Just as she had once done when she was carried on Ivan's back, a silent sob escaped her lips. It was so loud that if he weren't watching, he wouldn't even notice she was crying.
That gave him a sense of the life Amelia had lived. Something she had to muffle and swallow, unable to even let out a cry of her own free will.
Ivan could only watch, unable to do anything. Amelia was a woman whose life was already miserable enough without him. Yet Ivan had dragged her into his life, forcing her into his.
“But I shouldn’t kill you.”
Amelia's current suffering was all his fault. It was his fault for rejecting her and wanting her to leave. Therefore, it was he who should be punished, not Amelia.
“As you said, I am the one who did something wrong, so I shouldn’t hold you responsible.”
“...”
“Killing you just to get revenge on me is only going to be more cruel to you.”
Of course, Amelia's death was painful for Ivan as well, but the weight of pain inflicted by the same action was heavier for Amelia.
"Don't be so generous to me. Hate me, just like you did to those who tormented you."
Ivan's trembling hand touched Amelia's face. Without any effort, the face that had lifted from his palm was soaked with tears. In an instant, Ivan's hand, too, was soaked with Amelia's tears.
“Don’t cry because you feel bad for blaming me and saying hurtful things to me.”
Every single tear Amelia shed was like broken glass, scattered across the floor. It seemed as if each step would sharply dig into his feet, tearing them apart. But Ivan couldn't help but step on them. It was something he had to endure.
“What do you know, that I am sorry to you...”
Amelia slapped Ivan's hand away with a sharp, squeezing motion. She wanted to tell him she wasn't crying out of regret, but her words kept fading as she gasped and cried.
Then Ivan silently pulled Amelia into his arms. "No." Amelia, who had been resisting weakly, trying to push Ivan away, finally began to sob in his arms.
I hate you. I hate you.
It was a resentment, a single, unspoken demand to die, but it was terribly painful. The moment Ivan realized his own heart, everything he had done up until then became tragic.
Ivan took Amelia, who had collapsed from crying, to the bedroom and watched her for a long time before returning to the main palace.
"Your Majesty."
Rodan, who was loitering in front of the main palace, spotted Ivan and approached him, wondering if he had returned to his townhouse.
“How is she?”
Ivan, his face grim, didn't respond. From that alone, Rodan could guess how far their relationship had come.
“Rodan. Next time.”
Ivan's face was speechless. Rodan, spotting him, stepped aside. The other servants, who had been observing Rodan's actions, also watched Ivan's reaction and left their seats to avoid being caught in his sight.
“...”
Thanks to that, Ivan reached his bedroom undisturbed. The bedroom, which hadn't been lit beforehand, was plunged into profound darkness. Ivan leaned his head against the closed door and closed his eyes.
Was I the one who would drive that woman to death?
Amelia had unusually thin bones and a frail body. He often wondered how she could walk on those legs. He wondered if her arms could do anything other than lift dishes. To this woman, who seemed to struggle with even the simplest aspects of daily life, he was whispering to her every day, "I want you to die."
It was the worst. Ivan sank to his knees, leaning against the door. He couldn't force anything on Amelia anymore. Life was the same. The thought of Amelia being forced to wait, counting the days until she escaped him in death, made him want to die.
The unexpected revelation of the truth sent a commotion through Eskrift. The woman who dared to pose as a representative of God and received all the world's finest treatment, and the nobles and priests who wielded her power.
“How can she commit such a big crime without being crazy?”
“Well, they say that woman’s bloodline has been sacrificed for generations...”
“Sounds like a scapegoat!”
At the loud shout of the shop owner, everyone who was eating was startled and stopped eating, their shoulders shaking.
"How much has she been living off of all this time, pretending to be a Priestess? She's probably enjoyed power and wealth that the rest of us can't even enjoy. After all, she's just another commoner."
The shopkeeper tapped a ladle against the rim of a large pot. The clanging sound was sharp and piercing. It was so powerful that it was difficult to even dare to object.
“That’s true.”
“Who knows? Those who were washed ashore when they first came into contact with the Duke Russell were either commoners or slaves.”
There was no one to object to this from the start. If she had been a slave, not even a commoner, it would have been a dramatic rise in status. She was truly enjoying things she could never have dared to enjoy, and it would have been enough to infuriate the commoners.
“I should have known from the moment I heard that the person who gave that blessing died.”
There was a woman who was delighted to hear that a Priestess had personally blessed her sick baby. She was so happy that the child's fever had subsided, and she was confident he would soon be completely healthy. But a month later, the child passed away. The reason was unknown.
“This is not a blessing from God; it is a curse!”
The baby's mother, possessed by evil, went around screaming, saying the Priestess was not a representative of God, but a wicked witch. She warned people not to be fooled by her false rumors. At the time, everyone felt pity for the child's mother, believing that the shock of losing her child was immense.
“That’s right.”
This is because the argument that there must have been another problem since the child did not die from a fever gained more ground.
But ever since it was revealed that Amelia wasn't a true Priestess, that claim was completely overturned. What Amelia bestowed upon her child was not a blessing, but a curse. This was even though such things as divine power and magic, which were non-existent, didn't even exist.
“Just wait and see, really.”
“What are you going to leave behind?”
“Oh, the execution is coming up soon. Now... there are only five days left?”
The shopkeeper placed the ladle dryly over the edge of the pot and counted the blades with his finger.
“I’ll definitely go see them the day they cut off my balls.”
“What are you going to do there?”
"What are you doing? You should at least throw stones at a dead body. Those wicked things dared to toy with people!"
"Where are you playing with people's desperate hearts?" the shop owner trembled with anger.
“I ate well.”
“Go in carefully!”
But that was only for a moment. As the customer paid and stood up, he smiled and greeted him as if nothing had happened. And as soon as the customer left, he began to speak passionately again.
“It seems like a lot has happened while you were away for a few months.”
Lure Chandler, who had finished his meal and left the shop, muttered, wrinkling his nose. He had returned from his journey to discover the New World with the Emperor's support, and nearly half a year had passed. He had wondered how much could have changed in half a year, but he had discovered that much had changed.
“The Priestess is fake, really.”
To begin with, Lure Chandler wasn't a particularly devout believer. He'd only visited the temple a handful of times in his life.
“As expected, I have a good sense.”
Although he was inherently lazy, Lure Chandler attributed it to his keen sense of humor. He was always over-evaluating himself.
“Then, the Emperor will be in a good mood.”
In any case, it didn't really matter to Lure Chandler whether the Priestess was fake or not.
“Isn’t it a bit small to be called a continent?”
As long as the Emperor was happy, that was all that mattered.
"This vast land isn't a continent? That's an insult! And, regardless of its appearance, it's said to be a land rich in gold."
If the Emperor was in a good mood, he'd nod with pleasure, even if his words were a bit boastful. Conversely, if he was in a bad mood, no matter how great the news, he'd only get verbally rebuked. Lure Chandler knew the nature of politicians.
"Then..."
Lure Chandler, reassured that he wouldn't be beaten or kicked out, pulled his hat down with a happy face. He felt like everything would be okay. Plus, the weather was nice, and he was in a good mood.
“Let’s go and see!”
And he started walking proudly in the direction of the palace.
That gave him a sense of the life Amelia had lived. Something she had to muffle and swallow, unable to even let out a cry of her own free will.
Ivan could only watch, unable to do anything. Amelia was a woman whose life was already miserable enough without him. Yet Ivan had dragged her into his life, forcing her into his.
“But I shouldn’t kill you.”
Amelia's current suffering was all his fault. It was his fault for rejecting her and wanting her to leave. Therefore, it was he who should be punished, not Amelia.
“As you said, I am the one who did something wrong, so I shouldn’t hold you responsible.”
“...”
“Killing you just to get revenge on me is only going to be more cruel to you.”
Of course, Amelia's death was painful for Ivan as well, but the weight of pain inflicted by the same action was heavier for Amelia.
"Don't be so generous to me. Hate me, just like you did to those who tormented you."
Ivan's trembling hand touched Amelia's face. Without any effort, the face that had lifted from his palm was soaked with tears. In an instant, Ivan's hand, too, was soaked with Amelia's tears.
“Don’t cry because you feel bad for blaming me and saying hurtful things to me.”
Every single tear Amelia shed was like broken glass, scattered across the floor. It seemed as if each step would sharply dig into his feet, tearing them apart. But Ivan couldn't help but step on them. It was something he had to endure.
“What do you know, that I am sorry to you...”
Amelia slapped Ivan's hand away with a sharp, squeezing motion. She wanted to tell him she wasn't crying out of regret, but her words kept fading as she gasped and cried.
Then Ivan silently pulled Amelia into his arms. "No." Amelia, who had been resisting weakly, trying to push Ivan away, finally began to sob in his arms.
I hate you. I hate you.
It was a resentment, a single, unspoken demand to die, but it was terribly painful. The moment Ivan realized his own heart, everything he had done up until then became tragic.
***
Ivan took Amelia, who had collapsed from crying, to the bedroom and watched her for a long time before returning to the main palace.
"Your Majesty."
Rodan, who was loitering in front of the main palace, spotted Ivan and approached him, wondering if he had returned to his townhouse.
“How is she?”
Ivan, his face grim, didn't respond. From that alone, Rodan could guess how far their relationship had come.
“Rodan. Next time.”
Ivan's face was speechless. Rodan, spotting him, stepped aside. The other servants, who had been observing Rodan's actions, also watched Ivan's reaction and left their seats to avoid being caught in his sight.
“...”
Thanks to that, Ivan reached his bedroom undisturbed. The bedroom, which hadn't been lit beforehand, was plunged into profound darkness. Ivan leaned his head against the closed door and closed his eyes.
Was I the one who would drive that woman to death?
Amelia had unusually thin bones and a frail body. He often wondered how she could walk on those legs. He wondered if her arms could do anything other than lift dishes. To this woman, who seemed to struggle with even the simplest aspects of daily life, he was whispering to her every day, "I want you to die."
It was the worst. Ivan sank to his knees, leaning against the door. He couldn't force anything on Amelia anymore. Life was the same. The thought of Amelia being forced to wait, counting the days until she escaped him in death, made him want to die.
***
The unexpected revelation of the truth sent a commotion through Eskrift. The woman who dared to pose as a representative of God and received all the world's finest treatment, and the nobles and priests who wielded her power.
“How can she commit such a big crime without being crazy?”
“Well, they say that woman’s bloodline has been sacrificed for generations...”
“Sounds like a scapegoat!”
At the loud shout of the shop owner, everyone who was eating was startled and stopped eating, their shoulders shaking.
"How much has she been living off of all this time, pretending to be a Priestess? She's probably enjoyed power and wealth that the rest of us can't even enjoy. After all, she's just another commoner."
The shopkeeper tapped a ladle against the rim of a large pot. The clanging sound was sharp and piercing. It was so powerful that it was difficult to even dare to object.
“That’s true.”
“Who knows? Those who were washed ashore when they first came into contact with the Duke Russell were either commoners or slaves.”
There was no one to object to this from the start. If she had been a slave, not even a commoner, it would have been a dramatic rise in status. She was truly enjoying things she could never have dared to enjoy, and it would have been enough to infuriate the commoners.
“I should have known from the moment I heard that the person who gave that blessing died.”
There was a woman who was delighted to hear that a Priestess had personally blessed her sick baby. She was so happy that the child's fever had subsided, and she was confident he would soon be completely healthy. But a month later, the child passed away. The reason was unknown.
“This is not a blessing from God; it is a curse!”
The baby's mother, possessed by evil, went around screaming, saying the Priestess was not a representative of God, but a wicked witch. She warned people not to be fooled by her false rumors. At the time, everyone felt pity for the child's mother, believing that the shock of losing her child was immense.
“That’s right.”
This is because the argument that there must have been another problem since the child did not die from a fever gained more ground.
But ever since it was revealed that Amelia wasn't a true Priestess, that claim was completely overturned. What Amelia bestowed upon her child was not a blessing, but a curse. This was even though such things as divine power and magic, which were non-existent, didn't even exist.
“Just wait and see, really.”
“What are you going to leave behind?”
“Oh, the execution is coming up soon. Now... there are only five days left?”
The shopkeeper placed the ladle dryly over the edge of the pot and counted the blades with his finger.
“I’ll definitely go see them the day they cut off my balls.”
“What are you going to do there?”
"What are you doing? You should at least throw stones at a dead body. Those wicked things dared to toy with people!"
"Where are you playing with people's desperate hearts?" the shop owner trembled with anger.
“I ate well.”
“Go in carefully!”
But that was only for a moment. As the customer paid and stood up, he smiled and greeted him as if nothing had happened. And as soon as the customer left, he began to speak passionately again.
“It seems like a lot has happened while you were away for a few months.”
Lure Chandler, who had finished his meal and left the shop, muttered, wrinkling his nose. He had returned from his journey to discover the New World with the Emperor's support, and nearly half a year had passed. He had wondered how much could have changed in half a year, but he had discovered that much had changed.
“The Priestess is fake, really.”
To begin with, Lure Chandler wasn't a particularly devout believer. He'd only visited the temple a handful of times in his life.
“As expected, I have a good sense.”
Although he was inherently lazy, Lure Chandler attributed it to his keen sense of humor. He was always over-evaluating himself.
“Then, the Emperor will be in a good mood.”
In any case, it didn't really matter to Lure Chandler whether the Priestess was fake or not.
“Isn’t it a bit small to be called a continent?”
As long as the Emperor was happy, that was all that mattered.
"This vast land isn't a continent? That's an insult! And, regardless of its appearance, it's said to be a land rich in gold."
If the Emperor was in a good mood, he'd nod with pleasure, even if his words were a bit boastful. Conversely, if he was in a bad mood, no matter how great the news, he'd only get verbally rebuked. Lure Chandler knew the nature of politicians.
"Then..."
Lure Chandler, reassured that he wouldn't be beaten or kicked out, pulled his hat down with a happy face. He felt like everything would be okay. Plus, the weather was nice, and he was in a good mood.
“Let’s go and see!”
And he started walking proudly in the direction of the palace.
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