Diana, who had been standing before her, vanished from her sight in an instant. A dull thud echoed from down the stairs. Her old, ugly dog spun in place, then barked and ran down the stairs. She absolutely loathes this woman, Diana.
She's got nothing compared to her, and she's inferior to her, but she keeps provoking her inferiority complex. She needs to have everything, and she doesn't want others to have what she doesn't have. That woman has the man she loves, and she has a sincere person who can't be coaxed or threatened by power and money.
A superior gaze, as if looking down on someone inferior. That cold gaze is unbearable, like someone she fears. She also hates the way her voice sounds so domineering, even though it's polite. That's why she wanted to crush her even more, subdue her, and keep her under her feet. This time, she thought she won. But in the end, this is how she ends up feeling defeated.
There's no way she can win.
Erita, who had been standing there blankly, suppressing her sense of defeat, freed herself from her emotional ruminations and faced reality.
“You’re out of your mind. You’re trying to frame me.”
Erita hurried down the stairs and examined Diana, who had collapsed. Boaz, at a loss, circled around her, licking her hands and cheeks as he whimpered.
As Erita was about to take the brooch from Diana's hand, a sudden realization struck her. There was no one there, no witnesses to offer evidence. Even if someone had heard Diana's screams, they wouldn't have come forward to testify. Feeling a sense of relief, having reached the end of her thoughts, she giggled.
“Everyone is on my side. If you die, it’s over.”
So far, she been able to flexibly escape with excuses and justifications, so this time, she'll be able to do it again. After all, the people she killed were insignificant. This woman, too, will be buried in the ground alongside the truth, and it'll all end as if nothing had happened. Erita breathed a sigh of relief.
“I am the sole heir to the throne. I said I could do whatever I wanted.”
Erita looked around and picked up a marble sculpture lying in the garden. The Marchioness of Wales's warning against direct harm came to mind as a warning, but she couldn't miss this golden opportunity.
“Goodbye. In the end, I’m the one who wins.”
Just as she was about to strike Diana's head with a heavy piece of marble, Erita felt a sharp pain in her arm and a heavy weight suddenly clinging to her. Boaz had rushed in and bit Erita's arm, hanging on.
“Aaargh! You son of a bitch! Are you out of your mind?”
She's got nothing compared to her, and she's inferior to her, but she keeps provoking her inferiority complex. She needs to have everything, and she doesn't want others to have what she doesn't have. That woman has the man she loves, and she has a sincere person who can't be coaxed or threatened by power and money.
A superior gaze, as if looking down on someone inferior. That cold gaze is unbearable, like someone she fears. She also hates the way her voice sounds so domineering, even though it's polite. That's why she wanted to crush her even more, subdue her, and keep her under her feet. This time, she thought she won. But in the end, this is how she ends up feeling defeated.
There's no way she can win.
Erita, who had been standing there blankly, suppressing her sense of defeat, freed herself from her emotional ruminations and faced reality.
“You’re out of your mind. You’re trying to frame me.”
Erita hurried down the stairs and examined Diana, who had collapsed. Boaz, at a loss, circled around her, licking her hands and cheeks as he whimpered.
As Erita was about to take the brooch from Diana's hand, a sudden realization struck her. There was no one there, no witnesses to offer evidence. Even if someone had heard Diana's screams, they wouldn't have come forward to testify. Feeling a sense of relief, having reached the end of her thoughts, she giggled.
“Everyone is on my side. If you die, it’s over.”
So far, she been able to flexibly escape with excuses and justifications, so this time, she'll be able to do it again. After all, the people she killed were insignificant. This woman, too, will be buried in the ground alongside the truth, and it'll all end as if nothing had happened. Erita breathed a sigh of relief.
“I am the sole heir to the throne. I said I could do whatever I wanted.”
Erita looked around and picked up a marble sculpture lying in the garden. The Marchioness of Wales's warning against direct harm came to mind as a warning, but she couldn't miss this golden opportunity.
“Goodbye. In the end, I’m the one who wins.”
Just as she was about to strike Diana's head with a heavy piece of marble, Erita felt a sharp pain in her arm and a heavy weight suddenly clinging to her. Boaz had rushed in and bit Erita's arm, hanging on.
“Aaargh! You son of a bitch! Are you out of your mind?”
Boaz held Erita's arm tightly, refusing to let go. Erita, gripped by the pain of her flesh being torn and the terror of it, struck Boaz's head with a marble block, eliciting a loud thud and a shriek.
“Grrrrrrrr...”
Boaz, who had been thrown and fallen, barely managed to get back up, bleeding profusely. His brown eyes gleamed as he shielded Diana with his entire body.
The military dog, growling and scrunching its nose, was akin to a wolf's instincts resurrected. Feeling fear at the massive beast, weighing over 30kg, Erita clutched the bitten arm and backed away.
“Hey! Get out of the way?”
Boaz barked hoarsely at Erita. He crouched low, his blunt fangs bared. Though old and worn, the dog's will to protect its family was still evident. Frightened by the ferocity of the creature, which seemed poised to pounce and tear at any moment, Erita clutched her arm and turned to flee.
The surroundings were still quiet, the only sound being the breeze rustling the leaves of the garden trees. Boaz repeatedly licked Diana's motionless cheek, trying to wake her. Finally, he groaned as he watched his master, who hadn't woken.
“Call the people around you. Boaz... please, save Alec and his wife.”
Boaz remembered his former master's anguished voice, heard in the darkness beneath the thick rubble. The thick scent of blood, the approaching stench of pain and death, was the same. To him, humans were both strong and vulnerable. Therefore, the need to always follow and protect them was ingrained in him like an instinct.
Boaz ran back, just as he had when his house had collapsed in a bombing. Limping, his leg injured from hitting the ground, he desperately followed Noah's scent, driven by the conviction that he must protect his family.
***
Noah, who had been waiting for Diana, who hadn't arrived, suddenly felt every nerve in his body tense. A vivid shudder, like a chilling scream, ran through his body. He instinctively turned his head and looked outside the banquet hall.
“Diana?”
Noah, feeling a strange sense of foreboding, hurried out of the banquet hall and found Boaz limping from a distance across the garden, like a defeated soldier. Blood was streaming from his head and nose, dripping onto the floor.
Noah, seeing Boaz gasp for breath and then collapse, left him with a nearby palace servant and followed the trail of blood. At the end of the trail, which had been like a landmark for Boaz's journey, Noah's body froze as he saw even more blood seeping into the ground.
Her short, jet-black hair lay scattered on the floor. Her slender fingers, carelessly clutching something, were frighteningly pale. The emotion he felt for the first time in his life brought all his thoughts to a halt, shattered even his cool judgment.
“Diana.”
Diana lay face down in the shadows cast by the garden trees. Noah stroked the hair that obscured the side of her face with a stiff hand, seemingly tied to something.
Heavy eyelashes were revealed. Noah's eyes blurred as he saw crimson blood staining his hands. A wave of confusion and fear washed over him, shackling and binding him.
What if she leaves me forever?
This one terrible assumption consumed everything. It was as if water had filled his lungs, and he couldn't breathe. Noah clutched his chest, feeling a loss he'd never experienced before, surging through him, inside and out. It was worse than the feeling of being completely blinded, worse than the near-death experience in war.
Yet, his face held no expression. His vision, which had been shrouded in darkness like a curtain, was slowly returning. Barely regaining his senses, Noah placed his fingers on Diana's neck and checked for a pulse. He felt a slow, faint pulse beneath the cool skin.
Noah immediately picked up Diana and led her into the palace. He called out to her, but she didn't respond.
“My princess.”
He spoke to her several times.
“I don’t know what to do. I feel so bad that it’s hard to describe it as...”
He never imagined a world without her. He has no plans, no preparations. He never even thought about it in the first place. He was too scared.
He's so scared of it, he can't stand it.
***
Queen Grace, who was inside the banquet hall, turned her gaze to the commotion. The moment she saw Noah return with Diana in his arms, her jade eyes became noticeably clouded. Incredibly, the sight of the bloodied and pale woman in his arms stirred a deep sense of unease.
It's strange. She never liked that girl. She's the daughter of the two people who betrayed her. But what is this feeling? Even her fingertips are tingling, and her consciousness is in disarray.
“Diana... Claire.”
The Queen, who had been muttering without realizing it, suddenly sat up.
Erita, sitting next to her, was sipping champagne with an indifferent expression. The doctors and military medics who had been attending the banquet rushed over to check on Diana.
“How badly are you hurt?”
The Queen asked, looking beyond the crowd. Noah, seemingly devoid of soul, stared at Diana without answering.
"Your Majesty, it appears she suffered a major blow to the head. We need to take immediate action."
The young doctor answered on Diana's behalf, calling for the palace servants to bring a stretcher. Shouts were also heard to move her so her head wouldn't shake. Noah, who had been watching Diana being carried out on the stretcher, turned around and saw the Queen.
Blood splattered across Noah's shirt and face. He stared at her, his clouded blue eyes unblinking, expressionless. The Queen felt a chill run down her neck as she met his fierce, piercing gaze. It was the gaze of a caged killer, his instincts smothered. A moment later, he followed Diana away. The Queen, realizing that Erita had changed, watched her quietly.
“It’s you again.”
At the Queen's question, which she asked in a low voice so only she could hear, Erita simply covered her face with her silk fan and smiled indifferently. The Queen grabbed her coat hem and dragged her into the empty reception room.
"Why are you doing this? I can't possibly handle you. Your engagement is just around the corner, and you're doing something so reckless."
Erita responded to th Queen's stern rebuke with a voice filled with rebellion.
"Mother, you love me, don't you? I do everything you say. Succession to the throne, marriage. You can do this, right? Just like you always have."
The Queen regarded Erita with a cold gaze. She had decided that she could no longer tolerate this. Noah Rotsilt was a high-ranking nobleman and a crucial figure in the next war. She could not tolerate any further abuse of power or abuse of power that would provoke him.
“Now it has reached the point where you are even giving me orders.”
"This isn't an order, Mother. This is a fair trade. I can't do what I want with my marriage or my life, so shouldn't you at least let me do this? I hate her so much."
Perhaps it was a sign of discontent. Erita, despite her feigned composure and smile, looked precarious, like a weakling who had recklessly defied someone who held the power of life and death. She knew it was futile, but she longed to be loved, to have her value confirmed.
The corners of the Queen's mouth rose with a displeased expression.
From her perspective, she couldn't let her daughter's useless tantrum ruin everything.
"I'll do it on the condition that no evidence of your involvement comes forth later. I won't intervene in this matter, so you figure it out yourself."
"Ha, sometimes I wonder if I'm truly worthy of being your daughter. You always impose such harsh standards and conditions. I've heard other parents are unconditionally generous and lenient, giving everything to their children..."
Erita's shoulders began to hunker down as the voice spoke. She was overwhelmed by the Queen's cold gaze, as if she were facing a tiger in the deep forest. The Queen, who had been staring silently, opened her mouth.
"You think I was cold to you? If I had, you would have been dethroned long ago and locked in a monastery until you die. I lost something important to me because of you. And I might end up losing you, too."
Erita was startled and tried to act as if nothing had happened.
“You say I’m the sole heir to the throne? Am I really going to abdicate?”
"Yes. It seems you were so arrogant, thinking it was some kind of power that exempted you from all responsibility. How dare you challenge my authority?"
The Queen's voice sank heavily. Erita's face, a chill running down her spine from the eerie atmosphere, gradually grew pale.
Ideal persuasion, then realistic threats, and finally brutal execution.
This is the Queen's way. Erita sensed the cajoling phase was over. The Queen, cupping her cheek as her lips moved silently, lowered her eyes and glared, mumbling.
"Is it possible for a Princess who turns out to be a mentally ill serial killer to ascend to the throne? Perhaps not if it's on the execution grounds."
"Mother?"
"I can't protect you to the end, when even my position is at stake. I have a more important task to fulfill. Erita, I'm still young. There are plenty of people who can replace you. My position is no different. That's why everyone is desperate."
Yes, rather than a greedy and arrogant child like his father.
The Queen brushed a few strands of hair from Erita's smooth forehead, recalling the decision she made when faced with the worst possible situation. It was as if she were willing to abandon her own children if they were a hindrance. She could do that. Her priority was not being someone's mother, but being the ruler of the world-conquering Medea United Kingdom.
A pale fear flickered in Erita's blue eyes. She remembered how she had failed to retrieve her brooch, stolen by Diana because of that ferocious dog. Contemplative, she bent down and bowed her head. Cold sweat formed on her forehead, dripping onto the carpet. Erita's pale lips moved unnaturally.
"I was wrong. Actually, it wasn't my fault. I'll figure it out on my own, so don't abandon me."
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