“Is that true?”
Thalia nodded, her expression blank as if she had heard a foreign language.
"...It's true."
A hollow laugh escaped Barcas's lips. Only after hearing her answer did he realize that deep down he had been hoping she would deny it.
He didn't care if it was an obvious lie. He was willing to be fooled if she just said, "Nothing like that ever happened."
The moment he faced that miserable truth, something sprouted inside him and dried up.
He looked at her with eyes that seemed to have lost all emotion.
"Did you want me to die?"
At the empty question, a ripple of heat rose above her eyes, once as white as faded stained glass. The woman, who had been staring at him with a bloodless face, suddenly began to shake, her shoulders heaving.
"...No. I didn't have any such thoughts at all."
Barcas let out a dry laugh.
"Then why on earth did you poison me?"
"I thought it was poison..."
A faint, barely audible voice flowed out from between the dried, crusted lips.
“I didn’t know it was poison. I thought it was just a harmless medicine that didn’t harm the human body..."
Barcas's lips froze coldly at the pitiful excuse.
“You thought it was some kind of medicine and put it in?”
The woman's shoulders hunched as if struck by a whip. Barcas waited for her to add a more plausible excuse. But all he got was a cold silence.
Her blue eyes, bathed in the purple sunset, slowly lowered to the floor. When it became clear she had no intention of continuing, he pressed her in a harsher tone.
"They say pagan symbols were discovered in Your Highness's bedroom. The high priest even raised suspicions that Your Highness attended a heretical gathering. So, please tell me honestly. Did you drug me to sabotage the mission?"
She gasped and raised her head. Her face showed that she couldn't possibly understand what he was saying. At the same time, she seemed gripped by extreme anxiety.
He clutched his head, which felt like it was being pricked with nails, and groaned impatiently.
"Please, say something."
"...If I say no, can you believe me?"
She spat out weakly.
"Just believe what you want to believe. It doesn't change the fact that I poisoned you for whatever reason."
Then she lowered her head and added calmly, like a martyr.
"...I will gladly accept whatever decision you make."
In that moment, he was seized by a violent desire to grab her by the nape of her neck and strangle her. He wanted to force himself into those eyes, those eyes that seemed to have given up everything, and make her desperately plead. His fingertips trembled as he tried to suppress the powerful urge.
He clutched the hem of the sheet tightly and let out a muffled voice.
"Do you even know what you are saying right now?"
She stared at her shadow on the floor with her mouth shut.
Finally, Barcas, whose patience had run out, staggered out of bed.
He felt his absurdly weakened muscles spasm with tiny twitches. His joints felt like they were rusting, and his flabby gut still felt like boiling lava. Ignoring all the danger signals his body was sending him, Barcas trudged ahead of her.
"Do you think this incident can be passed over as lightly as when you tampered with Ayla's glass?"
As he grabbed her shoulder and chewed on it, a vivid fear flashed across her wide-open eyes. Looking straight down at her, he chewed and spat out each word.
"Now you're not only accused of attempted poisoning, but also accused of heresy. Do you know what that means?"
Barcas lowered his voice and continued speaking gloomily.
"If you end up rotting away in a prison cell, that's fine. In the worst case scenario, you could be sentenced to execution. If you are excommunicated by the Inquisition, the method of execution will be even more brutal. You will die as a beast, deprived of all human rights."
Her face was now almost ashen. Barcas gripped her shoulder firmly and added in a low voice, as if imprinting it on her mind.
"So, stop talking nonsense about accepting any punishment. From now on, you only have one thing to say: I don't know anything about it, it's none of my business, and you'll deny it to the end."
She looked up at him with a bewildered expression. His still half-conscious appearance made her stomach turn.
He shook her shoulders back and forth, emphasizing his point again and again.
"Do you understand what I mean? You've never set foot in a pagan gathering, and someone else put the poison in. You have nothing to do with this."
“Ha. But..."
She pursed her lips with a confused expression.
"I... drugged your drink. I drugged you..."
Suddenly, a new, pained groan escaped her lips. Only after hearing it did Barcas realize he was straining his strength to crush her shoulder.
He quickly pulled his hand away. Then, clenching his fist, he spoke in a suppressed voice.
"You said it with your own mouth, didn't you? You didn't mean to hurt me..."
She nodded mechanically. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
"That's enough. I'll just let this go."
“Do you... Believe me?”
She asked in a trembling voice. Barcas looked down at her with blurry eyes.
The sudden transformation he'd seen since their reunion flashed through his mind. The sweet words she'd whispered lingered in his ears.
'You're my husband, what's wrong with caring about him?'
'Actually, I've been worried about you a lot.'
Was all of this truly the unvarnished truth? Can I truly believe it without a doubt?
Barcas, who was questioning himself, soon had a bitter smile on his lips.
"It doesn't matter whether I believe in you or not."
Yes.
Even if it was all a show to lull him into a false sense of security, who cares? He couldn't tolerate this woman being brought to trial as a prisoner.
Even if she were a fanatic who tried to poison him, the result would not change.
In that case, whether it is true or not is not important.
He continued speaking mechanically.
"Right now, the priority is to control the situation. Please remain in your room until the situation calms down."
Then he turned back to the bed, feeling the strength draining from his legs.
He gripped the bedpost tightly to keep from collapsing, but her ice-cold fingers clung to his shirt sleeve.
"I... I just don't understand. Why are you trying to cover up my mistakes when you don't even trust me? Why on earth..."
He instinctively pushed her hand away. Thalia looked up at him with blank eyes. For a moment, she froze in shock at his actions. Seeing that wounded face, Barcas felt something inside him snap.
At that moment, some inexplicable, cruel impulse swept over him.
"I've always felt indebted to you."
He lowered his gaze to her legs and added dryly.
"But now I don't owe you anything."
Her pale face, blurred by the haze, was barely visible. He turned away from her face and pulled on the rope hanging by the bed. Almost immediately, the soldiers opened the door and entered the room.
He nodded without even looking at her.
"The Grand Duchess will be taken to the third-floor chambers and kept there for the time being."
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