________________________________________
The truth was that Calypse had been worried about me ever since the date of Duke Foss’s execution was set.
He didn’t mind me being there—but he hated the idea of letting me watch someone die.
“Say the word whenever you’re frightened.”
Even after everything that had happened, Father still treated me like an ordinary child.
And Lucas, seated to my left, was somehow even worse about it.
“Right. Dandelion, you’re so tiny—what if you faint from the shock of seeing someone get executed? I’m worried too, you know!”
This from an eight-year-old who was just as tiny.
I appreciate being loved and fussed over. I really do. But this is a bit much.
I’m a retired spy, for the record.
I dug a finger into one ear and stared into the middle distance.
Of course, I understood where they were both coming from. They knew I’d already been through so much—they didn’t want to add to it. I could see that plainly.
But.
“I need to see it end properly.”
I looked directly at Father and Lucas, who were watching me with anxious eyes.
Duke Foss had always been the stone wall I kept running into. No matter how hard I tried to bend fate and live an ordinary life, he had stood in my way like an unbreakable pane of glass. And as if that weren’t enough, he had tried to weaponize my very existence as Calypse’s daughter.
“…I think I need to see Duke Foss’s end with my own eyes today, or I won’t be able to close this chapter for myself.”
At those words, a pair of red eyes that mirrored my own slowly widened.
“You… at only five years old…”
Father trailed off, as though he’d lost the words. He let out a quiet breath, and then—
“All right. You’re probably right that it’s better to see it.”
He reached out and ruffled my hair roughly.
Beside me came the sound of protest: “Dandelion is still innocent and pure—she just can’t bear to watch people die! What if she goes into shock and collapses?!” But Father’s unhurried response cut it short.
“Collapses, does she? And who was it that came to your rescue? Our little Dandelion, if I recall.”
“…Tch.”
Lucas’s face went scarlet at Father’s languid jab. He made a noise of indignation and went quiet.
That was when it happened.
The royal palace knights stationed along the steps leading to the dais snapped to attention all at once. At the end of their gaze stood King Argen and Queen Consort Grace.
“His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen Consort!”
“The sun of the world shines upon the Kingdom of Frozen.”
One by one, everyone rose and bowed toward the King. Father, Lucas, and I were no different.
When the elaborate greeting had concluded, the King gestured, and all returned to their seats.
“Everyone gathered here will be aware that an unconscionable event took place at the one royal banquet held each year in the Kingdom of Frozen. And at the center of that event was—”
King Argen wore an expression of deep distress as he worked his jaw and spoke.
“Duke Foss. Driven by his ambition to unite the Kingdom of Frozen and the Kingdom of Doctia under the power of House Foss, he released a Giant Orc within these palace walls. He also placed a dark-magic curse upon Lady Aisha Krost, designed to alter the color of her eyes.”
When he mentioned the dark magic, the King’s gaze rested on me for approximately half a second before moving on. No one else seemed to notice—but I understood precisely what that glance meant.
Suspicion.
He was wondering whether I knew that he was the one who had cast it.
I kept my expression carefully neutral and nodded along with grave seriousness, as though I knew nothing. King Argen appeared to relax inwardly, and continued.
“…He also planted spies of House Foss within the palace walls. For these crimes, I hereby declare the execution of Foss Cray, to be carried out this very hour!”
The assembled nobles erupted in cheers. The herald’s voice followed.
“The condemned shall come forth!”
From behind the dais, Duke Foss appeared in a prisoner’s garment.
Shackled at both wrists, limping, his appearance disheveled and diminished—he was led forward by knights through a storm of curses and abuse from the crowd.
“That’s the one.”
“That man is the reason the banquet we’d waited a whole year for was ruined!”
Yet even as he was dragged across the floor, the man who had led a network of spies remained masterful at concealing his expression.
He stood on the dais. And even as he lowered his head to the guillotine, his face remained a blank.
“Duke Foss Cray of the Kingdom of Doctia. You are hereby sentenced to death on the charges of attempted regicide within the Kingdom of Frozen, fraud, and the use of dark magic—an offense that violates the laws of all kingdoms. As of this moment, your title of duke is stripped. His Majesty the King of Doctia has also consented to this judgment!”
As the herald read the royal decree in a carrying voice, the executioners took their places on either side of the guillotine.
“Have you any last words?”
At the King’s question, the duke slowly raised his gaze.
And then—
“Duke Krost.”
“…….”
“Pillar of the Kingdom of Frozen. Lord of the North.”
He called for Father with an unhurried, mocking curl of his lips.
“Allow me to offer one final prophecy before I die.”
As though delivering a curse.
“Your fame and your honor will be your undoing someday. Every person who stands before you now is smiling—but somewhere in the background…”
A cold smile settled on his face.
“They will be quietly envying you, scheming to stab you in the back. It isn’t only me—there are quite a few who would like to see you dead.”
At those words, the breath of everyone behind us caught audibly.
King Argen cleared his throat.
Calypse didn’t move a muscle.
“Is that so? Then it seems your prophecy will take quite some time to prove itself—”
He even produced his pocket watch from inside his jacket and clicked it open, smiling as though genuinely regretful.
“What a shame that you’ll die today without ever seeing it come to pass. Rest well, Your Grace.”
“…You… you insolent—”
The composed mask Duke Foss had maintained all this while began to crack. His jaw trembled.
It was clear that even here, at the very end, he had been trying to preserve some shred of dignity.
That was why he had arranged his expression so carefully.
But now—
“If you think everything ends with my death, you’re sorely mistaken. If you knew who else was after you, you’d be shocked. It’s none other than Ar—”
“Revoke the condemned’s right to speak. Carry out the sentence!”
King Argen shouted—cutting him off before his own name could clear the air—and the blade of the guillotine fell.
Or rather, it seemed to fall.
A hand covered my eyes before the very last moment, and I didn’t see it.
But I knew.
“What a commotion, right to the end… he was told one last word, and instead gave a speech. Have the body removed!”
Duke Foss was dead.
Once again, the original story had been rewritten. And in the most complete, most ideal direction possible.
But.
Is this truly the end?
* * *
The following day.
With Duke Foss’s execution behind them, the nobles began departing the capital one by one. A peaceful quiet settled over the palace—one that had been absent for quite some time.
Or rather, it should have settled.
Bang—!
“Damn that idiot!”
King Argen, gaunt and hollow-eyed from days without sleep, exhaled in ragged bursts.
He never should have trusted Foss Cray.
“I even used magic for that fool—something I haven’t done in years!”
Duke Foss, consumed by his obsession with bringing down Calypse, had been devoured by his own ambition in the end. If Argen had known what an addled, shortsighted fool the man was from the start, he never would have used dark magic on that child Aisha to begin with.
At the execution, I sensed no trace of the dark magic remaining on the girl.
Unlike ordinary magic, dark magic carried a distinctive quality—a kind of scent. Any mage of sufficient skill could detect it from that alone, whether the spell involved mental manipulation or physical alteration. The spells he had placed on Aisha had been exceptionally complex and difficult to construct.
And yet there had been nothing. Not a trace.
Which meant someone had broken them. And no ordinary mage could have even parsed the formula—
…No one short of Grace could have managed it…
“?”
Surely not. Grace?
