Chapter 108
Anette looked at Angela as if to say that was utterly ridiculous. Angela added in an utterly calm manner.
“If there’s a better way than this, please tell me. I’ll follow it.”
“But……!”
“There’s no provision in Taran Kingdom’s laws that strips a princess of her right to succeed the throne just because she divorced and returned.”
Anette stared at Angela with a dumbfounded expression. It wasn’t even surprising anymore that she could say such outrageous things with such a nonchalant face. Really.
“How on earth do you know about Taran Kingdom’s laws?”
It was baffling. Most people didn’t even properly know the laws of their own country. It wasn’t just commoners; even nobles were no different. No one lived with that thick law book entirely memorized.
Yet, when had she even looked into another country’s law book? Angela was a woman who never ceased to spark curiosity.
“I learned it in case the princess from a foreign land might get lost in the suddenly changed norms.”
The reply came back as calmly as if it were no big deal. Picturing Angela carefully pointing out the parts where Anette might get confused, flipping through those thin pages one by one, made her attitude seem utterly absurd.
She could at least boast and show off a bit more. Anette felt like stepping in and bragging on her behalf.
“You know, every time this happens, I want to crack open Lady Bilton’s head and take a look inside?”
She meant it sincerely. However, Angela, whose head was in danger of being cracked open, seemed already lost in another worry, offering no response.
This time, Anette was too scared of what thought might pop out from that head to even ask what she was thinking.
* * *
“Utterly useless.”
Upon hearing the news of Taran Kingdom’s retreat, Rasill spat out the words like venom. Retreating from the very first battle. They were trash so worthless that even calling them useless was a waste. After all he’d done to ensure they brought back victory.
“Tch.”
Rasill clicked his tongue irritably and quickened his pace. Soon after, his feet reached the secret passage in the palace within his bedroom.
Though night pearls were sparsely embedded, it was fundamentally a passage without light. It wasn’t easy to illuminate it with just a few beads.
Yet, perhaps because he’d traversed it so frequently, there wasn’t a single misstep in Rasill’s gait. As if he knew the terrain of the floor inside out, Rasill swiftly passed through the darkened passage.
The outside he arrived at unfolded like a completely different world from moments ago. The lavishly decorated king’s bedroom was nowhere to be seen; instead, it was the middle of a forest densely packed with short, slender-trunked trees.
After walking a short distance from there, a small cabin appeared. Rasill stepped inside. It was a space so shabby it couldn’t even compare to his bedroom.
But Rasill cherished this place quite a bit. More precisely, it wasn’t the place itself he cherished, but the secret hidden within it.
Rasill picked up a book that was placed on a narrow sofa barely wide enough for one person to lie on, and leaned back against the sofa as he sat.
Then, with hands full of considerable caution, he opened the book. Densely written on the pages were eerie incantations that led to curses.
He wondered if there might be more. The book that had created the current Grace—the secret tome of the Dawson family.
Even after scouring for a book that detailed ways to regain Grace’s power, Rasill hadn’t given up and tirelessly searched for it. What he’d finally discovered was this handwritten copy.
It was called the Book of Curses, sold by an old woman with one side of her face horribly distorted. A young royal guard had boasted about bringing it just in case, since no one paid it any mind, and Rasill had praised him greatly before slitting his belly open and killing him. The fewer people who knew the secret, the better—it was an unavoidable sacrifice.
When he first opened the book, what Rasill gained was enlightenment. He’d always wondered why, if such a book existed in the world, Grace was the only one with that kind of power. It detailed acts so horrific that any human with a normal mind wouldn’t even attempt them—let alone that, they’d be lucky not to vomit.
And that book had happened to meet that emotionless woman. And the next one it met happened to be Rasill.
Rasill smiled brightly. How wonderful it would be if the power Grace possessed were his—he’d coveted it more than once or twice. But now, finally, it was in his hands. He was as joyful as the day he’d placed the crown on his head.
He was ceaselessly summoning monsters and taking their blood. Since Grace was only half-complete, he intended to become a being that surpassed her. Once that happened, he planned to erase Phaelon from this land first and then create the Taran Empire.
He would be the first emperor and the last. Since he would never die eternally.
To take that first step, he’d sent so many Fellocks to the battlefield. Yet the result that came back was defeat. And they didn’t even know what he’d done to send them.
“Damned bastards.”
With the curse, Rasill closed the book and stood up, flipping over the corpse sprawled on the floor with his foot. A youthful face, pale and blue, was revealed.
He remembered him as the son of the royal stable keeper, probably. But right now, he was nothing more than material used for the incantation. And since the news that came back was like that, he hadn’t even fulfilled his role properly.
Creak.
Rasill grabbed the handle and lifted the square-shaped entrance on the wooden floor. It was a door leading underground. As soon as the gap opened, a rotting stench rose up.
Even inhaling that foul smell, Rasill didn’t wrinkle his expression one bit as he roughly shoved the corpse inside. There was a splashing sound as the body lifelessly sprawled out.
As Rasill closed the door again, there was no trace of remorse on his face. Though dozens of corpses lay beneath his feet, Rasill paid them no mind and picked up the book once more.
Two defeats would be troublesome. What should he do to make these things bring him the delightful news that the Phaelon soldiers had fled with their tails between their legs? The corner of Rasill’s mouth twisted up playfully.
Grace slowly opened her eyes. She wore a faint smile on her lips, like she’d bitten into a piece of chopped fish.
“Haha, he was up to some cute tricks.”
She had just returned from entering Rasill’s dream, peeking into his consciousness.
He reeked so much of blood that she’d suspected it, but who knew he was really scrambling to gain the same power as her.
That’s why he’d been so arrogantly insolent to her, who would soon become unnecessary. But by showing it like that, he’d ended up getting caught.
Moreover, Grace wasn’t benevolent enough to just stand by and watch Rasill stand over her head.
Tap, tap, tap.
Grace, who had been tapping the sofa she was sitting on with her fingertips, soon rose from her seat. She picked up one piece of firewood stacked beside the fireplace.
It wasn’t like usual, just tossing it in. Grace dipped the end of the firewood into the fireplace and waited for it to catch fire.
Shortly after, flames blazed fiercely, melting the tip of the firewood as they spread. Grace roamed freely around the room, swinging it this way and that.
The fluttering flames left their hot traces on the sofa, curtains, bed—everything. It wasn’t long before the entire room began to burn.
Heavy heat engulfed Grace all around. It seemed about to swallow even Grace soon. However, Grace merely whispered with an exaggerated smile.
“Oh my, how warm. I should have done this sooner.”
The flames melting her pale white skin couldn’t melt her chilling smile.
* * *
Angela had also thought that Anette wouldn’t have come here alone. And if someone had brought Anette here, the only person who would do that was Tristan.
So, thinking she’d hear about future plans as well, she suggested calling Tristan to have a talk, but Tristan appeared like a criminal, grabbed by the scruff of his neck by Kalian.
Angela had wondered why he hadn’t come looking for her when she’d left in a huff, but it seemed Kalian had heard the news from Tristan, caught him, and was in the middle of reprimanding him. A red lump protruded right in the center of Tristan’s forehead. It was exactly the width of Kalian’s scabbard.
“The pants look pretty too.”
Even in that state, Tristan, out of habit, opened his mouth toward Angela. She glared at him. It wasn’t because of his infuriatingly familiar tone, which never grew easier to stomach no matter how long it had been, but rather to demand what on earth he was thinking, bringing Anette all the way here.
Of course, Angela understood. If Anette had been stubborn, even Tristan wouldn’t have been able to do much about it. So, instead of repeating the lecture he’d likely already endured from Kalian, she asked,
“What’s your plan from here?”
Tristan, rubbing the back of his neck where Kalian had gripped him tightly, turned serious.
“If Rasill had gone out to fight, things would’ve been a bit easier, but since he hasn’t, I’m taking His Majesty straight to the palace.”
“You know a secret passage to sneak in, don’t you?”
Tristan nodded as if it were obvious. Seeing his nod, Angela responded immediately.
“I’m coming with you.”
Kalian quickly corrected her.
“We’re coming.”
Everyone seemed to take their joint participation for granted, and the only one who reacted with displeasure was Angela.
“Kalian, you can’t.”
“Why not? I’d be useful.”
Anette asked, her question natural since Kalian’s presence wouldn’t harm them in the least.
“If Kalian leaves the battlefield, he’ll be defying an imperial order.”
“Oh…”
Anette recalled that Kalian had once been imprisoned for something similar. As her question was answered, she felt a pang of guilt. It was a bad memory for Angela, and she reproached herself for forgetting it so carelessly, as if it weren’t her own concern.
But the person at the center of that incident seemed to have completely forgotten it himself, refusing to back down.
“I’d rather be a criminal defying an imperial order than let Angela go alone.”
“Are you saying I should watch you get locked up in prison again?”
Angela shot back coldly at Kalian’s nonchalant remark, then offered a solution.
“I’ll take Sir Jamie instead. Not you.”
It was a hopelessly inadequate alternative to persuade Kalian.
“Anyway.”
Kalian, who had paused his response, seemed to forget others were watching and pulled Angela close, pressing his forehead firmly against hers.
“If I let Angela go alone, I’d be useless here. I’d be too worried about you to do anything. So please, let me stay by your side.”
“Kalian…”
Angela wrapped her arms around his neck. Watching them, Anette fell into a dilemma. Should she cover her eyes? Or her ears?
They looked like they might kiss at any moment, and she didn’t have the confidence to stand there gawking with sparkling eyes like Tristan.
* * *
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! It’s a disaster! There’s a fire, Your Majesty!”
Rasill, startled awake by the commotion outside, let in a servant without even properly dressing. The servant who entered was half out of his mind.
“Your Majesty, there’s a fire! You must escape at once!”
Sleep fled instantly, and his eyes snapped open. The chaotic voices that had felt like mere noise now took clear shape, flooding into the bedroom.
“Fire! Fire!”
“Everyone, evacuate! Fire!”
“Not that way, the flames are too strong! This way!”
The shouts were nearly screams. Rasill hurriedly followed the servant out of the bedroom door. After just a few steps, thick smoke enveloped them.
Covering his mouth and nose with the long hem of his nightgown, Rasill rushed down the stairs. When he reached the outside, the building was a wreck. Half of it was being devoured by bright red flames.
Everyone was frantically trying to control the blaze, but it was futile. Some parts already revealed the building’s skeleton. At a glance, the structure where Rasill resided looked beyond saving. The best they could do was prevent the fire from spreading to other palaces.
“What in the world…”
Rasill muttered in disbelief. Then, someone emerged from the building, their entire body engulfed in flames.
Yet they walked so nonchalantly that the sight was utterly bizarre, causing the frantically moving people to stop one by one.
A single spark on a person would cause panic, so how… Were they dreaming with their eyes open? Amid the stunned onlookers, even the crumbling palace became secondary.
At that moment, someone with a bit of presence of mind flung a bucket of water toward the figure. It was the natural thing to do when someone was on fire. But the person who threw the water dropped the bucket and collapsed.
The woman who had been burning was now staring at him, completely unscathed, as if the flames had never touched her.
