About The Death That You Served Me

For Riley, thank you for the ko-fi! ♡

 

Episode 21

 

Upon entering the living room, Ashlyn was very surprised for the first time in a while.

 

“Master magician?”

 

It was because Derion looked as if he were about to die.

He had his head propped on the tea table. His eyes, having found Ashlyn, rolled and followed her movements.

 

Resentment was clearly written all over his pale face.

 

“Did you tell His Highness about me?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She couldn’t understand the meaning of the question.

With great effort, Derion sluggishly moved his heavy upper body. It felt like watching a corpse come back to life in a graveyard.

 

“I barely managed to escape from being hanged in front of the mansion.”

 

“I didn’t say anything about…”

 

Ashlyn pursed her lips.

 

To Tevet? Did she talk about Derion to him?

There was nothing particularly of note.

 

Phew. A long sigh emerged from the tired wizard. Struggling to sit upright, he roughly rubbed his face.

 

“Please, can you just not mention me at all? You never know at which point and when that crazy highness might get stuck on.”

 

“Oh, okay…”

 

Ashlyn didn’t have a clue, but she answered anyway.

Derion put his hand on the table. He seemed to be getting up to prepare tea.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

Ashlyn promptly stepped forward.

Derion’s tea might taste like tea now, but him making tea in that state could probably be troublesome.

 

Ashlyn quickly brewed two cups of tea. After a few days of this, she had become accustomed to this routine.

 

“Have some and cheer up.”

 

She placed a teacup in front of Derion. He made a slurring sound.

 

“…”

 

Ashlyn paused as she made to unfold the newspaper.

Derion was silently staring at the still teacup, with his brows narrowed.

 

‘What’s wrong with him? Does the tea taste off?’

 

Ashlyn asked, tilting her head.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“No, it’s just that it was so natural that I just now realized it.”

 

He said, his eyes fixed as if in full bloom.

 

“…The tea is sweet. It has honey in it.”

Derion’s gaze was embedded in the teacup. His staring eyes, as if digging into it, resembled the times when he was carving into a complex magic formula.

 

Ashlyn felt the back of her neck stiffen. A thought that struck like a lightning strike halted her movements.

 

‘Did I… not ask Derion how he liked his tea?’

 

A dizzying sensation swept over her.

 

Oh, I’ve made a mistake.

Only that conclusion filled her mind.

 

Derion was so much like his old self that she had unwittingly let her guard down.

 

‘No, get a hold of yourself.’

 

Ashlyn swallowed hard and pretended to be as nonchalant as possible.

 

“I worked at Viscount Frey’s before.”

 

“And?”

 

“I heard it from one of the maids.”

 

Thankfully, her voice and facial expression remained the same as usual.

 

“At the Viscount’s?”

 

“Yes, about a year ago.”

 

Ashlyn replied, recalling the contents from the maid’s stack of documents. After a brief pause, he spoke.

 

“But there’s no way the Viscount’s maids know my taste…”

“Well, there must have been at least one clever and perceptive maid.”

 

Ashlyn responded as if she didn’t care enough to think about it.

 

“Hmm.”

 

Derion leaned back after leaning forward. He gazed into the air for a moment, as if trying to guess the timing.

 

“Well, I suppose that could be. A year or so ago, I did go in and out of the Viscount’s estate quite a lot.”

 

“Maids are everywhere, you know. They’re surprisingly very sharp about this and that.”

 

“Aha. That’s true.”

 

Ashlyn thought it was a stroke of luck that Derion was extremely tired today.

The pounding of her heart slowly subsided. Derion took another satisfied sip of his tea.

 

Then, a curious thought suddenly struck her, and she tilted her head.

 

‘Derion frequented the Viscount’s estate?’

 

Derion’s biological father, Lord Frey, was a figure who seemed to have coined the word ‘class’ himself. Extremely meticulous and strict, he could not accept that his eldest son was engrossed in what he called vulgar sorcery (to borrow Lord Frey’s words).

 

As a result, Derion endured a childhood bordering on abuse and naturally grew to resent the Viscount’s estate and nobility.

 

‘He’s never gone back since he left that estate on his own.’

 

And yet, he was now reconnecting with the Viscount.

 

‘A lot of things must have happened during all this time.’

 

Ashlyn was curious about what happened to Derion. But it wasn’t her place to casually inquire about the Viscount’s estate as a maid.

 

“Is it that interesting?”

 

Suddenly, Derion spoke.

Ashlyn, engrossed in her own thoughts while staring at the newsletter, looked up.

 

“What?”

 

“The newsletter. It’s just full of useless stories about nobles fighting and scholars boasting about their research findings.”

 

“I just… find that kind of thing interesting.”

 

“That’s unusual.”

 

Ashlyn smiled vaguely. It felt strange to hear that from the person she considered the most unusual in the world.

 

Derion glanced at Ashlyn for a moment in silence. Then, in a curt manner, he asked,

“Any questions about the capital’s news?”

 

“Capital’s news?”

 

“I thought you might find it interesting since you like those newsletters.”

 

Derion briefly sipped from his teacup.

 

“I’ll tell you from whatever I know, to repay you for serving tea that’s to my liking.”

 

It was a crisp voice devoid of any particular emotion. Ashlyn blinked quietly. A moment of silence passed.

 

News of the capital…

Her gaze shifted to the bundle of papers she had been holding.

 

News not covered in the newsletter.

 

But what she really wanted to know was..

 

“Is His Highness the First Prince now the Crown Prince?”

 

A calm voice filled the room. Dierian stiffened for a moment like a broken doll.

 

“Out of the blue?”

 

He looked rather surprised.

 

“Can I not ask something like this?”

 

“No, it’s just so sudden.”

 

Dierian groaned, rubbing his green hair at the same time. His tied-up hair became disarrayed, but he didn’t seem to mind.

 

“I promised to answer, so I will. For now, he isn’t.”

 

“…”

 

“The Crown Princess has passed away, but There is still his Highness the Second Prince. However,”

 

Dierian paused as if to think for a moment.

 

“To put it bluntly, the chances of His Highness the Second Prince becoming the Crown Prince are extremely low. Firstly, he himself isn’t particularly ambitious.”

 

Ashlyn quietly remembered the face of the Second Prince.

Delicate facial features and even more delicate eyes. Light purple hair just like her own.

 

“So, as things stand, it’s likely that His Highness the First Prince will become the Crown Prince. Frankly, I’d say it’s just a matter of time.”

 

“I see.”

 

Ashlyn replied tersely.

 

Dierian took a sip of his tea. While pondering over the conversation, Ashlyn unconsciously murmured.

 

“It must be even more certain since Laperion sided with the first prince.”

 

“…”

 

Clatter.

 

Dierian somewhat put down the teacup rather roughly. Startled by the sound, Ashlyn’s eyes widened.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Do you really think so? That Laperion sided with the First Prince?”

 

He looked more serious than ever.

 

“Is that not so?”

Ashlyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Well, how could I possibly know that devil’s intentions? But…”

Dierian paused for a moment, rolling his eyes upward. Then, a brusque response followed.

 

“No matter what you think, it might not be as it appears.”

 

What could that mean?

Ashlyn’s deep blue eyes wandered perplexedly on the floor.

 

‘Is the Duke not on the First Prince’s side?’

 

She was lost in thought.

 

‘But the man who brought the poisoned cup to me was undoubtedly the Duke.’

 

Ashlyn lost to the first prince as a princess.

A cup of poison for the loser.

 

Surely, the one who brought the poisoned cup had been Duke Tevet Laperion.

 

‘…Unless that hadn’t been his will.’

 

But why would Duke Laperion bother otherwise?

 

‘No, wait a moment.’

 

There was a chilling sensation that brushed her mind for a second.

 

‘I think there was someone else there too at the time.’

 

Ashlyn narrowed her eyes.

 

The memories of that day she died. The memories of that day were hazy, as if shrouded in mist.

 

‘Princess Ashlyn Britannia, I have brought you the cup of poison to drink.’

 

And.

 

‘And… he added something more… What did he say?’

 

Ashlyn found herself trembling her lips before she knew it. A chilling sensation ran through her entire body. An intense shock pierced her from her forehead, as if she’d been struck by lightning.

 

‘My memory…’

 

Thump, thump.

She heard a loud drumming sound from somewhere.

 

Her head throbbed as if it would split open.

 

“…Hey.”

 

‘I have no memory.’

 

It wasn’t just memories of the day she died.

 

Come to think of it, there were strange voids in her own memory.

 

When the hell did she talk about the Diamond of the South to the Duke?

When did she pass on grape cultivation techniques to the Duchy of Laperion?

Why did she go outside the palace with Deri and Sir Jex at that time? Where were they going?

 

“Are you okay?”

 

‘Why?’

 

Ashlyn hadn’t even realized that there were holes in her memory.

As if there was no need to remember from the beginning…

 

‘Why can’t I remember?’

 

Her head was splitting.

That’s how it felt.

 

If not, this headache could not be explained.

 

Then there was a sound of something breaking. And an auditory hallucination that seemed not to belong to this world echoed.

 

‘If you happen to regain your memory.’

 

The sound of someone screaming followed.

 

‘Then, at that time—another price…’

 

At that time? Another price?

 

“No!”

 

Derion’s shouts became distant.

Ashlyn closed her eyes. Deep darkness poured in like death.

 

There was no escape.

 

---

 

Hey guys, translator here, sorry, I’ve been and am still busy irl, so please bear with me for a while!! I’ll make it up to you sometime if I can!

 

Thank you again for the ko-fi, Riley!

Comments motivate me to translate too, thank you!