128.

“I came here simply to escape this feeling, even just a little.”

Merke’s voice was soft, almost fading into the air as she furrowed her brow and stared into nothingness.

Her memories of the imperial palace were nothing short of a nightmare. The time after Calliphe fell to the reverse curse was especially harrowing.

Merke had been the closest witness to Calliphe’s rapid decay, observing as everyone else turned their backs on her sister. She had been forced into that proximity, pushed into Calliphe’s chambers by the Emperor himself, who had suddenly decided that they were “family” during such a time.

The whispers that proximity to the cursed might spread the curse had almost felt like prophecy. Perhaps the Emperor had intended for Merke to die alongside her sister.

But Merke did not die. Instead, she ended Calliphe’s suffering by taking her heart.

Merke had fled the palace after that, carrying with her a mix of resentment toward Nyx, Calliphe, and the Emperor, as well as a profound guilt. It was she, not her sister, who had broken their late mother’s dying wish.

Closing her eyes tightly, Merke took a shaky breath.

“Merke?”

Adrienne’s voice trembled as she called out, breaking the heavy silence. Merke’s unfocused eyes turned slowly toward the Empress.

“You simply removed an eccentric priest from Billinent’s service and transferred them to Calliphe. That’s all you did. But it just so happened that priest was Nyx, who had awakened to heresy. It was nothing more than coincidence,” Merke said, her tone mechanical, as if she were confirming a fact for herself.

“Perhaps it would be better for you to rest now,” Adrienne said sharply. She gestured to a maid.

“Prepare a room for the princess.”

“But I also—”

“…”

“I only did what you did, Your Majesty. Exactly what you did. Nothing more.”

Adrienne’s blood drained from her face. Merke’s arrival in Baghdad the day prior suddenly loomed ominously in her mind.

“Just as you sent Nyx to Calliphe. Just as Nyx handed that wretched scripture to Calliphe,” Merke continued, her voice gaining weight.

Adrienne’s face twisted in horror, her lips trembling as she failed to even utter a sound.

“I passed the same scripture to Billinent.”

“What have you done?!”

“It’s not revenge, nothing so grand. How could it be, when there’s no one to exact revenge upon? It was all just a tragedy pieced together by chance,” Merke said, her voice eerily calm.

“You… you…”

Adrienne stammered, her fury bubbling to the surface.

“This is merely my petty retaliation against everything that’s haunted me for so long,” Merke added, her tone mocking.

“You’re insane!”

“Now it’s up to him. Let’s hope Billinent doesn’t take after Calliphe.”

“…!”

“If he’s as greedy as Calliphe, he’ll become interested in that power and bring about his own downfall.”

“Merke—!”

Adrienne’s scream tore through the air as she lunged for Merke. Despite her outburst, Merke stood her ground, letting Adrienne grab her hair and yank viciously.

Even as Adrienne struck her repeatedly, Merke murmured with an empty smile, “I’m sorry.” But Adrienne, blinded by rage, couldn’t hear her.

“You lunatic! How dare you?! How could you do such a thing—!” Adrienne shrieked, her voice raw and unrecognizable. Blood blossomed across Merke’s face as the Empress’s strikes grew fiercer.

“Mother?”

Adrienne froze mid-swing. Her head turned slowly toward the voice, dread filling her heart. Billinent stood nearby, his brow furrowed as he approached.

“…Merke?”

Billinent muttered, his voice laced with disbelief.

Adrienne’s grip faltered, allowing Merke to raise her bruised face.

It was the first time in 13 years that Merke and her younger half-brother had met face-to-face. As their eyes locked, a dry laugh escaped Merke’s battered lips.

Billinent bore an uncanny resemblance to Calliphe, more so than Merke herself.

Billinent’s presence was pure coincidence. Terrified by the forbidden scripture he had been reading all night, he had sought out his mother—stepping out of his chambers at precisely the wrong moment.

As with all tragedies, it had begun with a chance encounter.

‘Ah, you really do look so much like Calliphe,’ Merke thought, her lips curling into a faint smile.

“You’ve grown, Billinent. It’s been a while,” she said softly.

“Merke? This is absurd! How dare you show your face here, you insane woman!”

Billinent’s face twisted with anger as he stormed toward them.

The tension thickened. Adrienne’s and Billinent’s knights exchanged glances, silently preparing to subdue Merke.

But before they could act, Billinent, proving he was his mother’s son, raised his hand high to strike.

Merke, however, was no passive victim. Just before his palm connected with her bloodied cheek, she caught his wrist in a vice-like grip.

“How fortunate that you’re such a rotten child,” she murmured.

With that, a blinding light erupted from her, just as it had on Ikiyo Island. A fierce gale swept through the courtyard, toppling everyone in its path.

Adrienne, who had been gripping Merke’s hair, crumpled to the stone floor. Even the servants, priests, and knights were thrown down like discarded puppets.

When the storm passed, only Merke and the pale, trembling Billinent remained standing in the devastated courtyard.

“Surprised, Billinent?” Merke asked, her voice calm as she gazed down at him.

When she released his wrist, he collapsed to the ground, gasping.

Kneeling beside him, Merke leaned in and whispered into his ear, “I’m stronger than Calliphe.”

Billinent’s eyes widened in terror. Her words slithered through his mind like venom.

“What about you?” she asked.

Billinent could not answer. Paralyzed by the realization that he faced an opponent he could never defeat, his mind spiraled into chaos.

‘Father plans to put this madwoman on the throne,’ he had once complained, but never in earnest. It had been a tantrum, a childish lament.

Now, for the first time, he wondered if it could actually happen.

‘Could this deranged girl truly become Empress?’

Billinent’s fragile psyche, already teetering, finally snapped. He fell into a full-blown panic, clawing at the stone floor like a man drowning.

Merke, watching him with an unreadable expression, finally rose to her feet.

She didn’t feel any better. She knew, deep down, that she would never escape the day that haunted her. Crossing the courtyard’s wreckage, she walked away slowly.

“Don’t go. Not like this… You can’t…” Billinent gasped, his desperate eyes following her retreating figure. His breathing grew more erratic, his vision darkening.

And then, it came.

“You want power stronger than hers, don’t you?”*

The voice reached Billinent as if it had been waiting for this moment. It was neither old nor young, but something in between, a tone that defied age.

As if mesmerized, Billinent rose to his feet, his trembling body moving with an unnatural will.

“I’ll kill her,” he whispered, his voice shaking with desperation. “I’ll kill that madwoman now. I need power. Without it—”

‘She’ll kill me and take my place.’

Driven to an extreme, his thoughts spiraled further into darkness. He abandoned his mother and the stunned witnesses, chasing the seductive voice that beckoned him.

* * *

A strange flash lit up the sky, its brilliance turning day to night. Nicholas, on his way to Hailot’s quarters, instinctively turned toward the light. The shockwave that followed raked against his senses.

His brow furrowed. The disturbance had come from the direction of the Crown Prince’s chambers.

At the same moment, Hailot, who was not at his quarters nor preparing to seal Nyx, witnessed the same phenomenon. He stood atop Baghdad’s highest tower, overlooking the chaos below.

“Time to end this tiresome dance,” he murmured.

Hailot bore no personal grudge against the head of McFoy. If anything, he felt nothing at all. He was simply ready to break the cycle, to seize the thread that would finally cut through the relentless repetition.

Watching Baghdad descend into turmoil, he smiled—a bright, unsettling smile.

* * *

The drawbridge, raised in haste earlier, now lowered, and through the narrow opening, a lone horse galloped out urgently.

The rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed loudly, a frantic pace uninterrupted until the rider pulled the reins sharply, halting the horse abruptly.

Kano, with practiced ease, turned his mount to look back. From this vantage, he could see the drawbridge rising once more, sealing McFoy Castle shut.

McFoy Castle resembled an impenetrable fortress.

“Running away isn’t the solution. And a lord never abandons their castle. Asking me to leave is the same as asking me to die.”

Kano couldn’t determine whether the castle resembled its lord or the lord resembled the castle. Duty had compelled the fifteen-year-old Aisa McFoy to survive, but to Kano, that duty now appeared more like a shackle.

“This isn’t about noble sacrifice. Believe it or not, I plan to survive. Even if things go wrong, I won’t go down easily.”

Aisa never offered false reassurances to comfort others. She always spoke of every possible outcome. When it came to herself, she was particularly skeptical—a trait that irritated Kano to no end.

“I have another request for you: find Ophelia. She must not be killed, nor do you need to capture her. Simply hand her this letter.”

Aisa spoke as if everything was already predetermined.

When she had boldly declared her love for her husband, Kano had thought, perhaps naively, that this time might be different. But her fleeting moment of vulnerability had already passed. Her eyes no longer wavered; she had made up her mind long ago. Once Aisa McFoy decided on something, she was unyielding.

“You must find Ophelia this time and deliver this letter to her. If you want me to survive, that is.”

She didn’t hesitate to resort to manipulative words to ensure her will was carried out.

As he accepted the letter, Kano’s fingers trembled slightly.

“As always, I’m counting on you. Thank you, Kano.”

How could he refuse her? The first person who had ever stirred in him a feeling of blind, consuming love smiled at him as she spoke those words.

Clenching his teeth, Kano gripped the reins tightly once more, turning his horse with resolve.