Episode 82

Francis impulsively spoke those words because the maid’s eyes reminded him of Princess Yvonne’s.

“Another lie.”

Hildebrandt grasped Francis’s hair, forcing him to lift his head. He found himself momentarily breathless as Yvonne’s silvery-white hair, now mirrored in Francis’s form, was pulled taut in his grip.

“Your Majesty. I think I’m about to experience a side effect. Please let me go for today.”

Francis’s urgency stemmed from that. He was on the verge of experiencing a side effect.

For those with abilities, side effects were inevitable. The more frequently and intensely one used their powers, the shorter the interval between episodes. If the sedatives were delayed, the side effects grew even more severe.

Although Francis regularly took his sedatives, the increasing use and intensity of his powers made it difficult for the medicine alone to suppress the effects.

And today, of all days, the emperor had been drinking non-stop.

“What is it you fear the most?”

Hildebrandt asked knowingly, despite being aware of Francis’s side effect.

“Your Majesty.”

“Speak, Francis.”

Though he wore an expression as if he had grown weary of this game of puppets, Hildebrandt was shedding tears. With a wave of his hand, he retracted the order for the maid to walk over the broken glass. She bowed her head in gratitude, fearing he might change his mind, and hurried out of the room.

“Speak.”

Hildebrandt released his grip on Francis’s hair and spoke with a deceptive gentleness. Francis understood that this was Hildebrandt’s way of trying to see Yvonne through him. But now, Francis Jevenel needed to be himself, not a substitute for Princess Yvonne.

“Do you wish for me to suffer from my side effect here, Your Majesty?”

“That’s not what I asked, Yvonne.”

Hildebrandt touched Francis’s lips with his fingers, gripping a piece of flesh between them and glaring at him with disdain.

“If you don’t answer again, I’ll cut this off. So—”

“…”

“Speak.”

Once Hildebrandt released his grip, Francis, still in Yvonne’s guise, winced in pain and finally responded.

“Blind obedience.”

“Yes, you always were like that. Pathetic.”

Francis met the emperor’s mocking gaze.

“Your Majesty, I want to remain loyal to you.”

“I know.”

“Your Majesty…”

Francis feared blind obedience. He genuinely wanted to serve Emperor Hildebrandt. That’s why, even though he followed orders, he always thought and acted with the emperor’s true desires in mind.

If Hildebrandt had truly wanted to kill Princess Yvonne, he wouldn’t have hesitated, nor would he have agonized over giving such an order. That’s why, every time he was told to kill her, Francis would wait, knowing the emperor would eventually stop him.

Francis wanted to serve Hildebrandt with all his heart, not as a mindless knight blindly following orders, but as a loyal servant, acting out of genuine devotion.

That’s why his greatest fear was blind obedience.

The act of following any command without question.

“Your Majesty, I’ve reached my limit.”

“I know.”

Hildebrandt, however, seemed to be waiting eagerly for Francis’s side effect to manifest. He wished for Francis to feel the same sense of loss and sorrow he did.

No comfort could soothe Hildebrandt’s heart since Yvonne had left.

But if Francis could feel the same pain he did, perhaps, in some twisted way, it would be satisfying.

“Bring more wine.”

“…”

Francis did not protest. Seeing the signs of Francis’s side effects starting to show, Hildebrandt laughed.

Kneeling before him in Yvonne’s form, Francis looked up, then gestured to the servants to bring more wine.

“Yvonne.”

“Your Majesty. Please hypnotize yourself to hear my voice as Princess Yvonne’s.”

“Okay.”

Hildebrandt, pleased by the request, willingly placed himself under hypnosis.

“Yvonne.”

“Yes.”

“Yvonne, why did you leave me?”

Hildebrandt pressed down on Francis’s throat with one hand.

Francis stared blankly at him. As Hildebrandt gazed into his lifeless eyes, he felt a pang of sorrow, as if the real Yvonne had returned before she had lost her memory. He longed to hear something—anything—from her lips.

To him, the Yvonne before him was real. He repeated the hypnotic suggestion to himself, even knowing it would soon wear off.

Because without this, he feared he wouldn’t be able to endure.

“Because I loved you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left because you loved me, Your Majesty.”

“You think I loved you?”

The false Yvonne answered, believing it was the response he sought. But Hildebrandt found the words laughable.

“I don’t love you.”

“No, Your Majesty, you do love me.”

“No. I just wish you would die. To die miserably right before my eyes.”

“You’re lying, Your Majesty. How pitiful.”

The fake mimicked the real one’s tone perfectly. If it had been the old Francis, he would have acted in a way that made Hildebrandt aware of his presence. But now, he played the perfect Yvonne, exactly as Hildebrandt desired.

“If you truly hate me so much, prove it.”

“How?”

“Kill me.”

Yvonne smiled, taking Hildebrandt’s hand, placing it on her cheek with a bright smile, just as the real Yvonne would. Her neck, already reddened from his earlier grip, trembled as his hand touched it.

“Hurry.”

Hildebrandt sneered and placed both hands around her neck. Yvonne closed her eyes and stayed still.

Hildebrandt’s hands were trembling. He could feel the hypnosis he’d placed on himself gradually weakening. His vision blurred and then cleared, and the shame of it filled him with anger.

“You’ve abandoned me again.”

“Ugh…”

Hildebrandt laughed as he began to tighten his grip around Yvonne’s neck.

“If you were going to leave me again, you shouldn’t have said you loved me.”

“Your Majesty.”

He realized again that the voice he was hearing was Francis’s, not Yvonne’s. Even the hypnosis he placed on himself was no longer effective.

“Tell me you love me, Yvonne.”

“Your Majesty.”

Francis didn’t struggle to breathe. After all, Hildebrandt was someone who wished to strangle but could never bring himself to do it.

“Our pitiful Majesty.”

The fake Yvonne stood up from the floor, suddenly struck with sorrow at how pitiful Hildebrandt seemed. His emotions would never reach her.

“Say you love me, Yvonne.”

“Yes.”

Francis responded indifferently, releasing Hildebrandt’s hands and trying to move away. He had fulfilled every command given to him, watching the emperor for any sign of relief before wiping the blood trickling from his ear.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere.”

Hildebrandt hastily stood and reached out to grab Francis, but he slipped away.

“Don’t leave.”

“Yes.”

Obeying the command, Francis stayed in place, casually wiping away the blood that trailed down his ear. He then looked at Hildebrandt, who was still crying as he stared back at him. With the same lively gaze that the real Yvonne used to have, he met the emperor’s eyes directly.

“Why did you leave me again?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why? Did you think my love was a joke?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Your Majesty doesn’t even realize that you love me.”

Yvonne’s mocking words made Hildebrandt’s jaw tremble as he glared at her.

“I could kill you right here, right now.”

“But you couldn’t do it just a moment ago.”

The mocking smile on Yvonne’s face felt both unfamiliar and painfully familiar to him, reminding him of the time she turned away from him and sought out his uncle.

“Don’t leave.”

“Beg me.”

“Don’t leave.”

Hildebrandt was no longer in his right mind. Unknowingly, he placed a desperate hypnosis on himself, breaking down in an attempt to hold onto her.

What he feared most was losing his sanity.

Alcohol was Hildebrandt’s side effect, and now he had lost all reason, unraveling the hypnosis that he had once feared more than anything.

“Beg me, Your Majesty.”

What he feared most was sealing away his feelings for Yvonne. Even though she sought out his uncle while supposedly loving him, even though she used him and then tried to kill him.

Yet Hildebrandt still loved her. He forgave her when she manipulated him with sweet words, using their intimacy to ease his suspicions while secretly taking the poison from his uncle.

Even when she spoke of love yet put him in danger, he couldn’t help but forgive her.

Even when she eventually turned a blade on him.

He denied everything, but he still loved Yvonne.

Even when she told him she genuinely wished for his death.

Even when she stabbed a knife into his chest, wishing for his death with all her heart.

‘Did you ever love me?’

‘Pitiful Hilde. Not even for a single day did I love you.’

Even when she mocked him as she handed him poison.

“I love you, Yvonne.”

He knelt at Yvonne’s feet, begging for her love.